Dark Ride (3 page)

Chapter 3

“I saw it, too, Jack. You're the first person I thought of. I know you're, like, super bummed. We all are,” says Mason Chick, speaking gravely to his friend.

Jack had been downright despondent ever since stepping foot into the local swim club. Mason, a taller boy, terrifically tan and built with muscle beyond what a fourteen-year-old's frame should carry, looks years older than Jack although he's only a few months his senior. As Jack knows to be his fashion, Mason launches into an inspirational speech.

“Jack, look, this is the last weekend of the summer. You have to make a choice. We can either walk around for the next two days like a pack of mope-a-sauruses or you, Scotty, and I can have the time of our lives tomorrow night.”

“Can you believe they're out of bottle pops?” says another voice coming up from behind the two boys.

It belongs to the pudgy Scotty Carnahan. Pushing his glasses up from the bridge of his nose, Scotty's face holds a since of bewilderment. “First the park and, now, no bottle pops. Is there any justice in this world?”

The smell of chlorine is overwhelmed by the wafting scent of suntan lotion, and Scotty's pale belly bears the white greasy evidence of a fresh coat.

Mason playfully punches Scotty in the arm and says, “Look the park is closing, we can't change that. Take the rest of the day to sulk if you guys want, but I refuse. Tomorrow night I better have the old Jack back, or it's going to be a waste of time.” Walking away from the others, Mason walks to the steps of the taller of the two springboards.

“He's right, you know,” Scotty relents.

“You always think Mason is right.”

And, he did: in all the years Jack has known Scotty, he's hardly ever crossed Mason. While Scotty is Jack's friend, Scotty worships Mason.

Jack's mind is awash with emotion and thinks,
How can these two take this so lightly, after all of the good times they have had at the park?

Splash
. A torrent of water drenches the two boys. Mason swims over and tells them, “That was my best splash all day.”

Ignoring the wall of water that has cascaded over him, Scotty tries to cheer his friend. “If it makes you feel any better, Jack, what if we all got some matching T-shirts at the airbrush stand in the park? They could read something like, ‘The three amigos' last night in the Hollow.'”

“Scotty, that is the single most stupidest idea I've ever heard. I wouldn't be caught dead in an airbrushed T-shirt,” Mason retorts.

Jack decides not to comment. He agrees with Mason, the suggestion is pure Scotty, who happens to be the shortest of the three and not the most socially gifted. While Mason is always about sports and girls, the heavyset Scotty is a hopeless nerd. He loves to read, but not anything cool like comic books. He has an unnatural fascination with reading and studying about old folk stories and fairy tales. In fact, Scotty is quite the expert on Grimm's, Hans Christian Anderson, Tolkien, and others—a trait that qualifies him for über-nerd status. Other kids at school tease him relentlessly, unless Mason is around. The fact that Scotty and Mason are friends at all is one of the school's ongoing mysteries.

Just then, an idea pops into Jack's head. “Mason, I think Scotty has a point.”

“Are you kidding me, Jack? Look you two can get your little T-shirts, but I am not making that mistake. Do you have any idea what a babe like Lauren Van Wormer would say if she saw me in something like that?”

“No, Mason, I have a better idea. What if we grabbed something from the park like a keepsake?”

“Go on, I like the way you're thinking, Braddock.”

“I remember when they closed the Dairy Dipper over on Campbell Lane. One of my sister's friends grabbed a sign from inside one of the walls. It says something like, ‘Try the Dip's Mango Monster Shake.' Blair has it hung up on the wall in her room.”

Mason grins. “I get it. We can take something from like inside the Enchanted Forrest! That's your favorite ride. It would be like a keepsake.”

“Wouldn't that be stealing?” interjects Scotty.

“Can it, Scotty, I like it. Maybe having a memento like that will bring Mr. Poopie Pants out of his slump?”

“If we could get something cool, it would be like a little bit of the park will remain with us,” Jack confides.

It doesn't take much to convince Mason of questionable behavior. “Okay, I'm in. We'll all get a prop from inside the Enchanted Forrest. Besides, it won't be stealing since they're just going to bulldoze the place anyways, right?”

“If you think it's all right, then I'm in,” Scotty says.

“Great! One last hurrah at Storybook Hollow. Now, I'm going to make a wave so large that the lifeguard up there will never forget the name Mason Chick.”

Jack cycles through his mind about the ride, his ride. The Enchanted Forrest is the park's only dark ride and his favorite attraction. But what would he take? There are dozens of props small enough to sneak out of the ride, but how could he actually get one of them without anyone seeing?”

Mason makes another thunderous splash, and a pretty teenage lifeguard blows her whistle and screams, “You little troublemaker! Get out of the pool and sit your butt on the side!”

“She's hot, Mason. Better lay low for a while,” Scotty warns.

“I know she's hot, that's why I did it. I need to go home anyways. Dad wants me to mow the yard. So, tomorrow night, it's a deal.”

Scotty follows Mason as he scampers over for a towel and leaves Jack, once again, to his thoughts. The idea has cheered him up a little, but something inside tells him that perhaps Scotty's reservations are right. Still, he tells himself,
Nah I need something, I deserve something. After all, no one loves that place, that ride, more than I do. I will claim some Storybook Hollow history for myself tomorrow night!

Jack makes his way to the front gate where his Schwinn bicycle is chained to the rack. Suddenly, an image pops into his head. As he hops on the bicycle, he knows exactly what he is going to take.

Chapter 4

For 50 years, Clyde Spahn has spent his entire working life in the park. He cannot help but feel a twinge of remorse. He was only 18 when the original owner, Mr. Ross, hired him on to do cleanup work. He wonders where the time has gone. The last two days have been filled with questions:
what would Edna think of all this, and what would he do now? Retirement hadn't been something Clyde was waiting for since his job wasn't just about the money. It was about being useful and doing something with his hands. With a grunt, Clyde comes back to reality and pulls a hose from a shed behind the Tilt-A-Whirl.

“So, this is the last weekend. It just seems so sudden,” says Gwen Purvis, his assistant for the summer. She comments as if the old man had not already churned that fact over in his mind dozens of times.

Clyde thinks,
She is making small talk, that's what Gwen does. Ever since she was hired, that college student has babbled incessantly.
Still, Clyde did not mind the girl. He actually found her constant chattering comforting, but, tonight, he would prefer if she just kept her thoughts to herself.

Hosing down the floor of the Ice Cream Shack, the star-filled sky provides just enough light for Clyde to mark his progress. It's obvious the employees here have been careless. Ice cream coats the cement floor.
Since when did we sell purple ice cream?
Clyde wonders.

Gwen pipes up again, much to Clyde's chagrin. “It's been a fun summer, you know. I never dreamed this would be the last. I thought I could work here next summer as well.”

She pauses, hoping for some response but gets none, so she presses on. “You would think they could have given us more notice. I mean none of the employees had a clue ‘til that stinking newspaper article came out today. Don't they have to give us, like, 30 days' notice or something?”

No response again. Changing the subject, Gwen looks for something to say that will solicit a response. “Want me to put the hose up?”

This time Clyde graces her question with a simple, “Yep.”

Shutting off the hose, Gwen rolls it back on its wheel. When she moves on to store it, Clyde takes himself back again.
What will I miss the most? No question, the kids.
While he and Edna have two girls of their own, he always felt like the kids who came to the park often were like his extended family. He had kept this place running for decades and seen thousands of smiles, and realizes that he will miss the little screams of glee. His nostalgic moment is interrupted, though, as Gwen returns.

“Okay, captain, time to hit the Forrest. It was running fine today, so all we really need to do is make sure there is no debris on the track.”

“Got it.”

The Dark Ride stands silent in the back corner of the park. It is the oldest and most famous ride in the park and has developed into Storybook Hollow's version of a Haunted House. Clyde anticipates the maintenance check to go quickly, after which he could go home to a TV dinner and
some late night television. Rubbing his grey beard, Clyde pushes through the heavy black doors into the ride along with Gwen. A memory pops into Clyde's head, but before it has the chance to stake a more permanent claim, Clyde shudders and forces himself to do something, anything, to not remember that night. It is like this every time he walks in, a nightly battle in his head.

“Gwen, don't wander too far off now.” Not wanting to voice his reasoning, Clyde adds, “It's awful dark in here and you might hit your head on something.”

“Clyde, we have been in here every night this summer, and you tell me that at least three times a night. You know, I'm almost 20 years old.”

Chuckling, he chides himself for his paranoia and thinks,
We have been in here every night. And I have been in here hundreds of times with no cause for alarm. Except for that time I caught a stray cat…and the time I found a couple of teens sneaking around after hours…and that night twenty-two years ago.
There it was again: the memory Clyde refuses to give life to.

Walking slowly and bending to pick up the occasional box of popcorn to sling into the black waste bag, Clyde opens the doors into the next room. Looking around, he watches as Gwen passes by and seizes a half-eaten candy apple with her gloved hands.

This bristles Clyde. “What a waste, twenty years ago, no kid in his right mind would have just tossed a perfectly good apple on the tracks. Kids are just spoiled these days. Oh, there I go again, sorry to sound like a—.” He pauses mid-sentence and calls out, “Gwen?”

His young assistant is gazing towards the wall on the far end of the room.

“Do you hear that?” she asks.

“What?”

“Music.”

Before the next words come out of his mouth, every hair on his body is standing at attention. “What music?”

“You know like a calliope. You hear it don't you”

A flood of memories tears down every restraint he has built up, and he thinks,
It is happening again.

He says, “Gwen there's nothing we can accomplish tonight that I can't just do in the morning. Let's get out of here. It's awful late.”

“Clyde, you don't hear that music? Aren't you curious?”

“Gwen, I'm tired. Let's pack it in.”

“But, Clyde, it's coming from that room just ahead. Don't you think—?”

“I think I'm tired. We're leaving.” His bright blue eyes look directly at the girl. Motioning to the door behind them with his head, he leaves no more room for argument.

He did not care if she was confused. He simply wanted them out now. “Let's go,” he says and gestures for her to lead the way. After shaking her head in utter confusion, she does.

Clyde lingers a moment, straining to hear the music he's imagined all these years, but all he hears is…nothing. He didn't hear anything that night twenty-two years ago, either. The night Douglas Finch went missing for good.

Chapter 5

The Enchanted Forrest sits still. It will be another 12 hours before the park opens its doors. Standing motionless, a figure is waiting patiently, somewhere in his own world of dreams, thinking,
It will come like it always does, but this time I'll do it. This time, I'll succeed.
The thoughts tantalize him and comfort him, although he knows it will be the same result. He muses,
There she is, the girl in red. Standing, tempting, mocking
.

He plays the scenario over in his mind, wondering what he can do differently.
How can I reach her? What if I jump as soon as I hear the whirl?
Deciding to play this new scenario out in his mind, his arms move. He moves on his own. His hand rises in front of his face, and his eyes blink. With shock and elation, he realizes he has control. There is no music, no lights, no chaos, and yet he can move. With a sudden jolt of freedom, he lunges at the girl, although every joint prepares to be halted in the air. Headlong, he smashes into the girl. The pain of the fall is of no consequence; he got her. He looks at his victim joyously. The years of failure have now been rewarded. Saliva runs free. His jaws flex, and his teeth shimmer. Preparing to tear at the girl, a strange realization interrupts the joy.

What is this?

He rips and slashes for signs of blood, or any life. He growls.

A replica? This is no girl. She was real, the girl is real. All these years, and now that I am free, someone has fooled me. Replaced her with this. A plastic statue.
A new feeling rips through his mid-section. He is famished. He must feed. How long has it been? The pain is so intense that it seizes his stomach into a convulsion. The instinct is overwhelming.

Food. The girl. I will find the girl. She must be here. She will be mine, and then I will feed. Now that I am free, I will feed!

Chapter 6

The sign outside the door reads, “Employees Only–Break Room.” But it's not much of a break room. A relic of a coffee maker sits atop a counter next to a grimy sink, a solitary drink machine offers sodas that passed their prime five years ago, and leaning against an unused wall is a yellowstained, folded-up card table. Clyde, hands on his hips, tries to forget what happened last night. He shoves a hand into his back pocket and removes his wallet and opens the black leather flap. There she is: Edna. The picture was taken for an old church directory back in ‘74. Instinctively, any time Clyde is at a loss, he thinks about Edna. She passed away ten years ago, but looking at her picture brings him comfort. Relishing the respite, Clyde speaks to her.

“Well, Edna, last night was something else, huh?”

Clyde remembers back when the Enchanted Forrest first opened. Originally it was a kiddie ride until Mr. Ross decided that the park needed something a little more edgy and had all of the scenes altered to make it more frightening.

A well-rusted hinge signals that Clyde is about to have company. It's Gwen.

“Clyde, I was in the Enchanted Forrest this morning.”

“You what?”

“Look, I was just curious about that music, and I was looking around when I noticed that the Wolf is gone.”

“The Wolf is gone? You have got to be kidding. How? That thing weighs a ton.”

Of all of the special effects in the Enchanted Forrest, the Wolf in the Red Riding Hood Room, which is placed on a track so that it startles the riders, is by far the best scare of the ride.

Clyde wonders if this has something to do with the music but tells Gwen, “Bet it was some college kids pulling the ultimate prank.” Clyde wonders who the culprits could be.

Gwen offers, “I bet that Colton Spurlock is behind this. He and those guys over at the Midway games are always up to no good.” She pauses, then adds, “Oh brother, Mr. Snodgrass is going to be angry.”

“Oh no. We're not calling him.”

“But that's what we were told to do in training.”

Clyde stows his wallet and replies, “No need Gwen, let me take care of this.”

“But Mr. Snodgrass is already on his way.”

“You called him already?”

She nods, a bit sheepishly, and Clyde's face falls. To say that this is not exactly what he wanted to deal with today would be an understatement. Handling delinquent teenagers is easy, and making adjustments for stolen property at a closing park is manageable. But, dealing with the manager, Mr. Snodgrass—pull out a calculator and start adding.