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I never once considered the possibility that I was rid of him. I’m not that naive. The only variable was timing. It was always about timing.
Maybe the leg injury slowed him down more than I expected. Maybe he’s just been patient.
Either way, he’s here now.
The fog thickens as another round of smoke pours from the corners. My throat tightens. I adjust the strap of my camera against my shoulder as I turn to face Amani and Lucas. “There were fire dancers, yeah?”
Their faces light up, and I get pulled in every direction. All I need to do is stay amongst the hordes of people. There’s no way the masked man will kill me in front of an audience.
Before me, a tent rises like a lung.
Black canvas stretches high over our heads, steel ribs arching overhead, open on all sides so people drift in and out without friction. The flaps overhead lift and fall with the crowd.
In the center, fire dancers spin controlled arcs over a gravel ring, flames cutting bright circles through the dark. The light washes over skull-painted faces and open mouths. Heat pulses outward as the crowd swells and shifts around them.
Lucas elbows me in the ribs. “This is sick,” he says, already filming on his phone.
Amani leans closer to the center, eyes reflecting orange. “How the hell are they doing that?”
I don’t answer. I just lift my camera and take the shot. The shutter snaps the flames into stillness, causing the sparks to freeze midair like constellations.
I widen my focus and let the performers blur slightly. Instead, I scan the perimeter. People stand shoulder to shoulder in loose rings in a cabinet of warm-lit faces. I pivot slowly, pretending to chase better light. The rear entrance flap lifts and a new set of bodies enter. Among them, a tall scare actor with what looks to be a wolf skull mask and ears made of bone enters.
No ram skull.
This scare actor, however, has the same charcoal paint strokes covering his body, and I’m starting to suspect a theme here. His head turns sideways, and I follow his gaze to a couple of familiar faces.
“Isn’t that Leo and Ry-” I state as I lower the camera, finding only Amani to be at my side.
Where the fuck did Lucas go?
I lean toward Amani. “Where’s Lucas?”
She doesn’t look away from the center ring as she answers, “Hmm? Oh, probably got bored and went to grab food or something.” She shrugs, distracted. “You know him.”
All too well, for fuck-sakes.
I scan the tent again, this time without the camera lens.
It’s just a tide of stretched grins now. Faces blur into one another until they stop being individuals and start looking like a single organism breathing in unison. You could swap one out, and no one would notice, and that’s what I’m afraid of.
“Amani,” I say, quieter. “Stay here. Don’t leave the tent.”
She waves a hand absentmindedly, already pulling out her phone for selfies. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not going anywhere.”
Good.
I slip between bodies, shoulders angling, feet finding gaps before they close. The heat from the fire drops off with every step toward the edge. The fabric entrance lifts as someone exits and I pass through with them.
Outside, the air hits colder.
The temperature difference is small, but it registers immediately against my skin. The noise from inside becomes muffled, swallowed by distance and open space.
I pause just beyond the tent’s spill of light and peer around.
Food trucks line the outer path. Strings of orange bulbs stretch between poles. People drift in twos and threes. A couple of girls adjacent to the trucks jump and scream as a scare actor rounds a corner.
Lucas, however, is nowhere to be seen.
