D A Novel (George Right) - By George Right Page 0,67
came to find you... Seriously, check your notebook."
"Well, if you insist... " she pulled out the notebook from her jeans pocket and began to riffle through it. Suddenly, her hand trembled and her look changed.
"What's there? " Mike immediately inquired. "He took out something? Or, maybe he wrote something in?"
"No, simply... here it is," Jane's fingers pulled a gray rectangle from between pages. "CAVE OF HORROR. You will SCREAM..."
"What's that–he gave you a ten-buck ticket for free?" Mike frowned even more.
"Well, maybe a promo action..." said the girl and suddenly interrupted herself: "No, we're idiots! That's my own ticket–see the torn stub?"
"How could it be in the notebook that you lost before we bought tickets?"
"Simple–I put the ticket in my pocket and it got between the pages when I put the notebook in my pocket too."
"Sure. Sounds logical. Only I clearly remember that I had both our tickets. And after that guy tore them, I put them... " Mike dipped his hand into his own trouser pocket–first the left one, then the right, then checked both back pockets which he usually didn't use. The tickets weren't anywhere.
"Damn..." he checked the pockets once again. "I probably lost them somewhere. But I remember that I didn't give you yours."
"But you don't remember where you put it?"
"And you? Do you remember that you took it from me?"
"No"... the girl acknowledged. "Apparently, both of us did it mechanically."
"Give it to me," the young man pulled out the gray piece of paper from Jane's hand. "I think it's not your ticket."
"Then whose is it?"
"I don't know," Mike turned the ticket over. "What do you think is this?"
On the reverse side of the ticket, closer to the torn edge, there was a small red-brown spot, already dried up.
"Are you saying that it's... blood? Real blood?"
"I don't know," Mike repeated. "Perhaps, clown's makeup."
"But he never had this ticket in his hands."
"That's just your assumption. You don't have anything to stain it in your pocket, do you?"
"Perhaps it was sold already in this condition," Jane proposed. "The cashier or the mustached man... could have stained it. Maybe, even with blood. Couldn't one of them have cut a finger after all?"
"They could..." the young man thoughtfully turned the paper again.
Discount at revisit. Bring your friends!
In a resolute gait, Mike returned to the trash can where he had thrown the plastic cup and dropped the ticket there.
"What are you doing?" Jane exclaimed indignantly.
"And why do you need a stranger's... well, let even your own used ticket? You aren't going to go in that damned cave again, are you? Even for a discount..."
"In my opinion," the girl slowly said, looking somewhere beyond her boyfriend, "we haven't seen everything there."
Mike couldn't deny it. He remembered how he had closed his eyes–but he was ashamed to admit it. He had intended to inquire derisively "did you squeeze your eyes shut?"–but right then he remembered how he had vomited in full view of Jane and decided not to ask for trouble. But she apparently meant something different.
"There were more shouts and groans than... those we passed by. Some came as if from far away or through a barrier..."
"A record. And why the hell 'far away?' You saw the building from outside. It's not so big."
"Maybe. But there were switches."
"What switches?"
"Rail switches. Didn't you notice?"
"I hardly saw even the rails in the darkness..."
"But I saw them. Cars can be sent on different routes. I'm sure so they do. Perhaps they show a less terrible version to children. At least to children with parents..."
"Judging by the reaction of that woman who rode before us, I wouldn't say so."
"It seems to me, if she had seen what we saw, her reaction would have been even stronger. And she definitely would have filed a complaint, despite the signed paper. And also... do you remember how he hinted to the boy? Like, come again, only not with your mother but with a friend... then you'll see something really worth..."
"He said nothing like that. He only mentioned the discount, that's all. That's also written on the ticket."
"Exactly. If it is written already, why emphasize it verbally?"
"Advertizing rule. Repetition doesn't hurt."
"But why do you think he didn't repeat the offer to us?"
"Because we had already heard it," Mike answered not too consistently, feeling the increasing desire to end this stupid conversation.
"And then, they have strange concept of advertizing. The ride is so hidden that it's hard to find. It isn't on the carnival map."