The Funhouse Read Online Free PDF Page A

rounded roof of the trailer.
        Ellen was sprawled on the floor. She sat up. She felt terrible, all busted up inside.
        Conrad was standing by the bed. Her two suitcases were open, and he was throwing clothes into them.
        He hadn't killed her. Why not? He had intended to beat her to death, she was certain of that. Why had he changed his mind?
        Groaning, she got to her knees. She tasted blood, a couple of her teeth were loose. With tremendous effort, she stood.
        Conrad shut the suitcases, carried them past her, pushed open the trailer door, and threw the luggage outside. Her purse was on the kitchen counter, and he threw that out after the bags. He wheeled on her. “Now you. Get the hell out and don't ever come back.”
        She couldn't believe that he was going to let her live. It had to be a trick.
        He raised his voice. “Get out of here, slut! Move. Now!”
        Wobbly as a colt taking its first steps, Ellen walked past Conrad. She was tense, expecting another attack, but he did not raise a hand against her.
        When she reached the door, where windblown rain lashed across the threshold, Conrad said, “One more thing.”
        She turned to him, raising one arm to ward off the blow she knew had to come sooner or later.
        But he wasn't going to hit her. He was still furious, but now he was in control of himself. “Some day you'll marry someone in the straight world. You'll have another child. Maybe two, three.”
        His ominous voice contained a threat, but she was too dazed to perceive what he was implying. She waited for him to say more.
        His thin, bloodless lips slowly peeled back in an arctic smile. “When you have children again, when you have kids you love and cherish, I'll come and take them away from you. No matter where you go, no matter how far away, no matter what your new name may be. I'll find you. I swear I will. I'll find you, and I'll take your children just like you took my little boy. I'll kill them.”
        “You're crazy,” she said.
        His smile became a wide, humorless, death's-head grin. “You won't find a place to hide. There won't be one safe corner anywhere in the world. Not one. You'll have to keep looking over your shoulder as long as you live. Now get out of here, bitch. Get out before I decide to kick your damned head in after all.”
        He moved toward her.
        Ellen quickly left the trailer, descended the two metal steps into the darkness. The trailer was parked in a small clearing, with trees bracketing it, but there was nothing directly overhead to break the falling rain, in seconds Ellen was soaked to the skin.
        For a moment Conrad was outlined in the amber light that filled the open doorway. He glowered at her. Then he slammed the door.
        On all sides of her, trees shook in the wind. The leaves made a sound like hope being crumpled and discarded.
        At last Ellen picked up her purse and her muddy suitcases. She walked through the motorized carny town, passing other trailers, trucks, cars, and under the insistent fingers of the rain, every vehicle contributed its tinny notes to the music of the storm.
        She had friends in some of those trailers. She liked many of the carnival people she'd met, and she knew a lot of them liked her. As she plodded through the mud, she looked longingly at some of the lighted windows, but she did not stop. She wasn't sure how her carny friends would react to the news that she had killed Victor Martin Straker. Most carnies were outcasts, people who didn't fit in anywhere else, therefore, they were fiercely protective of their own, and they regarded everyone else as a mark to be tapped or fleeced in one way or another. Their strong sense of community might even extend to the horrid child-thing. Furthermore, they were more likely to side with Conrad than with her, for Conrad had been born of carny parents and had been a carny since birth,