Body Rides (42 page)

But her hands didn’t appear. She flapped her cuffs at Neal, then shoved the bulky sleeves up around her forearms.

They tossed their sodden shirts into the plastic sack that had come with the sweatshirts. Then Neal tossed in the stuffed animals, Dart and Spielberg.

‘Feels so nice ’n cozy,’ Sue said, rubbing herself. ‘Like bein all wrapped up in a big, warm blanket.’ She gave the bottom a tug with both hands, and her black leather skirt vanished under the sweatshirt. ‘Looks like I lost something!’ Laughing, she raised the sweatshirt high enough to show a few inches of her skirt. ‘Oh, there it is!’

When they moved on, Sue carried the bag. Neal kept his right arm across Sue’s back. By sliding his hand, he could feel her skin through the soft thickness of the sweatshirt.

The next ride they came to was the Stagecoach Ferris wheel, a mammoth affair with its individual cars designed to look like Wells Fargo stagecoaches.

Neal and Sue got into line. She stood in front of him, leaning back slightly against him like before. He wrapped his arms around
her. The position was more snuggly this time because of the sweatshirts. Sue caressed his wrists. They both watched passengers disembark from the Ferris wheel, new passengers climb aboard.

After each new set of passengers climbed in, the door of their coach thumped shut and the enormous wheel turned a bit, swinging them up and forward while lowering the next coach to the platform.

Neal and Sue watched the wheel turn and stop. Turn and stop. Each time it stopped, all the coaches teetered wildly back and forth. And then, instead of stopping, it began to spin fast, hoisting the coaches high into the night, dropping them.

‘Judas Q. Priest,’ Sue muttered.

‘What’s the matter?’

She turned around and looked up at him. ‘How ’bout we go on somethin else, okay? I mean, I’ll
do
it if ya really wanta, only . . . I got me the squeamin jimmies on the rollycoaster, and I just don’t think . . . this-here Ferris wheel’s
high
.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure it’s
high
.’

‘You’re sure you won’t mind missing it?’

‘How ’bout you?’

‘I don’t mind.’

‘Then let’s not, and say we did.’

‘Fine with me,’ Neal said, and led her out of the line. Once they were back on the midway, he shoved up his sleeve and checked his wristwatch. ‘The park’s going to close in about half an hour. Maybe we should start heading back.’

‘I think we done most of it, anyhow.’

‘We’ve done most of it,’ Neal said.

‘We’ve done. We. Have. Done.’

‘Very good.’

‘I don’t reckon I’ll ever get the hang of it.’

‘You’re doing fine. Would you like some ice cream or popcorn or something?’

‘We haven’t got a lotta time.’

‘Half an hour.’

‘How ’bout we go in
there
?’ she suggested, and elbowed him gently in the ribs. ‘Custer’s Spookhouse.’

The entire facade of the funhouse was a mural depicting cavalry
soldiers and Indians sprawled dead on a grassy hillside, ghosts rising like gray smoke from their torn and bloody corpses.

‘Talk about tacky,’ Neal muttered.

‘Ya don’t wanta?’

He grinned. ‘I didn’t say that. The tackier, the better. Let’s go.’

As they approached the entrance, however, he felt compelled to explain, ‘The Battle of the Little Big Horn didn’t even happen in Nevada, you know. That was Montana. Probably a thousand miles from here.’

‘I don’t mind,’ Sue told him.

‘I guess I don’t either, actually. It’s just funny, that’s all. But Nevada
did
have the Pony Express.’

‘Best rollycoaster in the world.’

Neal gave her shoulder a squeeze. ‘Sure was the best
time
I’ve ever had on one.’

Then they entered Custer’s Spookhouse.

As they walked through its maze of dark corridors, displays of mayhem suddenly appeared with noise and red lights. The first few times, Neal felt Sue flinch a little. Then she seemed to take the displays in her stride.

They mostly consisted of mannequins that weren’t realistic enough to fool anyone: an Indian brave hanging from a noose, his tongue protruding; a cavalry soldier on his back, half a dozen arrows jutting from his chest, his hair getting lifted by a leering, painted warrior crouched over his head; a frontier woman in a torn dress, tied to a stake, kindling piled around her feet; a brave, still on his feet in front of a saber-wielding soldier, his head split down the middle; a gory cadaver, ribcage and guts exposed, with a couple of turkey vultures pecking at it.

‘Look,’ Sue whispered. ‘That one’s got his eye.’

Neal saw one of the corpse’s eyeballs clamped in a buzzard’s beak. ‘Cool,’ he said.

Sue elbowed him and laughed.

They walked on. After they’d gone a few steps, the red lights of the display went out, leaving them again in darkness.

There seemed to be a thick carpet or pad under their feet, silencing their shoes.

‘It don’t get much darker than this,’ Sue whispered.

‘No, it doesn’t.’

‘Doesn’t.’ She squeezed his hand. Then she came to a halt. ‘It’s quiet, too.’

They both went silent, and listened.

Neal heard laughter, giggles and shrieks. Though they sounded muffled and far away, they seemed to come from somewhere inside the spookhouse.

‘How come we haven’t seen nobody?’ Sue whispered.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Let go a second. I gotta tie my shoe.’

He released her hand, and heard soft crinkly sounds when she set down the plastic sack.

‘Apparently,’ he said, ‘this isn’t the Fort’s most popular attraction. Also, it’s almost ten. Maybe we’re the only people weird enough to save this place for last.’ Sue didn’t comment, so he asked, ‘Did you ever see that movie
Funhouse
? These kids decide to spend the night in the funhouse of this creepy carnival that comes to town. So they hide until after closing time. The thing is, there’s this monster lurking around, knocking them off one by one.’

Probably not easy to tie a shoelace in the dark
.

‘Think there might be a monster in here?’ he asked, smiling.

She didn’t answer.

‘Sue?’

She didn’t answer.

Very cute. She thinks she can scare me with a gag like this?

‘Hmmm,’ he said. ‘Where’d she go?’

Bending over, Neal swept a hand through the darkness. Sue was not crouched beside him, tying a shoelace.

What’d she do, sneak off?

She has to be all right, he told himself. This is just a game she’s playing. Made up that story about needing to tie her shoe so I’d have to let go of her hand.

‘Are we playing a little hide ’n seek?’ he asked.

Still no answer came.

Maybe something did happen to her
.

That’s crazy, he told himself. She was right here beside me. I would’ve heard . . .

Unless it was something silent
.

Like what? he wondered. She certainly couldn’t have been attacked . . . nothing like that.

She’s just fooling around
.

‘Well,’ Neal said, ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m leaving. Are you coming?’

No answer.

‘Okay. Bye-bye. So long.
Adios
. Been good to know ya. It’s been real. Cheerio.’

Something in the black of the corridor wrapped its arms around him from behind. He flinched and gasped. He grabbed the wrists at his chest, ready to fight. But a voice whispered, ‘You ain’t goin nowhere, buddy.’

He let his arms fall to his sides. ‘Very funny,’ he said.

‘Scared ya.’

‘Yes, you scared me. A little.’

‘Made ya jump.’ Though she spoke in the softest whisper, Neal could hear the glee in her voice.

‘I knew you were just trying to trick me,’ he explained. ‘But then I started to worry about you, anyway.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’

‘That’s sorta nice,’ Sue said.

Her arms were loose around him, so he turned around. Though facing her, he could see nothing except pitch black. ‘I’m just maybe a little too sensitive about losing people,’ he said.

‘Glad ya didn’t lose me?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, I’m glad.’ He raised his hands and put them on her sides and felt bare skin. Sliding them downward, he felt the slopes of her hips, the smooth cheeks of her buttocks. No clothes, just skin. ‘Uh-oh,’ he said.

‘Uh-oh, yerself.’

Moving his hands upward, he caressed bare skin all the way up to her armpits.

He swallowed hard and whispered, ‘You’re out of your mind.’

‘Just wanted to give you a little surprise.’

‘You’re full of surprises.’

‘Yup.’

He brought his hands forward and curled them over her breasts. He rubbed his palms against her stiff nipples.

A shiver seemed to pass through Sue.

Bending his knees, Neal kissed one of her nipples. He pressed
it between his lips, then opened his mouth and drew it in, tasting it, exploring it with his tongue. Sue, moaning, put both hands on the back of his head. She pushed her fingers through his hair, and urged his mouth harder against her breast.

He slid his hand up between her thighs.

‘Eeeeww, look at
that
!’ A little girl’s voice.

Sue’s hands froze against Neal’s scalp. He pulled his head back. Her breast came out of his mouth with a wet sucking sound.

Turning his head, he saw a very faint red glow down the corridor.

‘Crap on a cracker!’ Sue gasped in a harsh whisper. ‘What’re we gonna do?’

‘Where’re your clothes?’

‘In the sack.’

Where’s the sack? Neal wondered.

Too late, anyway
,

‘It’s just pretend, darling,’ said a woman.

‘Is not,’ said a boy. ‘What do you think they
used
their swords for, to toast marshmallows? No, sir. They used ’em to chop up injuns.’

‘Native Americans,’ said a grown-up man.

Shit! A family of four!

A few moments later, the red glow vanished.

The next attraction for the family would be the buzzards feasting on the corpse.

How far away? Neal wondered.

Not nearly far enough
.

‘What’ll we do?’ Sue asked.

Neal flung his arms around her, lifted her off her feet and rushed forward, hugging her to his body. After three quick strides, he rammed her against a wall. Though the wall was apparently carpeted, she grunted from the impact. Neal grimaced with unexpected pain from the scratches on his forearms.

‘What was that?’ asked the little girl. She sounded scared.

‘Ghosts and ghouls,’ the boy said. ‘They’re coming for you.’

The girl made a squealy sound.

‘That’s enough of that, young man,’ said the man Neal assumed to be the father.

‘I heard it, too, Tom,’ said the wife.

‘Crazy Horse wants to scalp you, Molly.’

‘James!’

‘
Oooooooooooooo!
’ From James.

‘
Ooooooooooooo-yeeeeahhhhhhh!
’ From Sue – a trite and cartoonish ghost ‘oooo’ twisting and rising into the demented shriek of a banshee.

Both the kids erupted with terrified screams. Through their screams, Tom the father blurted, ‘Shit!’ and the mother snapped, ‘Children! Get back here!’

Sue let forth a mad, witch-like cackle.

‘Assholes!’ the father yelled.

‘Tom!’

‘I’m coming, I’m coming! Like to get my hands on those assholes . . .!’

Gazing over his shoulder, Neal saw a dim red haze fill the corridor in the distance: the kids, fleeing, must’ve run through the sensor that activated the lights for the saber-in-the-head exhibit.

‘Fucking assholes!’ the father shouted – a parting shot as he gave chase to his retreating clan.

‘Is he talking about me?’ Sue whispered.

‘I believe so.’

She tittered softly. Neal felt small, warm puffs of her breath on the side of his neck. Her chest shook against him through his sweatshirt.

‘Kids!’ the mother yelled. ‘Stop running! Kids! Damn it! Wait for us!’

A few seconds later, the distant red glow vanished and the corridor returned to blackness.

‘We’d better get while the gettin’s good,’ Sue whispered.