Page 28 of Aftermarket Afterlife

“Maybe that would have been better,” retorted Jane.

Alice’s face fell. “You don’t mean that.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” said Jane, with a pained sigh. She rubbed her face with one hand. “I need to exist for my kids to have been born, and my kids are pretty great.”

“Mine, too,” said Alice.

Jane scowled. “You don’t get to say that. You never earned saying that.”

“Oh look, Idaho,” said Bon, in a bright, artificially cheerful tone. “How did we get here so fast hmm I don’t know maybe the driver thought it was a good idea to dip into her reserves and speed things up before you two decided to kill each other on her nice new upholstery.” She shot a glare at the rearview mirror, directing it at all the car’s occupants, even the sleeping ones. “Yes, thank you, Bon, it was very kind of you to go out of your way and put yourself in danger by risking being spotted by a Covenant field team in order to get us to our destination that much faster. We absolutely will not kill each other in your vehicle.”

We weren’t in the city proper, although we must have been close, as she started slowing down. “This is where you all get the hell out of my van.”

“Thank you, Bon. I won’t forget this,” I said, politely.

I’m not a road ghost, no matter what some people have assumed when they saw me playing at being alive, something which is normally the preserve of hitchers and the like. I am, however, still a reasonably polite person, and more, I respect the Ocean Lady. She has no power over me. That doesn’t mean I’m going to go thumbing my nose at a god, however young and still solidifying her powerbase she might be.

For one thing, Rose would kill me, and she’s a Fury. If there’s anyone whocouldkill me, Rose is probably on the list.

“None of you ought,” she said, tone grumpy, as she steered to a stop by the side of the road. “This is the second time we’ve been called on to play taxi for you lot in just the past few months, and it can’t go on.”

“I hardly think the first one counts,” objected Alice. “That happened because Apple insisted we go to New York to deal with the Covenant field teams that were harrying her routewitches. We shouldn’t be penalized for doing your Queen a favor.”

Bon thawed slightly. “That’s fair enough, given what our lady asked of you, but still. This isn’t a habit you ought to be getting into. Out with you, now, we’re here.”

I unbuckled my belt and leaned into the backseat, giving Annie’s shoulder a shake. “Wake up, sleepyheads. We’re here.”

She sat upright, and Sam opened his eyes, clearly jostled by her motion. “I’m up,” she said.

Sam made a grumbling noise.

“For two people who hate to get out of bed in the mornings, you sure do wake up fast when there’s a chance you might get to hit something,” I said. “Come on.”

One by one, we slid out of the minivan, Alice waiting until the rest of us were gone before she leaned over and said something quietly to Bon. I could see them speaking through the window, but I couldn’t hear them. That was probably intentional. Finally, looking pleased, Alice nodded and opened her door, following the rest of us to the side of the road.

As soon as the door was closed, Bon went screeching off down the highway, as if she were afraid we might change our minds and pile back in. The horizon seemed to reach out to meet her, and faster than should have been possible, she was gone.

I turned to look at our surroundings. We were standing by the side of the road—not the highway, but a frontage road of some sort, the city of Boise visible on the other side and past a series of fields to our left, while to our right, what looked like a small fairground was occupied by the shattered wreckage of a large carnival. Grudgingly, I had to admit the Covenant had been right to choose this as their second target.

The Campbells gave shelter to a sufficient number of cryptids that they were inclined to choose isolated fairgrounds over centralized ones; it might cut into their profits, but it also meant their nonhuman members were safe, or safer, at least. Cryptid kids could roam freely in the mornings rather than being confined to the boneyard out back, hemmed in by the tents and trailers where they spent most of their time. And cryptid adults could help with setup and teardown, meaning they made back in efficiency what they might have lost in walk-through traffic.

The carnival was set up close enough to the city to have made the attack easy enough to mount, but far enough away that the chaos had apparently not attracted any attention. If there had been fires, the carnival put them out on their own. If there had been casualties, they weren’t going to be inclined to hand the bodies over. It was a closed ecosystem.

And the carnival had clearly taken several vicious hits. We fell into a formation of sorts, Alice and Sam at the lead, Jane and Antimony close behind, and me at the rear. I wouldn’t normally have placed Annie at the middle of any group, but this time, it made sense; no one knew a carnival like Sam did, and Alice was the most likely to hit with her first shot. If Jane and Antimony were engaged, we were in serious trouble.

Not that we weren’t already.

The difference between a carnival and a circus is down to animal acts—circus—and motorized attractions—carnival. Either can have sideshows and tent-based attractions, and there’s a lot of gray area between them. But the Campbells don’t travel with live animals, and they prefer to focus most of their budget and attention on mechanical attractions, hiring their sideshows from local communities. Local bands, comedians, whatever they can find. It means the show is always different, and brings in more local foot traffic, since everyone has friends or family who might want to come and see them perform.

Sometime they’d book an act with an actual platform, up-and-coming folk groups or fire-spinners, and those nights were always high box-office takes, offset by the stress and cost of additional security. They did the best they could. That was all any of us could do.

The Covenant had, it seemed, also done their best, but what they’d been trying for was destruction. The Ferris wheel, crown jewel of any midway, was leaning at an angle as unsafe as it was unstable, and looked like it might finish the process of toppling over at any second. Only the tethering cables used to brace the frame against high winds were still keeping it as upright as it was, and at least two of them had already snapped.

The carnival normally had three main tents. One, always put up nearest to the gates, held the food and beverage stalls most likely to be shut down by a light rain; there would also be picnic tables inside, for use by townies eating in the evening, and carnies eating during the morning. It would be empty for most of the day, and whoever chose the targets had clearly known that, because that tent appeared to be untouched.

The second tent was used for local acts and stunt shows—things like Annie’s knife-throwing act or Sam’s trapeze. That tent was scorched on one side, but the source of the fire appeared to have been a nearby corndog stand, which was now a smoking shell. Again, there was no sign that it had been hit directly.

The third tent was another matter. It was the one that was erected for appearances as much as anything else, which the carnival used as a social area and casual gathering place. And from the looks of it, it had been the target of a direct hit with something that looked a lot like the missiles Verity described as having been used in New York. A massive hole had blown away half the roof and most of one wall, leaving the canvas flapping in the breeze. What remained was charred black and ripped in multiple places, more like a rag than a functional tent.

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