The Paradise Trap Read Online Free PDF

ponies on the carousel.
    ‘Hey! Edison! Over here!’ an enormous voice boomed. Glancing around, Marcus saw that the octopus ride was beckoning with its long, steely arms, each of which had a two-seater buggy attached to it. ‘Come on!’ urged the octopus. ‘You’ll have a wonderful time!’
    Marcus swallowed.
    ‘I bet we’ve been gassed,’ he said hoarsely. ‘There must be a leak in the gas bottle under the stove.’ Not that he could smell gas – only fried fat and hot sugar. ‘We’ve got to get out of here,’ he insisted. ‘I think we’re having hallucinations.’
    Edison, however, wasn’t listening. His face was flushed and his eyes were bright.
    ‘Oh, man!’ he exclaimed. ‘Those dodgem cars are so cool !’
    ‘Edison—’ Marcus began. But he stopped when something tugged at his T-shirt.
    Looking down, he nearly had a heart attack. A wooden fretwork policeman was grinning up at him with painted teeth. The policeman held a sign that said: You must be this tall to get on.
    ‘You’re too big for these rides,’ the policeman announced, plucking at Marcus’s T-shirt with his uplifted measuring hand. ‘But Edison isn’t. Edison can stay.’
    ‘Get off!’ Marcus gave the creepy little thing a shove. ‘Don’t touch me!’
    At that moment, it occurred to Marcus that you shouldn’t be able to touch a hallucination. Then he found himself wondering how he and Edison could be having the same hallucination – unless Edison himself wasn’t real?
    ‘Hey, Edison,’ said Marcus, whirling around to see if he could grab his friend’s arm. It was too late, though. Edison was already streaking towards the dodgem cars, his legs pumping wildly.
    ‘Hey! Wait! Edison!’ yelled Marcus, leaping forward. The little fretwork policeman tried to hold him back. But even Marcus had more than enough muscle to deal with a sheet of painted plywood. He slapped the policeman aside just as the clowns revealed that they weren’t disembodied heads on boxes after all.
    One by one they stood up, displaying their glossy fibreglass shoulders, arms, chests, stomachs, hips . . .
    Marcus pounded past them on his way to the dodgems. ‘ Edison! ’ he screamed, wide-eyed with fear. The clowns followed him, as clumsy and hesitant as newborn foals on their long, skinny, stiff-jointed legs. Behind them swarmed a teeming mob of plush toys, kewpie dolls and inflatable aliens, all of whom had wriggled off their hooks and dropped to the ground so that they could chase Marcus.
    ‘Edison! Come back!’ Marcus cried. But Edison had already jumped into a shiny red dodgem car. There must have been about a dozen cars sliding around in their fenced arena, which Marcus reached just ahead of the first plush animal. He slammed into a brightly coloured perimeter fence, then stretched out an arm towards the younger boy.
    The dodgems, however, weren’t about to let go of Edison. Cursing and muttering, they jostled their way between Marcus and his friend, nudging Edison’s bright red car until it had been pushed to the other side of the arena. Trying to catch up with Edison was impossible; every time Marcus moved, the dodgems moved along with him, making sure that Edison was well out of his reach even as they ploughed into each other. ‘Ow!’ the cars snapped. ‘Look out!’ ‘Get off!’ ‘Watch where you’re going!’
    They seemed very bad-tempered.
    ‘ Edison! ’ Marcus bawled, trying to make himself heard over the jangling carnival music – which grew louder and louder as he raised his voice. Edison was laughing. The dodgem cars were snarling and swearing. Sideshow patter was blaring through a loudspeaker: ‘Step right up, Edison! Try your luck and win a buck . . .’
    By this time the plush animals had caught up with Marcus. He had a blue gorilla wrapped around one leg and a snow leopard hanging off one arm. The clowns were spitting ping-pong balls at his head. The inflatable aliens were arming themselves with hoops and popguns. Off