Dark Perceptions (Mystic's Carnival Collective) - Plot & Excerpts
Something beeped, chirped two times off to our left. Far to our left. Matt’s hands clenched and pulled into a victory hurrah. Within his clamped fist he held the remote key alarm. The sliver keys dangled over the top of his hand. “Come on,” he said and took off between the rows of dusty cars, making for the one chirping like a homing beacon. We slipped around the front edge of an old Ford, layers upon layers of grime wiping across the side of my skirt. Something wasn’t right. The parking lot was too quiet, too desolate, too abandoned in feel for a working carnival. And worse yet, no one followed us. It was all too easy. My glance danced from vehicle to vehicle. They were all the same. Filth-covered metal cans lining our paths. Orphans waiting to be found. How long had they been sitting here? It looked like years, not hours. Chirp went Matt’s alarm one last time and he threw himself against the door, yanked on the handle, and pulled it open. I scrambled quick as I could, not wanting to spend another minute in the hell zone. I plopped in the passenger’s seat, buckled my seatbelt, and chucked my fear over my shoulder.
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