Read Online The Carnival of Lost Souls : A Handcuff Kid Novel by Laura Quimby - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Quimby
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couldn’t scream. The front door opened, and he felt the vast emptiness of the night as he was carried outside. Since he couldn’t see, he listened: muffled voices, hushed whispers, rustled leaves. Another door opened, and he was heaved inside a small dark box like he was a load of laundry thrown into the dryer. The door shut, and suddenly, he felt alone with his own desperate gasps.
Jack instantly went into recovery mode. Over the years, he had honed the craft of getting out of whatever dire situation he got himself into; this, he told himself, was no different. Where was he? The trunk of a car or the back of a van, except he didn’t hear a motor running or smell any gas fumes, but whatever he
was
in jerked to a slow crawl. The rope burned into his wrists, but the knot was pathetic, telling Jack one thing: Whoever tied it had never been a Boy Scout. Then again, he thought as he gnawed at the rope like a desperate animal, neither had he.
Once his hands were untied, he yanked the stinky blanket, which smelled suspiciously like a horse, off his head. Jack felt around the small box-like compartment. It was just big enough to crawl in, so he inched his way to the back, or what he thought was the back. He felt afabric curtain, and slid it open, revealing the dark night sky as cool air rushed over his hot face.
A thick fog clung to the trees alongside the vehicle, and he couldn’t tell from his surroundings where he was, except for maybe the woods near the professor’s house. Jack considered his options. If he waited to act, there was no telling where Mussini might take him. Jack felt like he was spinning wildly, trapped inside one of the rusty carnival rides. His sweaty hands grasped the edge of the cart. He had to make a run for it. They were gaining speed. He had to hope he didn’t twist his ankle or get impaled by a tree limb as he leaped into the darkness. He swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced at the ground drifting by under his feet.
Jump now
! Jack flung himself over the side and hit the ground with a crunchy thud as he landed in a pile of leaves. He scrambled to his feet, clawing through the brush, trying to regain his balance while sprinting into the darkness.
A deep voice bellowed, half laughing, from behind him, “There goes a slippery eel! Grab him, Jabber!”
Branches slapped Jack’s face and pulled at his sleeves. Quick footsteps raced up behind him. A knife sliced through the darkness, cutting into the bark of a tree only inches from his head, and he hesitated—
big mistake
. Instantly, Jack was tackled, thrown to the ground, and then yanked by his collar to his feet. He thrashed wildlywhen an arm wrapped around his neck into a headlock, choking off his breath.
“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” the one called Jabber hissed into Jack’s ear. His hands were ice cold against Jack’s flushed skin, and he had a weird musky smell like damp earth. Jack jerked out of his grasp, annoyed he had been caught so quickly.
“Is that Mussini?” Jack asked, motioning to the large man. “The coward who makes you do his dirty work?”
Jabber wrenched the blade free from the tree bark. “I warn you—call him a coward to his face, and it will be the last word you utter. He’s obsessively fond of throwing knives, especially at deserters.” Jabber shoved Jack back the way they came.
“We’re almost to the wall. Gag him if he can’t keep his trap shut,” Mussini yelled.
Jack reluctantly climbed back up into what he now realized was a small black carriage drawn by a horse. Who traveled by horse and carriage? Had he been kidnapped by the Amish? The sharp smell of kerosene burned his nostrils. A match scraped across flint, then burst into flame. The man on top of the carriage lit a lantern that hung above his head and swayed with the carriage when Jack stepped aboard. He craned his neck to get a look at Mussini, but all he saw was the halo of light the lantern cast above the man’s head,
Jack instantly went into recovery mode. Over the years, he had honed the craft of getting out of whatever dire situation he got himself into; this, he told himself, was no different. Where was he? The trunk of a car or the back of a van, except he didn’t hear a motor running or smell any gas fumes, but whatever he
was
in jerked to a slow crawl. The rope burned into his wrists, but the knot was pathetic, telling Jack one thing: Whoever tied it had never been a Boy Scout. Then again, he thought as he gnawed at the rope like a desperate animal, neither had he.
Once his hands were untied, he yanked the stinky blanket, which smelled suspiciously like a horse, off his head. Jack felt around the small box-like compartment. It was just big enough to crawl in, so he inched his way to the back, or what he thought was the back. He felt afabric curtain, and slid it open, revealing the dark night sky as cool air rushed over his hot face.
A thick fog clung to the trees alongside the vehicle, and he couldn’t tell from his surroundings where he was, except for maybe the woods near the professor’s house. Jack considered his options. If he waited to act, there was no telling where Mussini might take him. Jack felt like he was spinning wildly, trapped inside one of the rusty carnival rides. His sweaty hands grasped the edge of the cart. He had to make a run for it. They were gaining speed. He had to hope he didn’t twist his ankle or get impaled by a tree limb as he leaped into the darkness. He swallowed the lump in his throat and glanced at the ground drifting by under his feet.
Jump now
! Jack flung himself over the side and hit the ground with a crunchy thud as he landed in a pile of leaves. He scrambled to his feet, clawing through the brush, trying to regain his balance while sprinting into the darkness.
A deep voice bellowed, half laughing, from behind him, “There goes a slippery eel! Grab him, Jabber!”
Branches slapped Jack’s face and pulled at his sleeves. Quick footsteps raced up behind him. A knife sliced through the darkness, cutting into the bark of a tree only inches from his head, and he hesitated—
big mistake
. Instantly, Jack was tackled, thrown to the ground, and then yanked by his collar to his feet. He thrashed wildlywhen an arm wrapped around his neck into a headlock, choking off his breath.
“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” the one called Jabber hissed into Jack’s ear. His hands were ice cold against Jack’s flushed skin, and he had a weird musky smell like damp earth. Jack jerked out of his grasp, annoyed he had been caught so quickly.
“Is that Mussini?” Jack asked, motioning to the large man. “The coward who makes you do his dirty work?”
Jabber wrenched the blade free from the tree bark. “I warn you—call him a coward to his face, and it will be the last word you utter. He’s obsessively fond of throwing knives, especially at deserters.” Jabber shoved Jack back the way they came.
“We’re almost to the wall. Gag him if he can’t keep his trap shut,” Mussini yelled.
Jack reluctantly climbed back up into what he now realized was a small black carriage drawn by a horse. Who traveled by horse and carriage? Had he been kidnapped by the Amish? The sharp smell of kerosene burned his nostrils. A match scraped across flint, then burst into flame. The man on top of the carriage lit a lantern that hung above his head and swayed with the carriage when Jack stepped aboard. He craned his neck to get a look at Mussini, but all he saw was the halo of light the lantern cast above the man’s head,
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