Part 9 (2/2)

”The rides are tough, but we can be tougher.”

”Okay, fine.”

”Remember that there's a way off of every ride.”

”No problem.”

He was so agreeable, it was sad. This place had whipped him, wiped him, and hung him out to dry. I led the way, trying to second-guess what the rides around us might be. ”Do you think we should try-”

A sharp explosion of pain on the side of my head. I was on the ground before I knew what hit me, clapping my hand to my aching ear. It was swelling, but my ear had cus.h.i.+oned the blow, protecting my skull. I looked up to see Russ holding a steel pole. It looked like one of the levers that operated the rides.

”I'm sorry, Blake, but I gotta do what I gotta do.”

There were tears in his eyes, but they didn't stop him from swinging that pole again. I dodged, and it caught my upper arm; the bone didn't break, but I could feel the pain of the blow from my shoulder to my fingertips. I scrambled away, but Russ still stalked me.

”She's gonna let me go.” Russ's face was red from anguish. ”You understand, right? I gotta do this, so Ca.s.sandra'll let me out of here. She promised.” Russ swung again, but this time he missed. It gave me the time I needed to get to my feet and bolt.

My head was still reeling from that first blow. I couldn't think straight, and I didn't know which way to run, so after rounding a corner I ducked into one of those automated photo booths-the kind you squeeze into with your friends, when they're not trying to kill you. I pulled the curtain and peeked out, hoping I could throw Russ off the track long enough for me to recover physically, and mentally. Through the curtain, I saw him wandering the midway.

”Blake! Don't make this harder than it has to be!”

I took a few deep breaths as I came to grips with the situation. At home Russ lacked the conviction to do much of anything but hang out and wisecrack. But when it came to killing his best friend to save his own hide, he suddenly found deep motivation.

”You know I'll find you, Blake. You won't get away. But I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry about this.”

Was it really Russ? I tried to tell myself that it was a false image of him, like Carl and the whale with my mother's eyes. But who was I kidding? This was no false image. This was Russ through and through. The place had gotten to him. She had gotten to him. The next time he pa.s.sed the booth, I leaped out suddenly, knocking him down. The pole clattered to the ground, and I grabbed it. Now it was me standing over him with the pole in my hand.

”Don't. . . move.”

He froze and stared at me, waiting to see what I'd do. I wasn't even sure myself. I was so furious. I was tempted to smash him, just as he'd smashed me, but then he put his head in his hands and started crying like a baby. Still I hung on to that pole, not knowing how to feel.

I'd once read about a type of crime called ”depraved heart murder.” Few people ever get charged with it, but in the story there was this guy who was on a sinking boat. He couldn't swim, so he panicked and ripped a life vest away from a seven-year-old girl. The little girl drowned.

Depraved heart. He got twenty to life.

What do you feel for a coward like that? What should I feel for someone who would kill his best friend to save his own life?

”I'm sorry, man . . . I'm sorry,” Russ said through his tears.

I found I had no response to that.

”Ca.s.sandra promised she'd let me out. All I had to do . . . all I had to do . . .”

”Was kill me?”

His face went an ugly shade of red.

”You didn't ride the Ferris wheel!” he screamed. ”You don't know what it does to you! I can't take another ride! If you rode the Ferris wheel, you'd know!”

But I couldn't imagine any ride that would make me slam a pole through my best friend's skull. They say you never know who's the real hero and who's the real coward until you're looking death in the face. I've always been afraid of plenty of things, but fear isn't what makes you a coward. It's how depraved your heart becomes when fear gets pumped through it. I would never climb over the backs of my friends to save myself.

Russ looked around nervously, as if Ca.s.sandra might swoop down out of the sky and swallow him whole. ”I'm not letting this place get me like it got Maggie.” He started to take off.

”Russ, wait!” I don't know why I tried to stop him when I really just wanted him out of my sight. I guess I'm a pathological fixer. I can't let anyone or anything just be; I've got to try to make it better. ”Where do you think you're going to run?”

”This place has to have a way out! We're not stuck in a ride now, so we've got to be closer to getting out!”

”What do you think, you'll just find the back door and skip through?”

”I won't get on another ride!” He pushed me away, and then he looked down one of the many connecting aisles of the park. ”Do-do you see that!”

It was a revolving door with a big happy face above it, and stamped on the happy face's forehead were the words: EXIT.

COME AGAIN SOON!.

TELL YOUR FRIENDS!.

Russ ran toward it without a second thought. But there was something wrong. It was too easy. . . .

”Russ, wait!” I tried to catch him, but I hurt so much from the beating he'd given me, I couldn't move fast enough.

Russ never saw it coming. He had no idea.

The dusty ground of the park fell away beneath him as a trapdoor opened with a loud bang. He screamed and dropped down into a hole. I got there a moment too late, but not too late to get a look. The hole had opened into a vast pit full of s.h.i.+ny chrome gears, cogs and pistons, thrown together at weird, impossible angles, all cranking in overdrive.

The Works.

I felt that if I looked too long, I'd fall in too.

Rising heat singed my nostrils, and the smell of burning grease made my throat close up. I couldn't see Russ anymore, couldn't even hear his screams over the grinding of the ma.s.sive machine. It was as if he'd been ground up in it, his essence becoming oil for the gears.

The trapdoor sprang closed. When I looked up, I saw two park workers grab the ”exit door” and roll it away, revealing a brick wall behind it. It was just a facade.

”Gets 'em every time,” Ca.s.sandra said.

I whirled on her. ”You couldn't take me on yourself?” I screamed, my teeth bared like a wild animal. ”You had to bring Russ into it?”

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