Chapter 1

Dust rose from the dry earth as a line of cars filed past the ticket window. Five dollar parking, five dollar admission, ride-all-night, cheap toys and overpriced fries; it was a typical fair in a typical no-name town in rural Pennsylvania. Surrounded by hills and trees, shrouded by hazy dust clouds billowing in the wind.

A woman screamed. Sweat was beading on her forehead as she clutched onto the dilapidated couch, gasping, almost gagging on the putrid air that filled the motor home. Another wave of pain hit her and she screamed again, her eyes squeezing shut as the tears fell. She had never imagined that it would hurt like this.

-0-

Lonnie laughed out loud lifting her face and hands into the wind. Her hair was swept up as the Ferris wheel came turning down. Beside her, Kit sat, watching the other girl’s obvious pleasure. Watching her smile, watching her wave and blow kisses as they neared the grounded and passed him. Bill. That was him. Tomorrow Lonnie was flying to Detroit to marry Bill. Everyone moved on; everyone except Kit. Nothing happened to Kit. Nothing good anyway.

The ride stopped. Lonnie ran for Bill and he grabbed her into his arms. “I missed you!”

“But I was only gone two minutes” She protested.

He buried his face in her neck. “Two minutes too long.”

Kit watched and pasted a smile on her face. For tonight she would be happy. Tonight she was free.

Someone coughed. It was Randall. He had a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “Come on Bill, give her some time to breath dude. Are we gonna get food now or what?”

Lonnie hit at Randall and he jumped out of the way. “Don’t disturb us!” She yelled.

He struck a pose. “Well I’m sorry miss, the only reason I came here was to watch you two suckface, so get on with the show!” He gestured to emphasize his sarcastic invitation. Bill was laughing as Randall walked away muttering. “I didn’t see a Do Not Disturb sign! Did you see a Do Not Disturb sign? This is a fair. You’re supposed to eat… and play games…not… eh.”

They were all laughing by the time they got their hotdogs and fries and found an empty picnic table. And they were all exhausted by the time they had ridden every ride and sampled every funhouse on the fairgrounds. It was time to go and the four of them walked down the midway. Lonnie and Bill hand in hand, whispering in each others ears, hardly noticing what they were passing ‘til Lonnie stopped and screamed. “Fortune teller!”

Randall stopped and looked at the small, heavily draped tent.

“Let’s go!” Lonnie was tugging Bill’s hand. “A fortune teller can tell us about our wedding and our babies!”

Randall watched as they disappeared inside. He could see two chairs, a rickety table and what looked like an upside down fishbowl glowing in the dark. Then the curtain fell shut and he was left to the lights and sounds of the midway, and that Kit girl. She hadn’t said much all night. He stopped to wonder if she had said anything at all! Maybe he just hadn’t been listening. “Do you believe in that stuff?” He asked.

“Huh?” Her head jerked up and she looked at him.

She did speak! “Do you believe in all that magic fortune telling crap?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “I guess you don’t?”

He shook his head. “Bunch of cad’s picking your pockets while they pretend to read your palms.”

If he expected her to respond she didn’t. She was already back in her own world, staring at a coke can trampled almost entirely into the ground, her own thoughts churning. It was almost ten. Lonnie didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave but she had promised to drop her off in time. Kit was hoping she hadn’t forgotten.

“Pretty girl!” A voice called. “Would you like a tarot card reading? You and your handsome friend? I’ll do it for free.”

Kit looked around and saw the woman the voice belonged to was calling to her. She shook her head. But the Gypsy called again. “Pretty girl.”

Randall was watching the skinny woman in her flowing scarlet robes and bedazzling crystal jewelry, too. He nudged Kit forward. She jumped at his touch. He thought for a moment she would run, but she just shrank away from him.

“I don’t have money.” She told the Gypsy, but the woman beckoned to her again.

“Inside my tent.” She spoke. “Free reading.”

She lifted the curtain of her tent, and ushered them inside. It was all there, almost identical to the one Lonnie and Bill had entered; the rickety table, the folding chairs, the glowing fishbowl, and a wicker basket.

Kit sat nervously as the Gypsy produced a pack of tarot cards from somewhere in the volumes of her robe. She spread them on the table, arranging and rearranging. She sighed and then she coughed. A horrible, ragged, worn out cough and when she wiped her hand away from her mouth it was stained with blood. She lifted a card and she placed it in from of Randall. “You are afraid.” She said to him, mouthing the words again. “You are afraid.”

He shook his head, but she continued. “You are scared of what I can tell you. Afraid of what I can see in the cards.”

Then she turned to Kit. She stared, minutes ticked by, still she stared. Finally her rasping voice broke the silence. “Who are you?” Kit jumped. “Who are you?” The Gypsy asked again.

“Kit.” She whispered.

“No!” The Gypsy said darkly. “No! You are someone else. Someone else trapped in Kit’s body. You…” Her voice lowered as it trailed off. For a moment she seemed as if she had altogether left the room. Her eyes were empty, her fingers white, clutching the table. Randall shifted and her eyes flitted to him. “You will set her free.” She stated. “That is all. Go! Now! Be gone!” She waved a heavily ringed hand.

The two sat stunned then hurried to go, but she stopped them with a cry. “But wait! One last gift I will give you. What are your names?” She demanded. “Your names!”

“Randall.” He blurted out. “Myer.”

Her eyes moved to Kit. The girl was trembling. “Kit Risser.” She whispered so faintly that Randall couldn’t hear it, but the Gypsy must have for she pulled a piece of paper out of her basket and sat writing for a full minute. When she had finished she handed the paper to Randall; the basket to Kit and turning swiftly left the tent.

Randall was straining his eyes to read the paper. The Gypsy had written in fine flourished handwriting and all he could make out in the dim light were their own names. Then he heard Kit “Oh, My, God.” First he saw her pale face, and then his glance fell to the basket and he saw what she had seen. Wrapped in a dirty blanket, small and red. A baby.