Clayton Jones stirred, opened his eyes, then sat up and examined his bloody shirt.
What the -? Am I losin' my mind?
What he remembered was almost beyond belief. Sofie shooting him?
And he didn't seem to be injured. Yet the blood, and the bullet hole in the shirt, proved he'd really been shot.
Ye gods. Did Hawkins change me somehow, when he healed me? Make me so I can't be hurt?
That couldn't be the explanation. Hawkins knows his own powers, an' he's a decent guy. If he'd done somethin' like that, he woulda told me.
But maybe, even if he ain't here now, it was him that healed me this time too...
No, that don't make sense. How could he have found me? Why would he leave before I came to?
He noted that the bald-headed guy was gone. That in itself wasn't surprising. He hadn't thought he'd hit the thug hard enough to kill him.
But if he came to an' found Sofie hadn't killed me, he woulda finished me off himself. She'd prob'ly taken his gun, but he coulda strangled me easy, while I was unconscious.
So something very strange was going on.
He got to his feet and took a better look at his surroundings.
And shuddered.
Grass, bushes, trees - everything was dead. The unnatural silence told him there were no birds around, either.
He started walking, in a daze. Trying to convince himself that at any moment, the world would snap back to normal. When I get past this next dead tree...this patch o' dead bushes...
Oh God. What if I'm the only livin' thing left anywhere?
He broke into a run, and didn't stop till he reached the outskirts of the New Canaan camp.
x
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That was when he began seeing bodies. Humans, pets, cows and goats kept for milking. He'd speculated about being alone in the world, but the idea hadn't seemed real till now.
As it turned out, however, he wasn't alone. He was checking the inside of a tent (four dead, two of them children) when he heard a car. Peering from behind the tent flap, he saw the bald-headed guy at the wheel, Brother Justin beside him. Surveying the damage.
Damn. Of all people to be alive!
Hawkins may be their enemy, but he didn't cause this, no way. He's a good man. Saved my life, when he'd never been that close to either me or Libby, just acquaintances. In fact, his stoppin' to help us - 'cuz he was too good-hearted to pass us by - made him too late to save his father.
Sofie, on the other hand... When I last saw her, she had the eyes o' some kind o' demon. She shot me when I was savin' her, for God's sake! An' she knew I'd risked my life for her before, when I saved her from the fire.
Hawkins didn't cause this. An' bad as Brother Justin is, I can't see him causin' it either. Not killin' this many of his own people.
That leaves Sofie.
Shit.
He waited till the car was out of sight and earshot. While he was looking at the dead father of the tent's little family, he considered exchanging his bloody shirt for the man's shabby but clean one. But in the end, he couldn't bring himself to rob a corpse. When he was sure Justin and his henchman were gone, he set out again, running as fast as his legs would carry him.
The carnival...Hawkins...Libby!
Tears streamed down his cheeks as he ran. Dear God, don't let them be dead. Don't let that thing win! He couldn't imagine her motives, and he didn't care. He only knew she was a monster, had always been a monster, and he - and Libby - had made fools of themselves by loving her.
The carnival...Hawkins...Libby!
x
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At last he reached the carnival grounds...and found them deserted. He collapsed, and lay sobbing with relief till no more tears were left in him.
They ain't here. No reason to think they're dead, 'cuz the dead are here - tents, cars, an' all.
The carnival got away.
Assumin' there's still a world to get away to, an' they ain't layin' dead just down the road...
Another nasty thought surfaced in his mind.
I caused all this. It happened 'cuz instead o' stayin' to help Hawkins, I ran off to save that ingrate Sofie!
Suppose Hawkins killed Brother Justin. It makes sense he may o' had to kill the bald-headed guy, too. If the bald-headed guy had already killed Sofie, all woulda been well. But 'cuz I'd stopped him - an' freed Sofie - she was able to do somethin' that made every livin' creature in the valley dead, an' every dead creature alive! Justin. The bald-headed guy. An' while she prob'ly didn't intend it, me.
He thought he was about to be sick.
But instead of giving in, he got to his feet and began running again.
Get outta this place.
Get back to the clean, free outside world.
Get back to Libby!
x
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After an hour on the highway, he regretted not having stolen that clean shirt. Shoulda known no one would stop to pick up a hitchhiker lookin' like I do.
But a minute later, three drivers came to a screeching halt.
Unfortunately, they were all driving police cars.
Jonesy decided there was no point in running. He couldn't get away, and flight would just make him look more guilty - of something.
Getting out of his car, one of the cops demanded, "You with the carnival?"
He hesitated, then said, "Yeah. Been with them for years, the manager will vouch for me."
That was the wrong answer. Six officers came at him, and within seconds he was in handcuffs.
"I ain't done nothin'!"
The one who seemed to be in charge bellowed, "We know what happened in New Canaan! You were seen fleein' the place. You're an outsider, a carny, there after the rest o' the carnival left. An' you got blood on you!"
"Look," Jonesy protested, "I saw some o' the dead, so o' course I ran. Who wouldn't be scared shitless by what happened back there? But however those people died, there was no blood shed -"
"Not with most o' the deaths, no," said the cop. "But we just heard that a few victims, found near the carnival grounds, were killed with a bladed weapon. One of 'em was an old man - a minister!" He seemed more scandalized by that than by the bloodless deaths of thousands: it was easier to grasp.
Jonesy shuddered. Christ. Musta been poor old Balthus.
So all the dead had been restored to life, except those killed - presumably - by the Usher himself.
"The blood on me is my own -"
"Oh yeah? Where's the wound?"
He had no choice but to clam up. Who'd believe the truth?
But as he was thrust into the back seat of a car, he heard one cop muttering to another. "Whaddya bet the brass will keep this arrest secret? Strangest case ever, only lead they got. They'll hang onto the guy an' keep puttin' more pressure on him till he talks."
"Right," the second uniform agreed. "He'll just vanish, never be heard of again. Even if he does talk."
Jonesy swore under his breath.
Then he closed his eyes...and imagined himself back with the carnival. Not in California, but in Loving, New Mexico. Watching as flames consumed the psychics' converted school bus. Knowing Sofie was trapped inside.
In his new fantasy, he cheered on the fire. Screaming at the top of his lungs, "Burn, witch, burn!"