The Carnival of Lost Souls : A Handcuff Kid Novel (11 page)

“What?”

“She’s no longer breathing air.” T-Ray grimaced.

“Wait, you mean she’s dead—like Jabber?” Jack dropped the hammock he was carrying.

“Yes. From what I can tell, the living don’t last long, and the dead tend to linger.”

“So I’ve heard.” What rotten luck. The prettiest girl he had ever seen was dead? He was starting to think that this place was closer to hell than it was to heaven.

“Hey, what about you, Boxer, and Runt? You’re not dead, right?” Jack asked.

T-Ray snapped, a little
too
quickly, “No, I’m fine. Just fine, never felt better.”

Jack paced back and forth, trying to understand what he had just been told. “No way I’m going to die here! We’ve got to find a way out.”

T-Ray just shook his head. “Good luck. But if you ask me, we’re doomed, too.”

Runt ran back toward the camp, dumping an armload
of twigs on the ground. “They’re back! They’re back!” he bellowed.

Jabber rode up on one of the horses and quickly dismounted. “Time for some fun,” he said, breathing heavily. He handed Runt the reins to the horse and walked up to Jack. “Are you ready for some excitement? We want to see if you were worth the effort.”

Phase two of
new kid syndrome
was the test phase. Jack needed to prove himself to the group, and then they would either accept or deny him.

“Your job is to chase the pig,” Jabber said. “Can you handle that?”

All he had to do was chase a pig, which seemed easy enough, but Jack was wary. The easier a test seemed on the surface, the more likely it was to have hidden pitfalls.

“It’s just a pig, right?” Jack asked.

“You could say that, but we should warn you that it has spearlike tusks, razor-sharp claws, and horrific breath,” T-Ray said. Jabber elbowed him, but he continued anyway. “And it’s been rumored the pig’s breath is so bad, it petrifies whoever it breathes on.”

“That means turn to stone,” Runt said.

“Yeah, I got it. I’ll try not to kiss it on the snout,” Jack said. “Are you sure this thing isn’t a wild boar?”

“What do we look like, biologists?” T-Ray said.

“We didn’t happen to have our scientific identification manuals handy,” Boxer chimed in.

“This ain’t a nature hike, boy.” Runt punched his bony little fist into Jack’s thigh. Jack knew the drill, but it was still a little annoying being called
boy
by a kid whose nose came up to his armpit.

“Can we count on you?” Jabber asked.

“I’m in,” Jack answered. How hard could it be?

“The hunt is on!” Runt yelled. “Catch me a big fat pig, boys!”

The hunt was just what Jack needed to prove himself.

Boxer was not an intellectual genius, nor was he quick on his feet, but he was the strongest kid Jack had ever seen. He lifted fallen logs, moving them like toothpicks, as they all worked to build a small pen to trap the pig.

Jack’s role in the operation would be just what Jabber said—he would hound the pig into the pen. Then T-Ray, who was perched on a tree branch, would toss down a net onto the clueless pig, while Boxer closed off the pen with a gigantic log, trapping the pig inside.

Jabber scouted out the pig’s den in a small thatch of brush. The gang crouched in the bushes. Jabber nodded for Jack to get ready, and then he rushed the nest from behind and flushed out the pig. Through a flurry of leaves, a gigantic pale pink swine bolted out of the bushes. The pig took off like a chubby torpedo, sprinting out of the nest, heading right for Jack. Dodging the initial charge of the animal, Jack tore after the pig. In spite of their stumplike legs, pigs were really quick. Not cheetah fast,
but still fast enough to get Jack racing through the trees, his blood pumping. He chased the pig toward the pen, but it took a sharp right turn and headed away from the trap. Pulling up and banking right, Jack tried to corral the pig back in a wide circle.

The plan worked. Jack went right and the pig went left. The pig’s stubby little legs charged toward the pen. Jack had done it. Just a few more yards, and he was home free. Then the pig suddenly stopped running, skidding to a halt right in front of a clump of bushes. Raising its hairy snout into the air, the pig took a few big sniffs. Jack slowed down. He didn’t trust that pig. Something was up. Why was the pig just standing there? If Jack wasn’t mistaken, it seemed to be waiting for him, craning its neck back and peeking over its shoulder. Once Jack was in close range, the pig let out a deafening squeal.

It was a warning cry. The bushes erupted as three other pigs charged toward Jack. Nothing was worse than a pig with a plan. Jack skidded in the dry leaves, stumbled, and grappled on his hands and knees as he ran back toward the pen. Four angry, volcanic-breath swine were hot on his heels.

“The pig has friends!” he yelled. “They’re coming! They’re right behind me!”

Jack barreled into the pen and fell to the ground. Two of the pigs followed right behind. He sprang to his feet just in time for T-Ray to drop the net on him and one of
the pigs. Jack grabbed at the pig, trying to calm down the animal’s flailing hooves and mad squeals. Closing off the pen, Boxer tossed the log across the opening. Jack lay flat on his back, tangled in the net with the angry pig clutched in his arms. And though technically he had succeeded, he didn’t feel like such a winner. He had fumbled his way to victory, and he knew it. Boxer picked up the other pig and tossed it over and out of the pen while T-Ray and Jabber clapped and cheered.

“Great job!” yelled T-Ray. “You did it, Jack!”

“If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought you had done this before.” Jabber bent down and helped Jack to his feet, untangling the net.

“You knew this pig wasn’t alone, didn’t you?” Jack wrestled to hold on to their catch.

Jabber placed his hat back on his head. “Of course.”

“And you knew it would chase me, not the other way around.”

“You made splendid bait.” Jabber clapped him on the back.

“Pigs have very high IQs, so don’t be ashamed that it got the jump on you,” T-Ray said, picking a twig out of Jack’s hair.

“Don’t worry. You’ve got potential. A man can do great things with potential,” Jabber said.

Boxer walked up. “Want me to carry that pig back
for you?” he asked, taking the squirming pig out of Jack’s arms. While he held it, T-Ray tied a rope over the pig’s neck, and they all headed back to camp together.

The final phase of
new kid syndrome
was complete. They played a trick on Jack and all got a good laugh at his expense. Jack was in.

Back by the fire, Boxer chopped the wood with an ax. Violet stoked the fire, blowing softly on the glowing flames. She still never looked at him. Jack turned away and scratched the chin of the pig that was now tied up behind the wagon, just like he had been. Violet walked over to him and reached her hand out to grab the rope attached to the pig, and as she did, she brushed her hand against the bare skin of his arm. Jack jerked his hand away suddenly, stupidly. He hadn’t meant to, but her skin was snowy cold. She sneered, taking his reaction the wrong way.

“Let me help you,” Jack said, taking the pig by the rope. He was stunned. Her eyes were a shockingly bright violet color. He gawked and sputtered, trying to think of something to say as the pig squealed.

“Bring it then, and stop staring. What? Are you a half-wit?”

“No, I just don’t have a lot of experience with pigs.” Could he have said anything more stupid? Who has experience with pigs, beside pig farmers?

“It won’t come with you willingly. It knows where it’s headed. You’ll have to carry it.” Violet rolled her eyes. Jack struggled to pick up the squirming pig in his arms and followed her.

“I suppose you want me to butcher it for you?” she asked.

“Oh. Um. I’ve never killed an animal before.” He hadn’t realized that the pig he was carrying was going to be their dinner, and his stomach rolled over.

“Can you?” she asked, looking into his eyes.

Jack never actually thought about it before. “I guess if I had to.” As Jack set the pig down, Violet’s hair comb fell out of his pocket and onto the ground at his feet, broken in two. He forgot that he had picked her comb up earlier. The comb must have snapped when he was chasing the pig. Jack panicked and tried to grab it before she saw it.

“What’s that?” Violet asked, staring down at the comb and then reaching up and touching her hair. Her eyes opened wide as she realized her comb was missing.

“I’m sorry.” Jack held the beautiful and broken hair comb in his hand.

“You stole my comb!” Violet bunched up her fists.

“No. It wasn’t like that. I was going to give it back. I swear.” Jack tried to hand her the pieces, but she wouldn’t take them.

“You are a thief and a liar.” She raised her voice, and the other minions looked over at them.

“It’s made of shell, and it must have broken when I fell to the ground. I should have given it back right away.”

“Beautiful things tend to break easily,” she said.

“I’ll get you a new one. I swear.”

“Look around.” Violet reached her arms out and let them flop to her sides in frustration. “There aren’t any pretty things here.”

“It’s still nice.” Not knowing what else to do with the pieces of the comb, Jack handed them to her again. Violet snatched up one of the pieces and threw it into the woods.

“No one wants something once it’s broken.”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“T-Ray, take the pig to the block,” Violet yelled, anger and sadness in her voice.

T-Ray ran over and grabbed the squealing pig and carried it behind the wagon.

“I’ll kill it. Our new
friend
Jack’s had a long first day.” Violet spun around and grabbed a long knife and headed for the block. Jack was glad he wasn’t that pig.

All the kids gathered around the fire to roast the pig until it was crisp and juicy. Jack had never tasted anything so delicious and tender in his entire life. Grease rolled down his chin. With his stomach full, he rested his back against a tree and relaxed. The fire warmed Jack’s face, and he felt comfortable with his new friends for the first
time since arriving in the forest. Violet completely ignored him, but T-Ray assured him that she would forgive him, maybe in like twenty or thirty years. After dinner they roasted marshmallows on long thin sticks, dipping them into the flames. Jack toasted his marshmallow until it was golden crispy brown, and the hot gooey center almost burned his tongue.

“Mine’s on fire!” T-Ray yelled, leaping to his feet. Waving his stick in the air, T-Ray tried to extinguish his marshmallow, which had erupted into flames. Mussini, hearing the commotion, threw the flap back and barreled out of his tent. He grabbed T-Ray’s stick and waved the burning glob high in the air. With a showman’s dramatic flair, he threw his head back and slowly lowered the burning marshmallow toward his open mouth. The fiery glob inched its way painfully closer until the marshmallow extinguished with a scorching sizzle in his mouth. Mussini stuck out his big pink tongue, completely unharmed, and took his bow. The kids cheered and talked amongst themselves.

No one was paying attention to him, so Jack took the opportunity to slip away. He hurried over to his tent and ducked inside, grabbing his duffel.

“Going somewhere?” Jabber asked, waiting outside of the tent for him.

Jack threw his duffel bag over his shoulder and tried to maneuver past Jabber. “I’m getting out of here.”

“No you’re not.” Jabber crossed his arms and blocked Jack’s path.

Jack pushed against him, but Jabber didn’t budge. “Get out of my way.”

“Keep your voice down. Do you want to get yourself killed?” Jabber raised his voice and yelled out, “Hey, Amazing Mussini! I think the gang would like to hear a bedtime story.”

“Do they?” Mussini called back. “And what kind of story is that?”

“A scary story. One to keep them in line and hopefully alive.” Jabber took the duffel off of Jack’s shoulder and tossed it back inside the tent. Mussini raised his arms in the air and waved the kids closer.

“Gather round the fire, and I’ll tell the tale of the Death Wranglers and why you will never escape the Forest of the Dead.”

Jack didn’t appreciate being dragged by the collar back to the campfire by Jabber. He got the hint. No need for Jabber to get pushy. He plopped down on a log and hung his hands between his knees. Darkness crept up around them. The glowing fire cracked and popped as the flames licked the black night sky.

The Amazing Mussini rubbed his massive hands together and waved them in the air over the fire. The flames danced under his fingers as if he commanded them. Mussini dipped his hand into the blaze, held a ball of fire in his palm, and threw it up into the sky, where it broke into a thousand single sparks that showered down on the gang.

“The Land of the Dead is a dangerous place. And a
dangerous place needs a guard who is fearless, heartless, brutal, and unkind.”

Runt gulped, and a collective shudder rolled over the group. Mussini had them right where he wanted them.

“The Death Wranglers are neither men nor animals. They have the massive head of a bull with cruel spiraling horns and the Herculean body of a man. They are creatures bound to the earth. They are beasts of burden with only one task: to keep anyone from leaving.” Mussini glared at Jack as he emphasized the last phrase and then repeated the word:
Anyone
.