Part 20
"Welcome to The Carnival"
Lewis fidgeted with the strap of his backpack as he waited at the bus stop near the central plaza of the Browning Academy campus. Today was going to be his first day at the carnival, and he wasn't sure what to expect. The letter of recommendation from Dean Rushford crinkled in his pocket, and as the bus pulled to a stop, Lewis felt his heartbeat quicken. He got on, showed the driver his student ID, and took his seat. Outside the window, a flicker of light caught his attention. The round glow settled on the sill of his window, and Ashwyn waved to him. He watched her take off in the same direction as the bus when it pulled away from the school. A lot of Lewis' anxiety dissipated at the sight of her. At least he could count on one friend in this new venture!
Storm's Carnival was a collection of large tents and a scattering of rides in a large-open field surrounded by tall trees. Lewis could hear the canned music loops playing out of several different corners as he left the bus and headed down the main thoroughfare. He could see a few spinning rides, a Ferris wheel, some swings, and a funhouse, interspersed between game booths of almost every variety. Staffers carried loads of plastic-wrapped inflatable and plushy prizes that they were still hanging on the walls of the cages separating the games.
He made his way to the bank of mobile trailers that looked like shipping containers, where he saw the one labeled "MAIN OFFICE."
When Lewis knocked on the door, a voice from inside called "Come in!"
He entered to find a paunchy, balding man scouring a sheaf of papers on a very cluttered desk. in front of the desk sat two squat, sagging chairs. He looked up when Lewis entered.
"Who are you?" he asked with a frown.
"Who are you?" he asked with a frown.
Lewis took a deep breath to steady his nerves, pulled the letter of recommendation out of his pocket, and said, "I'm Lewis Grant, sir--from Browning Academy? Are you Mr. Storm?"
The man nodded quickly and gestured to the chairs with one hand while holding the other out to receive the letter. "Ah, that's right! I did get a call that a student would be coming down to apply for work experience this weekend. Good to meet you, Lewis. Please, sit."
A brief silence hung between them as Mr. Storm read over the letter to make sure things were all in order. He set it on top of the many other papers in front of him and now surveyed Lewis with a grin. "Well, all I can say is, welcome to my carnival! Says here your work experience has been mostly a janitorial position at the campus art museum?"
Lewis fought the cringing feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had word reached Mr. Storm of the catastrophic "accident"? Would he start asking questions? "Yes, sir. Janitor, and also some warehouse work."
Mr. Storm waved his hand. "Nah, don't much care about that. Actually, we could use some extra hands to do the groundskeeping work, you know--make sure walkways are clear, empty trash bins, pick up litter, wash up spills, and in general make sure the area around the games and the rides stays looking nice. You see," he leaned back and folded his hands over his round gut, "it was as much as my usual staff could do to keep pace with the amount of guests we'd normally see in a given season, but this year, we're expanding." He sat up and pulled a colorful poster out from under the pile of letters and forms.
Lewis felt his heart pound even harder when he instantly recognized the face leering at him from the background of the poster. "KRASIMIR SCHLIMME PRESENTS: PHANTASMENAGERIE!" the poster proclaimed. In the foreground, the display boasted an emaciated-looking unicorn, a rearing and muscle-bound gryphon with bloody fangs and bared claws, and jars of glowing specks like firefly lanterns. Along the edge was a person depicted looking through the bars of a cage at a giant figure writhing in a straitjacket.
Lewis felt his heart pound even harder when he instantly recognized the face leering at him from the background of the poster. "KRASIMIR SCHLIMME PRESENTS: PHANTASMENAGERIE!" the poster proclaimed. In the foreground, the display boasted an emaciated-looking unicorn, a rearing and muscle-bound gryphon with bloody fangs and bared claws, and jars of glowing specks like firefly lanterns. Along the edge was a person depicted looking through the bars of a cage at a giant figure writhing in a straitjacket.
If Ashwyn saw this, it would kill her! Lewis thought. He couldn't restrain a shiver that shook his whole body.
"Gruesome, isn't it?" Mr. Storm agreed with a chuckle. "This artist approached me on Sunday and said he was an artist starting a tour with creepy and macabre fantasy items, and he wanted some space to exhibit them."
Lewis swallowed hard. "You mean, like, sculptures and stuff?" Why hadn't Schlimme just taken everything to another museum? Why seek out a carnival right next door to put his prisoners on display?
The carnival owner shook his head. "No, these were more like animatronics, or animals with alterations--visual trickery and whatnot. He asked if I would let him use the space right next to my carnival, and he said all he'd need were a few large tents for his displays, a billing on our showtime schedule, and a small percentage of admission fees, to allow guests at my carnival to explore his exhibits and performances without having to pay an additional fee."
The carnival owner shook his head. "No, these were more like animatronics, or animals with alterations--visual trickery and whatnot. He asked if I would let him use the space right next to my carnival, and he said all he'd need were a few large tents for his displays, a billing on our showtime schedule, and a small percentage of admission fees, to allow guests at my carnival to explore his exhibits and performances without having to pay an additional fee."
Lewis felt his heart pounding in his ears as he listened to the man.
"At first I wasn't too keen on it--the imagery he showed me looked pretty bizarre, and I like to keep my attractions family-friendly, you know? But the artist swore it would be a huge hit with the teenage and older audiences, who might find my carnival a little boring. So I rented him the space--but I still need staff to help maintain it. There won't be as many rides or games to clean up after over on that side. I figure it would be easy for you and a couple others to just take care of the trash around those tents, and if I see that you've gotten the hang of janitorial duties, we can talk about expanding your role to maybe help run the games or rides sometimes." Mr. Storm gave Lewis a hopeful smile. "So, what do you say?"
What other choice did he have? "I think... that sounds like a great opportunity, sir," Lewis replied, sticking out his hand. "Thank you so much, Mr. Storm."
Mr. Storm chuckled and shook Lewis' hand over the desk. "Wonderful! Welcome to the team, Lewis!"
They exited the office, and Mr. Storm gestured to a similar structure down the aisle between the bank of mobiles. "This way, Lewis. All staff have lockers in these two mobiles. We'll find you an empty one where you can store your things while you're working here." He nodded to the backpack on Lewis' back.
The first mobile was full, but the second one had a few unoccupied lockers. There was a young man just closing his locker and adjusting his hat with the words "CARNIVAL STAFF" embroidered on the front.
"Ah! Casey," Mr. Storm greeted him. "This is Lewis, he's from Browning Academy and he'll be working with us in the janitor position."
The sandy-haired young man grinned and offered a handshake. "Hey, that's awesome! Welcome to the carnival life."
Mr. Storm nodded his approval. "Well, I have to get back to running things. Casey, will you show Lewis where to get his gear, and show him around the carnival grounds?"
Casey bobbed his head. "Sure," he replied.
Casey bobbed his head. "Sure," he replied.
Mr. Storm gave Lewis a pat on the shoulder. "Pay attention to where the trash cans are on your tour, young man," he said. "You won't want to miss any when this carnival gets going in full swing!"
Casey led Lewis out to another mobile with the large sign STAFF UNIFORMS. "This is where you'll pick up a uniform in your size," he explained. "Usually just a cap, a jacket, a couple shirts, and an apron if you're on a team that deals with a lot of messes."
Lewis eyed the cabinet full of carnival uniforms, and chose the articles Casey mentioned in his size. Casey waved to the other side, where the bank of washing machines and dryers were. "If your outfit gets messy, you can change it out for a clean shirt and wash the dirty one. Mr. Storm likes us all to look clean and professional as much as possible."
Lewis logged that away and followed the young man out to the attraction grounds.
Lewis logged that away and followed the young man out to the attraction grounds.
"Okay," Casey continued. "So here we've got the food court, with all the carts and booths, there's a bunch of trash cans through there; then over this way, we've got the arcade of games, and then through here, a few rides."
Lewis nodded as he peeked around the basketball arcade and past the ring toss to note a few garbage cans around the arcade. The rides each had a trash can next to the exit, probably so prospective riders could deposit any trash before getting on the ride, but this carnival was much smaller than the annual county fair held in his hometown. Past the spinning ride, he spotted a second carnival gate, strung with cobwebs and painted dark colors: the PHANTASMENAGERIE, featuring the art of Krasimir Schlimme. The black fake-iron gates were flanked by distressed cement columns and squat figures of some kind. Venturing closer, Lewis recognized the shapes: bulbous goblins, but Schlimme had not endeavored to manufacture any sort of realism as he had for the art museum displays. Instead, these goblins had been coated with a substance to make them look like they were carved out of the same cement as the columns behind them.
He pointed at the gate. "What about that place?"
Casey glanced only briefly and shuddered. "The creep show? No, we don't have to go there unless the guy running it specifically requests staff from Mr. Storm. As far as I know, he's got his own staff, and all he's doing is renting that corner of the field so that he didn't have to set up his own parking lot and entrance gate. If you work at the entrance booth, you'll have a separate box for people buying access to the freak circus, so that guy gets his portion of the normal carnival entrance fees. But, personally, I'm not a fan of that spooky stuff. Especially since it's springtime--a little too late for scary stuff! But Mr. Storm says there are a lot of people who are fascinated by the macabre any time of the year, so he got the spot." Casey wagged his head. "Just don't worry about that place. You'll do all right here."
Lewis gave one last look toward Krasimir's new home to display his captive creatures. There was a conspicuously large tent behind the barriers, plenty large enough to house a giant Linda's size. The memory of her depicted in a straitjacket made his skin crawl. How much of that poster was real, and how much was just an illustration created by Schlimme to attract attention?
Thinking of Linda reminded him of Ashwyn, but as the tour wore on, and Casey explained how each game and ride worked, Lewis realized that he wouldn't have time alone to talk to the little fairy until he got back to his dorm at the end of the night. He pretended to nod along and pay attention as Casey showed him all the inner workings at the back of each booth, where the controls were, and especially any troubleshooting shutoff buttons for each game. In reality, his thoughts obsessed over the place he never wanted to go, the place he wanted to avoid more than others just about as much as he wanted to expose Schlimme again and drive him away to rescue the living creatures subjected to such heinous treatment. But what could he do about it?
"And that's about it," Casey finished, rubbing his chin. He checked his watch and bobbed his head. "Well, that puts us about dinnertime. Want to head over to the food court and pick up something? Mr. Storm gives all the staff food vouchers each week. I have an extra one you can use." He offered Lewis a rumpled piece of neon paper with the carnival logo printed on it.
"Thanks," said Lewis, shaking off the sight of the Phantasmenagerie and focusing on the other side of the carnival.
At the food court, Casey picked up some tacos and a lemonade, while Lewis headed to a cart selling chicken fingers and fries, with a soda to wash it down. On their way to a table, some other young staffers greeted Casey and invited him with them, ignoring the newcomer in the process.
Lewis sat alone at a table at the edge of the pavilion, munching on his chicken strips until something bopped against the side of his neck. He reached up to brush it away, and it gave a frantic squeal.
"Don't squish me!" Ashwyn yelped.
Lewis withdrew his hand, and pulled the edge of his collar up so the fairy could hide there. "Why are you out here?" he muttered under his breath. "I was going to head back to the lockers after this."
"You were taking too long," she insisted. "I was worried you'd forget about us."
Lewis rolled his eyes. "Okay, so what was so important that you had to risk exposing yourself to come find me?"
He felt her settle into the crook of his shoulder. "I visited Mr. Schlimme's menagerie to see what he's done with the captives. Lewis, it's awful!"
"I know," Lewis responded. "I saw the poster in Mr. Storm's office."
"No, you don't know!" Ashwyn insisted. "You see, when you activated the Phantasmagyth and freed everybody from the effects of the venim-gas, Mr. Schlimme can't make everybody stiff anymore. He has set up the attractions to make everybody look like regular Earth animals, or mechanical toys."
"Did he really put Linda in a straitjacket?" Lewis wanted to know.
"Not exactly," Ashwyn answered after a moment. "He tied ropes to all her limbs and joints, rigging them to a frame at the top of the tent, so she can't move unless someone is pulling on the ropes. He also has some kind of a mask plastered over her face, that he can control like one of your puppets, so she looks like a fake invention." Her wings buzzed against his neck. "He's done all the Phantasmians up to be so fake and cheap-looking, meanwhile his ogres and goblins are all disguised as regular humans, and they are the ones working around his show!"
Lewis' alarm went off, and he realized that he needed to leave right then, or he'd miss the last bus back to Browning Academy.
"How are we going to get out of this, Ashwyn?" he asked on his way out of Storm's Carnival.
"I really don't know, Lewis," replied the fairy. "But we have to try!"
"I really don't know, Lewis," replied the fairy. "But we have to try!"
Lewis shook his head and bid her farewell as he boarded the bus. One thing was very clear: activating the Phantasmagyth had done very little to actually save any of the captive Phantasmians. Krasimir Schlimme would not rest until he had the complete Phantasmagyth in his possession.
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