Full Tilt (7 page)

As I looked ahead of me I saw what she meant. There was a kid on an orange longhorn bull who was having as much trouble as I was. I heard him scream as he slipped off the bull, but his screams were silenced under the trampling feet of the stampede.

“You could call this the weed-out course,” Cassandra said with a dry smile.

“Okay,” I said, hugging the neck of my lion. “Okay. I get the idea. You can stop the ride now.”

She laughed at me. “The ride doesn’t stop. Find your way to another ride. That’s the only way to get off.”

Another ride?
That implied surviving this one. Had Quinn been through this? He would have loved it. He would have
died
loving it!

“Where’s my brother?”

Instead of answering, Cassandra tugged on the ears of her razorback. It turned its head, opened its massive jaw, and dug its tusks into my lion, shredding its neck.

“Bad
piggy,” Cassandra said, but it was clear this was exactly what she had intended to do. Maggie came up behind me. Her ram reared and threw her to the ground. My lion roared in pain, wood splintering in all directions. It collapsed, and I tumbled off just as the huge razorback chomped down on my lion, lifted it up, and swallowed it whole.

“Survival of the fittest,” Cassandra said with a wink. “Looks like your lion didn’t make the grade.” Then she rode off, leaving me and Maggie standing in the middle of the stampede.

“We’re toast,” Maggie said.

By now I’d seen more than one kid trampled into dust.
What happens if you die here?
I wondered.
Is it just the end of the ride, or something worse?

“Come on!” I grabbed Maggie’s hand and wove us through the stampede. Somehow we managed to sidestep
every animal. I turned away from the kid being swallowed by a crimson alligator and another who got speared by a maroon and gold Trojan warrior. We fought our way past a host of horrors until we came out into tall grass. I was exhausted, but I felt I could run forever to get away from this place.

“Wait! What about Russ?” Maggie said. We’d completely forgotten about him.

I turned back, fearing the worst. But he, too, had broken away from the stampede—only he hadn’t left his mount. He still rode the back of that gargantuan peacock, which now ran AWOL through the grass.

“Help!” Russ yelled. “Get me off this thing!” As big as he was, he was at the mercy of the ridiculous bird.

Maggie and I ran toward him, just as his bird reached the edge of a gully and lost its balance. It tumbled, disappearing down the ravine along with Russ. By the time we got to him, Russ was already picking himself up out of the dust. He was fine, but the peacock wasn’t.

“I broke my bird.” It lay in splinters around him. The bird’s wooden head and neck were still intact, pecking at Russ’s ankles. He kicked it away in disgust.

Now that the ride was over, my legs gave out, and I had to sit down on a boulder. I looked at my hands, my feet, the ground around me. I looked at the boulders and at the bright red sky. Nothing I had experienced before stepping on that carousel had prepared me for this. I knew it couldn’t be happening, and yet it seemed so real—
more
than real. There was a heightened sense of reality to everything around us, as if this place truly
was
made up of whole new dimensions
beyond the three that filled up the rest of our lives. My senses were so unaccustomed to it, I didn’t know whether to feel wonder or terror.

Maggie came up beside me. “You okay?”

“Why are you asking
him
?” said Russ. “What about
me?
I’m a wreck! I want to go home! I didn’t sign up for some weird, communal acid trip.”

But Russ was wrong to call it that. This was the exact opposite of some drugged-out experience. We still had our senses. Our minds were sharp and clear. It was the rest of the world that had gone crazy.

“The rules have changed,” I told them. “We’ve got to accept it and learn to deal with things the way they are now.”

I stood up, feeling my strength return and feeling my senses adapting to the dimensions of this new reality. “It’s kind of like learning to swim. The first time you were in water, it must have felt like this.”

“So we’ve got to learn to swim through this place?”

“Either we make all the right moves, or we drown.”

Russ shook his head quickly, nervously. “No. No. We’ve just got to stop this.”

Maggie ignored him and turned to me. “Who was that girl on the killer pig? You talked to her like you knew her.”

“You know her too. She ran the ball-toss booth. She was the one who gave us the invitation.”

“Gave
you
the invitation,” Russ said.
“I
wasn’t invited.
I
should get to go home.”

“You heard what that guy at the entrance said,”
Maggie reminded him. “We can’t get out until we ride seven rides.”

Russ started pacing in circles like a gorilla in a cage. “I don’t get this ride, anyway. I mean, what’s with these weird animals?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to get it,” I told him. “I think ...” I hesitated. “I think it’s for me. You’re just along for the ride.”

“What? How could they make an entire ride just for you?” Maggie asked.

“Not they—
her.
Cassandra.” The more I thought about it, the more sure I was that she was at the bottom of it all. “It’s like she gets inside your head somehow. She takes what she finds there and whips it up into this.”

The thought stopped Russ in midpace. “Well, dude, maybe I don’t want some witch-chick picking the corners of my brain.”

I forced a smirk. “Why? Y’think she’ll find something there besides toe-jam?”

“Hey, you’ve got rides you’d rather skip, and so do I.” He looked up to the red sky as if some rescue might come by helicopter. “We’ll find her, and we’ll bargain our way out. That’s what we’ll do.”

But I already knew what I had to do. “No. We go on to the next ride.”

“You’ve picked a hell of a time to grow some guts,” he said. “Do us all a favor and go back to being a coward.”

I could have hit him for that. I could have hit him and hurt him; and although he was stronger than me back home, I knew things were different here. This
place
was
different. Here, it seemed muscle wasn’t made of flesh and blood; it was made of will and anger. And at that moment I had enough strength to hurl him into the eclipsed sun.

Maggie came between us like a referee. “You know,” she said, “maybe I’m crazy, but I sort of liked the ride.”

Russ just looked at her.
“Liked
it?”

“It’s an amusement park, right? Maybe we should try to enjoy it.”

Russ strode over to a slim boulder about as tall as he was. “Really? Why don’t you ask
this
guy if he’s enjoying it?”

“What do you mean?” Then, as I looked at the boulder, I understood. It wasn’t exactly in the form of a person, but the boulder did seem to have sagging shoulders and smooth indentations that could have been eyes and a mouth, if the light hit it just right. In fact, all the boulders around gave us the uncanny impression of human figures hunched by the weight of the granite.

“Somehow,” I told my friends, “I don’t think any of this is for our amusement.”

“All the more reason to cut a deal with the Queen of Mean and get out,” Russ said.

“You do what you want, but I’m finding Quinn.”

Russ threw up his hands. “What is it with you that you’ve got to save
his
butt before your own?”

“He’s my brother.”

Then Maggie looked at me. “I think it’s more than that, isn’t it?”

I hesitated for a moment. Was it more than that? The
thing is, I was the one who had pushed Quinn over the edge. I’d called him a human accident, knowing how much it would hurt him. If I hadn’t said it, would he have come here? Maybe, maybe not. But I couldn’t live with that, and I also knew I didn’t want to live without him—not as long as I could do something about it.

I looked at the back of my hand, recalling how the symbol had glowed as it got close to that first turnstile. Then I stretched out my arm and spun in a slow circle, turning myself into a human compass. I stopped turning when the symbol began to glow just the tiniest bit brighter. “The next ride’s this way.”

I climbed out of the gully, and Maggie was quick to follow.

“Are you coming or not?” I asked Russ, and he reluctantly came along. For once
I
was the one pushing us full tilt toward the next ride.

We followed the growing glow on the backs of our hands until we came to a shiny black pond. Only it wasn’t a pond. In fact, the surface was like smooth black glass. Objects moved across the obsidian face like huge, scurrying beetles—four feet long and waist high—but it was difficult to get a bead on what they were, because they weren’t exactly . . .
there.
They kept shifting in and out of phase, appearing and disappearing, as if moving in and out of holes in some Swiss cheese dimension. It was Maggie who realized what they were.

“Bumper cars,” she said.

As she said it I could swear I heard my brother’s maniacal laugh amid the squeal of spinning tires.

Two bumper cars, one forest green, the other navy blue, appeared at the edge of our vision, and when we turned our focus toward them, they didn’t dart off into oblivion. Instead, they remained empty and still. They were waiting for us.

“Only two?” said Maggie.

“Hey, you and me are a team,” said Russ.

Maggie darted me a glance, but I looked away.

“I drive,” Maggie said.

Russ guffawed, like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “Not in this universe. I’ll have you know I am the bumper car king.”

“I’m still driving.”

Russ grabbed her around the waist in his boyfriendly way. “Never mess with a guy and his wheels.”

My ears flushed as I watched them. Maybe I was still mad at Russ from before. Maybe it was something new. Or maybe it was something that had always been there, filed neatly away. Well, it was time to do some refiling.

“I’ll let you drive, Maggie. You can come with me,” I said.

Russ was so surprised that he loosened his grip, and she eased out of it. He looked at me—not angry, but confused. “Why would she ride with you?” he asked.

“Because I’m not you,” I told him. “Because I don’t always have to drive.”

He looked at me a moment more, considering it. “All right, I get your point.” He smiled at Maggie. “I’ve been purged of the creep factor by Captain Courageous here.” Then he took her hand gently. “You can drive.”

She sort of accepted his sort-of apology, and all was well among the three of us again. Yet somehow this was not the resolution I had hoped for. I turned my attention to the bumper cars still waiting for us. I took the blue one, Russ and Maggie took the green. The car was so cramped, I had to bring my knees up at weird angles, and it was worse for Russ and Maggie, who had to sit
toboggan style in a seat meant for much smaller people.

I looked out at another bumper car slipping in and out of existence, its rider screaming with some thrill we’d yet to experience.

“What do you think they see?” I asked, mainly to myself, but Maggie answered.

“I’ll bet it’s not stop signs.”

There was a spark in her eye that reminded me of the spinning lights I saw in my brother’s eyes when he lay unconscious. It gave me the vein chills, if you know what I mean.

This place is going to get her,
I thought.
Maybe not on this ride, but on the next or the one after that.
I shook the thought away by flooring the accelerator.

The little wheels of the car spun, and I fishtailed. The pole rising from the rear of the car wiggled, extending upward. The electrical contact at its tip touched nothing but empty air.

As I accelerated the world began to change.

The sky was the first thing I noticed, how it went from angry red to tomato orange, like it was on fire. I looked at my watch in fear. Was this the light of sunrise? But the skies here had no bearing on time in the real world. According to my watch, it was only three in the morning.

The car began to change around me. At first I thought I was shrinking; but no—it was the steering wheel growing larger, it was the cramped leg space extending as well. The windshield and the dashboard spread out—everything was stretching like rubber. And in an instant
I knew I was no longer in a bumper car. I was driving something much, much bigger. Something old. Vintage, you might call it. See, I know my old cars. I had a collection of models on the shelves of my room. Pierce Arrows. Ford Hi-Boys. Sleek old cars with long silver grills: Beautiful machines, from the 1920s and ’30s, when automobiles were both monstrous and sexy at the same time. But the vehicle I was driving now, well, it was a little more boxy than the other cars riding around me.

It was a Volvo.

I was in a 1931 Volvo, speeding down narrow cobblestone streets lined by brown-bricked buildings and old-fashioned billboards. In the blazing night sky above, a sliver of a moon hung on its side like a half-closed eyelid, and the bricks around me echoed a distant sound that I first took to be thunder. Then I realized it wasn’t thunder at all. It was machine-gun fire. Now I knew what city this was supposed to be. This was Chicago, in the bad ol’ days. This bumper car ride was a demolition derby in the middle of a gangster war.

“Clutch!” I heard Russ scream.

I looked over to see him and Maggie take out a fire hydrant as they turned down a side street. The hydrant became a geyser, and they disappeared down the street, part of their bumper trailing behind them. There were no road rules here, no order. Every car was a weapon.