Behind the rides, the small huts where games are played, and the food trucks is where we need to go. Large trailers that carry the equipment, camper trucks and banged up cars are all parked a little way from the craziness of the rides.
Fuck knows how many people who were around when I was are still here. It may be a lifelong calling to most of these people, but they interchange a lot, apart from the old timers, like I told Cassie.
I’m not sure Cassie realizes it but we’re being watched as we head toward the staff only area. A thousand memories assault me all at once, the lights, the noise, the smell, the whole atmosphere.
The roar of motorbikes startles Cassie and I reach out a hand, placing it on her lower back. Three bikes fly past us and head for a huge cage with a ramp leading inside. It’s big enough to fit three cars length wise inside. As a young kid this was one of the shows at the carnival that I never missed.
That these guys came to rely on me to make sure their bikes were safe was something that changed me. It wasn’t only about keeping their bikes in good order, it was about making sure they didn’t die.
The stunts they do in that cage are terrifying, exhilarating and death defying. A faulty bike could hurt not just one, but all three of them. I’dnever met people who trusted each other implicitly, they hurtle towards one another at frightening speeds and drive their bikes up the sides of the cage, crossing by each other so in sync, it’s impossible to get your brain around it at times.
They’re three brothers, the oldest must be in his late forties by now. As they pull to a stop by the cage, I’m shocked to realize that he isn’t there. A younger kid is with the middle and youngest brother. Fuck, that is Logan. He was a gangly twelve-year-old kid when I left. Now he’s as muscular and lean as his uncles, with tattoos and edgy shaved hair.
All the women loved the stunt riders when I was here, and they had no shortage of groupies coming and going from their trailer. Logan looks like he’d break a few hearts, if he followed in their footsteps. He was a good kid, helped me out sometimes when I was fixing the bikes. I always had time for him and didn’t shoo him away like some of the other guys did when they were fixing stuff around the carnival.
It’s a stark reminder that I’ve been gone for a long time.
“Eli?” Cassie breaks me out of my memories of the past.
Before I can answer, the three men pull on their helmets and ride one by one into the cage.
“Jesus Christ, what are they going to do?” she takes a few steps ahead of me, watching as the men rev their engines, the noise is deafening. Even more so when music thunders out of the overhead speakers. Without that music they can’t stay in sync, it’s an important part of their routine.
I recognize it instantly,Voodoo Peopleby The Prodigy. The years might have passed but not much has changed.
More people are gathering around to watch. This is one of the highlights of this particular carnival. There aren’t a lot of places where you can see anything like this. Cassie’s shoulders tense as the show starts, the three of them riding around the base of the domed cage. They start to go faster and faster and as they do, they ride up the edges of the cage, so they’re almost horizontal and going so fast they’re a blur.
“Holy shit,” she grabs my arm. “They’re going to crash.”
“They won’t.”
“But… Look,” she covers her mouth with her hand as they hit speeds that are beyond dangerous and they’d likely crash out and kill themselves if they were on the road.
When they begin to crisscross each other in figure of eights, barely getting by without clipping each other, she freaks so much she covers her eyes. I pull her under my arm and look around at all the people watching. Some start cheering but it’s hard to hear over the music.
“They’ve never crashed yet,” I lean down and murmur against her ear.
“They’re fucking insane,” she cries, looking over at them again.
“They’re family.”
“Like that explains this stupidity,” she scoffs making me chuckle.
If she’s noticed how she’s cuddled into my side, she isn’t letting on. I take the opportunity to inhale the scent of her hair and study her as she watches the riders, a mixture of fear and awe on her beautiful face. After a while I tug her away.
“We need to find Liz,” I shout.
She takes a few fumbling steps, still watching the bikes until I take hold of her hand. Then she notices what I’m doing and looks down. I don’t let go and am surprised she doesn’t try to pull away.
“Who is Liz?” Cassie asks when we’ve walked far enough away we can hear ourselves think.
“It’s not unlike the MC,” I explain. “The best way I can describe her is like Rosa.”
Cassie’s nose wrinkles at mention of her mom. I’m not sure they’ve seen one another since the morning they had that argument about her needing protection.
“Most carnies are people with nowhere else to go. They usually have no family or skills that mean they could work a regular job.”
“Does that mean criminals?”
