The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons, or events are coincidence.

Copyright © 2025 Caesar Daniels

Vanguard VFX Publishing illustration copyright © 2025

All rights reserved © 2025.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published in the United States by Vanguard VFX (Visuals & Fiction Exchange) Publishing, a division of Vanguard Studios VFX, LLC.

To my wife, Vanessa.

For being the first to ever listen to this story.

Thank you for all your

love & patience... and your feedback.

Without you, this book might have been a little different.

PROLOGUE

Carl

The highway stretched into the night like a wound, thin and empty, snaking into the dark.

Carl Jenkins’s truck rattled as he pulled into a forgotten gas station, its neon sign flickering, casting a sickly green glow over cracked asphalt. A rusted tow truck sat abandoned near one of the pumps.

Carl's bare head glinted under the highway lights as he fidgeted and muttered curses under his breath, rummaging through the pile of fast-food wrappers and Hustler magazines on the passenger seat. His fingers found the flask. He took one long swig, sour and burning, then wiped his mouth and stepped out.

The night air was thick and cold. The windows of the gas station reflected nothing but his own headlights, weak and hazy. He pushed through the door. The bell chimed, lights flickering under buzzing fluorescents. Two figures stood near the shelves, backs turned, barely moving. Carl thought nothing of them and headed for the coolers.

Six-pack in hand, he swaggered toward the counter. There, the cashier, a woman, stood hunched, pale, her hair lank and greasy. Dead eyes locked on him, unblinking.

The woman stared blankly. Her skin clung too tight to her bones. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. Carl tapped the counter impatiently.

He frowned. “Hey, sweetheart, you gonna ring me up or just stare all night?” His voice echoed, swallowed by the silence. She didn’t answer.

Carl waved in front of her face. “Hello? What are you, deaf?”

Then he saw it—a smear of dark red on her sleeve, wet and fresh.

His stomach clenched. More blood glistened across the counter. A trail of dark splatters led to the stockroom.

He backed away, a gnawing dread clawing at his chest. “Uhh––Where’s Jimmy?” His voice wavered. “Jimmy usually works the graveyard shift.”

No answer. Only that dead-eyed stare.

Carl glanced over to the end of the hallway where the stockroom door was slightly opened.

His breath hitched. There was a body sprawled on the floor, headless, a mess of blood and gore.

The woman abruptly wrenched a severed head from beneath the counter and slammed it down with a sickening thud. It was Jimmy. His tortured expression was ghastly, skin deathly pale, mouth frozen in a silent scream, and eyes grotesquely rolled back into his skull.

Carl staggered back, bile rising in his throat.

But something suddenly moved behind him.

A massive hand clamped onto his shoulder, fingers like iron. Carl was yanked back, hurled into the cooler doors. Glass shattered, pain blooming through his skull as blood trickled warm down his face.

He gasped, blinking through the haze. A shadow loomed over him—a giant of a man, face warped, brutal. One milky eye drooped as the other looked directly at him. Beside him, another figure stepped into the light. Tall, lean, long greasy hair hanging over a sharp, jaundice face. His smile stretched too wide.

“Carl Jenkins, is it?” The lean man's voice was smooth, almost amused.

Carl coughed, blood bubbling on his lips. “Who–-who the hell are you?”

The stranger crouched beside him, voice lowering to a whisper. “You were once acquainted with a man by the name of Sir William Grimm. I'm sure you remember. Very successful entrepreneur.”

Carl’s heart hammered, confused. “What? Grimm? The man's dead.”

“It was brought to our attention that you have something that belongs to him.” The lean man’s grin widened, lowering to Carl's side. “So now we’re here.”

Realization hit like ice water. This was no coincidence.

Carl swallowed hard. “Look, if… If this is about the land, it was a clean deal. The town auctioned it after Grimm went bankrupt. It was nothing personal!”

The man sighed, shaking his head. “It was personal to him.”

He snapped his fingers. The cashier moved like a marionette, stepping behind the counter. When she returned, she held an axe, its blade catching the fluorescent light.

The woman gave him the axe, and the stranger gradually raised it above his shoulders, readying himself to swing.

Carl paled. "No, wait!" he stammered, his body quivering. "I've done nothing wrong, I swear! You can take it all! The park, the property. Look! Here…the keys to the gates." With trembling hands, Carl pulled out a set of keys and pointed to the brass one that opened the gates.

The lean man tilted his head with curiosity, grin widening as he lowered the axe.

“Please..." Carl whimpered. "You don’t have to do this.”

The stranger ran a hand over the axe's handle with affection. “Oh, but we do.”

Without warning, the blade came down. Carl screamed, a jagged, choked sound as the blade hacked through his knee, flesh and bone tearing under its brutal weight. He collapsed, shrieking, blood pooling around him, his leg hanging in shredded tatters.

“Thank you for the keys, Mr. Jenkins,” the stranger said coldly. “I'm sure Mr. Grimm would be proud you made the right choice.”

Carl clawed at the ground, whimpering as his life leaked onto the floor. “You fucking…” he gasped, teeth clenching through the pain. “Bastards…”

The stranger’s smile widened. He handed the axe to the hulking brute beside him. “Finish it, like I taught you.”

The brute grunted, took the axe, and raised it in a slow, calculated manner. Then he swung with lumbering force, wild eyes wide and focused. The axe came down with a savage, relentless wet thud.

The blade connected, not with Carl’s neck but his face, right down the middle, cleaving through flesh and bone. His body was convulsing in agony, violently, screams strangled into gurgles.

Carl went still.

The stranger pulled out a red coupon from his leather jacket and tossed it over Carl's body.

The carnival ticket floated down, landing on Carl's chest. In big bold letters, a logo read, ‘GRIMM’S GRAND CARNIVAL – A LEGACY OF WONDER SINCE 1960.’

The lean man lifted the brass key toward the fluorescents. The other two gathered behind him, eyes fixed on the key as if it were a prize.

“We got what we came for. Now, we take back what is owed to us.”

CHAPTER ONE

LAKE PARTY

Maddie

The scent of suntan lotion clung to the warm spring breeze over Lake Pinehurst. Ripples shimmered like molten silver under the late-afternoon sun as Def Leppard blasted from a distant boombox.

Maddie Rodriguez floated lazily on a cheap inflatable, her legs trailing in the cool water. She pushed her sunglasses up to get a better look at the scene: families grilling on the shore, college kids shouting over lakeside activities and the occasional clink of beer bottles. A slice of Americana in the middle of the Midwest wilderness.

Becca Yung, Maddie's roommate, lounged beside her on a float of her own, nose buried in a battered paperback. “What are you even reading?” Maddie asked, flicking water toward her.

“Cujo,” Becca muttered, lowering her book enough to raise an eyebrow.

Maddie chuckled and turned her attention to the sprawling mansions dotting the lake’s edge. Angular and sharp, they seemed out of place against the rustic charm of Pinehurst.

"What do you think those people do for a living to afford places like that?”

Becca lowered her sunglasses, almond-hazel eyes gleaming with amusement. "I dunno. Investors, maybe? The kind who owns a yacht and never uses it. They probably hate spring break, a bunch of drunk kids invading their quiet paradise.”

Maddie smirked. "Good thing they don't own the lake.”

A distant shout suddenly echoed from above. Both girls sat up, spotting Jake and the others at the top of the cliff, silhouetted against the bright gleaming sun.

“What the hell are you guys doing?” she called, heart thudding. "Get down from there!"

Jake grinned, shirtless, his tanned skin glossy, six pack gleaming. “No can do! We’re jumping!”

Tyler, Jake's best friend and football team colleague, was cocoa skinned and built like a quarterback. He and his pretty girlfriend, Lana––tan, blonde, and blue-eyed––peered over the edge, clearly uneasy. The way down was nearly a fifteen feet drop.

“Yeah, hell nah. You first, man.”

Jake snorted. “Knew you were chicken.”

Before anyone else could respond, a shirtless blur ran past and leaped into the unknown. "Sayonara!" Arnie, the group hippie, shouted as he plunged into the lake, frame boney.

He hit the water with a thunderous splash. Silence.

Becca sat up. "Is he—"

Arnie surfaced with a triumphant yell, arms splashing like a victorious gladiator. Jake exhaled a laugh, adrenaline surging, and then he too took the leap.

From her float, Maddie watched, holding her breath as Jake fell into the lake. She waited nearly five seconds, but still there was no sign of him. Panic tightened her chest.

Without warning, she was yanked underwater.

The lake swallowed her scream. Bubbles clouded her vision. Cold fingers seemed to grip her ankle. Disoriented.

She thrashed, surged up, gasping.

Suddenly, Jake emerged beside her, laughing. “Gotcha!”

She punched his arm, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “You ass!”

He took hold of her face and kissed her, salty and warm. She chuckled along, splashing at him, swimming back to her float.

"Come on! Your turn! Jump!" Jake called out to the others up top.

On the cliffside, Lana and Tyler waved off the jump, opting for the trail back down.

♦ ♦ ♦

Later that night, the fire crackled, sending sparks into the crisp air. The lakeside shore stretched behind them. The group huddled closer, their breath visible in the clear night. Maddie tucked her hands deep into her jacket pockets, trying to ignore the sting of the cold biting at her fingers. Her toes, numb in her boots, ached with each minute that passed.

The smell of burning wood mixed with the skunk of weed lingered as Lana exited from the cabin with a bottle of vodka in hand. She took a sip, then swirled it lazily before turning to Jake with a mischievous grin.

“Truth or dare?”

Maddie watched Jake take another deep drag before passing the joint to Arnie. He cleared his throat, leaning back. "Dare. Hit me."

Lana extended the liquor with a grin. “Triple shot. No gagging, no flinching. If you do, you have to jump into the lake––butt naked.

Jake eagerly reached for the bottle, snatching it from Lana's hands. “Easy.” He took three large swigs, his face twitching as he fought back a gag, holding the vodka in. The group broke into laughter as he coughed, eyes watering but triumphant.

Maddie managed a small smile. The laughs around her blended into a dull hum. Her heart clenched a little, a familiar ache settling in her chest. Jake’s smile, so wide and carefree, was like a blade twisting an old wound. She could still see the other girl’s face, the way Jake had laughed with her, touched her. Kissed her. He kept it a secret for months... And though Jake promised it had been a mistake, that it wouldn't happen again, her trust in him had shattered. For weeks now, she had tried to mend it, but cracks remained. Maddie was still heartbroken.

But Jake was her first love, and it was easier to forgive than to let go, she thought.

Arnie’s voice suddenly cut through her thoughts. “Alright, enough of this truth or dare bull crap. It’s no fun unless we’re all going skinny dipping,” he said, waving the joint. "That being said, anyone up for a good horror story?"

Becca rolled her eyes, snatching the blunt from Arnie's hand and taking a hit, “Lemme guess. You’re one of those who believe in Bigfoot or the Jersey Devil, aren’t ya’?"

Arnie leaned forward, grinning. "You got something better to scare us with, princess?"

Becca scoffed. "Come on, dude, don't be ridiculous. Everyone knows those are made-up stories. Those supposed 'sightings' are mostly from people looking for attention.”

Lana’s voice cut through the banter, low and steady. "We’re not far from the real horror story that happen couple towns down Route 9.”

“What do you mean?” Maddie interjected.

“You guys never heard of Hollow Creeks’ Carnival Massacre?”

Tyler laughed, but it was forced. "Oh, come on. Not the incestuous cousin killers again. Babe, you’ve told this story so many times, I’ve lost count.” Tyler smacked his lips, reaching for the blunt.

Lana rolled her eyes, turning back to the others.

“Ah, the Red Hook Jack murders,” Arnie said, blowing out smoke into the sky. “Gramps was obsessed with that story back when I was a kid. Pretty gnarly, if you ask me.”

“Go on. You’ve got our attention." Jake leaned back, arms crossed.

The group turned toward Lana, the firelight sharpening her features into something almost eerie.

“Okay, so it all started in the early ‘50s, right.” Lana began, her voice low and measured. “An Irishman named William Grimm migrated to America, running from the law and a life of crime. City life didn't pan out for him, so he came out to the countryside, bought some land, and found a bit of fortune during the ‘60s farming boom. But his true passion wasn’t for crops, no. You see, Mr. Grimm had a dream, an obsession, if you will... Show business.”

“Let me guess,” Tyler chimed in, sarcastically smirking. “He opened a carnival.”

Lana rolled her eyes again and pressed on, her tone growing darker. “Yeah, the carnival was a hit. People came from all over the state––hell, they even toured the whole country. He eventually opened a performing circus, and that too became a popular attraction.”

“Looks like Mr. Grimm was quite the business man,” Jake chuckled.

“Grimm might have been smart, but he had a habit of making enemies and bad deals. Loan sharks, his own lawyer, they all turned on him. Eventually, he lost it all. The carnival, his lands…”

“Okay, that’s sad and all,” Jake shifted in his seat, already impatient, “but like, how is this a horror story?”

Becca shot him a glare. “Will you let her finish?”

Lana acknowledged with a nod and carried on. "Mr. Grimm wasn't exactly someone who kept a low profile. Over the years, Hollow Creek had seen several murders, and a lot of the evidence seemed to implicate Grimm. However, there was never enough proof to charge him. The murderer was dubbed Red Hook Jack because witnesses had seen him in a red trench coat, and the victims were often discovered hanging from hooks."

"That took a quick turn," Jake remarked, folding his arms.

"Anyways, old man Grimm fell terminally ill. He had a cousin named Dorothy who was a little off mentally, but she cared for him in his final days. However, it was later discovered that she wasn’t only his cousin. She was also his lover. They had three children together over the years, all born from their secret incestuous relationship. Keep in mind, this man was already married and had two other kids.”

There was a cold breeze running through the night. Maddie felt a shiver run down her spine. She snugged her hands tighter into the coats pockets.

“After losing his carnival to the courts, Grimm’s wife left him, took the kids. Then, on the summer of ’65, neighbors put in a call. There was a terrible stench coming from the Grimm’s family home. When the police arrived, they found Mrs. Grimm and the children in the basement, hanging from meat hooks––their bodies skinned.”

The group sat in stunned silence. The fire popped, sending a cascade of sparks skyward.

“Naturally, Grimm was the prime suspect,” Lana continued, “but when they brought him in for interrogation, another killer was on the loose. Police was called to the carnival, the Red Hook Jack had struck again. This time, bodies started turning up, hanging from hooks, skinned and mutilated.”

Maddie winced, stomach knotting. “Did they ever catch him? The killer?”

“Eventually, yeah. Turns out, Red Hook Jack wasn't one person alone. It was Grimm and his inbred cousin, Dorothy.”

Jake leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “No way, Dorothy? Really? How could she even pull that off on her own. The skinning, the hanging corpses from meat hooks. That's some serious heavy lifting.”

“She was a butcher at the local slaughterhouse. Had technique apparently. Was also said to be a large woman.” Lana turned to him with a raised brow and shrugged shoulders. “Later reports showed Dorothy suffered from severe psychosis and was being coerced by Grimm. When the bastard lost everything, he threatened to kill their children if she didn’t murder the new park owners––given that he was too sick to carry out the killings himself. Luckily for the new owners, they had left town the night of the massacre. So instead she targeted carnival goers, planting seeds of terror in the memory of Hollow Creek.”

"She was basically the old man’s hitman. A gnarly one at that too,” Arnie said, giggling to himself as he took the last hit from the joint.

“So Grimm’s wife and kids were Dorothy’s first victims?” Maddie realized, unable to fathom the pain those people suffered in their final moments.

Lana nodded. "She murdered his family, and instead of handing her over to the police, the sick fuck blackmailed her into submission. You ask me? He wanted them gone all along.”

A heavy stillness hung over them, broken only by the soft crackling of flames.

"Sick fuck, indeed. So she got the chair?" Jake asked.

“No, not really... She got locked up in an asylum, deemed too crazy for the death penalty. Or at least that's what my uncle said. He was a state trooper, followed the case closely,” Lana said, sinking back in her seat.

"Makes you wonder the lengths crazy people go to prove their love. Or maybe she was crazy for the old man's co––“ Tyler chuckled before being cut off.

“Okaaay, I think I've heard enough," Maddie interrupted aloud while shivering, the heat of the fire suddenly insufficient. "I'm sorry, guys, but I'm freezing. I’m gonna head inside. I can't with this cold.”

Jake stood, stretching. “You heard boss lady. It’s past midnight anyway. We should get some sleep if we want to hit the road early.”

The others groaned but didn’t argue. As they scattered, Lana gave the two a sly wink. “Y’all make sure you two ain’t having too much fun up there.”

“Oh, there won't be any action tonight. I'm too tired to even walk up the stairs,” Maddie refuted.

“No need to worry. I’ll do all the heavy lifting.” Jake said with a chuckle. He swooped Maddie from the ground and into his arms, carrying her toward the cabin as the others' chatter faded into the night.

Behind them, the fire hissed…and the darkness beyond the tree line, empty and cold. Maddie felt an eeriness to the void, as if something was watching them from afar.

CHAPTER TWO

CRIME SCENE

Horton

The cruiser rolled to a stop on the cracked asphalt, gravel crunching under tires. Sheriff Horton stepped out, the morning sun glinting off his badge. He squinted, looking out at the rundown gas station, its peeling paint and broken windows casting eerie shadows in the early morning light.

There was a sense of dread.

Yellow tape flapped in the early breeze, a bright, taunting reminder that the night had not been merciful. Two squad cars and an ambulance sat silent in the lot, engines off. Deputies hovered, talking in hushed tones, their faces stiff. Horton pulled his hat low and ducked under the tape, his boots grinding glass and blood into the linoleum as he stepped inside.

Inside, the air was thick—coppery and freezing with the morning cold. Blood streaked the walls, smeared in wild, violent arcs. Near the drink aisle, a body was grotesquely sprawled like a broken doll—bald, overweight, mid-fifties. An axe was buried deep in his skull, splitting his face into a grotesque rictus. The handle jutted up at an angle, swaying slightly with the wind. Blood pooled beneath his head, dark and viscous, nearly black. His leg, severed at the knee, rested a few feet away.

On the counter was something new. Something worse. A head—eyes wide, mouth locked in a silent scream. The store clerk. His severed neck left a jagged stump, as if someone had hacked through it with a dull blade. Horton exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to look away.

“Sheriff.”

Deputy Carter stood by the open door to the storage room, motioning for him. Horton stepped past the carnage, the blood thick under his boots.

Inside, a second body bag was already zipped, though the dark stain seeping through told enough of the story. Didn’t matter. He’d seen enough death to know there wasn’t much inside worth looking at.

“We’ve got two bodies. Store clerk and a customer. Both suffered trauma to the head. Looks like a targeted attack.” Carter’s voice was low, steady. He nodded toward the corpse near the coolers. “One of the victims is Carl Jenkins.”

Horton frowned. “Jenkins? The carnival landlord?”

“Yeah. Wallet and ID were still on him.”

Horton pinched the bridge of his nose. “Witnesses?”

Carter shook his head. “Who knows? Security tapes are gone. Killer knew what they were doing. We didn’t get the call until hours later. Customer walked in and found…all this.”

Horton stepped back into the store lobby. His gaze drifted to Jenkins. His shirt was soaked through, his body a mess of gashes. The axe had caved in his face. His arms and elbows were torn to shreds, like he’d tried to fight back. The glass from the freezer door sparkled around him like diamonds in a blood pool.

Then Horton saw it.

Pinned to Jenkins’s chest, half-soaked in blood, was a red carnival ticket.

He crouched, peeling it up by its edge. The print was still legible, bold and old-fashioned, ‘GRIMM’S GRAND CARNIVAL – A LEGACY OF WONDER SINCE 1960.’

He thought this to be odd.

For starters, the carnival had adopted a new name almost ten years ago when ownership transferred from the old proprietor to a new landlord.

But more importantly, a carnival ticket with the same logo was found at another crime scene.

Surely a clue. But to what?

Horton stood slowly, leaving the ticket back in place. Pulse drumming in his ears.

"Jesus Christ,” Horton muttered under his breath. The crime scene was tough to look at. The wounds were brutal, purposeful, and malicious. Whoever did this was leaving a paper trail behind. A warning maybe... Real question was, for whom?

“Get fingerprint and blood samples to forensics,” the sheriff said, pointing at the ticket. “See if we can get a match. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try.”

“On it,” Carter said, his tone clipped. He stepped out leaving Horton alone with the dead.

Outside, Carter began barking orders, the deputies moving to clear the scene. Horton took one last look at the butchered bodies then exited into the pale dawn.

The killer didn’t even try to hide their work.

They wanted to be noticed.

CHAPTER THREE

CAR BREAKDOWN

Maddie

Maddie adjusted her seatbelt as Arnie’s hippy van rumbled down the empty two-lane highway. The psychedelic flowers and swirling orange and purple paint made the vehicle look like a relic from Woodstock, engine growling and clanking.

Jake sat stiffly next to her, tapping his fingers on the armrest in rhythm with the blaring ‘80s rock pouring from the ancient speakers. He stared out the window, his jaw set, eyes locked on the sunny horizon.

In the back seat, Lana and Tyler were locked in a make-out session, oblivious to the rest of the van. Becca sat in the front passenger seat, her face buried in a thick novel, brows furrowed in concentration.

Arnie at the wheel was licking the edge of a blunt, carefully sealing it with expert precision. "Becca, hold the wheel for me, will ya?" he said casually, not bothering to glance her way.

“Um, can't you see I'm busy?” Her tone was ice. She didn’t even look up.

Arnie shrugged and continued rolling, steering lazily with his knees. The van drifted into the opposite lane, tires skimming the rumble strip.

“Dude!” Maddie snapped, clutching her seat as the van wobbled.

Becca huffed, grabbed the wheel, and yanked them back into their lane. “Pay attention, Arnie!”

“My bad! Needed both hands for a moment there. But check out this bad boy.” Arnie held up the perfectly rolled blunt like a trophy. “One full gram, packed tightly for the road.”

Maddie crossed her arms. “Maybe don’t light up while driving. What if we get pulled over?”

Tyler smacked his lips, as he pulled away from kissing Lana. “Come on Mads, relax. There hasn't been a single car for miles. Highway's damn near desolate.”

Before Maddie could reply, the van suddenly jerked violently and sputtered. The engine let out a death rattle before falling silent. They coasted to a stop on the desolate road, surrounded by endless rows of darkened cornfields.

“Seriously? Did the engine die on us?" Jake growled, spinning to face Arnie, who scratched the back of his neck.

“I dunno, man. She’s been acting up, but I figured she’d hold out till we got back.”

“Couldn’t you have taken it to the shop before the trip, instead of––I dunno––getting high all the time?” Becca snapped, climbing out and slamming the door. "Now we're stuck in the middle of who-knows-where."

Arnie groaned and popped the hood, located on the van's rear. Jake joined him, muttering curses. Maddie followed, taking off her jacket, the sun blazing from above.

“Timing belt?” Tyler guessed, peering into the engine's tangled guts.

“Nah, the belt looks fine.” Arnie poked around, grease smudging his hands. “She’d at least turn on.”

Jake wiped his palms on his jeans. “Looks like an oil leak.”

Arnie kicked the bumper. “Fantastic.”

“So…what now?” Maddie asked, her voice steady despite the churn in her gut.

"There has to be a pay phone nearby. We can call for help,” Lana added from inside the van.

“We'll need to have it towed to the nearest town,” Jake said, blocking the sun with his hand, squinting out into the lone road horizon.

Maddie pulled out a worn map from the glove compartment and placed it on the passage seat, her fingers tracing the faded lines. “Here, I got it. Hollow Creek’s about two miles ahead.”

Jake rested his arms against his waist. “We hoof it then, Arnie and I. We'll find a pay phone, call a tow, and wait for you guys back in town.”

"Do I really have to go?" Arnie asked, pointing a finger at himself.

"Yes, you do. It's your damn car," Jake said as Arnie grunted, walking away.

“Wait, I’m coming too,” Maddie interjected quickly. No way was she sitting in that van, waiting for help to come by. Not in this heat.

“It's going to be a long walk 'till we get there. You sure you want to tag along?” Jake’s eyes lingered on her, searching.

“I need the exercise.”

Becca, Lana, and Tyler stayed behind, huddling near the van as the three of them set off onto the deserted road. The sun blazed the horizon as the wind whispered through the cornfields, rustling the crops.

Ahead, Hollow Creek awaited.

CHAPTER FOUR

COP SEARCH

Becca

Becca wiped sweat off her temple, the dry breeze from the tiny oscillating fan barely making a dent against the brutal heat. Her tattered copy of Cujo was open on her lap, pages curling from the humidity. She tried focusing on the words, but her gaze kept drifting ahead, where Tyler and Lana were killing time by the roadside, waiting for a car to pass.

"Bet if you take your top off, we’ll get a ride real quick," Tyler joked, hitting the joint and shading his eyes from the blazing sun.

Lana snorted, grabbing the water bottle in his hands. "You’re such a pig," she teased before pouring the icy stream down her front. Her white tank clung to her torso, turning translucent in seconds.

Tyler leaned against the van's front grille, smirking. "Yeah, that’s the spirit," he egged on.

Becca shifted uncomfortably, eyes glued to her book. From the corner of her vision, she couldn’t help but notice Lana's toned body glistening in the sun—her perfect curves, radiant skin, and effortless confidence.

"Hope we’re not making you uncomfortable, Becks," Lana called, unbuttoning her wet top, leaving only a lacy bra. She slowly swayed her hips toward Tyler, mock-dancing.

Becca's cheeks flushed. "I’m not even here," she mumbled, burying her nose deeper into Cujo. She hated that she couldn’t stop comparing herself. Her petite frame, narrow eyes, and jet-black hair felt plain next to Lana’s sun-kissed perfection.

A flash of movement in the rearview mirror snapped her attention back. A sheriff’s cruiser.

As it approached, its steel frame gleamed under the merciless sun.

"Guys! Cop!" Becca hissed, straightening in the driver’s seat.

Tyler froze, quickly putting out the joint and tossing it into the fields. "Shit! Hide the pot!" His voice cracked.

Becca’s heart plummeted. The crumpled bag was in plain sight on the seat beside her. She snatched it, fumbling with the glove compartment as the cruiser rolled up behind them, dust billowing in its wake.

Becca hastily slammed the compartment shut, as the officer approached. Lana buttoned her shirt, wet patches still clinging to her skin.

The sheriff stepped out, broad and imposing, his badge glinting under the sun as he approached Becca's window side. Horton, his name tag read. He had a shaved beard, face unreadable, weathered and gray.

"Afternoon," Horton drawled, resting a hand on his belt. "Everything alright here?"

Tyler stepped forward, casual but jittery. “Yeah… Our car broke down. We're waiting for our friends. They went walking toward the town for help."

"I see." Horton’s sharp eyes scanned the van's interior, nostrils flaring. "You kids got any drugs or weapons I should be aware of?"

"No, sir," Tyler blurted too quickly, cutting Becca off before she spoke.

The sheriff’s gaze lingered. "License and registration."

Becca froze. "Uh…we don’t… This isn’t my car," she stammered.

"I still need to see the car's registration."

Becca remained frozen, still unsure as what to say. "I––I don't know where it is."

"It's usually in the front compartment, ma’am," Horton suggested smoothly.

Her stomach clenched. She reached for the safe’s latch, fingers trembling. A faint clink echoed as the weed bag shifted inside.

“Officer, would you mind radioing a tow truck for us?” Lana interjected with a smile in time to distract the officer, clamping her arms together, breasts perked. “There hasn't been a pay phone for a few miles, and we don't own a mobile phone either. We’d really appreciate it.”

Horton’s expression didn’t change. He watched her for a beat too long before finally turning his head toward the cruiser. Becca seized the moment, yanking the registration free.

The weed bag tumbled out.

Becca’s foot slammed down on it, her heel covering it against the dirt-streaked floor mat. She shoved the paper toward Horton, stretching over the wheel to block his view.

He studied the document, eyes narrowing, but found nothing amiss. With a grunt, he returned it.

"I’ll call the auto shop in town," he said. "Tell your friends to meet you there. Stay put."

They mumbled thanks, tense smiles plastered on their faces.

Lana cursed softly, chest heaving. "I almost had a fucking heart attack You think he smelled anything?"

"Fuck! I can't afford to get caught. I got drafted with a scholarship!" Tyler frantically hissed under his breath.

The sheriff stopped by his cruiser, lifting the radio to his mouth. Static crackled.

Becca’s breath hitched. “The bag’s still on the floor,” she whispered.

“Don’t move. He’s watching.” Lana snapped under her breath, forcing a strained smile.

The sheriff lowered the radio, eyes locked on the van. His expression hardened. Becca looked back at the rearview mirror, watching in horror as Horton made the call.

“He’s coming back.” Tyler’s voice trembled as he looked out into the highway.

Boots crunched gravel. The sheriff strode toward them, one hand resting on his holster. His stare burned through the windshield.

Becca’s heel pressed harder on the weed bag, pulse pounding like war drums.

"Tow should be on its way,” the sheriff said, walking up to Tyler, staring him straight in the eyes, glassy and red. “You people aren’t looking to cause any trouble now, are you?”

They all shook their heads nervously.

“Word of warning, be careful around these parts. There’ve been…bad sorts lately. Not safe to be split up, especially after dark."

“Sure thing, Sheriff.” Becca let out a shaky breath, knees weak. Tyler slumped against the van, running a hand across his sweat-drenched face.

Sheriff Horton lingered a moment longer, his cold gaze piercing through them, before finally walking back to his cruiser. Dust swirled in the air as he drove off.

Becca, Tyler, and Lana let out sighs of relief—hearts still pounding from narrowly escaping a drug bust.

"Remind me to punch Arnie in the fucking throat when we see him again," Becca added, nearly breathless.

CHAPTER FIVE

BODY SHOP

Maddie

The trio trudged through the sweltering midday heat for an hour, the humidity pressing down on them like a heavy lead blanket. Maddie lagged a step behind Jake and Arnie, sweat prickling her neck. Arnie lit another joint, the sulfuric snap of his lighter igniting her irritation. She clenched her jaw.

Jake glanced back, falling into step beside her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, arms crossed, voice tight.

He studied her face, unconvinced. “Look, I know all this has been a little out of your comfort zone, but I promise, once we get back to campus, we’ll spend the night at my place, put on some nice, cozy sheets. Heck, we’ll get takeout from our favorite sushi spot. Me and you.”

A reluctant smile tugged at her lips, but she quickly forced it away. Her scowl returned as she recalled that the last time Jake had been to this spot was with another girl––the cheerleading captain of the college football team. "The same spot you took Ashley?" she asked bitterly.

Jake smacked his lips and looked away in frustration. “Maddie, don’t do this. Not here…”

“I’m sorry, alright?” Maddie sighed, “It’s... I’m a bit frustrated. I don’t understand why you couldn’t bring your car. We would’ve explored the lake more, gone hiking… had some alone time together. We’ve done nothing but drink and get high this whole trip. This was supposed to be our spring break getaway… But, no, you had to invite your friends.”

Jake tilted his head with a shrug. “What do you mean? Becca's here too."

"She's my roommate, Jake," Maddie replied harshly.

“Mads, look, you know why I didn't bring my car. All of us wouldn't have fit. Besides, look at it from the bright side. We sat next to each other the whole trip.”

Ahead, Arnie hollered, waving his joint like a victory flag. “Hey, dudes, check it out! Hollow Creek––next exit.”

Maddie’s sighed in relief. For the next half hour, the trio trudged along the interstate, the town gradually coming into view from a distance.

♦ ♦ ♦

Upon arrival, the town seemed abandoned––faded signs, boarded windows, and empty streets shimmering in the oppressive heat. A bus groaned past, kicking up dust as a couple of elderly locals shuffled by, their hollow eyes tracking the newcomers with suspicious stares.

“What is this place? A ghost town?” Arnie scoffed.

“Look ahead.” Maddie spotted a pay phone at the corner of the block.

She paced toward it, but halfway there Jake waved her off, nodding toward the building ahead. “Mads, wait. I think we found what we need.”

A faded sign creaked above a greasy mechanic shop across the street. The trio approached the open garage as someone shifted beneath the hood of a shiny blue Mustang, the classic muscle car but a glaring oddity in such a rundown body shop in the middle of nowhere.

A slender old man rolled out from under the hood and stared at the trio with a dry gaze. He was all sharp edges—sunken cheeks, oily gray hair tangled over a hollow stare. He let out a grunt, clearly irritated, then slid back under the car, grease-stained hands twisting a wrench.

“Y’all take a seat. I’m ‘bout done,” the mechanic muttered under the hood, his voice rough, dismissive.

Dust and oil clung to every surface, the air thick with the stench of gasoline. Maddie’s nose wrinkled at the thought, opting to remain standing while the guys reluctantly settled into a pair of cracked vinyl chairs.

She reached for the stack of magazines on the table, shuffling their once glossy covers now coated in layers of tar and dust. With a grimace, she withdrew her hand, scrubbing her palms across her jeans repeatedly.

The mechanic finally emerged, wiping himself with a filthy rag, hands black with oil. The man gazed at them with a wide bulging eye, jaw protruding outward in an angry scowl. Thin and wiry build.

Name tag read Ed. He spat onto the concrete floor, the sound wet and unpleasant. “What do y’all want?” His tone was as welcoming as the grime-coated walls. "Don’t usually get much visitors ‘round here."

“Yeah. Our van broke down, sir, about a couple miles down the road,” Arnie said. “Seems to be an oil leak. Like, we need a tow to haul her back into town.”

The mechanic scratched his chin, shaking his head, the motion almost lazy. “Ughh. Don’t think so, not today anyways. Got a client paying a pretty penny to finish this one,” he said, patting the hood of the Mustang.

Jake's gaze drifted to the car's dented bumper. He squinted, spotting a smear of red. "Road kill?" he asked, his voice sharp with curiosity. "Dent's quite large. Owner hit a deer?"

The mechanic straightened, wiping his hands again, this time with an air of finality. “Didn’t say, and quite frankly I ain't care. Now off with y’all,” he said gruffly. "Don't appreciate y’all wasting my time."

Jake pushed a little. “Sir, we can pay a little extra if that's the problem. I’m sure the owner won’t mind you helping out some stranded kids.”

“Are y’all deaf? I said no can do." The mechanic turned away. The tension in the room thickened, Maddie crossing her arms tightly.

An old rotary phone on the counter rang, the shrill sound cutting through the tense silence.

"What now..." The mechanic snarled as he picked up, speaking in short, clipped sentences. The conversation was rather curt. He hung up and spat on the floor again.

“Looks like it’s you kids’ lucky day,” he drawled. “Sheriff needs help with a stranded van. Says it’s stuck out on the road with some helpless college kids. I’m assuming that’s y’all's friends?”

Jake and Arnie exchanged glances and nodded. Maddie’s stomach twisted with unease.

“Think it’ll be ready for today, sir? We were hoping to get back to campus by tonight,” Jake asked politely.

“You best not be hurrying me, boy… I’ll get to it when I get to it.” The man cut him off, one of his eyes noticeably larger than the other, almost bulging out of its socket.

“Sure, whatever you say, chief.” Jake held his hands up, shifting in place, uneasy.

Bothered by the old man's reaction, Maddie stepped in, jaws clenched. “It's a simple question, mister. Are you going to help us or not? A minute ago you said you were too busy, so which one is it?” she snapped back.

Old man's angry gaze skimmed upon Maddie, scanning her from head to toe.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout nothin', little lady. When the sheriff calls for help, you drop whatever it is you're doin' and get the job done.” The old man pointed back into town. “There's a diner down Main Street. Y’all can wait there. Should be back 'fore dusk.”

Maddie turned to Jake with a concerned look. "Before we go, is there a restroom I could use? My hands are filthy from grabbing some of your magazines.”

The man let out a grunt and gestured her to follow him into the dark, poorly-lit hallway.

"'Round back. Door’s on your right. Don’t touch anything.”

Maddie glanced back at Jake, seeking reassurance.

"I'm not going anywhere," Jake assured, gently letting go.

Maddie walked around the back, the hallway dim, neon lights buzzing and flickering like dying fireflies. The air reeked of sewage and rust.

She hurried into the grimy restroom, hovering above the scratched, gunky sink. Maddie contemplated not using the facility due to its unclean appearance. Upon turning knobs, dark and murky water flowed from the faulty faucet. She didn’t even try using it.

Maddie stepped out, the door creaking shut behind her. The humid air clung to her skin like a second layer. She wiped her palms across her hips, still uneasy from the filth of the bathroom.

A flicker of movement suddenly caught her eye—a shadow gliding across the far end of the hallway, beyond the scattered tools and rusting car husks. At the back of the shop, the dim space stretched into what looked like an abandoned garage. Curiosity prickled her spine.

Maddie moved cautiously through the dimly lit garage. At the far end, a flickering glow of a CRT TV cast jittery shadows past a half-open door, the sound of some classic film filtering through the cluttered space.

Beyond it, a figure sat slumped in a chair, facing the TV. Their head slouched eerily, bobbing in a soft, unnatural rhythm, drool dripping.

Her pulse quickened. She took a step closer, peering through the gap. The light from the screen highlighted the figure’s hands—bound tightly with duct tape. The thick layers cut into the person’s skin, dried blood mingling over their wrists. But there was no movements, no desperate struggling.

A sickening chill crawled up her spine.

“Hello?” Her voice echoed, thin and uncertain.

She started forward, but before she could reach the door, a towering figure collided with her, blocking her path.

A man.

No, more like a monster.

Facial features distorted and twisted like melted wax. One eye milky and unfocused, the other fixed on her with eerie intensity. He stood motionless, his breath slow and heavy.

Maddie froze, but her scream tore through the entire shop.

The TV droned on, oblivious. Abruptly, the hulking man shifted away into the room and slammed the door shut.

Jake, Arnie, and the mechanic rushed down the hall.

“What the hell, Maddie?!You alright?” Jake barked.

Maddie staggered into his arms, trembling. "T-There's someone in there..."

The mechanic scowled from outside the door. “Bubba! What the hell did I tell you ‘bout wanderin’ ‘round when we got customers?” He spat on the floor again. “They don’t understand the likes of you. Think you’s ugly is all.” His gaze darkened as he addressed the trio. “Ain’t nothin’ to be scared of. He’s…just a boy.”

The brutish simpleton let out a guttural grunt behind the door frame.

The mechanic wiped his mouth with the back of his grimy hand then shooed them off. “Now on with it!”

Jake nodded stiffly, steering Maddie toward the exit. Arnie followed, glancing back once.

“Like, is it me, or was that whole scene freakin’ creepy?” Arnie grumbled under his breath.

“Definitely creepy,” Maddie assured, rubbing one of her arms.

Outside, the air felt fresher than in the shop. Still, the empty streets stretched on, silent and waiting. A crow cawed sharply from a nearby lamppost before flying off.

“Let’s get outta here and find a place to meet the others,” Jake muttered.

The desolate town stretched ahead, empty and waiting.

CHAPTER SIX

DINER

Maddie

The neon sign of the old town diner flickered erratically, casting an inconsistent glow on the cracked pavement below. Maddie, Jake, and Arnie stepped inside, the doorbell jingling softly. The place was nearly empty—two elderly patrons nursing their brunch, eyes fixed on the newcomers with a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled disapproval.

"Sit wherever you like," called out the waitress, a woman in her fifties with a kindly but worn face. Her voice was laced with the faintest Southern twang, and her apron looked like it had seen better days.

The trio slid into a booth by the window, the only spot with a view of desolate Main Street. Maddie felt the weight of the elders’ stares and shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh geez, I’m freaking starving, dudes,” Arnie groaned, his voice drawing out the syllables as if the mere act of speaking could summon food faster.

Maddie caught Jake's gaze and rolled her eyes at Arnie, who was already fidgeting through the menu.

Jake chuckled, shaking his head. "You always are.”

The waitress approached with a tired smile. “Howdy, y’all. Name’s Margaret. What brings y’all young folk out here? Lemme guess, y’all here for the carnival?”

“We wish. Unfortunately, our car broke down on our way back to the city,” Maddie answered. "We needed help from the tow shop down the street.”

Margaret nodded knowingly. “Ah yes… Old Mr. Ed. He runs the shop. Grumpy as hell, but good at what he does. Not many mechanics left around these parts. Hell, not many of anything left.”

Jake leaned back, glancing around. “Yeah, we noticed.”

Margaret's face lit up with a nostalgic glow. "Believe it or not, Hollow Creek used to be the biggest draw in the county. Folks came flocking from all over during the farming boom, especially with the carnival traveling ‘cross state. Became one of the biggest attractions in all the Midwest." Her voice dropped, conspiratorial. “Weren’t for the Red Hook Jack killings, most folks would have never left. Nobody wanted to live near blood-soaked soil."

"We heard a thing or two about that,” Maddie said cautiously.

Margaret leaned in closer, almost whispering. "Some say his kin are still around. But don’t let that worry you none.” She chuckled, the sound more brittle than reassuring. "If there’s one thing holding this town together, it’s that carnival. Still got its charm, even if most our people are half-gone.”

A loud growl erupted from under the table, cutting through the conversation. Arnie grinned sheepishly. “Like, you guys mind if I order something? My stomach’s telling me it’s lunch time.”

Margaret straightened, chuckling. "Sure thing, hun. What can I get for ya’?”

Arnie ordered enough food to feed a small family—pancakes, eggs, bacon, apple pie, and two drinks. Maddie and Jake exchanged a look, part amusement, part disbelief. They settled on coffee and a breakfast special for Jake, then, the waitress went on her way.

“Dudes, check this out." Arnie waved a pamphlet he'd pulled from a rack on the table. "This is the carnival the lady was raving about. Looks kinda rad."

Jake snatched the pamphlet, skimming through it. "They’ve got a coaster?”

“One of the oldest in the country too,” Margaret said, wiping down the table with a humid cloth.

“Could be worth checking out,” Jake scoffed with a smirk.

Maddie shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. We need to get back to campus. Becca and I have a research paper due next week, and we cant miss it for anything.”

Jake leaned back, smirking. “Come on, babe, relax. It’s spring break. What’s one more day? Worst case, we stay at a hotel on the way back.”

"What about the others?" Maddie asked, a hint of worry in her voice.

“We’ll wait for them here,” Arnie interrupted with a shrug. “Not like we have anywhere else to go. ‘Sides, worse comes to worse, there’s a nice, creepy hotel down the street." He pointed with a chuckle to a rundown 1800s Victorian-style inn, visible through the diner’s window.

"We're definitely not staying there," Maddie said.

A whiff of hot brunch arrived, cutting off any further debate.

Margaret slid the plates onto the table, the smell of syrup and grease thick in the air. Maddie barely glanced at her coffee, eyes fixed on the window.

“Hey,” she muttered, nodding toward the end of the street.

Jake and Arnie turned. At the far end of the road, a rusty tow truck rumbled to life, kicking up dust as it pulled away from the mechanic's shop, hauling the shiny blue mustang from its flatbed. Behind the wheel, the simpleton giant hunched over, his head almost brushing the roof of the cab. Beside him sat the grizzly old man, arm hanging from the window's edge in a displeased manner.

“Looks like they’re finally heading out,” Jake said, shaking his head. “Took their sweet-ass time too.”

Maddie didn’t answer, watching the truck disappear past the empty storefronts. The faint hum of its engine lingered in the stillness.

She sipped her coffee, staring down the empty street, the horizon beyond looming too quiet, too tranquil––almost void of life.

CHAPTER SEVEN

TOW TRUCK

Becca

The sky stretched into shades of orange and purple, the dying light starting to unsettle as the chirps of crickets and night owls decorated the soundscape. Becca leaned against the van, arms crossed, her eyes darting between Tyler and Lana who sat in the front seats. The heat of the day had clung to them, their sweat-soaked clothes plastered to their skin.

“Ughh. What time is it?” Lana asked, annoyed, brushing her damp hair from her face.

Becca glanced at her watch. “Quarter after five. It’s getting dark.” She shifted, uncomfortable in the fading light. “Maddie and the others should’ve sent help by now.”

Lana’s lips tightened. “You think they got lost? What about the sheriff? He radioed for help, didn’t he?”

Tyler’s voice was sharp. “That sheriff was full of shit. Tow truck would’ve been here hours ago if he’d really make that call.”

Lana exhaled heavily, clearly irritated. “Great, I feel disgusting. We’ve been out in the sun all day. I need a shower.”

Suddenly, distant headlights cut through the dimming landscape. Becca almost couldn’t believe her eyes as a rusted tow truck rumbled toward them, decals reading “Ed’s Garage” barely visible on the side. Becca squinted, the high beams making it hard to see.

“Finally, some help,” Tyler muttered as he and Lana stepped forward, waving the truck down. The vehicle slowed with clanking gears, its brakes hissing like a warning. Becca hung back, reluctant.

Lana suddenly let a jolting scream, a sound that ripped through the quiet field. She stumbled backward, eyes wide with terror. Tyler froze, his face twisting in confusion but not retreating.

“What’s wrong?” Becca murmured. She strode forward, heart thudding in her chest. As she neared the truck, she saw them: the driver’s face distorted, brutish, his companion a thin, ancient figure with hollow, black eyes.

The older man’s greasy white hair clung to his scalp in limp strands––his voice, a low growl. “Y’all kids got a problem?"

Tyler’s jaw clenched. “S-Sorry, sir. We got startled is all."

The old man’s gaze turned cold “Spoiled brats… Can’t do nothin’ on their own, these days.”

Everyone was taken aback by the abrasive comment.

"I don’t take kindly to spoiled brats,” the old man added.

Becca stepped in, placing a hand on Tyler’s arm as he tensed. “We apologize, sir. We’re just looking for some help.” She kept her voice steady, though her stomach churned. “We’ve been stranded here for hours. No water. No food. Did our friends send you? The sheriff?”

The old man’s lips curled into a sneer. “Why else you think we’re here?” He barked at the brute. “Hey, Bubba, go on out and hook up that car. And you, get on and move it, girl!”

He pushed Becca with the door, muttering under his breath about wasted time. She observed that his arm was inked with a tattoo resembling a swastika decorated with a skull in its center, but dismissed it as he walked away.

Lana and Tyler stood by the road, the crops behind them rustling in the breeze. The truck groaned to a stop in front of their van, as the brute, towering at seven feet, lumbered out. He yanked open the van’s door, his massive frame casting a long shadow over them. He motioned inside, his expression unreadable.

The three climbed into the cab without a word. The door slammed shut behind them, sending a chill down Becca’s spine. She watched through the windshield as the bulky man secured the chains to their van, the hook catching a glimmer of sunlight, a spark of crimson against the dusk.

The tow truck’s engine roared back to life, and the van lurched forward as it was dragged onto the flatbed. Becca’s hands gripped her knees, her breath shallow. Tyler and Lana exchanged uneasy glances, holding each other's hand.

“They said where they’re taking us, did they?” Lana whispered, voice trembling.

The truck jolted, speeding off into the darkening horizon as the fields blurred past them. Becca couldn’t shake the feeling that something was quite off, yet she was too afraid to speak.

CHAPTER EIGHT

REUNION

Maddie

Maddie leaned back in her chair, flipping through the diner’s menu. On one of the pages, an old ad with faded paper displayed the carnival’s bold red-and-yellow logo, its swirling font almost hypnotic. ‘GRIMM’S GRAND CARNIVAL – A LEGACY OF WONDER SINCE 1960.’ Her eyes skimmed the fine print, which hinted the carnival would be traveling across the state the summer of 1965.

She frowned. That was the same year of the carnival massacre, or at least that’s what Lana had claimed last night by the fire.

Probably an old print––hadn’t been changed in some time…

She shut the pamphlet and glanced around. The diner was eerily quiet now. The waitress by the register wiped the counter in slow circles. A pair of elderly couples hunched over their coffee cups, whispering low. The air felt thin, like the place had already been abandoned. She wondered how busy the town must’ve been back in the day, before the killings. Before everyone moved out, leaving town before it ever had a chance to blossom…

Then she saw it. The rusted tow truck pulled into the mechanic shop across the street. The one that should’ve been there hours ago.

Maddie shot up from the booth. “That’s them!”

Arnie followed suit, shoving past the table. He didn’t even pretend to reach for his wallet.

“Dude! Really?” Jake groaned as he fished for cash. “Yeah, thanks for waiting, guys…” He munched one last bite of his toast while tossing a few bills onto the table then jogged after the others. 

♦ ♦ ♦

Maddie rushed across the street as the van doors flew open.

Becca, Lana, and Tyler stumbled out. Their clothes were wrinkled, smudged with dirt. Lana’s hair, a tangled mess. Their faces pouting with anger.

“What the hell happened, you guys?” Maddie asked.

Becca didn’t answer, just shifted uncomfortably. Lana wiped her face with her sleeve, visibly irritated.

“Here’s your weed bag, asshole,” Lana growled, tossing the bag at Arnie’s chest. “Thanks to you, we nearly got caught by the sheriff.”

Tyler’s jaw clenched. “Couldn’t have taken you guys any longer? Thankfully, the sheriff did stop by and radioed in for help.” He gestured at the diner. “I see y’all been eating well while waiting for us.”

Maddie held up her hands. “We got here as fast as we could, Tyler. It was barely a couple hours past noon after we spoke to the mechanic. He agreed to help us on his terms, but that was the best we could do.”

Arnie, standing beside her, muttered under his breath, “Like, these guys went to drop off another car before picking you up. Maybe that was the holdup.”

Jake exhaled sharply and stepped toward the mechanic’s garage. The old man was already under the van’s hood, inspecting the leak. The hideous brute––Bubba stood behind him, half-hidden in the dim light of the garage. As Jake approached, the old man shooed Bubba off, the giant melting into the shadows.

Jake took the lead. “So what’s wrong with it?”

The mechanic rose from the dolly and spat to the side. “Oil leak’s pretty bad.” His voice was a slow drawl. “Y’all lucky I’m one of the few who can breeze a Camper within a fifty-mile radius.” He slapped his forearm, revealing an old, faded swastika tattoo––skull inked at the center. “Yeah, Type-2 German made. I knows all about German made. Grandad was half-German himself.”

Maddie’s lowered her head into her palm. “Jesus.”

“That being said, should be ready by sunup,” he added.

Everyone groaned. Maddie turned to Jake with crossed arms and a heated gaze.

Lana scoffed. “Sunup? No, I need a shower or I’m gonna lose my shit.” She didn’t wait for a response, turned, and marched across the street toward the Victorian inn.

The rest followed.

Jake leaned toward the mechanic before setting out. “We’ll be here first thing in the morning.”

♦ ♦ ♦

The inn was like something out of another time—ornate but dead inside. Dark-wood walls, antique furniture, a massive chandelier coated in dust. The air smelled of mothballs and something stale.

Arnie wandered toward the walls, gawking at the taxidermy displays. Deer heads, foxes, even a stuffed black bear looming in the corner. He let out a low whistle. “Gnarly.”

Lana didn’t bother admiring the scenery. She marched straight to the front desk and slammed her palm against the bell. Ding. Ding. Ding.

A voice snapped from behind a curtain. “Hold your rattling.”

To everyone’s surprise, the person who emerged was…a girl. Young. Maybe nineteen.

Pale skin. Long black hair, thick eyeliner. Definitely a punk-scene type. She halted mid-step when she saw them, like she wasn’t expecting…anyone.

Lana leaned over the counter. “Can we get a room? I really need a place with a shower.”

The girl didn’t answer right away. She stared.

Maddie caught the flicker of hesitation in her face.

Like she’d seen a ghost. Or seen someone who wasn't supposed to be here.

Then, a blink—like she snapped back to reality. “Yeah. Whole place is vacant. Not many people come here, you know.” She eyed them again. “Why are you here?”

Tyler’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” His tone sharpened. “Our car broke down. We need a place to stay.”

Another pause. The girl shifted. “Right. Uh. How many rooms?”

Jake stepped forward, grinning. “Well, lucky for you, we’ll need three rooms for three couples.”

Becca cut in. “I’ll need a twin setup.” She glanced at Arnie. “Not sharing a bed with this one.”

Arnie was taken aback. “Like, no need to be rude, man. I get it. You like the ladies. Sheesh.”

The clerk girl reached for the log clipboard and handed it to them. “Write each of your names here. Rooms are on the second floor.” She grabbed the keys from the wall rack and sat them on the counter.

Maddie walked toward her as Tyler and Lana rushed up the creaking stairs. “You know, you’re the first young person we’ve seen in a while. You from around here?”

The young woman scoffed then shook her head subtly. “Not for long… I’m gone for college this fall. Can’t wait to leave this shit hole, just like everyone else before me. People here are stuck in the 60’s faming boom era.”

“I see that. Can’t imagine there’s much to do,” Maddie sighed then took one of the keys sets. “Well, thanks for the help.”

“Y’all be careful tonight.” The young clerk said while writing on the logbook. “There’s been some murders around town as of late. Locals are suspicious of outsiders. Wouldn’t cause any trouble if I were you…”

“Sure, we won’t.” Maddie nodded, disturbed.

“Why is everyone here so moody?” Jake scoffed under his breath.

“Don’t know, but I’d rather not tick them off and find out.” Maddie shook her head, leading the way up the dimly lit stairway, each step creaking.

CHAPTER NINE

TRUST ISSUES

Maddie

Maddie and Jake trailed behind the others as they entered their rooms, the old motel hallway stretching out in dim, flickering light. The air, stale with smoke and dust.

“We’ll see you guys in a few,” Jake called out, offering an easy grin before nudging open their door.

Inside, the room was coated in a fine layer of dust, the furniture dull and untouched. Jake walked over to the bed and pulled back the sheets, inspecting them with a skeptical look.

“Let’s hope there aren’t any bed bugs here,” he muttered.

Maddie barely heard him. She moved to the window, placing her hand against the cool glass. Across the street, the mechanic shop sat in the dark, its metal shutters half-closed, a single dim light glowing from inside. Something about it made her uneasy. The whole town did.

“Don't you think this place has a weird vibe?” she asked, still watching the shop. “Like these people don’t want us here?”

Jake let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Babe, stop thinking people don’t like you. Besides who cares what these people think?”

She turned to look at him, but he was already moving closer.

“Just sit back and relax,” he said, slipping his arms around her from behind. “Enjoy the trip.”

His lips brushed against her neck, and for a second, she let herself melt into it. His hands moved up her waist, his body warm against hers. Then one hand slid lower, fingers edging beneath the waistband of her jeans.

She stiffened, grabbing his wrist. “Not now, Jake.”

He pulled back slightly, searching her face. “You’re still upset.”

She sighed, stepping away from him. “I’m not upset.” She turned, sitting on the bed. “I… I don’t know how to feel. About this whole trip––this place. About us...”

The words hung in the air between them, thick and unmoving. Jake shoved a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“Maddie—”

“I want to go back to campus,” she cut in. “Maybe we can work things out when we’re a bit more clearheaded, but…”

Jake’s jaw tensed. He looked at the floor then paced toward the door, but halfway out he paused. “I only started seeing Ashley because you weren’t there,” he said, voice low. “I needed someone to talk to. Someone who gave a shit.”

Maddie’s stomach twisted. “Jake—”

“She was there for me after every practice, almost every game,” he continued.

“Because she’s the team's cheerleader. She's supposed to be there,” Maddie shot back.

“I mean afterward, Maddie,” he snapped. “She would come looking for me when you didn’t.” His voice dropped, quieter now, like he was realizing something as he said it. “Ever since your parents’ divorce, you stopped being there for us."

"Are you crazy? You're making this about you now?" Maddie rose furious from the bed, arms crossed.

"I get it! You're dealing with so much, I know... But in the process, you stopped being the girl I fell in love with. Sometimes, you're like a stranger to me.”

That stung, but she had drifted from him, ever since she found out. She purposefully had become colder.

Jake shook his head and turned for the door. “I'll swap rooms with Becca tonight, if that makes you feel any better.”

"There was someone else at the shop, in the backroom—strapped to the chair with duct tape.”

Jake paused, eerily confused. "What are you talking about?"

"On my way out of the restroom, I saw a half-open door at the far end of the shop. I couldn’t see much, but there was a person inside, tied to the chair in front of a TV. There was dried blood covering their wrists. I can't say for certain what it was, but I think we need to call the police..."

“Wait, what? Why didn't you tell us before? I dunno know, maybe the diner seemed like a good place to start?" Jake said, scratching his jaw, then gave Maddie a suspicious look. "I hope you're not saying this to avoid a fight."

"What? No. I’m not. I know what I saw. And if you don’t believe me, I can go call the police myself.” Maddie marched past Jake, out to the corridor.

“Wait, Mads. Look I'm sorry..." Jake took hold of her hand before she could leave the room. "I just need to be sure."

"Sure of what? That I'm not making this up? I wouldn't lie to you, Jake. I'm not you," she snapped, pulling away from him and walking out.

Jake chased after her again, pulling on her hand gently. “Mads, I believe you... But we can’t make a big deal of this unless we’re sure of what you saw. We don't know what's really going on." He scooped her face and looked right into her eyes.

"What if that man needs help?” she said softly.

Jake sighed, then shook his head. “Maybe it’s some local who owes them money? Look, it’s best we leave it. You said it yourself––we don’t want to tick any of the locals off. And you're right, this whole town is plain old weird. But right now, the last thing we want to do to piss off the one guy who can get our ride fixed. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about. Let's put this behind us and get some rest. Tomorrow, we have a long drive ahead of us."

Jake kissed her on the forehead then held her close. She placed her hands on his chest, almost reluctant, silence pressing around them. Her eyes locked onto the window past the door frame, focusing on the mechanic shop again. The light inside the garage flickered, a shadow shifting behind the metal grates.

A strange unease crept down her spine.

She could only hope he was right.

CHAPTER TEN

POLICE STATION

Horton

Sheriff Horton leaned against the chipped wooden window frame, staring out at deserted Main Street. The neon buzz of Marty’s Diner flickered weakly, its sign struggling against the night. Hollow Creek used to be lively—Founder’s Day Parade decorations would’ve lined the streets by now. But these days, the town barely held one hundred residents, clinging to existence in the middle of nowhere.

The office door creaked open. Deputy Carter walked in, face flushed, gripping a folder and a stack of glossy photographs. Horton barely glanced his way.

“Carter,” he grunted, “you should be home. Three-month-old and a wife, remember? You don’t get to clock overtime anymore.”

Carter shook his head. “Couldn’t let this one sit, Sheriff.” He set the folder down, photos spilling across the desk. “Still no word on forensics for the Wilkins crime scene, but something came up on Al Jones.”

Horton sighed, stepping over. “The lawyer? He's been missing for weeks. Thought you’d tapped that well dry.”

“Not quite.” Carter pointed to a black-and-white crime scene photo—blood splattered across carpet and walls, then to another of a carnival ticket stub, half-soaked in dried gore and crumpled atop a welcome mat. “'Member that ticket found at the Jones scene? There was a match."

Horton frowned. “And?”

“George William Grimm.” Carter slid over a photo of the victim—middle-aged man, family portrait. “Jones was an out-of-town lawyer. Wife reported him missing a couple weeks ago. Had several investments here in Hollow Creek.”

Horton’s brow furrowed. “It can't be Grimm. He’s been dead for nearly twenty years.”

“I know. But here’s the kicker.” Carter tossed another photo onto the desk. A Midwestern house, police tape fluttering in the yard, an aqua-blue ‘67 Mustang Coupe parked in the driveway. The front door had been torn off its hinges. “We think our suspect broke in, kidnapped Jones, and stole his car. Whether Jones is still breathing, we can't say. But one thing is for certain––our guy wanted us to know it's him."

Carter slid over the last image—a close-up of the carnival ticket on the invaded home’s welcome mat. The imprinted logo read: ‘GRIMM’S GRAND CARNIVAL – A LEGACY OF WONDER SINCE 1960.’

"This ticket––it's rare to find one like it. The logo has been out of print since the carnival was repossessed from its previous owner––William Grimm. So we did some digging, found Jones's financial records. Turns out, he is majority stake shareholder of the park, just like Wilkins."

“You're saying this was a targeted attack?” Horton asked.

“Two crime scenes, same piece of evidence.”

Horton exhaled through his nose.

“These weren’t random, Sheriff,” Carter said. "Jones and Wilkins—they're the current carnival owners.”

The room felt colder. Horton chewed the inside of his cheek, thinking.

“Somebody’s picking them off.” Carter paced. “Forensics has Grimm's DNA, but the man’s been dead since ’69. You think it's a copycat?”

Horton didn’t answer. He walked to the narrow closet behind his desk, yanked it open. Inside, file boxes stacked high, their labels faded and dust-caked. He pulled one free, blew off a plume of dust, and set it on the desk. The tag read, “Red Hook Jack Murders.”

Carter tensed. “Jesus, Sheriff. You think this is tied to— ”

“Red Hook Jack’s next of kin.”

Silence stretched.

“Grimm’s inbred kids?” Carter muttered. “I thought the State put ‘em in foster care after the court trails.”

Horton pried open the box. Crime scene photos spilled out—mangled bodies on meat hooks, smeared greasepaint, carnival lights casting twisted shadows over the dead. He flipped through, stopping at a picture of three children and their mother, a hulking woman with sharp features, standing in front of a butcher shop.

The sheriff’s jaw tightened. “When it turned out Red Hook Jack was actually the children's mother, State stepped in and swooped them kids away. Foster care didn’t do a damn thing for ‘em, and Grimm? He gave them away like they were up for auction. The youngest, special needs. Once he was old enough, the eldest ran off into the wind… Nobody’s seen him since.”

Horton jabbed a finger at an old photograph of the eldest Grimm child, a little boy with hollow cheeks and lifeless eyes. “That boy...always struck me as an odd one. Clever, troublesome. Cruel. Can't say for certain it's him, but if the DNA samples match...”

“Could be a solid lead,” Carter said, nodding slowly. “Well, where do we start looking? There are no records or criminal history on any of the children.”

Horton’s jaw tightened. He tapped the photograph, his voice low, steady. “I know someone who might know a thing or two…”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ROAD TRIP

Maddie

The van's rusted sliding door screeched as Maddie yanked it shut, sealing them inside the stale-smelling interior. The floor was littered with empty cans and snack wrappers, a graveyard from the last couple of days on the road.

Up front, Arnie twisted the key in the ignition. The van coughed, sputtered, then rumbled to life as Becca cranked the volume on the radio. Some old-school rock anthem blasted through the busted speakers, crackling with distortion.

"Alright, moment of truth. Let's see how much of a certified asshole Mr. Ed really is," Arnie muttered, rolling down his window as he pulled up alongside the mechanic, old man Ed. The guy was all wiry muscle and nicotine stains, a human grease rag.

"Mr. Ed, sir, you're a lifesaver," Arnie said, smiling and giving him a lazy salute. "You’d be, like, a lot cooler if you were nicer to people, y’know?"

Ed furrowed his brow with a bulging eye, jaw protruded and face tightened as he lit up a cigarette. “Fuck off," he said flatly, blowing smoke into Arnie's window.

Arnie grinned. “We shall do, sir," he said, rolling the window up with another mock salute, then he turned to Becca. "Told ya, certified asshole."

Becca cranked the music even louder as Arnie slammed his foot on the gas. Tires screeched against the cracked pavement, peeling out of the lot and onto the highway, leaving the desolate town in a cloud of dust.

"Don't know about you guys, but I'm so psyched we're leaving that shit hole of a town," Lana called out from the back, leaning into Tyler’s side.

"Right there with ya', babe," Tyler murmured before pulling her into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

Maddie exhaled sharply, pressing her head against the window. The van rattled with every pothole, but she barely felt it. Her stomach was still knotted from last night's fight with Jake—the yelling, the accusations, the way he said he didn’t even recognize her anymore. It all shattered her inside, little by little.

She turned to him now, sitting beside him, his fingers drumming against his knee. When he caught her staring, he hesitated for a moment—then, he slid his hand over hers. Warm. Solid. A silent truce.

Maddie squeezed his fingers gently, and for the first time since last night, she smiled. Maybe things weren’t totally fucked...

♦ ♦ ♦

The van rumbled down the endless stretch of highway, flanked by miles of empty farmland. The sun was out in a full blaze, the sky clear as a light-blue canvas. Maddie had zoned out, watching the rows of crops blur past, when Tyler’s voice cut through the music.

“Yo, anyone else starving?”

Becca groaned from the front. “God, yes. Some food or snacks would be nice.”

Jake turned to the dashboard, glancing at the fuel gauge. “There a gas station nearby?”

Becca unfolded the crinkled paper map from the glove box and scanned it. “Not for another ten miles, it looks like.”

“Great,” Tyler muttered.

Before anyone could complain further, Arnie jabbed a finger toward the windshield. “Whoa, y’all might want to check this out.”

"Is that...a carnival park?" Becca said under her breath.

Beyond the endless crops, past the barren fields and dirt roads, a skyline rose on the horizon. A Ferris wheel loomed over the landscape, its silhouette dark against the setting sun. Twisting tracks of a rollercoaster curled beside it, frozen mid-loop like a snake caught in motion. Even from a distance, the carnival’s neon lights flickered faintly, a pulsing invitation.

“That looks sick,” Arnie said with a smile reaching ear to ear. “They definitely got food and drinks over there. I saw the stands in the pamphlet.”

Lana leaned forward between the seats, eyes wide with excitement. “Oh my God, yes! We have to stop! That’d be the perfect way to end spring break weekend.”

Maddie frowned. “I dunno, guys. We’re already going to be late to campus. Classes start Monday.”

Lana waved her off. “Don’t be a buzzkill, Mads. Come on, imagine—the view from the top of the Ferris wheel, riding the coaster, popcorn and hot dogs. It's gonna be fun!”

Jake smirked. “It’s a couple of hours, Mads. Everything'll be fine.”

Tyler grinned. “Hold up—hold up! Don’t tell me you’re scared of the stories from last night. Red Hook Jack? Really? That shit happened years ago!”

Maddie stiffened at the name. "Well, I mean—people did get murdered there..."

"People get murdered everywhere, every day," Tyler added with a laugh. “Trust me. No Red Hook Jack is gonna be there to haunt us.”

Jake nudged her. “Besides, they caught him, 'member... Or her, whatever he or she was.”

Suddenly, the van’s tires screeched.

Arnie yanked the wheel hard, sending them skidding across the asphalt. Maddie grabbed the door handle as her stomach lurched. Becca shrieked, the van drifting sideways then jolting to a stop in a cloud of kicked-up dust.

Arnie grinned, gripping the wheel like a maniac and turning up the volume. “As your designated driver, I get to have last say. And I say we go have us a last day of spring-break fun!”

With a hard slam on the gas and music blasting, the van raced across the two-lane highway, aiming straight for the exit ramp.

CHAPTER TWELVE

WELCOME TO HOLLOW CREEK’S CARNIVAL

Maddie

The van rolled into the gravel lot, tires crunching over scattered debris. The faded neon sign flickered above them.

WELCOME TO HOLLOW CREEK’S CARNIVAL.

Maddie frowned. That wasn’t the name she’d seen on the diner pamphlet. That one read Grimm’s Carnival, and it looked way more polished than the rundown park in front of them. The roller coaster track loomed in the distance, rust biting at its edges, and the Ferris wheel turned sluggishly against the bright blue sky.

The side doors of the van slid open. Lana was the first out, stretching her arms toward the sky. “Hell yeah! Now this is a proper way to end the trip.”

Arnie followed, fumbling within his pocket. “Y’all smell that? Smells like overpriced popcorn and burnt corndogs.”

Becca hopped out next, pulling her sweater tighter. “This place looks a little retro. Definitely has a vibe going for it.”

Jake and Tyler were the last ones out, their eyes wide in amazement toward the rides. Everyone was buzzing with energy.

Everyone except Maddie.

She stood by the van, arms crossed, gaze locked on the wooden skeletal tracks of the coaster. Something about the place put a knot in her throat. The excitement in the air felt forced, like a bad laugh track over a horror movie.

Becca noticed and looped an arm around her shoulder. “Mads, don't worry. It’s fine. Let’s enjoy this last day together,’ kay? I mean, who knows when we’ll be able to do this again? All of us together. On a road trip.”

Maddie hesitated, chewing on the inside of her cheek. The past week had been tough, sure–– uncomfortable mostly, but being here with her friends had been somewhat of an exciting adventure. A little escapade from her stressful reality, like the pressures of school…and her parents’ divorce.

She sighed. “Yeah, you're right. I’m just being a bit paranoid. Let’s go.”

♦ ♦ ♦

They made their way toward the ticket booth. The place was quiet—too quiet for a carnival. The only sound was the distant hum of old speakers playing warped carnival tunes.

Tyler stepped ahead, peering past the booth window. “Looks like we’ve got the whole place to ourselves. Can't see more than a couple people roaming around.”

"I mean, we are in the middle of nowhere..." Lana scoffed with a head tilt.

Inside the booth, a young woman with a bored expression sat behind the counter, reading March's edition of Hollywood Scoop magazine. She barely glanced at them as she muttered, “Six bucks each.”

Jake scoffed. “Six bucks? There’s barely anyone here.”

The girl sighed. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Jake tried again, throwing on his best charm. “You know, we only came to your booth, because one of our friends here... He thinks you're kinda cute." He pointed at Arnie in the back.

The booth girl glanced up with a flat gaze. She saw Arnie wave back at her with an awkward smile then simply lowered her attention to the magazine. “I’m good, thanks.”

Lana walked past Jake, directing him to the side as she leaned against the counter, catching a glimpse of the magazine. She flashed a smile. “Y'know, I used to love Hollywood Scoop, until I found out most celebrities were calling the shots for every story published. Even had editors on payroll. Hate to break it to ya,’ babe, but most of their news is fake..."

The booth girl glanced down at the magazine, face suddenly pouting, almost as if disappointed.

“Hey, if you really want breaking news, get yourself a copy of Hollywood Stars magazine. My sister works as an editor there. Lives in LA. You know, I’m visiting this summer. Here, take her number. You ever make it out there, give her a ring and she’ll show you around.” Lana said, grabbing a pen from the counter then handing over a scrap of paper with a telephone number.

"Really?" the girl said, baffled and almost starstruck. Something flickered in her––curiosity, maybe excitement.

"Girls gotta help each other out, you know? Now, you think you'd be able to help us out––a few broke college kids? We got money, but not enough for all of us.”

She exhaled through her nose then shrugged. “Fine. Make it two bucks each. But please don't tell anyone. I’ll get fired if they find out.”

Jake grinned, handing over the cash. “Our lips are sealed.”

With tickets in hand, they stepped past the entrance. The inside of the carnival was even more rundown than the outside. Paint peeled from the game stalls. The carousel lights flickered in and out. And there was a handful of people wandering aimlessly, but it felt more like ghosts drifting through an abandoned dream than a real crowd.

“You never told us your sister works for a magazine in LA?” Becca asked, walking up to Lana, eyes wide with curiosity. Lana turned back with a mischievous smile.

“I don’t have a sister, silly.”

Maddie and Becca eye-rolled at each other, gently shaking their heads, aware that Lana had lifted the girl's hopes so carelessly.

Jake and Arnie stepped ahead, waving the group forward. “Alright, alright. Let’s all split into groups so we can go check out some of the small rides first. We meet back here in an hour.”

The crew took off toward the attractions, laughter echoing through the empty pathways.

Maddie lingered at the gate for a second longer.

Something about this place was eerily off. Maybe she was being extra paranoid. After all, this was the park where people got murdered…

Regardless, she followed her friends into the carnival.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

OUTSKIRTS

Horton

The sheriff’s cruiser crunched over gravel, tires sending up a lazy dust cloud in the dying afternoon light. Sheriff Horton parked at the edge of the trailer park. The place had a stink that clung to the wind—a sour mix of rotting garbage, spoiled food, and sewage.

He stepped out, boots crunching on the gravel, one hand brushing his holster. The park was silent save for the distant whine of cicadas and the buzz of flies swarming around the swollen trash bags that leaned against rust-streaked trailers.

He stopped at the fifth trailer. The windows were layered with grime, the inside probably a worse sight. The screen door hung loose on one hinge, and a mountain of cigarette butts carpeted the front step.

Horton knocked, a deliberate three. He wasn’t in a rush. Flies scattered in lazy spirals. Inside, he heard the faint whir of a breathing machine.

The door creaked open, revealing a sagging woman, her bulk spilling over the sides of a wheelchair. Stringy hair framed a face with a permanent scowl, her breathing labored and wet. She looked Horton over, one hand tightening on the doorframe.

“What do ya' want?” she snapped, voice sharp and rasping like she gargled nails.

“Ms. Ruth Beth?” Horton adjusted his hat.

“You the cops?”

“Sheriff,” Horton clarified, his tone neutral.

She slammed the door without another word.

Horton sighed, his patience thin but practiced. “This is about an ongoing investigation, ma’am,” he called through the screen. “You can either cooperate or come with me to the station.”

Silence.

His eyes drifted to the trash bags piled by the porch, their seams bulging. A couple of them were slick with something dark, pooling near his boot. He grimaced.

Horton stepped back enough to see the cracked side window. “This is about them Grimm boys,” he said louder, voice cutting through the hum of flies.

The door creaked again, slower this time. Ms. Ruth stared out, suspicion etched into her sagging features.

“Grimm boys? They in trouble?”

“We found familial DNA at two separate crime sites,” Horton replied, watching her reaction. “Can’t be the father. He’s been dead for almost twenty years. We have reason to believe his next of kin might be involved. I understand you were given custody of the boys years back. As I gather, you had close ties to their mother.”

Her scowl deepened, but her gaze flicked away for half a beat. “That boy Lyle ran off when he turned fifteen. Haven’t heard from 'em since. Always getting into trouble, that boy was."

“And the younger one? He still lives here?" Horton placed a hand against the door frame. "I'd like to have a word with him."

"Bubba? He ain't back 'til supper. Works at the shop with Ed." Mrs. Ruth Beth wheezed a breath, one hand pawing at the oxygen tube near her face. "He ain’t talk much either. Doubt you'll get any answers from 'em. Boy's no good with words."

Horton had recently come down from the shop and was aware it’d been closed for the day, but he decided not to inform her, assuming this spot would be the next likely place to locate Ed and Bubba. He observed her intently, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

The sheriff nodded as he noticed the filthy kitchen counter, small antenna TV broadcasting a black and white show. Among the scattered junk––rotten food, cigarette butts, and crumpled stacks of soda cans, one item caught his eye––a set of gleaming silver keys, sparkling like a hidden gem. They were so clean that it was obvious they did not belong.

He glanced out the window screen across him. There––parked behind the trailer lot, sat an aqua-blue muscle car that Horton immediately recognized from Carter’s evidence photos––Jones’s 1967 classic Mustang Coupe. Partly covered by a tarp and stripped of its license plates. Yet unlike the rest of the property and the set of keys, the car was immaculate, its shiny finish and pristine chrome gleaming like a diamond in a swamp.

Horton leaned against the door frame. “Nice ride,” he said, his tone casual. His eyes weren’t. “Yours?”

She followed his gaze, eyes darting to the keys before snapping back to him. Her hand trembled slightly, adjusting her oxygen tube. “It... belongs to one of Ed's clients,” she muttered, avoiding his stare, shifting in her wheelchair, her bulk straining against the armrests.

Horton scratched the stubble on his jaw, the rasping sound loud in the quiet trailer. “Hmm. That’s odd,” he said slowly. “You know, there's a missing person report for a man named Al Jones. Owns a car just like that one. You don’t happen to know anything about that, do you, Ms. Ruth?”

Her face flushed, sweat beading along her brow. She pawed at the oxygen tank, taking a long, shaky inhale. “Can’t say that I do. I ain't read the news,” she said, voice cracking. “All I knows is Ed needed an extra parking spot, so he left it here. Ain't know what else to tell ya'. Now, go on and get the hell off my property! My goddamn show is on.” She tried shutting the door, but Horton placed a foot in between the frame."

“Ms. Ruth,” Horton’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer, his expression unreadable. She was hiding something. He straightened, hat in hand, and stepped closer toward the door. "When was the last time you saw Lyle? Be honest now," he said, voice low, deliberate.

“I told ya. I can’t remember. It's been years. Last I heard, he was mixed up with some bad folks. Real bad. Before leaving, Lyle said he was gonna find his sister, get back into the family business. That's all I know,” she said, taking another inhale from the tube.

“Well then, if you see him around, you give me a call. Lyle may have hurt several innocent people and may hurt many others. We need to find him.”

Ms. Ruth stood still, lips tightened. She shook her head, eyes narrowed. “Like I said, there's nothin' else I can tell ya,” she snapped, wheezing. “But if he’s responsible for them people gone missing, maybe they had it coming. Now go on, get!”

Horton stared at her, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. Only a truly vile person wishes death upon others... He nodded, tipping his hat. “You take care now, Ms. Ruth.”

She didn’t answer. The door slammed shut, and the breathing machine’s whirr faded as he walked back to his car.

Horton slid into the driver’s seat, his jaw tight as he stared into the cracked mirror. He looked over to the Mustang across the lot, realizing he’d gotten the answer he’d come for. Now it was a matter of monitoring the area, keeping watch of any incoming activity––vigilant for the perfect opportunity to confront the suspect. Or suspects.

The flies buzzed louder as he turned the ignition. And from the edge of the woods beyond the trailers, something watched him drive away.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

UNFORTUNATE SECRETS

Maddie

The sun was bleeding out over the carnival, smearing streaks of red and orange across the sky. The Ferris wheel creaked as it slowed, metal joints groaning under the cool afternoon. One by one, the cars emptied, as Maddie and the others stepped out. Tyler and Lana were already making their way toward the carnival games, with Jake and Arnie right behind them. Maddie trailed with Becca at the back, rubbing her arms as the air grew colder.

“Come on, let’s shoot some targets,” Tyler called, grinning over his shoulder at Jake. “Bet I’ll out-shoot you any day.”

Jake rolled his eyes and smacked his lips. “Please. You’re on.”

Lana giggled, already clinging to Tyler’s arm as the four of them stopped at a booth, where cheap stuffed animals and tacky prizes dangled on the walls. A vendor handed Jake and Tyler dart guns, and the challenge was on. Tyler’s aim was precise, every dart smacking the moving targets on the mechanical rails. Jake, however, wasn’t as lucky. Midway through his second shot, his gun jammed, the dart dangling uselessly from the barrel.

“Damn it!” Jake muttered, shaking the gun in frustration.

Tyler snorted, his aim as relentless as his confidence. “Looks like I win, cowboy.” He stepped forward, claiming a large, overstuffed bear. He spun, presenting it to Lana with a grin. “My lady.”

Lana laughed, clutching the bear to her chest as Tyler slung an arm around her shoulder, leading her back into the crowd.

“Guess we’re empty-handed,” Maddie murmured, half-smiling, trying to lighten the moment.

Jake looked over at her, his expression softening. “Not yet,” he said, glancing at a nearby quarter machine. Plastic bubbles encasing cheap little rings filled the machine. He quickly dug into his pocket, fishing out a quarter. Once he popped it in, Jake twisted the knob, and out rolled a small plastic ball. Inside, a silver plastic ring glinted faintly in the dim carnival lights.

He cracked it open, pulling the ring free. “For you,” he said, holding it out, a shy smile on his face. “To always remember me by.”

Maddie blinked, caught off guard, then let out a small laugh, a real one this time. “Jake, that’s so sweet.” She slipped the ring onto her finger, any previous frustration with him melting away. They embraced, warmth replacing their past tensions.

“I’m sorry I got upset yesterday. It––it wasn’t right of me to say those things,” she whispered.

“It’s alright. We got a little riled up” He leaned in, kissing her on the cheek. The flickering lights painted their embrace in patches of color.

Jake looked up, his eyes widening in delight. “Yo! About time we hit the coaster, yeah?” He pointed toward the horizon, voice enthusiastic, almost impatient. Maddie followed his gaze to the wooden beast, its rickety tracks twisting against the dying light.

Arnie shrugged. “Yeah, y’all been pushing this for way too long. Let’s go!”

They weaved through the crowd, stepping over discarded soda cups and crumpled napkins. The air had thickened with the scent of fried dough, sweat, and burnt cooking oil, something Maddie had been quite familiar with during her summer-time jobs at fast-food diners. The crowd had doubled since earlier, becoming a slow-moving, shoulder-brushing mass, everyone jostling for space, for a ride, for a thrill.

Finally, they reached the coaster's entrance. Jake groaned. The line snaked out of the ride’s gated queue, spilling into the main walkway. A solid hour, maybe more.

Lana scoffed, “No way I’m standing here without something to snack on.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Becca added, tilting her head toward a red tent. “Circus show starts in twenty. Why don't we grab some food, hit the show, then come back?”

Jake exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated, but Maddie nudged him. “We’ll come after. Don’t worry. The ride isn’t going anywhere.”

“Yeah, unlike us,” he muttered, but followed along as they detoured toward the snack booths.

As soon as they reached the stands, the scent of butter and sugar hit Maddie full force. Lana and Arnie stepped up to order, while the others hung back. Maddie glanced toward Jake, who was lagging, his shoulders tense. Then she saw it—Tyler tugging him aside, slipping behind the booth’s back corner.

Maddie didn't think much of it, until Becca bumped her arm. “What do you think those two are up to?”

Maddie turned with a shrug. They were hunched close, voices low, heads nearly touching. Not a casual chat. More like an argument.

Maddie’s stomach knotted. Without thought, she drifted closer, slipping behind the corner, tuning out the carnival noise around her.

“…only gonna make this worse,” Tyler hissed.

Jake’s voice was tight. “I’m not ready to end it yet. You don’t get it. It's not that simple.”

“You think dragging it out helps? She's gonna end up hating you even more, dawg.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I… I know this will mess her up even more, man.”

“You’ve got a month. Then we’re gone. You’re seriously not gonna tell her?”

Maddie stepped forward. “Tell who what?”

Jake and Tyler both jerked around, their faces twisting with guilt.

“Mads—” Jake started, but Tyler exhaled sharply and walked off, leaving them alone. Jake scratched the back of his head, looking everywhere but at her.

“Look, I-I should’ve told you sooner. I wasn't sure how to put it, okay? It all happened so fast. It was all a blur—”

“Jake,” Maddie said, crossing her arms, “tell me what?”

He hesitated. Then, like ripping off a bandage, he said, “Tyler and I…got drafted to a division-one school. Full-ride scholarship. We leave next month.”

“What? What are you talking about? So what does this mean for us?” Maddie asked, voice nearly breaking.

“I dunno,” Jake said, head lowered, gazing the ground.

That hit like a knife to the gut. Maddie’s breath hitched.

Jake kept talking, but she barely heard him. Something about how he didn’t want to hurt her, how he wasn’t sure how to say it. But all she could focus on was the fact that the one person she thought she could count on, had also let her down.

Her chest squeezed, heat flooding through her veins. Before she even realized it, her hand flew. The slap cracked against Jake’s cheek, sharp enough to turn heads.

Silence.

Jake’s hand hovered over his jaw, his eyes wide with shock.

Lana, Becca, Tyler—all of them staring.

At first, Jake’s face hardened, but then his gaze flickered, like something clicked. He saw it. The hurt. The betrayal. A tear slipped down Maddie’s cheek, hot and fast.

She turned, but Jake grabbed her wrist.

“Maddie, wait—”

“Leave me alone.” She yanked free.

“Please, listen to me—”

“Listen to you?” She spun back, her voice sharp, cracking. “You lied to me, Jake! The one person who was supposed to have my back—lied! And for what? Bonfires, road trips, promise rings. Bullshit! You don’t mean any of this!” She broke down, pushing him back twice and beating his chest with rage.

“You already broke my heart once––” Maddie sobbed. “You never cared about me, never cared about us. Never enough to matter…”

Speechless, Jake’s mouth opened.

Maddie turned on her heel and bolted, silent tears coming faster now. Becca and Lana rushed behind her, calling her name.

Arnie, stepping up with arms full of corn dogs and popcorn, blinked between them. “Uh…what the hell just happened?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CIRCUS SHOW

Maddie

Maddie sat stiff on the wooden bench, arms crossed, her knee bouncing as she stared at the dirt-covered floor of the tent. The wafting smell of stale popcorn and cheap beer clung to the hot, humid air. Most of all, the deep-red curtains draped around the stage made her spine crawl, giving her a sense of suffocation.

To her right, Becca and Lana whispered between themselves, the girls placing a comforting arm around her, their hushed voices barely audible over the murmuring crowd. Across from them, on the other side of the row, Arnie, Tyler, and Jake slouched in their seats. Maddie felt his eyes on her—Jake’s—but she refused to meet them. Every time she did, her chest clenched tight, the thought of him leaving without trace, without hope––it infuriated her, mostly pained her...

“Ignore him,” Lana said, nudging her with an elbow. “Looking at him is only gonna make you angrier.”

Maddie exhaled sharply through her nose. “I don’t even want to be here. I wanna go home.”

Becca rubbed her shoulder. “After the show, we’ll head back to the van and drive straight to campus. Once we're there, you won’t have to see him again.”

That wasn’t what she wanted, not really. She still loved him. Even after everything.

Lana sighed. “Or,” she said, tilting her head toward Maddie, “you could talk to him and enjoy whatever you have left.” She lifted Maddie’s chin with two fingers. “Look, babe, I don’t mean to be a Debbie Downer, but he’s not gonna be your first, and he sure as hell won’t be your last. You’re young, sexy, and gorgeous.” She smirked. “So chin up. No need to let him see you sweat. Just enjoy whatever time you guys have left. If he does end up going away, who knows when you’ll get to see each other again.”

Becca snorted. “As much as I hate to agree, she has a point.”

Maddie let out a weak scoff, wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or plain old frustration, but it faded as the tent lights dimmed even further. A hush fell over the crowd.

A spotlight snapped on, illuminating the center of the ring. A man in a red coat and top hat tilted at a slight angle held a megaphone to his mouth. His voice boomed, thick with an exaggerated French accent.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, all the way from France, our circus performers!”

The audience erupted in cheers. The floodlights blazed, revealing the performers in dazzling costumes. Aerialists launched from their trapezes, their bodies twisting midair before catching onto swinging bars. High above, wire walkers balanced on thin cords, arms stretched wide. Jugglers on the ground tossed rings and balls, their faces painted with elaborate, unsettling smiles—creepy makeup that clawed at Maddie’s nerves.

She tried to focus on the show but shifted uncomfortably, her hands sweating. She was so upset with Jake, and her anxiety began to surge.

Suddenly, Arnie leaned over toward the girls. “Ladies, gonna head out for a smoke. I need to watch this high as a kite. Anyone want to join?”

The girls exchanged glances, quick shakes of their heads.

Arnie shrugged, unfazed. “Well, y’all can suit yourselves.” He turned, meandering off toward the edge of the stands, slipping out of the tent. Maddie glanced back, watching him disappear into the darkness.

The grand act finale arrived with a burst of fire. A tall, bearded man held flaming torches, tossing them into the air and catching them with expert ease. A ring of fire ignited, surrounding him as he drew out a slender sword that was also ablaze. The man boldly slid the flaming sword straight into his mouth––enduring the flames searing his entrails, his face twisted in a fierce expression.

Maddie felt her breath catch as she noticed a couple of steel drums stashed behind the ring walls. She knew these to be gasoline barrels because of the flammable warnings on the drums’s side.

It was an odd observation, but it made her think about the potential fire hazard such barrels posed.

The performer finally pulled out the blade from his throat and pirouetted to the side, flames licking around him in a deadly dance. Her eyes drifted over the crowd. She thought she caught a glimpse of a thin-framed shadow outside the tent, beyond the flaps.

Seemed like Arnie was back from his smoke break maybe. But before she could look closer, the crowd erupted in applause, and the show was over.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE PLAN

The Simpleton

The tow truck rumbled down the empty highway, its high beams carving through the darkness, bouncing off endless rows of corn. The old Ford smelled of rust and gasoline, the engine rattling like a loose coffin lid. Bubba sat in the passenger seat, his thick hands resting on his lap, fingers twitching. In the driver’s side, Older Brother kept one hand on the wheel, the other tapping a lit cigarette against the dashboard. His long, greasy hair hung over his sunken cheeks, his eyes bloodshot and yellowed like a sick animal.

In the back seat, silent as the grave, was Older Sister. She stared ahead, not at the road, not at the lights of Hollow Creek’s carnival in the distance—just through everything, through the night itself. A long, jagged scar crossed her throat, a deep gash that never fully healed.

Older Brother mentioned that her foster father had cut her throat when she tried to run away as a kid. Her vocal cords damaged, leaving her unable to speak ever since. Bubba, however, didn't quite grasp the severity of her trauma.

The Ferris wheel loomed on the horizon, turning slow, its bright colors cutting against the black sky. The roller coasters twisted in neon ribbons and beyond them, the carnival sprawled—a patchwork of rides, booths, and tents where screams blended with laughter.

The tow truck slowed then rolled to a stop on the dirt shoulder. The sign on the door read "Ed’s Garage," but Old Man Ed wasn’t behind the wheel anymore. Not during the night at least.

Older Brother killed the engine. For a second, there was nothing but the hum of insects and the distant echo of carnival music. Then he opened his door, stepped out, and made his way to the truck bed, rummaging through the pile of tools, chains clinking as he pulled them free. He turned back, his silhouette sharp against the side mirror.

The passenger door swung open.

Bubba flinched, moaning softly. Older Brother stood there, eyes drilling into him.

“Get out,” he said.

Bubba obeyed, shifting his massive frame from the cab, boots crunching on gravel. Older Brother tossed something at him—a burlap sack with two ragged eye holes and a long towing hook attached to thick chains. Bubba caught them clumsily, the iron cold in his grip.

“This is it. The first phase,” Older Brother said, “like we planned.” He stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “Once you’re inside, get to the power grid. Shut it down. Me and Sister will take care of security once the lights go out. Anyone gets in the way?” He nodded at the hook in Bubba’s hand. “You handle it. No fuck-ups. Understand?”

Bubba swallowed hard. Nodded.

Older Brother grabbed his chin, yanked his face down to his level. “Do you, big guy? Do you understand?”

Another nod, more urgent this time. Bubba’s lips trembled.

“You better.” Older Brother released him, took a step back. “Now go on. Get!” he howled at the giant as if he were a rabid dog.

Bubba pulled the burlap sack over his head, the fabric scratchy and damp with sweat. His breath came hot and fast inside it. One of his eyes—the milky one—drifted to the side, but the other stayed locked on the carnival, on the lights, on the place where the screams and laughter mixed. He tightened the chain around his arm, whipping the hook once to test its weight.

Then he turned, stepping into the cornfield, the stalks swallowing him whole as he made his way toward the carnival gates.

The night was still young. And soon, the Carnival of Horrors would begin.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

STALKERS

Arnie

The fairgrounds were almost empty now, save for the odd laugh echoing from the carnival games and the creak of tents swaying in the night breeze. Arnie neared the edge of the park. He checked his watch—quarter past ten. The place was nearly deserted. Perfect.

He spotted a set of stands overlooking the cornfields and made his way over, slipping beneath the aluminum structure. Hidden from sight, he lit his joint, inhaling deep, feeling the familiar warmth spread through his lungs. He exhaled slowly, watching the thick stalks of corn sway in unison, black silhouettes against the dim carnival lights.

Then, a sound.

A crunch, faint but distinct. Arnie froze, eyes narrowing at the dark rows of corn. Something moved. A shadow, tall and deliberate, emerging from the field and heading toward the park grounds.

Arnie hesitated. Maybe some creep sneaking in to vandalize the place. Worth checking out.

He took one last drag, stubbed out the joint, then crept along the perimeter, slipping through a gap in the gate. The figure moved with purpose, cutting through the back area where office and storage trailers sat in neat rows. Arnie followed, keeping low, using the trailers as cover.

The stranger stopped at a locked gate near the park’s power grid. A massive figure, nearly seven feet tall, clad in dark clothing and a burlap sack over his head. He had keys. That was weird. Someone with keys shouldn't need a disguise. What was he hiding?

Arnie crouched behind a trash bin, watching as the man worked the lock.

Clang.

Shit.

He had bumped the bin. The giant’s head snapped toward the noise. Arnie held his breath. Then, from the darkness, a black cat darted past, its tail flicking as it disappeared between the trailers. The masked man exhaled, shaking his head, then returned to the lock.

Arnie let out a slow sigh of relief. That was too close.

As the man pushed open the gate, a beam of light cut through the dark.

“Hey! What are you doing down there?”

A voice, sharp and authoritative. One of the park’s security guards.

“You’re not supposed to be here. This is a restricted area for authorized personnel only.”

The giant didn’t move. He stood there, breathing slow and heavy.

The guard unsnapped his holster. “Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be, sir. Hands behind your back.”

Arnie could see it from his angle. The length of heavy chain wrapped around the man’s arm ended in a thick, rusted hook.

The giant lifted his head.

Then suddenly, without warning, the chain lashed out, slicing the air with a wicked snap. The hook sank into the guard’s shoulder. A gunshot cracked through the night. Arnie flinched, falling back.

The guard screamed as he was yanked forward, feet scraping against the dirt. The masked man reeled him in like a fisherman landing his catch. The gun clattered to the ground as the giant kicked it away.

Then he took hold of the guard's arm and wrenched it backward. A sickening crunch bursted with blood. Bone split through flesh. The guard’s screams turned to ragged gasps and gargles.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Please, stop—”

The masked man planted a heavy boot on his face and yanked the hook free, tearing flesh and muscle. Blood sprayed across the ground. The guard barely had time to sob before the chain lashed out again, sinking deep into his lower jaw.

With one last pull, the giant ripped the jaw free with a wet, meaty pop.

Arnie’s stomach twisted. His body locked in place, frozen in primal horror.

The masked man unwound the chain, wiping the gore from the links. Then he turned toward Arnie.

Their eyes met.

Run. It was all he could think of. Run!

Arnie turned and bolted.

Behind him, heavy footsteps pounded the dirt. He twisted through the maze of trailers, heart hammering, lungs burning. After a long sprint across the lot, he took cover behind one of the last trailers and glanced back. The giant was gone.

A sharp crack.

The trailer light exploded, shattered by the whip of a chain. Arnie flinched, nearly tripping, but kept running. He veered into the cornfields, the stalks whipping against his face, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He kept running and running until he no longer knew which direction he was headed. He had to have lost him.

Tired and petrified, he bent over, hands on his knees, wheezing for air, trying to steady himself.

Then in the far distance, he saw another shadow. A thin-framed woman.

She stood at the edge of the cornfield.

Blood-stained tank top. Jeans dark with grime. Her grip tight around an axe handle. Her head tilted, twitching slightly, greasy hair hanging over her face.

Arnie swallowed. “Who… Who the fuck are you?”

She didn’t answer, tilted her head again, the movement unnatural, deliberate. Her knuckles went white around the axe.

With slow, precise calculation, she lifted it.

And hurled it.

Arnie ducked, the blade whistling past, sinking into a cornstalk behind him. He sprinted deeper into the field, heart slamming against his ribs.

Something crashed into him, knocking him to the dirt. He scrambled, gasping, looking up.

Another figure loomed over him. Thin, almost skeletal. Skin stretched too tight over sharp bones. Cold, dead eyes staring down. A rusted crowbar gleamed in his grip.

Arnie trembled. “Please… please, what do you want—”

The man grinned, teeth yellow and jagged.

“To kill,” he whispered.

A hard metal crowbar came down.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LIGHTS OUT

Jake

The carnival show ended in a swirl of smoke, fading lights, and thunderous applause.

As everyone exited, the lights buzzed overhead, flickering against the darkened sky as the crowd bled from the tent in messy streams, the people chattering and riling about. The scent of popcorn and sweat lingered in the air, as Jake walked alongside the group, hands in his pockets, feeling defeated over his fallout with Maddie.

Determined to end things right, he turned to look for her. The neon glow of the midway reflected in Maddie’s eyes as she trailed a little behind. It was his shot. Maybe his only one. He slowed his pace until they were side by side, the others drifting ahead.

“Mads,” he said, voice steady despite the weight pressing on his chest. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the draft. I was scared of this exact scenario happening, but it's done. You know now. And after thinking it for a while, I don’t want to break things up, not like this.”

She didn’t stop walking, but she turned her head slightly, listening.

“I still have feelings for you—not for Ashley, not for anyone else. Only you.”

His voice was steady, though his stomach knotted. “Look at it from my point of view. This thing with the scholarship, it’s an opportunity I can’t pass up. You have no idea how many guys would kill for a shot at D1, maybe even pro. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk or never see each other again.”

Maddie exhaled, her gaze dropping to the dirt.

"I don't see the point of doing this, if it's all going to end anyways," she’s said.

“Hey, look at me.” He lifted her chin, locking his gaze with hers. "It doesn't have to end. We can make this work––long distance, if we have to. I want to be with you,” he said softly, caressing her face.

She looked up again, nodding, her lips parting. “I don’t understand how you do it. Convince me so easily. I hate it.”

Jake nodded. They kissed—brief, passionate, but real. A quiet understanding.

“You still owe me a ride,” he said, nodding toward the towering wooden roller coaster in the horizon.

“You guys done making out yet?” a voice interrupted from behind.

Jake turned to see Tyler grinning, arms crossed. Behind him, the girls clapped silently, exchanging glances of approval.

“How about we get one last ride in before the park closes? It's almost midnight,” Jake said, leading Maddie toward the group.

Becca hesitated, glancing around. “Wait, what about Arnie?”

“I thought he went for a smoke,” Lana said, glancing around, brow furrowed.

“He’s been gone for over an hour,” Becca added.

Tyler scoffed, “Dude’s probably high as hell tripping in the fields.”

“I dunno. I think we should wait for him before heading out,” Becca insisted.

“He’ll be fine,” Jake groaned. “We’ll meet at the van after. Let’s go before we miss our chance.”

Becca sighed but had no choice. She followed, and the group kept walking.

♦ ♦ ♦

The party eventually approached the roller coaster entrance.

Neon lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly red glow on the grinning devil statue. It stood frozen in mid-taunt, pitchfork raised, its eyes catching the light like something alive. The sign above read “The Devil’s Escape” in jagged, flickering letters.

Tyler stared up at the statue, his face pale. “Dude…” he muttered. “That thing looks—”

“Relax, man,” Jake said, clapping him on the back. “It’s a prop.” He snorted, shaking his head as he walked toward the turnstiles.

Tyler didn’t move. His eyes stayed locked on the devil’s face. He glanced upward, eyes wide with worry, the roller coaster's loops and hard turns, enough to make anyone sick.

Tyler nodded toward Lana with an uncomfortable chuckle, "Maybe we’ll sit this one out. Me and Lana will hit up something a little...slower."

Lana smirked, nibbling her lower lip. “I know the perfect ride.”

Jake laughed, punching his shoulder lightly. "I knew you would chicken out! It's just a coaster man. It'll be fun. But suit yourselves."

Tyler scoffed. “Yeah…we'll pass this time, big guy.” He wrapped an arm around Lana. “Catch you guys later.”

Jake, Maddie, and Becca entered the queue. The place was nearly empty, them and a dead-eyed operator leaning against the controls.

“Last call,” the operator droned.

They climbed into the front car, buckling in as the ride rumbled to life. Once the safety bar was in place, the chain lift engaged, dragging them up the steep incline. The ascent was slow and clanky, but the view of the farmlands and the entire park was astonishing.

The higher they climbed, the smaller the carnival lights became, swallowed by the dark expanse of the fields beyond.

A surge of blackness swallowed the entire park. The power cut out.

Maddie’s breath hitched. “No, no, no. I knew this was a bad idea.”

Jake tried to play it cool. “Relax. Probably part of the ride.”

“Jake,” Maddie whispered, “the whole park went dark.”

They called down to the operator, barely able to make out his shape as he flicked a cigarette and walked toward a storage room near the controls.

"Hang tight, I'll bring y’all down in a few,” the operator yelled out from below.

“Where the hell is he going?” Becca asked.

“Probably going for the backup generators,” Jake said.

Initially, everything was quiet, but soon the generator engines roared to life, and the ride’s lights flickered back on.

Maddie and Becca both gave a sigh of relief. But Jake spotted something unusual. A shadow moving quietly from the coaster’s entrance toward the storage room where the operator was located.

Jake saw it first. “Wait…who is that?”

Before they could shout, a sickening thunk echoed up the metal beams.

There was no sign of danger. No scuffling sounds, no scream.

After a moment of silence, the operator staggered out of the storage room, his body jerking. Something long and gleaming protruded from the back of his skull. A thick chain, ending in a rusted hook, buried deep into his head.

The man convulsed as the hook was ripped free. Blood splattered against the control panel, a thick spray hitting the flickering bulbs around the station. The operator crumpled, twitching against the steel floor.

Maddie sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh my God.”

Becca clamped a hand over her mouth. “Is he dead?”

Below, the shadowed figure walked up to the controls. The flickering bulbs finally cast him into view—a hulking man, face obscured by a burlap sack, chains dangling from his massive fists.

"Heeelp!" Becca called out desperately to any bystanders below, but it was so dark, and there was no guarantee their cries were heard.

The masked figure gazed up at the ride then down at the control console, breathing heavily. With a single press of a button, he started the train engines. Suddenly, the cars jerked.

But something was wrong. The second car behind them began moving, ascending fast. And theirs was still locked in place.

Jake turned. “Is that—”

Becca’s eyes widened. “It's coming straight for us!”

They all shoved against the safety bar. Locked.

The second car slammed into their train, metal screeching as it shuddered, pushing their cart forward, closer to the drop.

Maddie screamed, “We have to get off this thing!”

Jake spotted the emergency walkway to the side of the cart. “There! If we can get the safety lever up, we can climb out.”

Maddie glanced over her shoulder—the figure was moving again, flipping another switch.

"He sending more cars!" she whispered, desperation clawing at her.

Jake muttered. “That next one’s gonna send us over.”

They heaved against the restraint again. Nothing.

“Wait, wait. Push on three!” Jake barked.

“One, two, three!”

Finally, the lever snapped free.

They scrambled onto the narrow walkway beside the track as the third cart crashed into the train, sending a cascade of sparks down the incline. Metal twisted and groaned, the entire train tilting dangerously before skidding down the drop, crashing against the rails and splintering the fence below.

The trio froze, staring down at the wreckage. Becca choked on a sob. "We almost—“

"Focus," Jake hissed, his voice thin. "That psycho’s still down there."

They hurried to the emergency ladder, feet clanging on the metal rungs as they began their descent.

Halfway down, they were yanked to a halt by a flash of movement below. The burlap-masked man waited at the bottom, the hook in his hand catching the dim light. He lunged, whipping the chain upward, the hook's blade grazing Maddie’s arm.

They jumped off.

"Run!" Jake bellowed, throwing himself at the attacker, struggling to hold him off. "Get help!"

Maddie and Becca scrambled down, barely looking back.

Jake swung wildly, desperation in every move. His fist connected—barely a scratch. In a swift motion, the killer raised his hook, thrusting it at Jake’s chest.

Maddie cast one last look over her shoulder in time to see Jake’s palm impaled as he blocked a strike with his hand, blood spilling over the hook’s gleaming curve. A scream tore from his throat as the killer yanked back, splitting Jake’s hand into raw, ragged pieces.

"Jake!" Maddie screamed, frozen.

Gasping, Jake turned and ran, stumbling, clutching his mangled hand. But a chain whipped through the air, the hook clutching his shoulder. Pain exploded as he was yanked back, thrown to the ground like a doll.

Jake’s voice was hoarse, pleading. "Maddie… Run…"

The killer cocked his head, looming over him, no mercy in those empty eyes. Slowly, he raised the hook then drove it down, straight and brutal.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LOST & FOUND

Maddie

The girls staggered out of the roller coaster exit, gasping, tears streaked on their faces. They stumbled into a small group of bystanders, families, and teens, all gawking at the wrecked train cars now derailed halfway over a fence. The sparks and flames of the wreckage was the only light source in the area, the park still dark thanks to the power outage.

Maddie cried out first, her voice hoarse, “Please! Help us! There’s…There’s someone. He’s hurting Jake!”

Becca nodded, mouth slightly open and heavily breathing, a hollow shock in her gaze.

Maddie grabbed the nearest person’s arm, her voice cracking.

“Please! You have to help us,” she choked. "There’s someone attacking people in there!”

The bystanders froze, exchanging skeptical glances. But Maddie’s tear-streaked face, the desperation in her voice, seemed to sink in. A few nodded, uneasy but started to listen.

One man in a security jacket moved forward, frowning. “What’s going on? What happened here?” he asked, his tone caught between skepticism and worry.

“There was a masked man who attacked us! He had a hook and was whipping it with a chain! And he… When the power went out, he killed the operator and started controlling the ride. He took Jake with him.” Maddie sobbed, pointing behind her. “Please, you have to do something!”

Suddenly, the power was restored, illuminating the park with vivid color and relighting the street lamps along the pathways.

The guard's eyes widened as he noticed the blood streaking down Maddie’s arm. “Ma’am, you're bleeding.”

She blinked, barely registering his words. The guard snapped to action, lifting his radio. "Dispatch, I need backup by the coaster exits. We got a derailing and a possible assault in the park. Over."

He looked at the girls, jaw clenched. “Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll go check the scene.”

They watched him disappear down the hallway, his flashlight beam slicing through shadows. The silence pressed in as he moved deeper, each step echoing. He swept the light around, finding only empty corridors…until the faint glint of red on the floor caught his eye. Blood. Smears on the walls, trails across the floor. More than he’d expected. Too much.

He backed away, pulse pounding, the darkness pressing in.

Returning to the girls, the guard’s face was pale. “You said someone attacked your friend? There's an awful lot of blood out there. Let’s get you two to the office, where it’s safer.” His voice shook a little as he led them back into the night. The guard glanced at the crowd then waved them away.

He guided the pair to a small office near the lost and found, where he received a radio confirmation for backup.

Inside the building, the fluorescent lights buzzed. Becca collapsed onto the nearest chair, pale as death, her whole body shivering. Maddie sat beside her, reaching out to steady her friend’s trembling hand.

The guard lowered his radio, watching the girls with a suspicious, narrowed gaze. “Listen, stay put. We have backup coming to check the site.”

"Please...that psycho already killed the operator. You have to find my boyfriend before it's too late. He's still out there..."

The guard’s face hardened. “Alright, calm down.” He picked up a radio, muttering something low and quick into it. “We’ll have the front gate call the sheriff's department.” He glanced at Maddie and Becca, before heading out. “Now stay put. I need to meet with the other guard and secure the area. Won't be long.”

Once the guard left and the girls were alone in the lobby, Becca began to shake her head. “I knew this was a mistake. I knew I shouldn’t have come on this trip with you.”

Maddie recoiled, stung. Her eyes searched Becca’s, hurt mixing with anger. “What? What are you talking about? You think I wanted this? You think I’d have brought us here if I’d known this would've happened? I was the first one to say we should've avoided this place. And now for all we know, Jake is dead, Rebecca!”

Furious, Maddie returned to Becca, who hadn’t moved, barely blinking. “Look. We need to find the others and get out of here." Maddie said, brushing her fingers through her hair in desperation.

Becca mumbled something then seemed to snap back, her eyes widening. “I need to call my parents.”

She shot up, almost stumbling as she bolted out of the room toward a nearby phone booth. Maddie followed her, watching as Becca fumbled to punch in the numbers, her fingers shaking. Inside the booth, Becca broke down, sobbing into the receiver as she spoke in frantic, breathless bursts.

Maddie watched her, eyes stinging, her own tears spilling. She glanced back toward the roller coaster, the wrecked silhouette looming in the dark. I’m so sorry, Jake, she thought, I'm sorry I didn't come back for you. The memory of his scream echoed in her mind, raw and helpless.

Becca emerged from the booth, eyes red, clutching the phone like a lifeline. “I told them,” she whispered. “I told them everything. They're coming to get me first thing tomorrow."

Maddie nodded, swallowing her grief. “Okay, let's find Arnie and the others. We’re not safe here.”

They looked around the park. It was eerie, almost desolate now. After the outage, it seemed most people had left. There were but few silhouettes wandering in the distance, their faces shrouded in shadow. Far off by the roller coaster exit, the two guards split up upon reaching the corridors, their flashlights sweeping the dark, searching for any signs of Jake or the killer.

CHAPTER TWENTY

CUPID’S TUNNEL

Lana

Lana and Tyler walked up to Cupid's Dock, the artificial stream reflecting the neon glow of the surrounding carnival lights. Most of the swan boats were empty, rocking idly with the water’s movement. The place was dead.

The entrance gate was locked with a rusted chain. Tyler rattled it half-heartedly.

“Guess that’s that,” he muttered. “We should find Arnie and bail back to the van.”

Lana leaned into him, running a hand down his stomach until her fingers found his crotch, groping him softly. “Or,” she said, kissing his neck, “we find a quiet place away from the crowd.”

Tyler grinned, hands finding her waist as he pulled her in. They kissed feverishly, his lips moving to her jawline, her neck. “We should take this to the van,” he murmured between kisses. “Before someone sees.”

“Let them.” She smirked. “Not like anyone’s around.”

The pair entwined in each other’s arms, their lips locked in a fervent make out session. His hands tracing the curve of her back.

Then a flicker of movement near the gate caught Lana’s eye. A shadow slipping in. She stiffened. A man wearing the carnival’s red-and-white striped vest approached. He was gaunt, sickly-looking, with jaundiced skin and greasy hair that clung in strings to his forehead. His eyes were wide, too wide, pupils like black pits.

“Y’all shouldn’t be wandering around in the dark,” he said, voice had a southern twang, slow, deliberate. “Park’s ‘bout to close.”

Tyler pulled back, clearing his throat. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that. We got carried away. Looking for a place for ourselves.”

The man’s lips curled into something like a smile, a wicked one. “Well, y’all came to the right spot. Very romantic too, just a little too late.”

Lana exchanged a glance with Tyler, a bit thrown off by the man’s remark. “Right. In that case, we’ll be on our way.”

“Why in such a hurry?” The man interjected as he wiped his nose on his sleeve. He pulled out a set of keys. “Seeing that y’all want some time for yourselves—” He unlocked the chain. “I ain’t see no harm in letting y’all in for one last ride.”

“Sorry, but didn’t you say the park was about to close?” Lana asked, skepticism creeping into her voice.

“I did. But this one’s on me. Think of it as repayment for any rides y’all missed during the blackout.”

Lana hesitated. The guy was off. Sloppy looking. Half-assed uniform, no name tag. But he had keys. Tyler shrugged, a little uneasy but willing to go along. The man pulled the chain and ushered them through. Lana was a bit hesitant, but she followed.

Tyler hopped into a swan boat first, extending a hand to help Lana in.

“See y’all on the other side.” The stranger gave them a slow wave, his yellow teeth flashing as he pushed the boat forward into the tunnel’s mouth.

Above them, an animatronic cupid swayed its bow, lights flashing––pink and blue.

Inside, the tunnel got dimmer the further they sailed down the stream, lit by neon hearts and softly glowing bulbs. Mechanized cherubs twitched in awkward, repetitive motions, singing in tinny, eerie voices.

Tyler pulled her close, kissing her again. “That guy was weird, huh?” he murmured against her lips. “Why was he so insistent about letting us in?”

“Forget him. At least, we got the ride for ourselves.” Lana reached for his zipper, grinning, biting her lower lip. “Now sit back and…”

Tyler relaxed into the seat, eyes fluttering shut as she lowered herself toward him. The ride drifted smoothly—Tyler moaned softly as Lana indulged in pleasuring him with her soft lips.

Suddenly, the tunnel plunged into darkness. The power was cut again. The music died. The only light left was the dim, green glow of the emergency exit signs.

Around the corner of the tunnel, another swan boat had turned sideways in the stream, blocking their path.

Their boat jerked to a stop.

Lana sat up, wiping her mouth. “What the hell?”

Tyler squinted into the dark. “Hello? Hey!” His voice echoed. No answer.

He sighed. “Alright, I’ll pull us over to the walkway.” He gripped the edge, muscles tensing as he hoisted himself onto the ledge. “Come on, let me pull you up.”

Lana reached for his hand then stopped. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Tyler,” she whispered, “is that mannequin moving toward you?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Stop messing around, babe. It’s an animatronic—”

“No…” Her voice was tight, strained. “Tyler, behind you!”

He turned.

The figure moved in slow, deliberate steps. A woman—pale, thin, eyes like two empty sockets. Long, oily hair framed a gaunt face. A scar stretched across her throat. In one hand, she held a hatchet.

She raised it.

Lana let out a haunting scream.

The hatchet came down with a sickening thud, sinking deep into Tyler’s forehead. His body went rigid then slack. The woman yanked the axe free with a wet, sucking sound. Tyler’s body tumbled into the water.

Lana scrambled back into the swan boat, kicking the ledge to push away, breath hitching in her throat. The woman leaped forward onto the boat, bony fingers gripping the ledge. She crouched there, head tilting, twitching as she studied Lana’s terror. Then she smiled.

The hatchet swung down.

Lana’s screams echoed through the dark tunnel, swallowed by the black.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CORRIDORS

Security Guard

One week into his job as a security guard, Adam was already investigating a possible murder attempt at the carnival. He couldn't believe his luck. His boots crunched on shattered glass as he crossed the wreckage of the roller coaster crash. The twisted metal frame loomed in the dim light, jagged rails pointing skyward like broken ribs. He spotted Joe crouched near the ground, his flashlight beam tracing a slick smear of blood along the cracked pavement.

“What the hell happened?” Adam asked, his voice tight.

Joe stood, his face grim. “Possible homicide.” He motioned with his light, illuminating the blood trail that snaked toward the dark corridors of the maintenance tunnels. “We need to sweep the area. Make sure your revolver’s loaded.”

Adam hesitated. His hand hovered over the grip of his weapon, sweat prickling at his neck. He never thought he’d have to actually use it.

Joe noticed. “Don’t freeze up on me, kid. Let’s move.”

Adam swallowed hard, drew his revolver, and clicked the cylinder open. Loaded. He snapped it shut. The two guards stepped into the narrow passageway, following the blood and the deep scratch marks raked across the concrete walls. The overhead lights flickered weakly, their buzz swallowed by the distant groan of the wind through rusted carnival rides.

Then the trail split. Two paths. One leading deeper into the shadows, the other curving toward the emergency exit.

Joe turned to Adam. “Split up. Meet me outside the entrance. If anything happens, yell for backup.”

Adam wanted to protest but nodded. Joe took the right. Adam went left.

The deeper he went, the darker it got. The flickering bulbs barely held back the void. He kept his flashlight raised, hand tight on his gun. There was a humming drone in the air––Adam's breathing, heavy.

Suddenly, a scream.

Joe.

Adam ran, heartbeat hammering against his chest. He skidded to a stop where Joe had been. The flashlight beam swept the ground. A revolver. Joe’s. Blood pooled nearby, thick and fresh.

Adam’s hands shook as he picked up the gun. He gagged, a sharp inhale as his light swung to the corner. A body slumped against the wall.

“Hey, hey!” Adam rushed forward, pulse wild. “Are you ok? Who did this to you? Where’s Joe?”

The kid was young, early twenties, athletic, but his face was barely recognizable beneath the bruises and swelling. Blood leaked from a gash in his forehead, running in rivulets over his sunken cheeks. His mouth moved, forming silent words, his breath ragged.

He tried to raise a hand.

Adam recoiled. The kid’s palm was split clean in two, the fingers hanging limp like torn fabric.

Then, from behind them, something rustled in the darkness.

Adam spun, panic firing through his nerves. He pulled the trigger.

The shot cracked through the corridor.

When he turned, he saw Joe.

Staggering. One hand pressed against his stomach. Blood seeped between his fingers.

“Oh, Jesus,” Adam gasped, rushing forward. “Joe, I didn’t—”

But Joe wasn’t only shot.

His face was torn, raw gashes splitting his flesh. A hook was buried deep in his chest, chains snaking over his shoulders, dripping with dark crimson.

He collapsed to his knees.

Adam caught him, trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—”

Behind him, the college kid wheezed something unintelligible. His bloodied lips trembled as he raised a broken finger—pointing.

Adam turned.

A shadow loomed. A hulking figure, draped in darkness, the outline of a burlap sack covering its head.

A hook snapped down.

Adam had no time to scream. The curved steel gouged deep, piercing his eye. Pain ignited his skull, a white-hot explosion as he gargled a strangled cry.

The chain went taut.

With a violent jerk, his neck twisted. A sharp crack echoed.

Then silence.

The only sound was the rhythmic creak of the swaying lamp overhead.

The masked figure exhaled, heavy and slow, then without hesitation turned to the college kid, who whimpered, barely conscious.

The sack-masked brute marched forward, dragging him into the waiting dark.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

PANIC & PURSUIT

Becca

Becca’s knee bounced. She wasn’t even aware of it at first, an involuntary jitter, her body working off the adrenaline. But then it became all she could focus on—the tight, nervous energy rolling through her leg, like an engine revving too hard. The lobby was dead quiet. No voices. No footsteps. Only Maddie and her sitting there, arms crossed, staring at the door, desperately hoping the guards would come through with the attacker in custody.

Becca shot up from her seat. The walls felt too close, the air too thick. Her pulse hammered in her ears. She paced, hands clenching and unclenching, trying to swallow down the rising panic. Images of the coaster crash clawed at her mind—the screams, the crunch of metal, the way she’d been thrown against the restraints, the world flipping upside down. Her stomach churned, bile creeping up her throat.

“I can’t do this,” she muttered, voice tight.

Maddie looked up. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t sit here and wait. I’m going to the van. Maybe the others are there.”

Maddie shook her head. “Becca, no. I’m not leaving until the guards come back with something on Jake.”

Becca stopped, turning on her. “This is a job for the police, Maddie! If we stay here, we’re sitting ducks for that psycho.”

Maddie stood, hands up in a calming gesture. “Breathe, okay? We don’t even know—”

She stopped. Her eyes flicked past Becca, toward the rear window. Her expression shifted, confusion melting into something sharper. Fear.

Becca turned slowly, heart hammering against her ribs.

A figure moved toward them, outside the glass. At first, it was a shadow, barely there. Then it stepped into the glow of the street lamp.

The burlap-sacked killer.

Becca’s breath hitched. The hook in his hand swung lazily from a length of chain, glinting in the light. His mechanic’s uniform was dark with blood.

She screamed.

Maddie spun toward the exit. The sight of him made her stumble back. “Go!”

They bolted.

The door banged open behind them. Heavy boots on pavement. The sound of the chain dragging.

Becca’s lungs burned as they tore through the empty park. The place was nearly pitch-black, the weak street lamps barely cutting through the dark. The carnival rides loomed around them like skeletons, dead and rusting.

Breathless, the girls rounded a corner until they stumbled upon someone. One of the park attendants, unmistakable in his blazing red-and-white striped vest, a hallmark of the carnival staff.

“Whoa! Hold it there!”

His hand latched onto Becca’s arm. She gasped, yanking away, but the grip was strong.

The man was gaunt, skin sallow and stretched tight over his face. Hair clung to his forehead. He smiled, showing yellow, rotting teeth.

“Y’all girls lost?”

Becca and Maddie panted, barely able to speak. Becca finally choked out, “Please! You have to help us! There’s a man… He’s coming with a hook—”

The man’s smile didn’t falter. “Oh, there ain’t nothin’ to worry about.”

Realizing something was out of place, Maddie tugged at Becca’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

But Becca couldn't pull away from the man. His grip tightening on her upper arm. Something was definitely out of place. The way he was looking at them. The way he stood there, like he already knew.

"Let go of her!" Maddie grunted, pulling Becca away. As they turned from the man, a sound shuffled behind them.

Both girls looked back. A woman stood there beyond the dim light. Skeletal thin. Hair falling over her face. Silent. Her head twitched to one side, an unnatural jerk.

In her hand, a hatchet.

Becca’s stomach dropped. She looked back at the man, his grin widening, amusement flickering in his sunken eyes.

“They’re with him,” she breathed.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she heard the heavy footsteps. The masked killer emerged from the shadows, the hook scraping against the pavement. The three of them closed in on the girls, cutting off any escape.

The thin man’s voice was soft, almost patient. “Now, now. No need to be scared. Come with us. Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

Becca’s breath came in short, sharp bursts.

Maddie toppled a half-full trash bin from the wall nearby and flung it hard, the clang echoing through the empty park.

“Run!” she screamed.

The girls sprinted in opposite directions, Becca veering toward the slowly-spinning Ferris wheel.

Behind them, the attackers split up, on the move.

Becca spotted a phone booth, flinging herself inside and yanking the door shut.

She punched in the emergency number.

"Operator, what's your emergency?"

“Help! We are being attacked by a group of psychos—three of them—Hollow Creek’s Carnival Park—please, send the police fast!”

Her eyes flicked to the glass reflection. There was a silhouette stalking toward her––the masked brute, hook and chain glinting under the carnival lights.

Panic surged.

She slammed the receiver down and bolted toward the Ferris wheel platform, squeezing herself into the narrow metal slats under the Ferris wheel deck.

She crouched low, holding her breath as she peered through the metal bars, praying he’d pass.

And he did pass.

The masked brute walked up to the steps of the Ferris loading deck, wet and heavy breathing echoing from within his mask. He searched in each of the Ferris cars, heavy footsteps rattling against the metal platform above her. After a moment, the sack headed killer descended the platform and began to walk away.

This was it. Her chance to bolt off without him noticing.

Whack.

The chain clanged against the steel wall beside her, sending a vibration through her body. She betrayed her position, scrambling out from her hiding spot, but the killer was already swinging, the hooked chain slashing across her thigh. She bit back a scream, tearing herself free even as the hook ripped into her flesh.

Pain exploded, but she forced herself to keep moving, her vision blurring as she climbed into one of the Ferris wheel cars.

The killer followed, swinging the chain again. This time, the hook shattered the car’s glass window, the chain tangling in the frame. Becca seized her chance as the car rose, escaping his reach as he was forced to release his weapon. She laughed weakly, defiant.

“Screw you!”

The masked figure stood below, watching her ascent with a dead, glassy stare.

But he didn’t move, merely watched as the wheel lifted her higher. And then a truer horror dawned on her—the ride would only take her back down.

“No,” she whimpered, gaze flicking to the distant ground below.

Wide-eyed, she looked down. The fairgrounds a twisted landscape in the distant below. She didn’t have many options left.

Then she thought of it. Her only option left.

She stepped forward, gripped onto the door’s edge, and glanced down.

Determined.

“You don’t get to decide,” she whispered. “I do.”

She closed her eyes and without a sound leapt from the car, plummeting into a popcorn stall below. Wood splintered and metal twisted around her.

Dazed, vision swimming, Becca sprawled there, broken, her body horrifically twisted in unnatural ways, warmth seeping over her shattered limbs. She couldn’t move, only blinked weakly as the brute approached, looming over her. She gargled, blood pouring from her mouth, her breaths shallow and wheezing.

The masked killer raised his hook, letting her see the glinting blade, almost ending her pain, but then he paused and after a moment lowered it. He left her there, alive, to die a slow death, gasping for every last, excruciating breath as the darkness began to close in.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HOUSE OF MIRRORS

Maddie

Maddie ran.

Her breath tore from her chest as the carnival blurred around her, neon lights flashing against the dark, adrenaline driving her every step.

She had lost Becca somewhere near the circus tent, but it didn’t matter now. Behind her, the slender woman was closing in with terrifying speed. Skeletal, gaunt, her tangled curls half-covering a pale, expressionless face.

Maddie risked a glance over her shoulder. The woman’s axe gleamed under the midway lights, slicing through the air behind her.

Thunk!

The hatchet bit into a wooden post inches from Maddie’s shoulder. Splinters peppered her arm as she tore away, lungs burning.

Maddie cut left, ducking behind a row of metal gates. She zigzagged between tents, but the woman followed, relentless.

Then she saw it.

The House of Mirrors.

Maddie sprinted toward it, her only chance. If she could lose her in the maze, buy herself even a few seconds—

She hit the entrance hard, shoving through the curtain of hanging beads and stumbling into the mirrored corridor. Reflections surrounded her. A dozen Maddies stared back, wild-eyed, terrified, scattered across endless glass.

She ran. It was all she could do.

Sharp turns, a maze of warped reality. Every direction, her own face. Every angle, another dead end. Her own gasping breath echoed back at her, swallowed by the cold hum of fluorescent bulbs overhead.

Claustrophobia crept in, making the walls feel like they were closing in with each step. Her vision blurred with panic, and her pulse pounded loud enough to drown out her own thoughts.

Then she saw her.

Not herself.

Her––the skeletal woman.

Dozens of her. Reflected. Multiplied. No way to tell which one was real.

Maddie’s stomach lurched. She stumbled back, heart hammering. The mirrors distorted the woman’s skeletal frame, stretching her limbs, twisting her face into something even worse than before. A nightmare with infinite angles.

"What do you want from us?" Maddie cried out to the reflections.

Suddenly, another reflection moved.

A man.

Tall. His face hidden in shadow, but she recognized the disheveled uniform, and garish carnival vest. The imposter. The one who had crossed their paths moments earlier, the bastard who had lured them straight into this nightmare.

She was trapped.

“Don’t be scared,” the gaunt man said, voice calm, almost amused. “We’re looking for new players.”

Maddie’s throat tightened. “Players? What are you talking about?”

He moved closer, stepping through his reflections like a ghost.

“For the grand show,” he continued. “The game of life and death. What an honor it is to be selected. You should be proud.”

Maddie’s head spun. Her voice cracked. “What kind of fucked-up game is this?”

The man's psychotic smile didn’t falter, his figure slipping between mirrors like a shadow. Suddenly, the woman’s face came forth inches from Maddie’s own, close enough to see the yellowed teeth behind her hair. Maddie jolted, crashing backward, her body smashing against glass.

She fell to the ground, pain biting into her as shards sunk into her skin, a warm trickle of blood running down her hands and legs.

Her knees crushed the tiny shards as she pushed herself up, frantically trying to get away.

And then he was there.

The slender man, right in front of her. She bolted back again, desperately crawling away. He reached down, grabbed a fistful of her hair, and yanked her head back, forcing her to look up at him, his breath hot against her ear.

“You see, darling, we need players like yourself, and your friends...” he said softly, almost sweetly. “For the grand finale of the carnival show. The game of life and death. What an honor it is to be selected. Not many have the privilege to see us perform live.”

“No—no, please,” Maddie whimpered, but he only smiled.

He slammed her head against the glass floor.

And the world went dark.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

THE CARNIVAL SHOW

Maddie

Maddie woke up to the slow, rusted groan of metal. Her arms ached, wrists pulled tight by cold iron cuffs. A dim, yellowish glow barely cut through the dark. Her head throbbed, like she’d been pummeled with a lead pipe.

Chains rattled. A voice, rough and cracked, spoke from somewhere close. One she recognized.

“Maddie? Hey! Are you okay?"

Maddie forced her eyes open. Jake was sitting right beside her, his face bloody and swollen, arms hanging from cuffs. She too was chained to a playground carousel, along with Jake and another park security guard, wrists secured to the metal rails. They sat stiff-backed and tense.

“Jake? Where… Where are we?” she said, panting, then paused as she got a better look at Jake’s bloodied face, battered to a pulp, “Oh my God, your hand!” She realized Jake’s palm was split open, dried blood and gore covering the gashing wound.

“Don't worry about me. Are you hurt? Do you remember how you got here?" Jake insisted.

Maddie shook her head subtly. “I… All I can remember is that Becca and I were being chased by a big psycho, then we were cornered by two others creeps. A guy and girl.” Maddie croaked.

"And Becca?" Jake asked.

"We got split up short after. I haven’t seen her since..."

“Similar thing happened to me...” The guard interjected desperately, his uniform tight around his thick frame. He exhaled hard. “Last thing I remember, I was checking the exits. Looking for some asshole said to have derailed the coaster. Next thing I know, there was a woman holding a hatchet standing before me, then out of the blue...” He tapped the back of his head against the rail. “Lights out.”

Jake shifted, his face pale and drawn. “Jesus. We were the ones on the coaster. Same psycho in the burlap mask tried to kill us. He's the one who put us here."

Maddie interjected, "He's not alone. The two creeps I mentioned are with him. They were stalking us all along. But none of that matters now. We need to find a way out of here. There has to be some sort of key or lock that can free this thing.”

The security guard yanked at the chains, desperate. “HELP! Somebody––”

Suddenly, the floodlights blasted on.

Maddie recoiled, blinded.

A dull hum of carnival music seeped in from the old speakers. It was slow, warped, the notes like twisted lullabies echoing inside the empty, vast circus tent. More lights flicked on, illuminating what had once been a performance arena, now transformed into some sick maze with sinister shapes lurking under cloth tarps.

Her vision adjusted, then she saw them: cameras perched on tripods like vultures around a massive circus ring.

And beyond them—the audience.

Rows of stiff mannequins, their plastic faces frozen in empty expressions. But one figure among them moved. A hulking man clapped with slow, childlike enthusiasm, popcorn spilling from his meaty hands.

Maddie gaped. No mask, but she recognized the brute. A face like twisted wax, one eye drooping lower than the other, nose bent at an unnatural angle. A mouth with too many scars. It was the simpleton––Bubba––from the mechanic shop.

A voice cut through the air, theatrical and dripping with glee.

“Ladies and gents, freaks and fiends, welcome all to the most macabre show in the world, the first ever of its kind, the one and only, Carnival Kills!”

Maddie turned.

In the center ring stood the wicked ringmaster, resplendent in a crimson tailcoat and top hat. His face, a grotesque mask of white paint and black slashes, grinned wide. He threw his arms open.

She immediately recognized him. The slender man who’d been stalking her in the mirror maze, and apparently the architect of this carnival horror show. He pranced before her like a twisted ringmaster, sweeping his arm toward the mannequins scattered in the bleachers.

The showman's voice boomed out, “For those of you who don’t know me,” he said, voice echoing around the tent, “the name is Sawbones, and I will be the ringmaster and the director of this fine show..."

He twirled his leather whip and gestured toward the cameras. “Never in history has there been such an act as the one you all are about to witness. The first-ever recorded event of its kind, and I assure you, this will be a show to die for. Without further ado, we present to you all, the Circus Act of Death!

From the shadows, a figure cartwheeled into the spotlight. A petite woman with wild, fever-bright eyes and a smile that stretched too wide.

“Let's start by introducing one of the star acrobats of our show—her throat was slit by her own foster father at the age of six and left to die. She's made a comeback with over three murders under her belt, including her very own stepfather, all performed with her favorite tool of trade––the hatchet! She is one killer woman! Let's all welcome the mute and murderous Bloody Mindy!”

Mindy juggled three hatchets, their silver edges catching the light. She giggled soundlessly, eyes locked on Maddie and the men beside her.

Sawbones clapped. “She’s quite handy with those, isn’t she?”

Then he turned to the audience, his arms sweeping toward the lumbering brute in the crowd. “And let’s not forget the man who gathered our lovely contestants to make this whole event possible. The terror, the brute, the butcher of Hollow Creek himself—the Red Hook Jack reincarnated, Sackhead!”

Bubba let out a throaty, childlike laugh, smacking his enormous hands together. The mannequins wobbled around him, silent witnesses to the horror.

“But wait,” Sawbones continued, “before the main event, we have a special guest for you all.”

A wooden saw box rolled forward, pushed by Bloody Mindy. Strapped inside the saw box, gagged and writhing, was a middle-aged man, face bruised and eyes wide with horror. He thrashed, rattling the chains with every desperate tug.

The security guard beside Maddie stiffened. “Mr. Jones? What the fuck is this?”

Jones’s muffled screams filled the ring as Mindy ripped the gag from his mouth. “Please! Someone stop this! HELP!”

Sawbones wagged a finger. “For those of you in the crowd," he sneered, "Meet Al Jones. Businessman. Lawyer. Park co-owner. But did you all know…” He turned to the cameras. “Our dear Mr. Jones here was also the legal representative for the late, great Sir William Grimm? And what did you do, Al? Did you protect Mr. Grimm’s legacy?”

Jones sobbed. “What? If it's the park you want, you can take it! Have it. I don't care! Let me go, please. I have family—”

Sawbones’s smile twisted. “Ah, the old saying... Funny how you didn't seem to give a damn about Mr. Grimm's orphans once he was gone." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper.

“No, you bled them dry. You stole their inheritance. And now?” He tilted his head. “Now, it's time you pay back.”

Mindy lifted a rusted, two-man saw.

Jones’s face went slack. He blinked, realization dawning. “Lyle? You’re…Williams's boy? No, this is all a misunderstanding! Please! You must understand. The city auctioned off his lands because your father was indebted to half the town. It was the only way to recover losses! He was a con artist for Christ’s sake!

Jones snapped back to his senses, realizing there wasn't much he could say to convince the wicked Ringmaster. "Look, wait, wait! The park is yours. It's yours, your sister's and your brother's too. I’ll do whatever you want! I'll leave town. Let me go!”

Sawbones leaned in close, teeth grinding in rage. “It's too late for that, old man...”

Mindy placed the saw against Jones’s belly. Sawbones gripped the other end then turned to the crowd, voice booming. “Ladies and gentlemen, for our opening act…a little magic trick. Let’s see how far we can split our friend here…in half!”

They pulled.

The saw cut through the wood then flesh.

Jones’s screams were pure agony, sharp and raw. He shrieked, thrashing helplessly as his cries turned into gargled screams, blood pooling around the edges of the box as Sawbones and Mindy pushed and pulled in brutal, rhythmic motions. The tent filled with the wet, horrible sound of the blade tearing through muscle, cracking through bone.

Sawbones separated the boxes.

Blood seeped first then gushed, his insides unraveling like wet rope.

Maddie retched, eyes watering.

"Don't look, Maddie. Don't look," Jake said, turning away, gripping his chains so hard his knuckles went white.

The security guard hurled over his white shirt, gasping between sobs. "What the hell is this place..."

Sawbones and Mindy, drenched in gore, turned toward them, grinning ear to ear.

“And now,” Sawbones declared, arms raised, “let the show begin!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A DANGEROUS CALL

Horton

The old rotary phone blared through the darkness, rattling on the nightstand like it was alive. Horton stirred, groggy, half in a dream, until Katherine’s hand came down hard across his shoulder.

“Pick it up, damn it,” she hissed. “Could be the station.”

The phone rang again. Then again. Horton grunted, swung his legs over the bed, and snatched the receiver off the hook.

“What?” His voice was a growl, thick with sleep.

“Sheriff, it’s Carter.” The deputy’s voice was tight, breathless. “You need to get down to the carnival. Now.”

A pause. Horton rubbed his eyes. “Carter, it’s past midnight. Send a cruiser.”

“You have to get down here… It’s happening again.”

A silence fell over the line, heavy and cold.

Horton felt the weight of those words settle in his gut like a rock.

Katherine, still propped on one elbow, caught the shift in his face. “What?” she whispered.

Horton stared at the floor, then into her wide eyes. “The carnival,” he said. “There’s been a killing…”

Katherine froze. She threw the covers back, sat up straight. Her mind was already ahead of him. “Kate.” The name came out small, barely a breath, then louder, sharper. “Kate went to the carnival with her friends, Jim.”

Horton’s stomach turned upon hearing his daughter’s name. He pressed the phone harder against his ear. “I’m on my way.”

He hung up before Carter could say another word. Katherine was already out of bed, yanking a robe over her nightgown. Horton grabbed his holster from the chair, strapped it on, and checked the revolver. Fully loaded. Good.

Katherine stood by the door, arms wrapped around herself, pale as a ghost. “Find her, bring her back,” she said.

Horton cupped her cheek for the briefest second then was out the door, down the stairs, and into the cruiser, tires screeching as he tore off into the night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THE GAME BEGINS

Maddie

Maddie sat frozen, her stomach a tight knot as Sawbones bellowed toward the crowd of mannequins. The crowd silent, the creaking of night critters could be heard coming from the entrance flap.

“And now, folks, let's introduce our show’s first performer!” Sawbones threw his arms wide, his grin a slash of yellowed teeth. Behind him, Mindy, her apron soaked in dried blood, cranked a rusted lever. The metallic clanking echoed as a chain rattled downward, lowering a birdcage from the rafters.

Maddie’s breath caught in her throat. A familiar face…

"Is that..." Jake said from behind.

Inside the cage, wedged in too tight, was Arnie. Long blond hair hung from his red bandana onto his face, the terror clear in his eyes. A mechanical contraption, rusted and brutal, wrapped around his mouth like some twisted muzzle.

“Arnie!” Maddie shouted, but all he could do was reply with muffled grunts. His fingers were white-knuckled as he gripped tightly onto the cage bars.

Sawbones spun theatrically toward the cameras stationed around the arena. “Behold! Our first contestant! May seem like a man of few words, you see, but not by choice. That charming piece of craftsmanship around his jaw was created by moi and is set to detonate his pretty little face wide open in exactly one minute!”

Arnie let out a grunted yell of horror, trying to pull off the metal mask to no avail.

“Ah, but fear not!” Sawbones gestured grandly to a single rope stretched over the pit, where Mindy rolled in a platform––a macabre bed of rusted spikes. “The key to salvation awaits across yonder, beyond the tightrope!”

“Atop that ledge, is a key. If our contestant reaches it in time, he may live to tell the tale! If not... Well, we’ll have a hell of a clean-up job, won’t we?”

The timer above the gasoline barrels at the edge of the ring flashed red. A metallic beep cut through the air.

“And now! Let the show begin!”

The beep quickened, a rhythmic metronome counting down to carnage.

"Come on, Arnie. You got this!" Jake called out.

Maddie gripped the armrest. “Be careful!”

Arnie pressed against the cage door, forcing it open. Below, the rope swayed gently. His gaze darted to the spikes. No second chances. One misstep, one error…

He jumped.

To his surprise, he balanced. Arms out. Knees bent. Then the first step.

As the full weight of his body directed toward his foot, the rope betrayed him instantly, flinging away like a loose rubber band.

Arnie slipped, his body twisting as he plummeted into the void. A collective gasp from Maddie and the others beside her. But at the last second, one hand found the rope, gripping for dear life. He dangled upside down, legs flailing. The muzzle hissed, gears inside winding tighter. Time slipping away.

Maddie pulled from the carousel, chains holding her back. “Don’t stop! Keep going!”

“Holy shit,” muttered the security guard from behind. “The kid’s actually doing it.”

Arnie, realizing he couldn’t balance upright, swung hand over hand. His breath came in sharp, desperate exhales. His arms trembled, but the ledge was close now.

Twenty seconds.

He reached out, fingertips grazing the edge. With a final surge, he pulled himself up, every muscle screaming. His chest hit the ledge, legs still dangling. Arnie clawed forward with all his might and found a little music box in the middle of the platform. Quickly, he flipped it open and yanked out the key.

Five seconds.

Arnie jammed the key into the lock. Twisted.

Click.

The muzzle unlatched, and he ripped it from his face, flinging it toward the pit below. As it hit the spikes, the contraption detonated. Shrapnel snapped through wood and metal spikes. The explosion, akin to several fire crackers going off at once. Arnie collapsed onto his back, gasping, legs still half-off the platform.

Sawbones cackled, spreading his arms wide. “Ladies and gentlemen, our first contestant lives!”

The crowd was silent, except for the oinking grunts of the simpleton brute in the stands.

Maddie didn’t cheer. She only watched Arnie in terror. He was still trying to catch his breath, his eyes hollow with horror. A terrible dread dawned on her, realizing this was only the first act.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THE CAROUSEL ROULETTE

Maddie

Arnie climbed down from the tightrope platform, his limbs weak, his breath coming in short gasps. The scent of sawdust and old blood filled his nose. Before his feet even hit solid ground, Bloody Mindy was there, her pale face expressionless, hatchet in hand, blade glinting under the carnival lights. She didn’t need to speak—her weapon said everything for her. With a jerk of her chin, she directed him forward.

The playground carousel loomed ahead, and chained up to it was Maddie, Jake, and the security guard, their faces tight with fear. And before them was a shape covered in a heavy, dust-ridden mantle.

Sawbones's voice rang out, smooth and mocking. “Ladies and gentlemen, now for the second act! This performance, my dear audience, is all about willpower.”

He gave her a nod, then Mindy gripped the edge of the cloth and pulled, revealing a chair—metal restraints on the armrests, two joystick-like handles at the ends. Attached to the chair was a shotgun aimed at the carousel, gears and chains clicking softly beneath it.

“You see,” Sawbones continued, stepping closer, “our contestant here will be given the opportunity to save each of these fine individuals. All he has to do is take a seat, grab those handles, and hold on tight. As long as he keeps a grip, they live. But let go too soon…” He let the implication hang in the air before grinning. “Boom! And if he refuses to play? Then everyone dies.”

Bloody Mindy grabbed Arnie by the arm and shoved him into the chair. He struggled, but her grip was iron. She forced his hands onto the handles, his palms already slick with sweat.

Jake, weak and pale from blood loss, rasped, “Play along, Arnie. We can beat this.”

Maddie swallowed hard. “You can do this, Arnie. Do what they ask.”

Sawbones spread his arms. “Let the countdown begin!” He cracked his whip against the dirt. Bloody Mindy began pushing the carousel, its rusty gears groaning and grinding as it spun.

It slowed then stopped. The security guard was now facing the shotgun head-on. Again, gears began turning, and the barrel started to tilt up, the mechanism clicking. The man whimpered, his voice small, pleading. “Come on, man. I got kids. Please, help me.”

Arnie slammed his thumbs onto the buttons. Instantly, a brutal electric shock tore through him. His body seized, pain burning through every nerve, his vision flashing white. He screamed in agonize pain.

"I can't! I can’t do it!" Arnie called out.

But the machine responded—gears grinding, lifting the shotgun higher.

“Hold it, man! Hold it!” the guard begged, thrashing against his chains.

Arnie tried, he really did, but the current was too strong. His fingers spasmed, his grip failing. Then the shotgun locked into position, clicked, cocked, and fired.

The blast ripped through the security guard’s chest, throwing him back against the rails. Blood spattered across his white shirt, pooling beneath him. His body twitched once then stilled.

Maddie screamed, the sound raw and broken. Jake turned his head, bile rising in his throat.

“Our first casualty!” Sawbones shouted with a frown, clasping his hands in feigned disappointment. “Such a tragic outcome, but such a fun watch! Here’s some advice. The trick, Mr. Contestant, isn’t to make the pain stop… but making sure it never leaves. Haha!” He let out a wicked laugh.

Bloody Mindy reached for the carousel, spun it again.

A few spins, then it stopped.

Jake.

“No, no, no,” Maddie sobbed, straining against her chains. “Arnie, please! You have to try again!”

Jake exhaled slowly. “Please…”

Arnie gritted his teeth, his blistered thumbs pressing down. The current hit harder this time, his nerves frying, vision darkening, and arms convulsing. His head lolled, drool dribbling from his mouth.

Maddie’s voice cut through the haze. “Arnie! You have to try, damn it!”

The shotgun's gears ground on. Almost in place.

Arnie pressed down again. The pain was indescribable. His skin smelled like it was burning, his arms jerking violently. Body shaking.

Jake turned to Maddie. “Mads...I love you.”

“Don’t you do this! Don’t you say goodbye!”

Jake turned back to meet Arnie’s fading gaze. “Take care of her for me, will ya?”

Arnie let go. His body hunched to the side, arm restraints holding him in place, almost lifeless.

The gears stopped. Clicked.

The shotgun roared.

Jake’s body snapped back, his chains rattling. Blood burst from his chest and lips as his head slumped forward. Maddie let out an inhuman scream, her entire body shaking with sobs.

Sawbones clapped his hands together. “Well, well! One final performer remains. Can our hero save the damsel in distress? Or will he only decide to save himself?” The wicked ringmaster laughed, a cruel, gleeful sound.

Bloody Mindy spun the carousel one last time.

Maddie barely reacted, her face blank, empty. She stared at Jake’s lifeless body, her breath coming in broken cries.

Arnie snapped back from unconsciousness, realizing Jake's body was covered in pellets, pooling with blood. He began to weep as the diabolical mime halted the carousel, Maddie presented before him.

“Please...this can't be real. I don't want to do this anymore. I want to wake up. I want to wake up!” Arnie cried aloud.

Sawbones slapped him across the back of his head. “This ain’t no dream, boy. Everything you see here is real. And there ain’t no way out...”

The gears whined. The shotgun began to rise, aiming directly at Maddie’s chest.

She didn’t move. Didn’t beg. But she did ask, "Why are you doing this to us?"

Sawbones was taken a back, almost like he couldn’t believe her question. He scoffed, tilted his head, and said to her with a wide smile, “It's nothing personal, my dear. You and your friends happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Such easy targets, the lot of you…” A devilish chuckle followed.

She lowered her head and waited.

Arnie clenched his teeth. No. Not this time. He slammed his thumbs onto the buttons, determination overriding pain. The electric current flared, white-hot agony tearing through his body, sparks flying from the chair’s handles.

The shotgun rose—higher, past its firing point.

But Arnie couldn't hold on much longer. He let go.

The gun clicked, stopping at a ninety-degree angle, pointing at the tent's rafters. Maddie realized her chance and dove to the side as it fired. The blast shattered the light above her, glass raining down, but she was unscathed.

She gasped, looking at Arnie, her chains still binding her to the rails. “Thank you,” she sobbed.

Smoke curled from Arnie’s hands, his skin charred and peeling, his fingers twisted, burned beyond recognition.

Sawbones cocked his head, arms resting on his hips, amusement playing on his face. “Well, well. I sure didn’t expect our contestant to pull through and save any of the hostages, if I’m being honest… Bravo!”

Then he grinned, slow and wicked. “The more surprises, the merrier!”

He turned back to the cameras, tipping his hat. “Now, dear audience, on to act three!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

WHEEL OF DEATH

Maddie

Maddie’s entire body trembled as Bloody Mindy unfastened the restraints, her wrists aching from the cold steel cuffs. She barely registered the mime’s eerie, painted grin as she was nudged forward.

The stink of burnt leather clung to the air, smoke still fuming from Arnie’s blistered hands. He was stumped nearby, his arms a ruined mess of charred flesh. He had tried. He had failed. And now it was her turn.

Regardless, the game course loomed ahead, a massive shape draped in red cloth. But Maddie couldn’t look away from Jake.

Her boyfriend’s body was still strapped to the carousel, head slumped at an unnatural angle, chest a gaping ruin of torn flesh. He’d been murdered. For what? A sadistic game show? There was no audience, no roaring crowd—only the distant hum of cameras and the sickening giggle of the simpleton brute in the stands.

Sawbones's voice cut through the silence, dripping with theatrical delight. “And now, dear viewers, we rapidly approach the final act! But before we move on—one last performance from our surviving contestant!”

Maddie tuned him out, ears ringing. Her head swam, heart hammering against her rubs, thumping.

Then Bloody Mindy grasped the cloth covering the looming structure and yanked it away with a dramatic flourish.

Maddie’s stomach plummeted.

Lana.

She was strapped to a large spinning wheel, red and white spirals painted behind her. Leather straps bound her wrists and ankles, stretching her out like a human sacrifice. X-marks painted in dripping red covered her body—palms, thighs, and chest. Her blonde hair hung in blood-matted tangles over her face, forehead gleamed with fresh blood, a nasty gash splitting her hairline. A thick strip of duct tape covered her mouth as she moaned in desperation.

Bloody Mindy ripped the tape off. Lana let out a muffled shriek, then sobbed. “Maddie—please! Please get me out! They killed Tyler!”

Her sobs broke apart into gasps. Maddie was filled with a torrent of emotions. Tyler too? She covered her mouth with both hands, trying to hide her shock.

“I—I’m gonna get you out,” she choked, stepping forward. But cold metal pressed against her throat. Mindy’s hatchet.

She froze.

“Now, now,” Sawbones cooed, “let’s not spoil the fun. Our contestant must prove her determination by performing a talent. For this act, the contestant must throw the knives before her and land a single hit on any of the marks before the timer runs out. How many tries will it take?”

Maddie looked at the metal tray beside the wheel. Knives. Sleek, glinting blades.

Her hands shook. “No…please. I can’t do this. You’re asking me to hurt my friend!”

Sawbones snapped his leather whip at Maddie’s feet, catching her attention, then waggled a finger. “Ah-ah, rules are rules. You want to survive, you perform…”

A loud beep echoed across the arena. The timer above the steel drums flashed. A countdown began.

Mindy grabbed the wheel and gave it a hard spin. Lana let out a strangled scream as the wheel blurred into motion.

Maddie took a step back. Her breath came in quick, shallow gulps. “No, I’ve never thrown a knife at a target before! Can’t you put me up there instead? Please!”

The timer ticked down.

Forty seconds.

“Do it, Mads. It’s the only way.”

The voice was hoarse, barely more than a rasp. Arnie. He had awakened, barely, his arms scorched, flesh peeling away like burnt paper.

Maddie turned back to the tray, fingers closing over a knife’s handle. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to run, but there was nowhere left to go.

She lifted the blade.

Lana yelled out as she twirled, her eyes wide with terror. “Maddie, don’t—please don’t do this!”

Maddie hesitated at first, but after a couple of swings, she threw it.

The knife spun end over end then missed, bouncing off the wooden wheel with a dull thunk.

Thirty seconds.

Maddie turned to Arnie, who gestured her with a nod to continue. She gritted her teeth.

Another knife. Another throw.

This time, the knife lodged inches between Lana’s thighs. She gasped. Then she started laughing. The laughter cracked, quickly turning into a furious scream. “You bitch! STOP!”

Maddie blinked sweat from her eyes. “They won’t let us go unless we play by their rules,” she said, mostly trying to convince herself. “I’m so sorry. This is the only way.”

Lana shook her head wildly, the wheel board creaking behind her, spinning in its axis. “You’re fucking crazy! Let me go!”

Maddie rose another knife. Flung it across.

Then, there was a wet thump.

Lana’s body jolted. The blade had buried itself deep into her bicep. She howled in agony, thrashing against the restraints.

Ten seconds left.

Maddie’s vision tunneled. She hurled the next knife, missing the target but cutting into Lana’s stomach instead. Blood oozed down her side. Lana choked, her sobs breaking into gurgles.

Sawbones laughed. “Will ya’ look at her go! Seems like she’s getting the hang of it, folks! Or is this all-dumb luck?”

Maddie clenched her teeth and yelled out in anger.

She closed her eyes. Threw.

The timer buzzed.

With a brutal, moist crunch, the final knife sank into Lana’s cheek, embedding itself beneath her eye socket.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Lana’s body jerked once, then her lips parted in a strangled gasp.

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Tears slipped down her cheeks.

Maddie turned away, unable to look.

Lana gagged. A final, rattling cry.

Then, nothing.

“You did everything you could, Mads,” Arnie murmured.

Maddie dropped to her knees, shaking, sobbing.

When would this nightmare end?

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

THE GRAND FINALE

Maddie

Maddie knelt on the cold dirt, her body shuddering with exhaustion and grief. She had failed. Lana was dead. The weight of her failure pressed down on her chest like a cinderblock. Then––cold metal against her neck. A blade lifted her chin.

Bloody Mindy stood before her, the hatchet’s edge pushing against Maddie’s skin. The mime’s head tilted, her tar-stained teeth stretched into a grotesque smile.

Sawbones turned his attention to the cameras mounted around the arena. His voice rang out, theatrical and booming. “Ladies and gents! Prepare yourselves for the grand finale! The act to close all acts!” My dear Sackhead, will you do us the honors?”

He let out a deep, throaty chuckle and trudged to the top of the stands, where a spotlight loomed over the arena, tossing aside any mannequin in his path. Sackhead grabbed the spotlight’s handle, dragging its beam across the makeshift stage, settling on a darkened corner. A path opened up. And there—

A large water tank.

Above it, a wooden plank. Sitting on the plank was a young brunette woman, her arms chained to her sides by thick iron bindings across her torso. Duct tape covered her mouth, muffling her whimpers. The light reflected off her tear-streaked face. She thrashed, the plank wobbling beneath her.

Mindy yanked Maddie to her feet and shoved her forward, leading her to the base of the tank.

A burlap sack sat at Maddie's feet. Full of baseballs.

“The final act,” Sawbones announced, pacing along the edge of the tank, “will require two of our contestants to work together!”

Maddie’s pulse pounded in her ears as she took in the sight of the target—a large bullseye mounted beside the water tank. It clicked into place. A dunk tank, like the rigged carnival games she remembered as a kid.

The hatchet-wielding mime climbed the ladder and stopped beside the young woman. With a slow, deliberate pull, Bloody Mindy peeled the tape from the girl's mouth. The girl gasped, breaking into sobs.

“Please,” she cried. “You have the wrong person. Whatever is happening here, I have nothing to do with this! I don't know these people.”

Sawbones spread his arms wide, bellowing toward the crowd. “Never mind her! The game is simple. Hit the target and our lovely performer takes a dip. Once underwater, she must retrieve the key at the bottom of the tank to free herself.”

Mindy reached into her sleeve, producing a small silver key. She held it up to the girl’s face, let her see it, let the fear sink in. Then she dropped it. The key disappeared beneath the surface, sinking like a stone. The girl’s sobs turned frantic.

Sawbones grinned and stepped back. “But here's the twist... Fail to hit the target in time. Mindy makes sure both of your throats are slit. If the girl frees herself, you all may live to see another day.”

Maddie turned to Sawbones, her voice raw. “I already played by your rules once. Why are you making us do this again? This is madness. Haven’t you killed enough people already?”

"My dear contestant... This is not a game but a piece of art. And no performance can be complete without its final act." Sawbones merely gestured. Mindy waltzed over to Arnie’s electric chair, placing the hatchet under Arnie’s throat. Arnie sucked in a breath, his body locked in terror.

“You have but a minute,” Sawbones said.

Arnie’s breath hitched. “Maddie,” he pleaded, “do what he says.”

Maddie swallowed hard, looking up at the girl. “What’s your name?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

The girl sniffed, stammering between sobs. “Kate.”

Maddie nodded. “Listen to me, Kate. You have to be calm. The only way we beat this is if we work together. I'll try to hit the target as fast as I can. When you fall in, take a deep breath and go for the key.”

Kate shook her head, her whole body quivering. “No, I can’t. I’m not a good swimmer.”

“The chains will weigh you down. You have to try.”

Sawbones clapped his hands. “Now, now! Let the show begin!”

A loud beep echoed through the arena. The timer counting down from the steel drums lining the fence.

Maddie yanked a baseball from the sack. With a trembling hand, she looked at Kate. "Trust me. Inhale deeply and hold your breath."

Kate squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling sharply.

Maddie aimed for the target. Threw.

It missed.

Maddie grunted in frustration. She grabbed another. Missed again.

Kate’s breath shuddered as she tried to hold it, panic rising.

Maddie reached for another ball. Empty. She panicked for a moment and peeked inside the sack only to find one ball remaining.

She took a deep breath, focused, then lined up the third shot and threw.

The ball smacked the target dead-center. The plank collapsed. Kate plunged into the water, her body thrashing as the chains pulled her down.

She struggled, desperately trying to keep herself above water as bubbles burst around her. Maddie instinctively moved toward the tank, but Sawbones wagged a finger.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he warned. "The contestant must break free on her own..." Mindy’s hatchet pressed harder against Arnie’s throat.

Maddie froze.

Movement beyond the arena caught her eye. Shadows shifting at the edge of the carnival tent.

Two figures. Moving low. Weapons drawn.

Could it be? Cops?

Steel glinted in the light. A badge. A pistol and a shotgun. Definitely cops.

Sawbones followed Maddie’s gaze, eyes narrowing.

Suddenly, a voice boomed, “Hands up! Now!”

The light hit them, revealing a sheriff and his deputy, stepping into the arena.

Bloody Mindy reacted first. She flung her hatchet, the blade whistling through the air. The sheriff dodged, firing his revolver. The bullet whooshed past Mindy’s ear. She hissed back and darted into the shadows.

Sawbones bolted in the opposite direction, but the deputy fired. The shot caught him in the shoulder.

Sawbones dropped, groaning, blood seeping through his coat as he gripped the wound.

Maddie wasted no time. She ran to the tank, banging against the glass. “Kate, the key! Go for the key!”

Kate clawed at the water, her fingers fumbling for the small brass shape. She brushed it, missed. Her body convulsed, air escaping in panicked bubbles.

Quickly, she started flailing, her body convulsing, breath fading. Maddie pounded on the glass, desperate. “Kate!”

Maddie didn’t think. She dove into the pool.

The water hit her like ice. She reached for the key then Kate, grabbing her wrists, helping her unlock the chains. Kate’s lips had turned blue.

Arnie moved too, adrenaline pushing him past the pain. He reached into the water, and together they pulled Kate’s limp body out of the tank.

"Kate! Kate!" the sheriff let out a loud cry as he came running toward them. He dropped to his knees, pressing his hands against Kate’s chest.

He pressed down. Once. Twice.

Unresponsive.

The sheriff tried again, this time with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. “Come on, Kate.”

He continued to compress her chest incessantly.

Suddenly, Kate coughed. Water spilled from her lips. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Dad?”

The sheriff’s face broke. “I got you, sweetheart. Daddy’s here.”

Maddie exhaled, realization hitting her like a punch. The sheriff’s daughter. Of all the people…

Behind them, a laugh. Wet and wheezing.

Sawbones grinned, blood dripping from his lips. “I have to say, this'll make for one hell of a show.”

The sheriff turned to the wicked ringmaster, eyes burning with fury.

“Sheriff Horton, good to finally see you again.”

Maddie barely had time to process the voice before the sheriff turned from Kate’s limp body, her chest rising again after his desperate CPR.

His eyes locked onto Sawbones. He didn’t hesitate. No words, no warnings, he rained down on him with a flurry of fists. He hammered into the ringmaster’s face, knuckles cracking against bone. Sawbones only laughed, blood pouring from his mouth, teeth glistening red.

The sheriff didn’t stop. Not for what he did to Kate. Not for what he did to the others.

Sawbones spat blood onto the dirt. “Ma always said you was one of the good ones. Shame she never counted on you being the one to lock her up. Now, after all these years, the cycle repeats itself. Like mother, like son. Guess my plan to lure you worked. My act—too damn good for you to ignore, huh?”

The sheriff punched him again. Sawbones's nose cracked, bursting with blood.

“Sheriff, that's enough." The deputy stepped forward and tried to pull the sheriff back. Horton shoved him aside without looking, his jaw clenched tight.

“It’s over, Lyle. I ain't gonna make the same mistake I made with your ma. You ain’t getting no psych ward.”

Sawbones grinned wide, his lips split and bleeding. “You don’t get it, do you, Sheriff? You’re the final act of this show. Every piece of evidence, every breadcrumb I left—it all led you back to me. You stepping into this ring?” He wheezed a laugh, licking the blood from his teeth. “That was always the plan.”

'"So you tried to kill my daughter to lure me here, to get some kind of sick revenge?" the sheriff panted, realizing the extent of Sawbones's actions.

"Oh, I tried more than that, Sheriff. I wanted to break you. I wanted you to feel the vacuum left by the ones you love. She wasn't meant to live. No, none of them were. It was all for show. My magnum opus."

Horton grabbed Sawbones by the collar, yanked him close. “I'm gonna make sure you pay in blood for all the innocent lives you taken.”

Sawbones smiled. “No, Sheriff,” he whispered, “it’s you who’ll pay in blood.”

Metal snapped. A chain whipped and rattled.

Maddie turned in time to see the sheriff’s body jerk violently. His jaw locked in an open scream as a thick tow hook punched through his throat, yanked back hard. Sackhead stood at the edge of the ring, chains wrapped around his fists, his massive arms flexing as he reeled Horton in like a hooked fish.

The sheriff’s boots scraped the dirt as he was dragged across the ring, choking on his own blood. Maddie screamed. Kate’s breath held in terror. Arnie tried to move, but pain locked him in place.

Sackhead didn’t slow. The second Horton was within reach, the brute twisted the chains in his grip, snapping the sheriff’s head to the side—then farther—until his neck twisted a full 180 degrees with a wet, stomach-turning crack.

“Sheriff!” the deputy yelled, firing at Sackhead. The brute turned around, the pellets missing its target as he ran, vanishing into the shadows.

The deputy turned to Maddie and the others, his voice urgent. “Get the hell out of here! Now!”

Maddie didn’t hesitate. She threw Arnie’s arm over her shoulder, helping him to his feet. Kate ran ahead, her breath ragged, her face streaked with tears.

Without warning, Sawbones snatched the shotgun barrel and pushed it upward, the deputy firing another shot into the air, both men grappling for control.

Maddie caught sight of the sheriff’s revolver glinting on the ground. She quickly swerved to snatch it then returned to Arnie's side, the weight sagging against her as they stumbled toward the exit.

She turned a glance back. The deputy was shuffling against Sawbones with all his might, both men straining for the shotgun. The weapon tilted toward the ground then up, the crowd of mannequins eerily silent. With a guttural roar, the deputy smashed the shotgun’s butt into Sawboness’ face. Blood sprayed.

Sawbones staggered for a moment, almost stunned, but then he lunged forward, teeth sinking into the deputy's eye.

There was a muddy pop and the deputy screamed, clutching the gaping socket. Sawbones spat the eye out, with a fiendish smile, shotgun held in hand.

“Show’s over, motherfucker,” Sawbones growled, pulling the trigger. The blast hurled the deputy back, his chest caving in midair.

Aghast, Maddie dragged Arnie along with greater urgency. Together, the three hobbled out of the circus tent, her heart pounding like a war drum.

Then—

Another shot. Muffled. A strangled cry. Then silence.

Maddie turned, eyes wide. The deputy.

Back inside the tent, Sawbones stood over him, smoke curling from the shotgun barrel.

CHAPTER THIRTY

GETAWAY

Maddie

Maddie braced Arnie’s weight as they stumbled out of the tent, her arm hooked under his to steady his weakened gait. Kate was right behind them, her face pale, green eyes wide, breath coming fast. The carnival grounds stretched before them, dark and still, except for the carousel. Its lights spun lazily, casting distorted shadows across the silent rides.

Arnie grunted in pain, his palms were blistered and charred in several spots.

“Keep moving,” Maddie urged, her voice low and tight.

The parking lot came into view, and with it Arnie’s van, its faded flower paint job barely visible under the parking lot lights.

“Tell me you’ve got the keys,” Maddie demanded, dread coiling in her stomach.

“Like, I don't carry them with me ‘cause I tend to forget where I put them, but…” Arnie hobbled toward the front wheel well.

"But what, Arnie?" Maddie urged.

“I always keep them here by the wheel! Geez...”

He instructed Maddie. Her fingers closed around the keys, pulling them up triumphantly.

“Thank God. Everyone, get in. I’m driving,” Maddie snapped, wrenching the key into the door. No arguments. Arnie slid the van’s door open and collapsed onto the rear seat, clutching his arms in pain. Kate slid the back door shut right after him then hopped into the passenger front seat, keeping her eyes locked on the carnival entrance.

Maddie jammed the key into the ignition, hands trembling.

The engine coughed, sputtered, and refused to ignite.

“Come on…” She slammed her palm against the wheel.

“Clutch!” Arnie called from the back. “Press the clutch and rev it!”

She did. The engine finally roared to life. Relief surged through her—until the headlights flicked on, and there she was.

Bloody Mindy.

Kate sucked in a breath. “You better run that bitch over…”

The mime stood dead ahead, framed in the beams of the van’s lights, her painted face frozen in a grotesque grin. Two hatchets dangled from her hands, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. She cocked her head, savoring the moment, then launched one.

The blade thudded into the windshield with a sickening crack, splintering the glass.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Maddie threw the van into gear and slammed the accelerator. Tires screeched, rubber burned. Mindy charged, hatchet raised, and swung as the van lurched forward. Glass exploded inward from the driver seat, shards slicing into Maddie’s lap. Both, Kate and Arnie let out a shriek as Bloody Mindy latched onto the side, her second hatchet hammering down, biting into Maddie’s forearm.

Maddie howled, blood spilling onto the wheel.

“Get off, bitch!” She swerved violently.

Mindy held on, her grin unwavering, her swings relentless.

"Gun!" Arnie shouted from the rear as the van jostled him from side to side. "Use the gun!"

Maddie’s hand fumbled for the revolver dancing atop the cup holder. She raised it, fired blindly to her side. The crack of the shot filled the van. The bullet missed, but Mindy tumbled off, hitting the pavement in a grotesque roll. Maddie caught a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror—Mindy already rising, staring after them, still smiling.

“Did we lose her?” Arnie panted.

Maddie checked the mirror again. Mindy sprinted toward the cornfield, vanishing into the stalks.

“I think so,” Maddie muttered, hands trembling against the wheel.

The van turned onto a narrow road, flanked by endless rows of corn. Darkness pressed in, broken only by their headlights carving a path through the void.

Kate exhaled sharply. “Guys…do you hear that?”

Maddie focused. Snapping sounds. Too rhythmic for the wind.

Then she realized that was the sound of an engine closing in fast.

A roar tore through the crops as a tow truck erupted from the cornfield. Rusted steel, headlights like burning eyes. It slammed into the van’s side, sending them careening off road into the crops.

Maddie fought the wheel, the van bouncing wildly over uneven ground.

“She’s driving it!” Arnie yelled, pointing.

Mindy sat behind the wheel, cackling silently, her teeth bared in a rictus grin.

“Go! Go! Go!” Kate screamed.

“Hold on!” Maddie yanked the wheel. The van tore through the field, stalks snapping like brittle bones.

The truck rammed into their side again. Maddie’s grip slipped. The van spun out of control, flipping over and over, metal groaning as it rolled. It finally crashed to a stop against the carnival’s chain-link fence.

Maddie groaned, head pounding as she tried to orient herself.

The van was upright. Barely.

Headlights flooded them, blinding. Mindy stepped out, hatchet gleaming in her hand.

“Arnie, Kate?” Maddie croaked.

“I’m alive,” he muttered. “Tell me you have the gun.”

Maddie’s eyes darted around. It wasn’t there. She twisted the ignition. The engine sputtered, stalled.

“Come on!”

After a couple more tries, a miracle, the van roared to life. Maddie slammed her foot on the gas, aiming straight for Mindy.

At the last second, Mindy sidestepped with unnatural agility. Maddie hit the brakes, threw the van into reverse.

“What the hell are you doing?” Arnie yelled.

“Ending this,” Maddie growled. She jammed the pedal. The van barreled backward. At the last moment, she jerked the wheel, swinging the van in a tight arc.

This time, Mindy wasn’t fast enough.

The van’s side slammed her against the fence with a bone-crunching thud.

Silence.

Kate swallowed hard. “Is she dead?”

Maddie stared at the mangled figure. “I don’t know,” she said, “but we're about to find out.”

“You’re kidding, right? My advice is we get the hell out of here while there's still a chance!” Arnie interrupted.

Ignoring him, both girls stepped out of the van. Kate paced toward Mindy's crumpled body. Arnie slid the door open but stayed inside.

A few feet away, Maddie spotted the revolver half buried in dirt. She picked it up, checking the chamber. Must’ve fallen out while the car was rolling.

Maddie walked up to Kate’s side, both staring at the unconscious mime.

“She’s still breathing,” Kate said.

Maddie aimed the gun at Mindy and cocked it.

Kate seemed surprised at first but quickly realized this had to be done.

But before Maddie could pull the trigger, an idea struck.

“Arnie, you still have that lighter of yours?” Maddie asked without looking back.

Arnie’s face blanched. “I do… Wait, you’re not seriously thinking of––”

“I am.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

THE TENT OF HELL

Maddie

Arnie crouched low, his breath shallow and steady as he peered through the flap of the tattered tent. Maddie crouched beside him, her eyes locked on the Grimm brothers. The scene was grotesque. Bodies strewn like discarded marionettes, blood painting the ring in macabre streaks.

Al Jones, ripped nearly in half, dragged into the center like a discarded carcass. Lana’s limp form strapped to the spinning wheel, her head lolled. Jake’s remains—still stuck to that goddamn carousel—glinted wet under the circus lights.

Maddie nudged Arnie. Her voice was low but firm. "You ready?"

Arnie hefted the Molotovs in his trembling hands, the beer bottles slick against his palms. “Yeah. I mean, it's not like I have another choice. Besides, you think it’s a good idea to keep Kate in the van? She could at least help us if something goes wrong.”

“She is helping. She’s calling for help while we keep these bastards in place. We can’t screw this up. If we do...”

“I know,” Arnie said, glancing at the barrels beneath the digital timer. “Gasoline’s behind the ring, like you said.”

Maddie nodded and patted his arm. “Wait for my signal.”

Arnie nodded, his gaze flicking to the barrels near the ring. Digital timer blinking red. Gasoline stacked and waiting.

Without another word, Arnie slipped inside, keeping to the shadows. The bleachers creaked under his crouched weight. He froze, as Sawbones’s mocking voice carried over, the Grimms engrossed in their gory task.

"Move ‘em corpses to the center," Sawbones barked, his voice sharp and no longer theatrical. "Mindy better find those rats before they get away. Any loose ends will ruin the whole act.”

Sackhead grunted in response, heaving Al’s torso with one hand like it was a sack of feed.

Arnie crept closer, finally reaching the barrels. They loomed large and metallic, the faint stench of gasoline hanging in the air. He pressed his shoulder against one and pushed. It barely budged. He tried again, his boots scraping against the dirt floor.

Clink.

The faint sound of shifting metal echoed. Sawbones’s head snapped up. “You hear that?”

Sackhead tilted his head, listening.

Nothing. He shook it off with a grunt.

Arnie exhaled and gave one last push. The heavy barrel slipped from his grip and tipped over, hitting the dirt floor with a metallic crash. Gasoline poured out in a dark, slick stream.

“What the–” Sawbones growled, pumping the shotgun.

Arnie ducked behind the other barrels, heart hammering. Sawbones lumbered closer, footsteps crunching on sand. He leaned over the ring’s edge, scanning the area. His piggish eyes passed over Arnie’s hiding spot then settled on the leaking gasoline.

“Lyle!”

The brute's head whipped toward the entrance.

Maddie stood there, defiant, revolver pressed against Mindy’s head. The mime’s smug grin vanished, replaced by wide-eyed terror.

Sawbones’s face twisted in surprise, his theatrical demeanor slipping for a moment. “Looks like the damsel in distress has found her backbone. What’s the plan, sweetheart?”

“Shut your mouth and drop the gun. Middle of the ring. Now!” Maddie barked, pressing the barrel of the revolver harder against Mindy’s temple.

Sawbones smirked. “And what if I don’t, dear child?”

“She dies.” Maddie pressed the barrel harder against Mindy’s greasy hair.

Sawbones sighed, shaking his head. “You know, as much as I hate to admit it, she’s not worth much to me.”

"Then I’ll make her worth your while.” Maddie pulled the trigger, the gunshot loud and final. Mindy collapsed, clutching her bleeding leg as blood pooled beneath her.

“I call bullshit,” Maddie hissed.

Sawbones’s smile faltered. Sackhead took a step forward, but Sawbones stopped him with a raised hand. “Alright, you called my bluff.” He walked to the center of the ring, shotgun in hand, and dropped it with exaggerated slowness. “What now?”

Behind the ring's walls, Arnie worked quickly, filling the Molotovs with the leaking gasoline, his hands slick with sludge. He stuffed the cloth into the bottles, his movements frantic but precise.

“Back up!” Maddie ordered, her voice sharp.

Sawbones moved a few steps away from the weapon then stopped.

“Keep going!”

He complied.

Maddie edged toward the shotgun. Sawbones smirk returned as she tucked the revolver into her waistband––suddenly, Mindy lunged from the side, tackling her. The two women struggled, the revolver falling to the ground.

Sawbones saw his chance and lunged toward the shotgun. He rose his aim but didn’t shoot, as he risked hitting Mindy in the process.

Maddie screamed, trying to wrestle free. “Arnie! Now!”

From behind the ring's half-walls, Arnie wiped the sludge from his hands with his shirt and then lit the first Molotov, the flame licking the glass. He rose, arm cocked, and hurled it toward Sawbones, who turned toward Arnie and fired. The blast catapulted Arnie to his feet while the Molotov shattered against Sawbones’s shoulder, flames roaring to life.

Sawbones let out an agonizing scream, clawing at his burning face in desperation. Sackhead roared, tackling his brother to the ground and smothering sand over the flames.

“No!” Maddie yelled as she struggled with Mindy, realizing he had been shot.

Arnie, with blood gushing from his chest and mouth, managed to ignite another bottle. Summoning his remaining strength, he hurled it at Sackhead, but the brute swatted it away. The explosion lit the gasoline trail, flames surging into a wall of fire.

Maddie grappled fiercely with Bloody Mindy, both women tugging and clawing at each other in a desperate struggle. The blood-streaked mime managed to pin Maddie's wrists to the ground, but Maddie was relentless. She head-butted Mindy, causing her to recoil.

Maddie crawled toward the revolver, but Mindy quickly pounced on her once more.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack.

Maddie had fired the gun.

The mime staggered to her feet, clutching her stomach as blood sprayed from her mouth. Panting heavily, she stumbled backward. Maddie fired again, this time hitting Mindy in the chest, and at last the mime collapsed onto her back.

With his last breath, Arnie flung the lighter into the gasoline trail, and an inferno erupted, roaring to life with an insatiable hunger. The flames surged forward, devouring everything in their path.

Unable to save himself, Arnie was caught in the fiery embrace, swallowed whole by the relentless blaze.

The tent quickly became an inferno, the flames engulfing everything. The remaining barrels exploded in a deafening roar.

Maddie managed to stumble out of the tent, the shockwave knocking her off her feet. The roof collapsed in a raging inferno behind her. She halted a few feet from the entrance, the revolver in hand, her face streaked with tears and soot.

Then the van pulled up. It was Kate driving. She got out and tried pulling Maddie into the car.

“Maddie, it’s over! Help is on its way!” she said, voice trembling. “We have to go!”

"No! I need to make sure they don’t leave!” Maddie shoved her away. "They need to pay! For Jake…”

Maddie waited for a moment by the entrance, as the fire spread across the tent, which buckled inward, its skeletal frame glowing against the inferno.

With no strength left to fight, she collapsed into Kate’s arms, sobbing and wailing. The roar of flames filled the scene, drowning out Maddie’s muffled sobs.

Sirens wailed in the distance, cutting through the chaos. Soon police and firefighters had swarmed the scene.

“They’re here,” Kate said, voice cracking. “We’re safe now.”

Patrol cars and firefighters screeched to a halt, officers spilled out, weapons drawn. “Hands up! Now!”

Maddie’s grip on the revolver loosened.

Kate raised her hands. Maddie dropped the gun with a hollow clatter, stepping forward slowly, her arms in the air.

The officers moved quickly, separating the two. Kate was shoved toward a cruiser, Maddie toward another. Their eyes met across the flashing red and blue haze.

A nod.

There was relief between them, fragile but real.

As the doors closed, Maddie let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the momentary respite from the chaos outside. But soon the crushing weight of guilt began to seep in.

Why, why me?

EPILOGUE

Maddie

Maddie sat upright in the hospital bed, her left arm wrapped in thick bandages, the dull throb of the hatchet wound keeping her from sleeping. The room was quiet, too quiet, except for the faint beeping of machines and the distant murmur of nurses in the hall.

Her parents hadn't shown up yet. Perhaps their flight hadn't landed, or maybe they were already in a cab on their way here. Regardless, it had been an entire semester since she last saw them, and she felt anxious about their reunion.

A knock at the door. Sharp. Three times. Before she could answer, the man stepped in.

He was wearing a tan fedora hat and a gray coat, wiry frame, eyes that had seen too much.

“Madison Rodriguez? I’m Detective Dawson. I have some questions for you.” His voice was low, professional, but edged with a tone she didn’t like. Suspicion, maybe.

Maddie swallowed. “I’m not exactly in the best mindset for this."

“I won’t be taking much of your time. I promise.” Dawson pulled up a chair. “The sooner we do this, the better you'll remember the details.”

Maddie exhaled sharply. “I already told the officers everything I remember. Over and over again.”

“I read the reports and need to clarify a few things.” He pulled out a notepad. “You said there were a total of ten people inside the tent during these so-called killing acts? Seven victims, you included, plus three assailants?”

Maddie nodded.

Dawson slid a couple of photographs onto her lap. “We found two more bodies scattered across park grounds. One by the Ferris wheel. One floating down stream of Cupid’s Tunnel.”

Maddie hesitated then glanced at the photos. Her breath hitched. Tyler’s face, bloated, eyes wide and staring. The water had done its damage. The second photo—Becca. She was a wreck. Twisted, broken, her body mangled from the fall and having landed on a stall.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, shoving them back toward Dawson. She didn’t want to see. She couldn’t.

“I'm assuming these are not the killers.”

She shook her head, barely. “Tyler and Becca. They were part of our friend group. I––I last saw them before we were taken hostage.”

Dawson took the photos back, sliding them into a folder. "Forensics has confirmed the identities of all the victims of the circus fire through dental records and blood samples. Charred beyond recognition, yet none of them match the Grimm siblings, who you insist were present."

Maddie’s stomach dropped. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the blanket.

"You said all three culprits were inside the tent when the fire started," Dawson continued, his tone measured. "Are you certain none of them got out?"

Maddie nodded violently, her tears flowing in frustration. "I would’ve seen them. I was waiting for them to come out. I—“ Her voice cracked, raw and splintered. “Wait. You're not suggesting we did this, are you?”

The detective leaned back, arms crossed. “I’m not suggesting anything, Ms. Rodriguez, other than there are no remains of the people you claim to be your attackers. No witnesses, except you and the sheriff’s daughter.” He tapped his pen against the folder. “Look. Two officers are dead. The bureau is taking this seriously. Kate’s alibi checks out. Yours...isn’t adding up.”

Maddie froze. "What about the tapes? They—“

Dawson’s expression didn’t change. “Forensics recovered some of the film. Conveniently, most of it’s been destroyed by the fire.” He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Until we salvage what’s left, we can’t determine anything. Right now, there’s no proof anyone else was there. Other than you two.”

Maddie shook her head violently. “What? No, I didn’t—I wouldn’t—”

“Ms. Rodriguez, you ever been hospitalized for any form of psychiatric care?”

Maddie was taken aback. How did he know? And what relevance did that have to this situation?

She didn’t reply.

Dawson rifled through his notes with a sharp flick of the wrist, eyes narrowing as he read aloud with a deliberate cadence. “Your medical profile reveals a disturbing history of paranoia, vivid hallucinations, and trauma-induced delusions over the past few years. Based on your psychiatrists notes, these episodes are primarily linked to trauma of childhood neglect, your parents' volatile divorce, and... a brutal breakup.” He turned the page with a crisp snap, fixing her with a penetrating gaze. “Ms. Rodriguez, wasn’t Jake—one of the victims—your boyfriend? Wasn't it him who cheated on you, which led to a severe physical altercation between you two? Now, I’m not one to speculate, but could it be that you may have had a dark desire to, let’s say, get rid of him?”

Maddie gaped. “Have you lost your mind? I barely escaped a bloodbath of a circus massacre, and you’re trying to pin this on me? No, I want a lawyer.”

Suddenly, Maddie's parents burst into the room, their faces white with worry. Her mother's hands shook as she caressed Maddie's face. Her father held her tightly in a protective embrace. They spoke words of comfort, and expressed their worries, which undoubtedly made her feel wanted again. Protected.

Her father turned to greet the detective.

“Can we help you?” he said, extending a hand.

Dawson stood, buttoned his coat. He shot Maddie a look one last time. “Dawson,” he said, greeting her father back. “I’ll be the detective assigned to your daughter’s case.”

“Well? Do you know who’s behind this?” Maddie’s mother interjected from Maddie’s bedside.

“We’re still gathering information, ma’am. But rest assured, you’ll be the first to know when we find who the culprits behind these murders are. You have yourself a good day, and we’ll be seeing each other again soon.” He nodded, touching the brim of his hat. Then he was gone.

Maddie's parents redirected their focus to her, but her eyes drifted toward the darkened window as she absorbed the terrible news the detective had shared.

She got up from her bed and stood by the darkened glass.

Beyond the window reflection, the night stretched dark and empty. All seemed quiet now. The world ignorant of the deadly events that had taken place that night.

From the far end of the street, a light flickered on.

A rusted tow truck was beneath the glow of a streetlamp. Next to it, the silhouette of a man standing by the driver’s seat.

Maddie’s chest tightened. She recognized that truck. The decals on its side reading “Ed’s Garage.”

That was it. The Grimm siblings’ truck.

She tried getting a better look at the driver, who shifted back into the seat then turned his head upward, looking directly at her window.

Old man Ed.

Maddie’s breath stopped. She pushed herself away from the window, aghast. The old man smiled, took a long drag of his cigarette, and flicked it to the ground, embers sparking against the pavement.

He couldn’t have seen her––could he?

“Honey? What’s wrong?” Her mother placed a hand over her shoulder, brows furrowed.

Maddie peered back through the glass gradually. She spotted him again, still watching her with his protruded jaw and sinister grin, teeth missing and decayed.

Then, with an eerie calmness, he drove away into the night.