N. Walters - Night of the Tiger

A young man stood about thirty feet away from several small paper targets, holding the air rifle in his hands. Beside him, his date watched and waited. Anticipation filled the air as the young man fired once. The shot went awry. The dark-haired girl frowned but the young man hefted the air rifle and looked straight down the barrel. He raised the rifle again and fired twice more in rapid succession. This time he hit both targets. The girl squealed and the young man smiled. They left the stall with an adorable white teddy bear, the girl holding her prize tightly in her arms.

Aimee chuckled as the young man swooped down and stole a kiss from his date. The girl laughed and snuggled closer as the two of them walked toward the next game of chance. Aimee predicted another bear would soon join the first one.

The carnival would probably lose their shirt on that particular game. The sight on the air rifle might be off, but this was mountain country. There wasn’t a man or boy within one hundred miles who couldn’t adjust for that and hit the target. Heck, for that matter, most of the women and girls could too.

The roar of the generators was almost drowned out by the sound of pop music pumping out from the speakers situated strategically around the grounds. People had to shout at one another to be heard over the din. The rides continued almost nonstop, pausing only long enough to let off passengers and load up again.

Aimee finished the last bite of her hotdog as one particularly scary ride off to her left flew the dozens of screaming passengers high in the air before swooping them down low again. She had to look away. Just watching the ride was making her stomach queasy and her head spin.

Now that her hunger was sated, she stepped away from the shelter of the concession stand and began to walk around. She still hadn’t seen Sandra, which meant her friend was probably in one of the tents looking at the various sideshows. Several large tents were located near the far end of the fairgrounds. Set back from the rides and games, there was slightly less noise here. Although that didn’t make it quiet, just that the volume was lowered to a dull roar.

The large, hand-painted sign out front advertised a man who could eat fire and swallow swords. There was a knife-thrower, magic tricks, a contortionist and a fortuneteller as well. There was no lineup at the front of the tent, but a young woman with reddish hair and a voluptuous build sat on a stool ready to take Aimee’s tickets.

Aimee almost turned back. Something about the place seemed almost sinister. The shadows were deeper here. Darker. “Of course there are more shadows. They’re closer to the trees,” she muttered, totally disgusted with herself. Where was her backbone?

The young woman smiled. “Are you going in? I think you’ll enjoy the shows.”

“Have you seen a tall blonde woman? She’s wearing black jeans and a red leather jacket.” Sandra did love her jacket. It was very distinctive and memorable. If her friend hadn’t gone in here there was no reason she had to waste one of her tickets. She glanced at the sign above the door. Make that four of her tickets.

The woman’s smile widened and her eyes glinted with envy. “She went in a few minutes ago. That is one awesome jacket.”

Aimee felt her excuse to not enter the tent slipping away. She had to go now or she’d feel like a coward. Plus, she needed to find Sandra. This place was starting to creep her out, and she wanted to leave. If her friend wasn’t ready to go yet, Aimee could at least get Sandra’s keys and wait in the car.

She dug into her purse, produced the necessary tickets and handed them over to the attendant. The tent flap was lifted back and Aimee stepped forward. The canvas was quickly lowered again, leaving her feeling trapped inside.

“Not trapped,” she assured herself. “This isn’t like the funhouse. You can get out easily.” She turned around and glanced at the opening behind her to reassure herself.

Still, she couldn’t go another step until she tried. Wrapping her hand around the canvas, she pulled it back. The young woman outside gave her a quizzical smile. “Everything okay?”

Feeling silly, Aimee nodded. “Fine. I thought I dropped something when I got out my tickets.” It was a lame excuse, but it was all she could think of at the moment. “I must have been mistaken.” She gave the girl a smile, which felt forced and phony, and dropped the flap back down.

Now that she’d established she could leave any time she wanted to, Aimee began to explore. The tent was divided into smaller areas by canvas walls. She stepped up to the first opening and relaxed when she realized there were several other people already watching the performance. A burly man with graying hair and a handlebar mustache lowered a flaming stick toward his mouth. He shoved the stick inside and then quickly removed the flame. Everyone in the small group clapped.

She couldn’t wait to see what he did with the swords of varying lengths propped up behind him. Sure enough, a long, sharp blade came next. The performer opened his mouth, tipped back his head and slid the sword down his throat. It disappeared until only the hilt remained. The audience gasped. The man withdrew the sword and took a small bow.

Aimee watched for a few more minutes before moving on. In the next performance area, a woman lifted her leg straight into the air before tucking it behind her head. She lowered it back to the ground and then did the same with her other leg. Aimee winced as she watched the woman twist herself into positions she hadn’t thought were humanly possible. The performer began to use several hoops in her act. At one point, she swung hoops with both feet as she used just one hand to support her weight. Aimee watched, amazed by the versatility and flexibility of the human body, until the woman finished with her routine.

Further on, the knife-thrower was well into his performance. He tossed knives at his assistant, a pretty young woman, as casually as one would toss a stone into a lake. Aimee didn’t know if the woman was brave or stupid, but she didn’t flinch as the sharp blades were flung her way. Aimee didn’t linger here long, unable to watch. She didn’t have quite as much faith in the knife-thrower as his assistant did.

Across the aisle, a man of indeterminate age was performing magic tricks for a small crowd. He produced flowers from thin air and made a coin disappear. The performance was good, but magic tricks didn’t really interest Aimee. She scanned the audience and sighed. Still no sign of Sandra.

Retreating deeper into the tent, Aimee noticed a sandwich-board sign, which announced the fortuneteller’s area was next. The entrance was closed and she could hear the low murmur of voices coming from the other side of the canvas. Aimee assumed that must mean someone was in there having their fortune told.

Now that would appeal to Sandra. She was into all kinds of metaphysical stuff, constantly asking Aimee about her nightmares and offering suggestions as to what they all might mean. She’d never told her friend about her dreams of the white tiger, and she certainly wasn’t about to tell her about her sensual dream from last night. That was too personal to share even with her closest friend.

Aimee decided to hang around outside for a few minutes just in case Sandra was inside. If she wasn’t, Aimee was going to give the fairgrounds one more turn before heading back to the car to wait. She could always sit on the hood even if she couldn’t get inside the vehicle.

She glanced at her watch. It was just past nine. It was hard to believe that almost two hours had passed since they’d arrived. Aimee didn’t quite know where the time had gone. She must have watched some of the performers for longer than she’d thought. It was easy to get caught up in their acts. They were really quite incredible, and she’d enjoyed them more than she’d thought she would.