Alaire fell to her knees in a pool of her brother’s blood. By the time she made her way through the maze of mirrors he was already dead. Two, now she’d seen two dead people in her life, all in one day, and one had to be her brother. Her lip trembled.
Her entire body was tense and she could only see red. Average thoughts weren't even processing anymore, just a jumble of horrific images and pain. Down the hall, she noticed several reflections of the murderer. His painted smile and bloody arm stood mockingly in her direction.
Alaire got to her feet. She shifted her gaze from one of the clown’s reflections to the next, one had to be real. He was laughing at her as she approached him. She was too confident that they’d stopped all the clowns, and now because of her arrogance Cole was dead…
One of the reflections stood out to her. She lifted her spear and charged.
The spear didn't pierce glass, but flesh. At first, Alaire was shocked. Her purpose was to kill the clown, she knew in her heart that those dark thoughts entered her system, but once the spear actually penetrated his gut, instant regret washed over her. The clown grunted, but kept his hideous smile as he slowly fell to the ground.
It was like she was in a terrible nightmare and suddenly woke up in a cold sweat. It was self-defense, she wondered, the clown would've killed the rest of them if she hadn't done it, right?
She was trembling as she watched the clown die by her spear. He kept bleeding out and twitching until his limbs went completely limp.
“What did I do…” Alaire covered her face with her hands.
“Hey.”
Alaire jumped.
Blake was coming. He stopped by Cole’s dead body and looked up at Alaire. He saw the clown at her feet and spear through his chest.
“I was going to ask what happened…” Blake said.
Alaire bit her lip, unsure of what to say. She felt guilty, ashamed, justified, and powerful all at the same time. Her insides were tearing themselves apart with the mixed emotions. Blake approached her, cautiously, and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“But…” Alaire looked at Cole.
“I know, but it’s probably not safe in here,” Blake explained.
Alaire choked on a sob and tried to nod. His embrace was awkward, but he put his arms around her before she crippled to the ground again.
Alaire waited for Blake and Taylor outside the mirror maze. Blake was carrying Taylor in his arms. She’d lost a lot of blood and could barely open her eyes. How terrible, Alaire clenched her fists, who could do this to these poor people. Who wanted to torture them to this extent?
She almost didn't care if any more clowns appeared to kill her. The three of them walked like defeated losers towards the entrance of the park without interference. Her limbs were heavy as she pushed the turnstile. They were out.
Needing the distance, they walked as far as they could from the park, through the large empty parking lot, and out onto the streets.
Blake suddenly set Taylor on the sidewalk, “Payphone, have any change?”
Alaire shook her head. Blake went over to the phone boot anyway, cursed and punched the side of the booth. Alaire noticed something move after the impact of Blake’s fist.
“Look,” she pointed at a Ziploc bag that had been tapped to the side, along with a note.
You made it. Time to pay up.
Blake hesitantly took the bag and the note, it was filled with change. He crumpled the note and shoved the coins into the slot.
“Hello. We’re at Wonder World. Two friends have been killed, and one is dying. Please send help.”
WELCOME TO THE FINAL ROUND
Preview:
Blake and Alaire let the nurses wheel Taylor off. Thank goodness, she was looking terrible, Blake thought, he owed her his life. Alaire hadn't said a word since Blake made the call from the payphone. They were exhausted. Talking to the cops had been tiresome, but Blake would answer a million more questions if it meant going back home.
One of the nurses smiled sympathetically and pointed them in the direction of the waiting area. She gave them water bottles, a pack of trail mix, and blankets. Blake drank the entire bottle before they entered the waiting room.
His heart stopped when they entered the room. Four rugged looking people were camping out on the pastel couches. A man in a leather jacket was talking in hushed and stern tones to another man with thick brown hair. A gym rat with red hair was curled up next to the arm of the couch, and another guy with glasses was deeply asleep with his mouth open.
The awake ones looked up at them expectantly.
“Three of you?” the one in the leather jacket asked.
“I’m sorry?” Blake said.
“Were there three of you?”
Blake narrowed his eyes, but nodded, “Yeah, one’s being treated, why?”
Leather jacket scooted over and patted the couch cushion, “Sit. We should talk.”
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