Page 14 of Can't Stop
Dalton shivers. “I’m hoping that was just because we drove through at night, when everything was closed up for the evening. Maybe things will seem a little more lively in the daytime. Hell, maybe the next two days won’t even be that bad.”
I nod and try to swallow that uneasy feeling as we pass another eerie house. Once again, it looks lived in and cared for, but it’s almost like a show home. A set dressing.
But as we come into town, the uneasy feeling grows until it can’t be swallowed. It crawls up my throat and begs to be released in a shout. A warning. Something isn’t right, and for once, it’s not because of us.
The town appears, and we drive along the main street that cuts past the carousel. That’s when I finally see the first townsperson. An old woman sits in a metal folding chair at the entrance to the merry-go-round. Her jaw moves as she chews something, her sagging jowls wiggling with every mastication. A baggy brown sweater swallows her torso, and she clutches a taxidermy fox to her chest.
“Want to stop and take a spin?” Dalton asks. He’s joking, but I nod my head. “What? Bones, you can’t be serious.”
“I am. If we’re stuck here, we might as well explore.”
With a groan, he pulls into the parking lot. “You owe me so big for this.”
“Noted.”
As we climb out of the car, I feel almost naked without Van Gogh. This is the sort of adventure he would have loved. It’s also unfortunate that I’ve finally found people who love dead things as much as I do, yet they creep me out as much as they excite me. Is this how I make others feel?
I ask Dalton this question as we approach the fence surrounding the carousel. He stops, thinks it over, then turns to me.
“Yes, that’s exactly how you make me feel. You excite me, but you scare the living shit out of me too.”
I roll my eyes. “Noted.”
“Oh, look! We have visitors, Mr. Fox!” The woman points the fox’s head toward us so that he can “see” us. “Have you come to ride the Magic-Go-Round?”
“No, we’re just taking a walk for our health,” Dalton mutters, and I ram my elbow into his side.
“Yes,” I say to the woman. “May we take a turn on your beautiful carousel?”
She titters to herself—or maybe to Mr. Fox—before struggling to stand. She sets the fox on the worn metal chair and hobbles to the horses skewered through their shoulders by metal poles. Once she’s pulled herself onto the platform, she motions for us to join her.
“Just give me a moment to find the right horses for you, dear,” she says as she walks through the animals.
I run my hand along the back of what was once a glorious bay. Its head pulls inward as its legs stretch in a wild run. None of the horses wear a saddle, and they look so lifelike that it feels like I’m standing in a wild herd as God freezes time.
“I’m fine with this one,” I say as I pat the large bay’s stiff muzzle.
The old woman looks back at me, but her smile shifts to shock and dread. “Goodness, come away from that horse! He’s a real devil, that one. Much too wild for a young lady. I know just the horse for you, and I’ve worked the stables all my life, so I would be the one to know.”
I glance at Dalton. His eyes are wide, and his jaw hangs open, but he manages to shake his head in warning. Just play along, that look says.
So we do. We follow the woman through the horses as she tells us their names and their temperaments, and for the first time in my life, I’m able to see myself through someone else’s eyes. I am fucking weird.
“This one will do for you. Her name is Belle, and she’s a good-minded animal.” The woman pats a palomino whose death pose is just to stand there for eternity and look bored. She turns to the animal beside it and motions for Dalton to climb aboard. “This is my mule, Dusty. If he gives you any trouble and doesn’t want to move, just give him a little squeeze and he’ll make tracks.” She pats the creature’s ass and laughs.
We climb aboard our steeds as the woman teeters and totters to the controls in the machinery’s center. Seconds later, organ music springs to life, and the carousel begins to turn. The animals don’t rise and fall as we begin our first revolution, but the speed increase is enough to give me a thrill. By the third turn, I’m clutching Belle’s mane as if my life depends on it.
“Jesus fuck!” Dalton screams. “You’d think this would be less dangerous than actual horseback riding!”
The woman cackles from inside the stationary center, and the music grows louder. Or maybe it just seems to grow louder because I’m already overstimulated. Just when I’m about to scream and throw myself from the ride, a calming touch lands on my thigh.
“How do I let you talk me into these messes?” Dalton pleads, but his touch is all warmth and security. He won’t let me run, but he won’t let me fall, either.
I close my eyes and press my forehead to the post running through the horse’s withers. After a few more agonizing moments of sheer hell, the ride finally slows to a stop. The woman hobbles over and helps us down, and I’ve never been more grateful to step away from a dead animal in all my life.
“Children ride this thing?” I ask as we stagger off the platform.
“Oh, they did. They used to ride it all the time.”
