"Don't worry about him," her mother assured her. "He isn't going to bother you. Bristol's like a big old teddy bear. A filthy teddy bear with most of the stuffing out of its head, but just a harmless old teddy bear."
Grace didn't seem convinced. "Sometimes, the way he looks at me… makes me feel… well, kinda dirty and sick in my tummy."
Joan said nothing in reply. She knew what Bristol was; she knew what the tiny pink teddy bears tattooed across this forehead and cheeks meant. His intentions toward her daughter were undeniable. But she had made Mike promise her that Bristol would never lay a hand on Grace and, so far, he had kept his promise. Bristol was big enough to break Mike in half, but he was scared of him for some unknown reason and would never consider crossing the man.
"Sweetie, I need the cat now," she said tenderly.
Grace gave it up easier than she expected. "Go ahead. It was wet and cold anyway. But I ain't gonna eat it."
"You don't have to. You can eat some of the beans."
The two lapsed into silence as Joan began preparing the meal; gutting and cleaning the cat. They had stopped worrying about radiation or disease a long time ago. Just the need to eat and survive made those considerations unimportant now.
As Joan worked, she thought of her former life. It made her ache down deep in her soul to think of those bright, cheerful days as a pastor's wife at the little rural church just outside of Little Rock, Arkansas. Joan had been a Sunday school teacher, choir director, and leader of the lady's mission group. Her love of life and of God was so strong there was nothing she couldn't accomplish.
Then the Burn came and all that fell apart. She and her husband, Hank, had prayed diligently and faithfully, but God almost seemed to have turned a deaf ear to them and they received no answers. Then, one night, Hank had lurched up out of bed and informed her that the Lord had sent him a message in a dream. They were to go to New Orleans and minister to those in need. Joan hadn't been as optimistic about her husband's new-found calling, but she was his wife and had been raised to follow her husband, no matter how foolish his intentions might seem.
The Big Easy had been a cesspool of evil unlike any Joan could have imagined. Joan had feared for her family, for the safety of the children, but Hank had ignored her protests, saying that the glory of God came before all else. He had begun to preach on the streets, expounding on salvation and the virtue of the Gospels, and, for a while he seemed to be reaching the people. There were those in the city who had grown weary of the drugs, the violence, the rampant sex in the streets, performed in the open without discretion and shame. They yearned to return to how life had been before the Burn, when murder, rape, and cannibalism had been taboo and unacceptable. Hank's street congregation had grown from dozens to hundreds and, for a while, it truly seemed that God had a hand in the renaissance of decency and morality.
Then came the night that the T&D invaded one of Hank's meetings, interrupting him in mid-sermon. The gathering had scattered, for they feared these infidels above all others. Torture and
Devourment
… that was the religion that they preached; torture porn was their scripture and raw flesh was their sacrament. Joan and Grace had hidden from sight and watched in horror as Hank and their son, Daniel, had been stripped of their clothing… then of their flesh. Joan could still hear the horrid shrieks of her loved ones, as well as the unimaginable noise of skin being peeled, inch by inch, from moist, throbbing muscle. Then father and son had been devoured alive. Joan had clamped her hands over young Grace's ears and prayed for the deaths of her husband and son…. but it was a long time before her prayers were finally answered, longer than she could have ever imagined.
For weeks afterward, she and Grace had lived in the dark alleyways and abandoned buildings; both near starvation, unable to fend for themselves.
Word about them got out on the streets and she soon knew that all hope was lost. A woman and a small child alone was fair game. Soon, hunting parties of cannibals and sex fiends were scouring the city, searching for them. Joan had hooked up with Mike by accident and necessity. Having nothing more to trade for his protection but her own body, she had given herself to him. They had been together for three years now. There was no love involved in their relationship, if you could call it that. To him Joan was nothing but a lay when he got the urge. In exchange, she and Grace ate and lived… something that wouldn't have happened if they had remained on the streets much longer.
Joan drove the depressing thoughts from her mind as she continued preparing the meal. She skewered the cat on a long iron rod and roasted it over the fire, then opened the beans with a rusty can opener.
"Mama… sing to me," said Grace, sitting on the floor, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. "Sing ’Jesus Loves Me’… like you used to do."
"Baby… you know how mad it makes Mike when I sing. Let's not get him riled up tonight. Okay?'
"Will you sing to me later? When we're alone?"
"Yes," said Joan feeling incredibly sad and tired. "I promise, sweetheart."
Grace sat there, silent for a while. Finally, she asked the question. "When will we go next?"
Joan thought about it. "I only have two pills left." To achieve the proper effect, she usually took one and gave Grace a half. "Maybe tomorrow. Where would you like to go next?"
Grace thought about it. "How about the fair? With rides and games and cotton candy and gooey caramel apples?"
"That sounds like fun," agreed Joan. "Okay, the fair it is." She forced a bright smile for her little girl. "We'll go to the fair and have a wonderful
–"
Abruptly, a sharp pain shot through Joan's abdomen, doubling her over.
"Mama? What's wrong?"
Joan closed her eyes and breathed in deeply before she could answer. "I – I just got a pain… in my stomach. It's nothing, baby."
From the doubt in the child's eyes, Joan suspected that Grace knew that she was lying. The pains had been getting worse, especially over the past few days. She had tried to conceal the growing swell of her belly from her daughter, wearing a floppy LSU sweat shirt to cover it. But she was certain that Grace was aware that something was wrong.
Joan focused on her work and tried to drive it from her mind. And she tried not to think about the pills, either. Only two left, which meant that she would have to go out and find
him
. But it was necessary… for both her sake and Grace's.
Although she was ashamed to admit it, the Paradise Pill was the only key to Heaven that Joan truly had faith in these days.
The county fair was a flurry of wonderful sights and sounds.
Colorful lights decorated the rides, glowing in neon brilliance of red, blue, orange, and green against the night sky. The music of a calliope played, while the barkers on the midway touted the challenges of their games, and the laughter and thrilled screams of those around them lifted their spirits. Their bellies grumbled hungrily as the delicious scents of popcorn, hot dogs, and funnel cakes filled the air.
Joan clutched Grace's hand tightly and smiled down at her. "Are you ready to have some fun?"
"You better believe it!' said the girl with a big grin.
Together, they headed into the swirling commotion, skipping and laughing, the sawdust beneath their feet making them feel as though they were walking on clouds.
Joan and Grace rode a half dozen rides in a row; the carrousel, the Tilt-a-Twirl, the Scrambler, the Haunted House, the swinging pirate boat, and that giant slide that you ride down with a tow sack beneath you. Afterward, they ended up on the midway. They threw darts, tossed rings, and shot water into a clown's mouth until its balloon head exploded and Grace won a huge brown teddy bear nearly as big as she was.
Later, they sat at a picnic table eating corndogs with mustard and deep-fried Twinkies. "Are you having a good time, baby?" asked Joan.
"The best!" the little girl told her. "I just wish that… well,
they
could be here. Danny loved the Scrambler so much."
Suddenly the colorful lights seemed to lose some of their brilliance and the music and sounds of the fair grew softer, more distant. Joan squeezed her hand. "Remember, Grace. We can't talk about them… can't even think about them… or the pill doesn't work. It's a chance to forget… if only for a little while."
Grace nodded. "Yes, ma'am." As she drove the thoughts of lost loved ones away and her smile brightened, the fair cranked back up full force. "Hey, you wanna ride the Ferris wheel?"
Joan matched her smile with one of her own. "Why not! Come on!"
Soon, they were secured into a bucket seat – Joan, the teddy bear, and little Grace – and were riding the big wheel upward into the night sky. The fair below them was like an ocean of light. They laughed as they made several spins, dipping earthward, then shooting up toward the heavens once again.
It was during their fifth pass, that something went wrong. They were at the very top, when the Ferris wheel came to a grinding halt. Their seat rocked to and fro, and for a scary moment, Joan thought they would flip out of their restraints completely.
"Mama?" asked Grace. Her voice was frightened. "What's happening?"
"I don't know, baby." The lights below them grew dark and the sounds faded into silence. A drop of rain hit Joan's forehead, then another. "I think it's ending."
"But it's too soon!" cried the girl. "There was so much more to do!"
As the rain began to fall at a steady pace and the night grew ever darker, Grace looked over to find that Joan was gone. Someone held her hand, but it did not possess the comfort and security of her mother's grasp. A furry, hand-sewn paw sprouted claws. They anchored deeply into her young flesh, drawing blood. She was horrified to find that it was the teddy bear – three times bigger than before – who clutched at her, refusing to let go.
"Look at us, Gracie," said the bear in Bristol's gruff voice. The head of the plush animal burst open in an explosion of cotton and blood, giving birth to the man's leering face; sweaty and tattooed. His eyes burned with that hungry expression she feared so badly. "Way up here… all alone. Where no one can see what we do… and no one can hear you scream."
Joan awoke to find Grace's fingernails bearing painfully into her hand. The child's palm was clammy to the touch. She shook the grogginess from her mind and, in the gloom of the closet, saw that her daughter's eyes had rolled back into her head. Only the whites showed, jittering wildly in some accelerated form of REM.
"Oh God, no!" She pried her daughter's fingers loose and knelt over her.
"Grace… darling, listen to me. Come out of it. Please… you're almost there."
The seven-year-old bit down hard on her lip. Blood spurted, splashing across Joan's right cheek. A pitiful sound emitted from Grace's throat; a mixture of horror, agony, and defeat.
Please, Lord,
the woman prayed, for the first time in a long time.
Bring her back to me. Don't take her yet!
Then Grace was past the portal between nightmare and reality. She sat upright with a loud gasp. Her eyes returned to their proper position, pupils fixed and tears welling above her lower lashes. "Oh, Mama!" she cried.
"I'm here, baby," Joan cooed softly. She embraced her child and felt her shudder violently. "You're back. Back here with me."
Grace sobbed into her mother's shoulder. "It… it began to rain… and you were gone… and
he
was there… on the Ferris wheel with me!"
Joan didn't have to ask who
he
was. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, sweetie..."
"He… he
hurt
me, Mama! He put his…"
Her mother pressed her closely; partly to comfort her, partly to smother the terrible words she might utter. "
Shhhh
! Quiet now. It wasn't real, baby. It didn't happen."
"But it
could
," moaned the girl. Her crying slowly lost its momentum.
Limply, she lay in her mother's arms.
Yes, Joan was well aware of that frightening fact. But that was not what disturbed her most at the moment. Something had gone horribly wrong with tonight's trip. The pills weren't working the way they should; weren't lasting as long as they once had. She had suspected that when their trip to Grandma's farm had been cut short. Usually a normal dose lasted six hours, but lately they were waking up in half that time. And now, from the looks of it, Grace's blissful dream had changed into a nightmare… and without the mental connection between mother and daughter that the drug once promised.
She glanced at a wind-up alarm clock that sat on top of the water heater. The glow-in-the-dark hands showed the time as one-thirty in the morning. Slowly, Joan pulled her little girl to her and covered them both with an old army blanket. They had four or five more hours to sleep before Mike and Bristol would come demanding their breakfast.
Joan lay in the darkness and listened to her daughter's breathing. It finally slowed and grew steady as slumber took her.
Just sleep, angel,
she thought, stroking Grace's sweat-dampened hair.
But don't dream. You've suffered enough for one night.