Suspended In Dusk (29 page)

The Night Manager continued as if nothing had happened. “The fun is just beginning. Why, the fireworks haven’t even started yet.”

It was Maddy who spoke first. “We’ve had enough for tonight, that’s all. We just want to go home.” Her voice only trembled a little, right at the end. She mustered up a smile. It wasn’t as bright as usual, but she’d put all the charm she could into it. “We thank you for your generosity.”

The Night Manager inclined his head.

The girls started to move again.

“The cramp has loosened, Viv,” Maddy said. “I can walk by myself.”

They separated.

Viv jerked her head toward the way home. It was only a few meters farther. Maddy nodded and they scurried forward.

The last firework exploded overhead. Viv ignored it and stepped into the zone by the rift. It felt quieter, protected. The exit was smaller now, but they could still make it if they were fast enough.

She turned to motion Maddy through.

Maddy stood half in the protected circle and half out. She was looking up at the fireworks.

It was a dazzling display. It lit up the dark skies overhead in showers of red, blue, green, and gold. Beautiful as it was, they had no time for it. Viv spoke with urgency. “Come on, Maddy. We have to go. Now.” She reached, grabbed Maddy’s hand, and tugged.

Maddy didn’t cooperate. She stood firm.

Viv pulled again, but was surprised when Maddy jerked in the opposite direction.

“I can’t see you, pretty girl, but I’ve got your sister, sure enough.” The Night Manager’s voice was soft, self-satisfied. “Now what would happen if I pulled harder? What would happen if I took my other hand away from this pretty mouth? Would I lose my prize?”

Maddy’s muffled cries erupted into a shriek. The noise was tamped down.

“That is no way to show gratitude to your host. Not when we won you, fair and square,” the man said.

Maddy squeezed Viv’s hand twice in rapid succession.

For once, Viv couldn’t understand what her sister was trying to tell her. She squeezed back and tried to pull Maddy toward her. It was no use.

The Night Manager chuckled.

Viv dropped her twin’s hand and stepped back into the park. Fireworks still crashed and boomed overhead. Purple streamers rained down from a cluster of red orbs. They were bright red, like those syrupy cherries that perch atop ice cream sundaes.

The lights turned from vibrant to garish and obscene the instant Viv fixed her attention on Maddy.

The Night Manager was leeching away all her color—all her light and life. It was as if Maddy was turning into a negative image before her eyes.

“She’s with us now,” the man said. “You will be too.”

Maddy and Viv looked at each other. They’d almost always known what the other was thinking. This was no different.

Viv shook her head. Pleaded and denied. But the color kept fading. Darks turned bright. Bright faded to black.

The Night Manager took his hand away from Maddy’s mouth.

His cruel laugh rang in Viv’s ears, but it wasn’t enough to down out Maddy’s whisper. “Go, Viv. Go,” she said. The last of the color drained from her. The light in Maddy’s eyes dimmed and went out.

The Night Manager let go and lunged for Viv.

She was too quick. Desperation gave her speed.

The Night Manager only managed to brush her arm with his fingertips. His touch was so cold it burned.

She dove for the rift, almost missed, almost got tangled up in the robot’s salute, but got her balance back in time. She had to twist sideways to fit through the collapsing exit. She felt the pinch, the fold, and then warmth again.

A voice followed her out of the rift.

The Night Manager shouted, “That’s okay. We’re not greedy. When you play the crooked game, one pretty lady is better than none. And we’re going to have such good times. Every night is fun night at Professor Future’s Fun-Land.”

Viv shut her eyes. She’d expected a taunt.

They flew open when she heard Maddy cry, “Go! Viv! I lo––”

The rift slammed shut.

Viv finished the sentence for her. “—ve you.” She fell to her knees and cried. “Love you too, Maddy.” She clutched her arm. The frostbite didn’t hurt nearly as much as the rest of her.

Viv stayed by the ruins of the robot’s legs until the first fingers of dawn crept up and warmed up the light. It was only then that she could force herself to hobble back to the cooler. She was ashamed that her first impulse was to gulp down water and to choke down a chocolate bar. But she did it anyway.

Then she made the call.

* * *

Maddy Gates’ body was never found. The official story was that the twins had been attacked during their exploration of the ruins. The tragedy became another sad point in the park’s history.

When she found the courage, Viv developed the photographs from that day. They were beautiful and terrible. Her exhibition was a smash success and she sold hundreds of prints.

There was one photo she kept only for herself—one she hid away from everyone. She’d cried over it—the last one she’d taken that day. Viv made two prints. One positive. One negative. She needed two images: one dark, one light. One for before, one after.

Viv had to try to be whole, but she felt so empty—felt less than half.

She suspected she always would.

Viv found some comfort in the portraits. She liked seeing the life in Maddy’s eyes and the brightness of their smiles. She stared at the pictures for hours, soaking up every detail.

Sometimes, she swore she could see, off in the distance, high atop a curve of the roller-coaster, the shadow of something that looked like one of the coaster’s cars. Sometimes she could see two arms, clasped together, raised in victory.

Maybe Maddy was there, still riding.

Or maybe it was just a trick of the light.

Fit Camp

Shane McKenzie

Baxter sat on the couch, staring at his stubby fingers. His parents stood over him, arms akimbo, the harsh words aspirating from their frowning lips. He couldn’t look them in the eye, not while they announced his punishment. Of course, they said it wasn’t punishment, but Baxter knew better.

“What do you think, honey?” Mom forced a smile.

“I don’t know.”

“It’ll be good for you, son. I promise.” Dad placed a strong hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

Fat camp.

They were sending him to fat camp, just like they always said they would. It wasn’t his fault he liked candy so much; or cheeseburgers or chilidogs; or cake or soda. It was in his genes, it was who he was. His grandfather had been morbidly obese, so much that he died of a heart attack at the age of sixty. Baxter looked down at his midsection, making note of how tightly his shirt fit. Like saran wrap over a rump roast.

“When do I have to go?”

“Tomorrow,” they both said, more to each other than to Baxter.

* * *

They pulled their SUV into the gravel parking lot, the tiny pebbles crunching under the rubber of the tires. Baxter pressed his face against the window and watched the other chubby kids waddle around. Their parents held their soft, plump hands, all doing their best to look excited. There weren’t as many as he had expected. Baxter wanted to scream.

“Are you really gonna make me stay here?”

Dad sighed, hesitated, then said, “It’s only for a couple of weeks, son. Just think of how much weight you could lose, how much lighter you’ll feel.”

“Yeah, honey, it’ll be great. Plus, you could meet new friends. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“I see some girls walking around. In a couple of weeks, maybe they’ll be less fat and more pretty.” Dad grunted as Mom jabbed an elbow into his side. “I mean, they’re pretty now, but…”

“It’s gonna be great, honey. You’ll see.” Mom returned her disapproving gaze to her husband.

Baxter opened his door and slid from his seat, but his foot hit the ground awkwardly. His ankle twisted and sent a jolt up his leg. He yelped, collapsed to the ground and grabbed his ankle, rocked back and forth.

“Whoopsie-daisy!”

A pair of hairy legs stalked toward Baxter, beige socks pulled up tight, red stripes at the tops. An equally hairy hand shot toward him.

“Easy does it.”

Baxter squinted toward the baritone voice and accepted the hand though he wasn’t sure if his ankle would hold him up. He was pulled to his feet with authority, his shoulder popping, and he hopped for a second before settling his weight on the ankle. It hurt but not as bad as he’d expected.

The sasquatch hand moved to his head, messed his hair, pushed down on his scalp with uncomfortable force.

“Hello,” Dad said.

“Hello, folks. I’m Randy, the head counselor here at Fit Camp.” The hairy man shook hands with Dad, then Mom. He smiled down at Baxter, but Baxter looked away.

“We’re the Stephens’ and this is our son, Baxter. He’s here to shape up.” Dad squeezed Baxter’s shoulder again.

“Is that right?” Randy said as if talking excitedly to a toddler. “Well, I guarantee we’ll take
real
good care of him.”

Mom and Dad smiled and looked down at Baxter. Other parents were saying their goodbyes to their little chubby bundles of joy all around him. Other counselors were trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible.

Baxter couldn’t say a word to his parents. Their faces were lit with anticipation, as if the camp would make him a better person, make them love him more.

He craved a candy bar.

* * *

They sat in the cafeteria. Their chunky arms and legs rubbed against each other as they huddled together at the cramped table. The counselors smiled at the fresh meat, whispering to each other. Baxter still couldn’t believe he was there. It all felt like a bad Disney movie.

“Hi.” A voice came from his left. “I’m Chris.”

Baxter turned toward the voice and was met by a smiling oval face. Though Baxter knew he was overweight himself, this kid actually made him feel good about his own appearance. The boy’s face looked tiny surrounded by so much cheek and chin, his breasts pouring over his stomach, stomach pouring over his groin. His arms rested on the sides of his belly which pushed them outward as if he wore a heavy coat. Labored breaths rattled from his throat, causing Baxter to feel out of breath himself.

“Baxter,” he said, trying his best not to stare.

As he looked around the room, his spirits continued to rise. He had always seen himself as the chubbiest kid around, but now he seemed to be the smallest. At least at Fit Camp he was.

“Your parents make you come, too?” Chris said.

“Yeah. I can’t believe I’m here right now,” Baxter said.

“Me either. I don’t think I’m
that
big.”

Baxter cleared his throat to hide his chuckle.

The counselors stood shoulder to shoulder at the head of the room, facing the kids. Randy walked into the cafeteria and slammed the door behind him. He faced everyone, his teeth glistening under the fluorescents.

“Welcome to Fit Camp, everyone! I can’t tell you how excited I am to see all these new chubby faces here today.”

Baxter wondered why he would use a word like
chubby.
He didn’t like Randy, or the camp, at all.

“We have a special treat for all you newcomers. A specially prepared feast.”

Murmurs erupted from the between the kids’ saliva-slickened lips. Randy had their full attention now.

“Now, I want you all to really enjoy this. Consider this your last meal, you know, like people about to be executed.”

Baxter didn’t like the tone of Randy’s voice or the smirk on his face at the mention of execution. Chris bounced up and down, waves of fat rolling under his shirt. He smacked his lips and breathed heavily.

Two swinging doors burst open and another group of counselors pushed stainless steel carts out: four carts in all, each one piled high with food. Food that normally would make Baxter go crazy. One cart was full of doughnuts, all shapes and colors piled on top of one another, the glaze glistening. Pies and cakes of all varieties littered the next cart. Another cart contained what looked like fried food, though Baxter had no idea what some of it was. All brown and crispy, sweating grease. A mountain of pizza, cheeseburgers, hot dogs, and other delicious-looking delights rode the last cart.

The symphony of aromas in the cafeteria was almost too much for Baxter to take. As hungry as he was and as good as the food looked, there was no way he was touching it. Seeing the bouncing anticipation of the other kids, along with Randy’s gleaming rictus, had evaporated his appetite.

The rest of the kids giggled and licked their lips as they ogled the food, unable to contain themselves with the promise of stuffing their chunky faces.