Danger at the Fair (10 page)

“When I saw him,” Ellen said, “he had a big plate of curly fries.”

“Julia Warren doesn’t usually let Nicholas eat a lot of fatty food,” Mrs. Streater said. “I hope she didn’t let those boys go off on their own.”

“You worry too much,” said Mr. Streater. “Enjoy the quiet while you can; Corey will be home soon enough and then we’ll have to hear every detail of his day at the fair. Twice.”

“Mrs. Warren was with them in the sheep arena,” Ellen said.

“Good.”

Although Ellen tried to reassure her mother, it increased her own nervousness to listen to her mother’s worries. The later it got with no sign of Corey, the more Ellen wondered if she should tell her parents about the message.

What if Corey wasn’t home yet because he was in terrible trouble?

“Have some lasagna, Ellen,” Mrs. Streater said. “It’s Father’s veggie recipe.”

Ellen took the pan her mother handed her. Veggie lasagna. Grandpa’s favorite meal—the only recipe that he personally ever prepared.

Ellen chewed the noodles, tomato sauce, cheese, and spinach. Was
this
a sign from Grandpa? Mom had not made veggie lasagna in months. Why did she choose tonight?

“I was in the mood to cook this morning,” Mrs. Streater said, “so I made a double recipe and froze some.”

This morning. It can’t be a sign from Grandpa, Ellen thought. The lasagna was made this morning, before I got the message, before I asked for a sign. I’m getting crazy, thinking about this.

She tried to eat but nothing tasted good. “May I be excused?” she said and, when her mother nodded, she left the table and went back to her bedroom. She wandered aimlessly around for awhile, looked out the window, and finally picked up a magazine. She glanced at the cover and realized it was the magazine that Grandpa had bought a subscription to, as a treat when Ellen got all
A
s on her report card. She put it down, refusing to let herself think that the magazine was a sign telling her that Grandpa was here.

She took the message out of her pocket and read it again.
It is for you to know that the smaller one faces great danger. He will pay for his mistake. It is for you to know that the paths of destiny can be changed and the smaller one will need your help to change his. You will know when it is time. Do not ignore this warning.

Maybe, instead of trying to contact Grandpa, she should try to contact any of the spirits, just as The Great Sybil had the first time. Maybe the message was from Ellen’s guardian angel. Or maybe it was from some other spirit.

Once again, Ellen picked up a piece of paper and pen. She sat at her desk, with the window shade down and the lights off. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply several times, and whispered, “Loving spirits, do you have a message for me? I come to you in love and friendship, asking for help to protect my brother.”

She waited a few moments and then spoke again. “If Corey will need my help, spirits, please send another message and tell me when.”

The pen jerked into action, rubbing the paper violently. It lasted barely two seconds. By the time Ellen could react, it was over.

She opened her eyes. The paper held a single word, printed in large capital letters that slanted to the left:
URGENT
.

The first message had said, “You will know when it is time.” The second message seemed to say, the time is now.

The back of Ellen’s neck prickled. It was no longer important to her who the messages might be from. What mattered was that Corey needed help, and he needed it now.

Trying to act calm, Ellen returned to her parents and said, “Something strange happened and I want to tell you about it.”

Mr. and Mrs. Streater, alerted by the tone of Ellen’s voice that this was no ordinary discussion, stopped what they were doing and paid close attention.

Ellen started at the beginning, and told every detail of her time with The Great Sybil. When she got to the part where
The Great Sybil asked if she had recently lost a loved one, Mrs. Streater said, “Oh, Ellen.”

Mr. Streater said, “What hogwash! I’m surprised you would take such nonsense seriously.”

“I thought the message might be from Grandpa,” Ellen said, “so when I got home, I tried talking to him. I asked him to let me know if he was sending a message. I thought, if Grandpa’s spirit is here, he could give me some sign.”

Mr. Streater stood up and began pacing back and forth while Ellen continued.

“As soon as I asked for a sign,” Ellen said, “Prince came over and put up his paw to shake hands. Grandpa taught him that trick. I didn’t say, ‘shake,’ or give Prince any signal; he just did it on his own.”

“Now, Ellen . . .” Mr. Streater began but Ellen continued to talk.

“Then I came downstairs and we had veggie lasagna for dinner, Grandpa’s recipe. And when I looked around for something to read, I picked up the
Earth Watch
magazine that Grandpa gave me a subscription to and it seems like those could all be signs that Grandpa sent the messages.” She didn’t mention the elephant. It was the last gift Grandpa gave her and perhaps the most important sign of all but she didn’t want to talk about it.

“Those were not signs from Grandpa,” Mr. Streater said firmly. “They are only proof that a person lives on in the memory of his loved ones because of what that person did when he was alive. Grandpa will always be a part of your life and you’ll think of him every time Prince shakes hands or you eat veggie lasagna or read your magazine or go to the zoo or do any number of other things that you and Grandpa did
together.” He put his hands on Ellen’s shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. “They are memories,” he said, “Not supernatural signs.”

“But what about the messages?” Ellen said. “The first one might have been some trick that The Great Sybil did but the second one came when I was alone in my room.”

“What second one?” Mr. Streater said.

“After dinner, I tried to contact the spirits, the way The Great Sybil did. I was worried about Corey and I asked the spirits to let me know if Corey needs help.”

“And?” Mr. Streater said.

“And it happened again. The pencil moved by itself. It wrote,
URGENT
.”

She held out the piece of paper and Mr. Streater looked at it. As he slowly sat down, he said, “I don’t know what is going on here, but I don’t like it one bit.”

The telephone rang and Mrs. Streater answered.

“Hello?” she said. “He isn’t here. Is this Nicholas? Where are you? Isn’t Corey with you? Let me speak to your mother, please.”

As Ellen listened to her mother’s side of the conversation, her stomach began to turn flip-flops.

After she hung up, Mrs. Streater said, “Nicholas got sick and Julia brought him home. Corey stayed at the fair.”

“What?” Mr. Streater jumped to his feet. “She left Corey there by himself?”

Mrs. Streater’s voice, when she answered, sounded brittle, as if it would shatter into tiny pieces at any moment. “She thought Corey was with Ellen. She left him where they were showing the sheep and she said she knew you saw him, Ellen, and Corey promised to stay with you.”

“I
did
see him,” Ellen said. “But I saw Mrs. Warren and Nicholas, too. I didn’t know they were going to leave without Corey.”

“No one is blaming you. It was a misunderstanding.”

“How long ago did they leave him?” Mr. Streater asked.

Mrs. Streater leaned against the table, as if she was afraid she would fall over without support. “Julia said she and Nicholas have been home since three-thirty.”

Minutes later, Mr. and Mrs. Streater and Ellen were in their car, driving toward the fairgrounds.

Silently, Ellen urged her father to drive faster.
Hurry
, Ellen thought.
Please hurry! Corey is in terrible danger.

CHAPTER
10

COREY GRIPPED
the side of the boat, certain he was going to be flung out as the boat sped down the waterfall.

The boat had a seat, with a safety belt, and a metal bar that pulled down across the lap of someone who was seated properly. But the men had shoved Corey into the boat and started the ride before Corey could use the safety devices. He stayed on the floor, clung to the side of the boat, and tried to keep his balance as the boat rushed forward.

After the boat plunged over the crest of the waterfall, it twisted around curves, jerked upward, and then dropped straight down, as if a trapdoor had opened underneath it. Corey’s knees left the floor and slammed back down. Corey had thought the roller coaster was exciting; this made the roller coaster seem like one of the kiddieland rides.

The boat zoomed around a curve and then slowed as it entered the blackness of the Tunnel of Terror. Corey blinked,
trying to adjust his eyes to the dark. A huge hairy hand, holding a dagger, appeared just ahead. As the boat approached, the dagger, dripping blood, plunged toward Corey. Corey ducked, his heart drumming rapidly.

A cold wind blasted him from the right; when he looked, he saw a scarred, one-eyed face and heard a horrible laugh.

It’s all fake, Corey told himself. It’s just sound effects and tricks, like in the Historical Society’s haunted house that he and Ellen helped in last Halloween.

A large wolf-like animal rushed toward him, foaming at the mouth. Just inches from Corey’s boat, the wolf ducked down and then, as the boat passed, it leaped up again, snapping its huge jaws at Corey.

Corey leaned away from it, only to feel something slimy on the back of his neck. He gasped and twisted around. Wet seaweed dangled from above.

A sea serpent slithered partway out of the water; its claws reached toward Corey, trying to grab him and pull him into the water. The boat began to rock, throwing Corey violently from side to side.

Tears spilled down Corey’s cheeks. Even if the sea serpent
was
fake, it was the creepiest thing he had ever seen. And maybe it was real. He no longer knew what to think or believe. He had thought the man who ran The River of Fear ride would help him and instead he was a crook, too, and maybe they were never going to stop the ride and let Corey get off. What if that was how they planned to keep Corey from talking to a guard? Maybe Corey was going to keep going around and around on the ride, diving down Whiplash Waterfall and through the Tunnel of Terror for the rest of the night.

And, he knew, there was more ahead. He knew, from listening to The River of Fear spiel, that if he made it out of the Tunnel of Terror alive, he still had to face the monsters of Mutilation Mountain.

The sea serpent’s claws came closer. More wet, slimy seaweed dropped from the ceiling and brushed against Corey’s face. No matter which way he turned his head, fingers of seaweed reached for him. Corey smelled a dank, moldy odor. He screamed his silent scream, knowing he wasn’t making any sound, feeling the hurt in his throat, but unable to stop himself.

The boat bounced upward, as if the monster were underneath it. The serpent’s face emerged ahead of the boat now, its evil eyes gleaming red, and Corey was positive the boat and the serpent were going to collide. The serpent opened its huge jaws, revealing sharp fangs. The boat moved closer.

When the boat was inches from the serpent’s open mouth, the boat stopped.

The dim light went out; the serpent’s eyes ceased to glow. Corey was surrounded by total blackness.

All sound effects ended when the boat quit moving. Corey trembled in the bottom of the boat, waiting to see what would happen next.

Silence.

Blackness.

For a few moments, he thought this was just part of the ride and that, after a moment of stillness, something loud and ferocious and terrible would jump out at him. He gritted his teeth and braced himself but when the minutes stretched on and nothing happened, Corey realized that the ride had stopped.

Had the man stopped it on purpose or was it broken again? Whatever the reason, it was no longer running.

Corey was stuck in the middle of the Tunnel of Terror.