Page 68 of Carnival Shadows

“I can still—” Nash starts to protest.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Ty cuts in. “Get some rest. You’re no good to us if you pass out.”

Nash pushes off from the crates with a grunt, moving toward his trailer. We watch him go, each of us knowing we’re lucky tonight’s body count didn’t include our own.

I wipe my hands on a relatively clean section of my shirt, surveying the remaining work around us. “We need everyone packing up. Dawn’s coming, and we can’t be here when it hits.”

Ty nods, his expression stoic beneath the sweat and grime. “Lars,” he calls out. “Round up everyone who can lift a finger. I want this place stripped down and loaded before first light.”

Lars straightens from where he’s been securing tarps. “Even the new guys?”

“Everyone,” I confirm. “Tell them it’s a drill if you have to. Just get them moving.”

Lars heads off into the darkness between the trailers. I hear him barking orders as he moves through the carnival grounds.

“What about the...” Gage gestures toward the vats with a tilt of his skull mask.

“We finish this first,” Ty says. “Can’t leave any trace.”

I roll my shoulders, trying to work out some of the tension. “Two more bodies, then we can join the teardown.” My muscles protest, but there’s no time for rest, not with dawn creeping closer and a massacre to erase.

The carnival needs to vanish like we were never here. Just another empty lot by sunrise.

33

REMY

The organized chaos unfolds around me, and my body aches. The carnival breaks down with practiced efficiency—rides are dismantled, tents collapse, and equipment is packed away.

Eden works with Tilly at the ticket booth, boxing supplies and paperwork. Their movements are quick but thorough, leaving no trace behind. Phoenix hovers near Tilly, his protective instinct obvious even as he helps Lars load equipment.

“The Ferris wheel’s almost down,” Sofia calls out, wiping sweat from her brow. She’s been working non-stop with the crew, her usual polish replaced by determination. Aurora and Lily tackle the game stalls, their arms full of stuffed animals and other prizes being packed into crates.

Flora moves between tasks, helping wherever needed, while Colt is slumped in his chair. His wounded shoulder keeps him from heavy lifting. Alice carries boxes of concession supplies to the trucks.

“Time check,” I bark out, scanning the grounds.

“Three hours till dawn,” Nash responds, wincing as he helps guide a section of the tent down.

I watch the other carnival workers pitch in, their faces a mask of exhaustion and determination. A juggler—Mike, I think his name is—struggles with a heavy generator alongside one of our fire-eaters, Damien. They don’t know about the Martinez crew or our operation. Still, they work without complaint or questioning why we must leave so suddenly.

“Need help with that?” I call out, noting their strain.

“We got it,” Damien grunts.

Sarah, our contortionist, weaves between groups carrying bundles of electrical cables. Two clowns, still in partial makeup, wrestle with dismantling the carousel’s decorative panels. The fortune teller, Astrid, stacks her props into labeled boxes with mechanical precision.

“Everyone’s pulling their weight,” Eden states beside me, her voice tinged with admiration.

I nod, watching Jerry, Duke’s replacement, direct a team of acrobats in securing the Gravitron’s components. These people think it’s just another emergency move, maybe bad weather coming or permit issues.

“The regular crew doesn’t deserve this chaos,” I admit to Eden, ensuring no one else can hear. “But they’re stronger than they look.”

A group of dancers from the burlesque tent forms a chain, passing boxes of costumes down the line with practiced efficiency. The sword swallower leads a team securing the fun house mirrors.

Eden kneels down to pick up a heavy box of sound equipment from her makeshift radio booth. Without a word, I take the other end, our movements falling into sync as we carry it to the waiting truck.

Her hair is tied back in a messy ponytail, strands falling around her face as she works. There’s dirt on her cheek anddetermination in her eyes. Even now, amid this chaos, she’s beautiful.

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