Soliloquies Anthology 30.1

After his shift, Lincoln could never get the peculiar smell of the Old Mill out of his nose. He’d never been to any other Old Mill attraction in another park, so he could only assume that every Old Mill smelled like the one at Ridgewood Park. At first, he thought it was because of the chlorine, but he’d been to indoor pools before and the smell was different, duller. Try as he might, he couldn’t put a finger on it.

He sat on a coffin, hidden around the bend of the tracks. Though he’d asked for a chair, management had denied the request. So, the fake coffin of Harold the skeleton served as his seat while he waited, armed with a flashlight and a wooden paddle which he’d yet to use. The season had begun some weeks ago and his boss had been eager for them to use the paddle as often as possible. Lincoln was quite uncomfortable with the idea. He preferred verbal reprobation instead, loud and personal. It helped that he was from the nearby town and went to the same high school as most of the teen passengers.

Between each leisurely boat, Lincoln became lost in thoughts. The swiveling skeletons on either side of the river couldn’t distract him anymore. He was never in complete darkness, for the ride was lit by small, weak light bulbs, but whenever a bark rolled up to him, he was swift to flash his light on it. The boats were meant for six passengers. Three couples. Usually, the people at the front were the quietest because they saw the light first and jumped apart faster. The rowdiest were in the middle because they thought the other two couples would cover for them. In five weeks of working the afternoon shift at the Old Mill, Lincoln had seen far too many body parts to still care.

“Hey Steve,” he said, pointing his flashlight to the couple in the middle row. “Can you pull up your pants?”

The boat shifted as Steve shuffled his pants up to his waist. The boat was slow enough that Lincoln could follow him with the beam of his flashlight, and make sure he was cooperating.

“Thank you,” he uttered once Steve had buckled his belt.

“Go to hell, fag,” Steve shouted back, giving him the middle finger before his boat turned around the next bend.

Lincoln knew he and the other jocks would make him pay for it in September, but they would have found a way to bully him anyway, so he might as well get paid to be a pain in their necks. Frankly, he understood them. If it were up to him, he would let them be. A tunnel of love should not be curtailed, not that he thought the measures put into place were very effective. A mere three employees watched over the ride with plenty of space between them. Stopping couples mid-act only delayed the inevitable by a few minutes. Hell, he knew from experience that in their place, he would be doing the same. He’d done it already the previous summer with his boyfriend. It had been the only place in the park where they could kiss without being seen. But this summer Bill was working at The Gap in the new mall and Lincoln saw him once a week at best.

He was pulled out of his musing when another boat arrived.

“Courtney, can you pull your hand out of Mason’s pants?”

He heard a squeal as the teenage girl jumped apart from her boyfriend. She’d been so focused on her task that she hadn’t noticed Lincoln’s light. The middle seats were empty, which Lincoln thought was strange. In the middle of summer, they usually filled all the seats with ease. Two girls sat huddled close on the last row and they sent worried glances his way. He knew who they were, but even if they’d been in the heat of making out, he wouldn’t have forced them apart. That would have been too dangerous.

As soon as the boat had passed, Lincoln reached for the small walkie-talkie on his belt and called the loading station.

“Hey, it’s Lincoln. I just saw a boat with only four passengers. Over.”

“This is Sean speaking. You sure there were only four passengers? Over.”

Sean was one of the senior attendants, who insisted he came to check that everything was working perfectly at the Old Mill at least five times a day. Lincoln was sure he just wanted to catch a glimpse of something dirty.

“Yes, I’m sure. Over.”

“Then we probably have a couple roaming one of the scenes.”

Lincoln waited for an ‘over’ but when it never came, he tried to ask:

“Should we shut down the attraction to find them? Isn’t this dangerous? Over.”

As he waited for an answer, Lincoln aimed his flashlight across the water, to the scene on the other side. The dancing skeletons projected deep shadows on the crude background of a cemetery entrance. He waited to see some movement, nothing. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sean finally replied, “they’ll turn up eventually. Focus on the people inside the boats.”

With a sigh, Lincoln clipped his walkie-talkie back on his belt and waited for the next boat.

The Old Mill closed at six, half an hour before the park. That left plenty of time for the last few boats to return safely to the loading station, where they would spend the night. As soon as the last boat had unloaded its final passengers, footsteps echoed toward Lincoln. Toby’s arrival was preceded by the beam of his flashlight, passing through the hole between two scenes, hidden behind the scenery.

“Another day, another clean-up.”

Toby had been working at Ridgewood for three years and had done just about anything a seasonal worker could do at the amusement park. He’d served popcorn and drinks, had loaded and unloaded passengers onto the attractions, had sold tickets, and, this season, he played Rodger the Badger on his morning shift. Spending half of the day in the warm, furry costume always left him looking like he’d just stepped out of the shower, even hours later.

Lincoln hopped off his coffin and left the paddle behind for whoever had the morning shift. Flashlight in hand, he followed Toby from scene to scene. As they walked, they searched for anything the passengers might have thrown onto the ride or into the water. Lincoln stuck to the back of the scene, as far away from the water as he could. The search was complicated by the big, oddly shaped shadows cast by the beams of their flashlights. He’d once asked if there weren’t some emergency lights they could turn on, but the attraction was so old that they’d never been installed.

“I heard something this morning that will probably make you very happy,” Toby said as he scanned the water for a lost pair of sunglasses or a discarded bag of popcorn.

“Oh, and what is that?”

They left the scene of the skeleton wedding and moved on to the saloon where every patron was a skeleton.

“I heard they are finally going to install security cameras here. To keep an eye on the passengers.”

“Really? When?”

“End of the season, probably.”

Lincoln rolled his eyes.

“You could have started by telling me it wasn’t going to affect me at all,” he said as he looked behind Bartender Fred’s counter.

“Well, it means next year we won’t be stuck here five hours a day.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I want to work here again next year. There’s bound to be something that pays better. Maybe I’ll work at the mall.”

“You think there’s a single shop in the mall that will pay you to do basically nothing all afternoon? Ridgewood is a sweet deal, you’ll see soon enough.”

“Says the guy who spends his mornings sweating in a badger costume.”

Toby shrugged.

“I’m not the one complaining all the time, you are.”

They entered the first scene, where skeletons were digging themselves out of their graves. Lincoln had never understood why anyone at Ridgewood had thought it a good idea to theme their tunnel of love after a skeleton party, especially since the park was closed long before Halloween. But apparently, it worked well enough for the teenagers, as if the being surrounded by death only aroused them more.

“Isaac, your nap is over.”

But Isaac wasn’t there. The grave where he usually slept was empty, and his flashlight laid against a paper mache tombstone. There was no sign of his paddle.

“Isaac,” Toby called again. “If you’re smoking weed in here, I’ll report you. I don’t want to die in a fire.”

Still, no answer. Lincoln scanned the room, but there was no sign of Isaac. This was strange; if Isaac had deserted, he would have had to sneak past the two of them or cross the river to the other side of the ride. However, the plank they used to cross was still in its place, hidden against the wall.

“Fuck Isaac,” Toby said. “You see what I mean? Paid to do nothing.”

He tugged his flashlight in his shorts pocket and picked up the plank. Lincoln lit his path to the water.

“Fuck Isaac,” Toby mumbled to himself as he crossed the river. “He’s a goddamn madman. Do you know that last time I caught him eating popcorn here? From a bag he’d fished out of the water. He’s nuts. If he wasn’t sharing his good stuff, I would have reported him years ago. Thank God they don’t put him in charge of the Serpent, you know what I mean?”

Lincoln traversed in silence, focused on his every step. Below, the water was bright blue and calm, and the sunken rails were dark with overuse.

“Do you think they put dye in the water?” he asked as he stepped off the plank. “I mean, it can’t be blue like that on its own.”

Lincoln’s question remained unanswered. Toby’s scream was as sharp as nails on a chalkboard. Lincoln whirled around only to hear a splash. Toby had stumbled into the water. Although it was waist-deep, he thrashed like he was fighting the ocean. Lincoln held out his hand to rescue his drowning friend.

“Toby! Toby, grab my hand! Toby…”

It wasn’t until Lincoln reached for Toby’s arm to keep him afloat that he stilled. Lincoln pulled him out and Toby laid on his side, drenched but breathing.

“Jesus Christ, Toby. What happened?”

Toby didn’t answer. His eyes were as deep and wide as the darkness around them. Lincoln searched the river for Toby’s flashlight when he noticed pink in the water. It was a strange sort of pink, too red to be dye.

“Did you hurt yourself…” he began, but his voice died down when he traced the source of the pink. A sliver of red was running between the floorboards. In the back of his mind, Lincoln knew it was blood. It could only be blood. But to acknowledge it meant that the blood had a source. He stood and walked with trembling knees toward it. The trail came from a polystyrene sarcophagus at the back of the scene. Lincoln’s heart was beating against his temples, obscuring any thought he might have. The beam of his flashlight caught a sandal-clad foot, lying on the ground. Lincoln took a step back. His chest heaved but he didn’t feel like he was breathing.

“Are you okay?” he called, his throat dry like sand.

When no answer came, he looked back at Toby. His friend hadn’t moved. He remained on his side, dripping water, eyes lost to the nothing. He had seen something which had petrified him. Lincoln wasn’t certain he wanted to see it too.

“Please move if you’re okay,” he whispered.

He took two more steps forward. The light fell on two bodies, and he turned it off because he couldn’t look. He had seen, in flashes, too much already. Red pooled on the ground and painted the back of the sarcophagus. Bones cracked apart. Fingers shattered in impossible positions. He had seen brain matter, he was so sure of it, and no one was ever supposed to see brain matter, because brain matter was supposed to stay, safely, in the skull. But the skull had been bashed into tiny pieces, and he had seen brain matter, seen it with his very eyes.

He would have fainted on the spot if he hadn’t caught himself on the sarcophagus. Bile burned up his throat, but he held it in. He choked, then his heart kicked inside his chest and he could breathe again.

“Oh my god…”

The bile was rushing back up, pushed by every struggling breath he took. He had tears in his eyes, which he didn’t realize, even as they slid down his cheeks and fell on his shirt.

“I…”

He ran through every scene toward the exit, and arrived outside just in time to vomit in the gravel behind the attraction. The sunlight burned his eyes, and he cried harder than he had ever cried in his life. He was still gasping when a rough hand clasped his shoulder.

“Jesus, kid. Are you okay?”

It was Sean. Lincoln shook his head as hard as he could.

“They’re fucking dead. I saw their brains, and they’re fucking dead.”

The police arrived almost as soon as Sean had made the call. Toby, blanked face and shivering despite the lingering summer heat, was taken to the infirmary. Lincoln, although still shocked, was forced to sit by the loading station and wait for the cops. Every time he blinked, his mind conjured a new image of violence based on the glimpses he’d caught. He had no idea whether their stomachs had been slashed like in those terrible horror movies Bill liked so much, but his brain had created the picture for him, and he felt sick all over again.

After being interrogated by two different officers on sight, he was asked to come to the station the next morning. Lincoln didn’t want to go, as he was scared they thought he was the killer. But he didn’t have much of a choice, so in the morning, instead of going to Ridgewood Park, he went to the police station. There, he was made to repeat what he’d seen, twice. They asked him questions about the couple he’d found, and about his missing colleague, Isaac. Lincoln had the feeling that whatever he said about Isaac, he was only incriminating him further. As for whether he thought Isaac was responsible, he didn’t, because no human being was capable of such a massacre.

He was given the day off but had to return to work the following day. After all, it was the middle of the season, and they needed all hands on deck. The entrance was swarmed by news vans as the story of the double homicide had spread around the state. Lincoln had to brush two attempts at an interview as he walked in, and rolled his eyes as he heard one of the journalists film her introduction:

“What was supposed to be a joyous 1978 season at the Ridgewood Amusement Park just turned into a somber affair, as on Tuesday two bodies were discovered in the Old Mill attraction. The victims, two local teenagers, were found after closing hour by two employees. As for their cause of death, the sheriff’s department has eliminated any fault  the attraction itself, leaving one possible conclusion. That the teens were murdered.”

The mood was somber in the cafeteria, where Mr. Hayworth, the park owner, had called an employee meeting. Lincoln found Toby there. He hadn’t seen him since they’d taken him to the infirmary. He looked rested and somewhat back to his normal self.

“You okay?” Lincoln felt the need to ask.

“As okay as can be, I suppose.”

Mr. Hayworth spent far too much time talking about how this tragedy shouldn’t worry them, how the park was just as safe to work in as it had been before, and it was their job to make the public feel welcomed. A sale’s pitch disguised as concern. Still, one change was to be implemented, to prevent any more deaths of the sort.

“As soon as you notice empty seats, the attraction will be shut down until we can find the missing people, and escort them to the exit. Am I making myself clear?”

A chorus of discordant agreements echoed in the cafeteria.

“Good. Now go and enjoy your day.”

Lincoln was on hot dog duty in the morning, manning a small cart in the middle of the park. It was usually quiet because no one bothered to go to the botanical garden when there were a dozen attractions around it. Ridgewood had begun as a botanical garden, cultivating an eclectic array of strange and exotic plants still on display today. Lincoln spent most of his morning at the edge of the bench near his hot dog cart, looking at the plants around him. At the center of the garden was an old Crimsonleaf Willow. Its long, tendril-like branches loomed above the garden like a brown cloud. It must be older than Lincoln could fathom, as it had been taken from its homeland to stand in the middle of this amusement park.

After the lunch rush where Lincoln had to make hot dogs at the speed of sound, he left his cart to someone else and proceeded to the Old Mill. Dread filled his stomach with every step. It seemed the news of a double homicide hadn’t chipped at the ride’s popularity. Lincoln took a deep breath before stepping inside. The weak lights of the scenes lit his path to his usual spot. There, Darla handed him the flashlight and paddle before exiting. Lincoln’s hands were clammy, and even as he sat down, his legs continued to shake. He passed the beam of his flashlight around the room, looking for something but not certain what. When he didn’t find it, he was both relieved and worried further.

He kept a close eye on the boats, even closer than usual. He didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to leave their seats after people had been found dead two days prior. But as it didn’t seem to affect the mood of the teenagers, Lincoln grew worried that some idiot was going to drag his girlfriend off the ride. 

The longer he stayed within the Old Mill, the calmer he felt. Taking deep breaths helped to slow his heartbeat. There was nothing to be afraid of. No one was going to come from behind and slash his throat. The Old Mill was just as it had always been, filled with the noises of the tired hydraulics and the gentle grind of the underwater rails.

The quiet was interrupted by stifled giggles. Lincoln looked ahead and spotted dark figures stepping off the boat. Had they waited a few more feet, he wouldn’t have been able to see them. But he had, so Lincoln pulled out his walkie-talkie.

“This is Lincoln. I’ve just spotted two people who stepped off their boat. Over.”

Sean, who had been put in charge of the Old Mill by Mr. Hayworth himself, was quick to respond.

“Where? Over.”

“By scene 6, I think. Over.”

“Alright. I’ll put the ride on hold. I’ll contact Toby and Jessica and get them to come to you. You make sure these two get back on their boat immediately. Over.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lincoln set his walkie on his belt. Leaving the paddle behind, he made his way toward the couple. He was getting angry. He usually never got angry at the couples doing risky business in the boats, but to see two people so reckless infuriated him. He crossed the scene and stepped through the hole into the next one. There, he heard a sound that chilled every particle in his body.

It came from the next scene over. Lincoln pointed his flashlight ahead; his fingers trembled, making the light shake with him. The giggles had been replaced by moans that could almost have been sounds of pleasure. They came not with rapture, but with reluctance, as if expelled out by a strike. He heard the blows too. Rhythmic squelching noises answered the breaking of bones and the sound of a heavy object falling on a moist wall. With buckling knees, Lincoln approached.

Passing the hole into the next scene, the sounds became overwhelming. The beam of his flashlight found a foot, then a skirt, stained with crimson. Lincoln’s heart was in his throat. Breathing was difficult, but when he managed to push some air down, it smelled like copper and sweat and chlorinated water. Lincoln would have run away if he could. Instead, he stood like one of the skeletons in the scene, as his flashlight found the killer.

He was lifting his paddle high and bringing it down on some poor kid’s skull, eager to break the hard shell. At first, Lincoln only saw his back, and he couldn’t believe it. The green polo shirt shouldn’t have left any doubt in his mind, as he was wearing the same. Then, Toby seemed to notice the beam of light on him and he turned around. His eyes were black and empty, the veins around them bulging against his skin. This wasn’t Toby. Not this red-painted-faced, blank-eyed monster.

Toby dispensed one last hard hit on his victim’s head. It cracked open with a wet snap that Lincoln would never forget. Then, he stood. Lincoln had forgotten where he’d come from, or how to get out of the scene. He stepped back, but try as he might, he couldn’t feel the opening anymore, only a hard wall that he couldn’t disappear into.

“Toby…” he whimpered as he took uncertain steps away from his friend. “Please, Toby, I…”

Toby’s paddle was dripping with blood, while his clothes had soaked it in. The pool of red at his feet was growing by the second.

“Please, I won’t tell. I swear, I…”

Lincoln lost his balance. He’d come too close to the river and fell backward. He hit the water with a terrible splash. Though he thrashed, trying to swim out, the water was pulling him down. He knew it was impossible, that the river was too shallow, yet still, he sank further and further. His lungs burned, but he was so far from the surface now. A hard tendril-like branch wrapped around his leg and pulled him toward the bottom. Lincoln tried to kick it off, but another one grabbed his other ankle. This was the end, he was certain of it. Dragged to the depth of a bottomless river. Perhaps he had died already, and this was only his soul, ripped out of his body, and forced into Hell.

A hand wrapped around his arm and saved him with all the ease in the world. He hadn’t been drowning in a chlorinated ocean but struggling in three feet of water. Jessica had pulled him out. There was no water in his lungs to cough out, nor branches wrapped around his legs. He had dreamed it all.

“Jesus, Lincoln, are you okay?”

Lincoln was shaking as if he’d swam in a frozen lake.

“I saw him…” he whispered. “I saw him…”

It didn’t make any sense that Toby would be responsible. But then again, he’d seen him with his very eyes.

Toby had yet to be found. He’d gone undetected out of the attraction despite being covered with bloodstains, and hadn’t been seen since. That had been a month ago. There hadn’t been any more murders in the Old Mill since. These two correlations meant that in the sheriff’s mind, Toby had been the killer all along. Heck, he might as well have killed poor Isaac too, to frame him. Lincoln had done a good thing.

Ridgewood Park hadn’t been closed for the rest of the summer, and neither had the Old Mill. When it’d become obvious that they had exorcised the evil out of the ride, a wake had been organized for the victims. Then, it’d been back to the usual. Mr. Hayworth’s only change had been to keep Lincoln out of the Old Mill. He’d been placed at the Tow Plunge, where he’d had to strap people in and out of their seats. Toby’s words echoed in his mind constantly, and he found it ironic that it was because of him that he wasn’t paid to do nothing anymore. Now he had to work.

Lincoln was stopped by Sean one morning before he could make his way to the popcorn stand.

“How are you doing, kiddo?”

Lincoln shrugged.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“Look, I know Hayworth said to keep you out of the Old Mill, and I perfectly understand. But we’re a bit short-staffed today, and you’ve been trained for this already. So, what do you say? Just this morning. Do you feel up for it?”

Lincoln wanted to refuse, but he knew he couldn’t. 

“I guess so.”

“Perfect. You can take your usual spot.”

Sean escorted him to the Old Mill as if to prevent him from changing his mind. He handed him a flashlight and sent him into the building, shutting the door behind him. Lincoln’s throat was dry, and he swallowed as best as he could before stepping into the ride. He let the beam of his flashlight guide his steps. He came across Kim who flashed her light into his eyes, making him blink.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“You look kind of pale.”

“I’ll be fine.”

He walked swiftly out of the scene, and through the next one until he was out of sight of the former crime scene. He found his old coffin with relief and sat at the edge of it. The paddle was behind him, but he didn’t touch it. He turned off his flashlight after one last sweep and watched out for the first boat.

As he waited, ears focused on the sound of the underwater rails grinding forward, he became lost in his thoughts. Soon enough, they weren’t his thoughts. He was lost alright but his mind was blank like never before. The sickness bubbling in his stomach was climbing up in his throat, but he couldn’t move from the coffin. His eyes were fixed on the wooden skeletons dancing in front of him, back and forth, their limbs rocked by the jerking of the hydraulics. His heart was beating in his chest but it felt disconnected from his body.

A boat passed, then another. He remained perfectly still, as if he were a part of the attraction. He didn’t flash his light on them, didn’t try to break couples apart. No one noticed him. Deep within himself, he knew he was waiting for something. The water, he realized after a moment. The water was telling him to wait, and so he waited.

Hushed whispers snapped him back to reality. Two people had stepped out of the boat on the other side of the river. They hurried out of sight, behind one of the coffins, as the boat drove on without them. Lincoln stood. His flashlight had rolled out of his hand sometime in the morning. He picked up the paddle. Without hesitation, he crossed the river. It embraced him. He wasn’t drowning in its water this time but drowning within himself. If he had any thought to stop and question what he was doing, his body ignored the command. The water encouraged him, and so he pressed on. He climbed onto the scene and approached the couple.

They were hidden behind one of the standing coffins, out of which Frank the skeleton was peeking, pressed against the wall, and unaware of Lincoln’s presence. He recognized the back of Steve’s head. The girl could have been any girl, not that it mattered. Lincoln lifted his paddle and, with all his might, struck Steve on the head.