“We made it,” Nate said, turning around to check on Pigeon.

  Pigeon sat with his eyes squinted shut and his lips compressed. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He held up a finger to acknowledge Nate’s statement. The moment the lap bar released, Pigeon hurried from the train and ran to a garbage can, bending over it and puking violently.

  Nate felt bad for his friend, but he hated the sound of somebody throwing up. On previous occasions, the smell of vomit had been enough to make him retch. After Nate climbed from the train, he covered his ears and looked away from Pigeon’s heaving back. While Summer went to offer comfort, Nate and Trevor escaped through the exit.

  The sky above and the fresh air helped Nate realize how claustrophobic he had begun to feel inside the cave. Although some of the caverns were enormous, everything had been enclosed, and the air had smelled of minerals.

  Summer and Pigeon caught up to Nate outside the ride. Pigeon’s face looked waxy, but there was no vomit around his mouth or on his shirt.

  “Too many twists and turns on the way up?” Trevor asked.

  Pigeon moaned. “I may never eat French fries again.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Night Market

  When Nate had initially boarded the roller coaster with his friends, the sun had been shining and the carnival was crowded. Now, more than an hour after closing time, the carnival was silent and still. No rides operated. No people milled about. No music played. And there were very few lights—just enough to dispel the worst of the darkness along the walkways.

  The carnival had begun to feel familiar after multiple visits, but now that it was dark and empty, it became newly foreign. Rides that appeared entertaining in the daytime or when bedazzled with lights were now vague, sinister shapes towering in the gloom.

  Nate considered the shadowy surroundings. Should he and his friends be moving more stealthily? Were there night watchmen? He didn’t want the embarrassment of being escorted from the park for getting caught trespassing after hours. But the other passengers from the roller coaster train were walking casually, which helped allay his worries.

  When Nate, Trevor, Summer, and Pigeon reached the main boardwalk, they turned toward the exit. But the rest of the passengers went toward the dim, motionless carousel, deeper into the park. Laced with shadow, the elk and dolphins of the carousel looked more like goblins and sea monsters. Beyond the carousel, a deep purplish glow hung over the area.

  Nate stopped one of the men from the roller coaster. “Where are you going?”

  “Night market. It’s open from midnight until 3 a.m.” The man walked on.

  Nate looked at the others. “Should we go?”

  “I’m exhausted,” Pigeon said. “I feel like I’m going to collapse.”

  “I’m dead whether I get home at 12:30 or 2:30,” Trevor said. “I’m too wired to sleep anyway.”

  “I can make sure Pigeon gets home if you guys want to check it out,” Summer offered.

  “Maybe we should,” Nate said.

  “Don’t forget we come back here on a field trip in the morning,” Pigeon said. “Assuming my parents let me live . . .”

  “Go home,” Trevor said. “Get some rest.”

  Summer continued toward the exit with Pigeon. The other passengers from the roller coaster train were nearly out of view. Nate and Trevor hurried to catch up.

  The plaza behind the carousel had been overtaken by a bazaar. Vendors displayed their goods on carpets spread on the ground and inside canopied booths. The deep purple glow emanated from strategically positioned globes affixed to poles or on the ground. Their size varied, and Nate could see no wires powering them. He noticed that his shoelaces shone brightly under the light, as did Trevor’s teeth.

  Nate and Trevor wandered down an aisle. The atmosphere was more secretive than festive. There was no music, and conversation was murmured or whispered. None of the vendors solicited customers—instead they hung back, waiting to be approached. Some booths offered food. Others held intricate artwork. One sold marionettes. Another featured a variety of fish in bowls and small aquariums.

  Nate noticed Edward trading a ticket for a small reddish banana at a fruit stand. He was wearing his sword.

  “Edward,” Nate greeted, approaching him.

  Edward turned and smiled with recognition, teeth gleaming eerily. “I see you found the night market.”

  “We’re coming back from the undercarnival,” Nate said.

  “Who is your friend?” Edward asked.

  “I’m Trevor.”

  “I didn’t know about this market until tonight,” Nate said.

  “It occurs spontaneously,” Edward replied.

  “No set schedule?” Trevor asked.

  Edward tapped the side of his nose. “You just listen for rumblings that one is coming up.”

  “I have a question,” Nate said, drawing closer. “Do you know where we can find a skeleton key?”

  “I’ve heard of them,” Edward said. “But they are not in my area of expertise. If you want a friendly warning, people who go after that key tend to disappear. Then again, if you find it, the skeleton key could open a lot of opportunities. This market is a great place to hunt for clues.” He indicated the surrounding stalls. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m searching for answers of my own.”

  “What are you looking for?” Nate asked.

  Edward shrugged. “Whatever you come to the carnival seeking tends to show up. I wanted treasure, and after some searching, I’ve uncovered multiple treasure hunts. A friend of mine wanted to be famous. She’s now on that path. Now I’m trying to solve the big picture. How does this place work? How is it possible?”

  “We’re wondering some of the same things,” Nate said.

  “I wish you luck,” Edward said. He walked away, peeling the fruit he had purchased.

  Nate and Trevor went down another aisle of the bazaar. They walked around a huge grill where fat sausages roasted over red coals. On the far side, they found an elaborately carved box bigger than a refrigerator that shone a striking white under the purple glow.

  “Would you like to use my time closet?” an Asian woman asked.

  “How does it work?” Nate wondered.

  “One Carnie Coin gives you one hour inside the closet,” she replied. “But that hour is a single minute out here.”

  “Time slows down inside the closet,” Trevor said.

  “Yes, relative to how time flows out here,” the woman said.

  “What’s in the box?” Nate asked.

  “Only what you bring,” the woman said. “You can think, read, watch a movie on your phone, do homework. Imagine getting three hours of studying done in only three minutes!”

  “I need to come back here when I have a big school project to work on,” Nate said.

  “Do that,” the woman said with a wink. “If you can find me.”

  Nate and Trevor passed booths and tents selling various wares. Ratan baskets nestled in towers. Journals bound in animal skins and rare secondhand books burdened sagging shelves. Hanging macramé plant holders shared space with small bunches of herbs tied with string, all dangling from rafters. One booth displayed a village of brightly painted wooden birdhouses shaped like cottages, castles, and log cabins. A withered, vulturous head protruded from one of them, withdrawing when fire flashed in a cauldron across the aisle. The boys brushed past racks of tie-dyed blouses, leather armor, flowing pants, metal helmets, and embroidered skirts.

  As they browsed the fourth aisle, Nate looked ahead with excitement. “Argali!”

  The cabinet containing the fortune-telling ram awaited at the end of the aisle. Trevor ran alongside Nate to the animatronic psychic.

  “This worked so well for me and Pigeon,” Nate said to Trevor when they reached the machine. “Though he might not answer any more questions for me. We’ll have to test to find out. You try one. Be really specific.”

  Trevor put in a Carnie Coin. “Where can we find a skeleton key to this carnival?”

  The animatronic ram came to life, blinking and waving his hoofs over the swirling crystal ball. The jaw began to piston up and down. “A skeleton key is the main prize at Dune Hunt.”

  A card dropped into the opening in the cabinet. Trevor pulled it out. “Same words.”

  “Let me try,” Nate said, inserting a Carnie Coin. “Where can we find Dune Hunt?”

  The ram went into motion again. “Present a Desert Token to the Terror Castle ride operator. That is enough from you for now.”

  A card dropped into the opening.

  Nate looked to Trevor. “I knew there was a secret way at the Terror Castle. But I never had a Desert Token. This thing is like a cheat code. Keep going.”

  Trevor put in another coin. “Where can we find a Desert Token?”

  The psychic rocked and waved his hoofs. “Play Loot Scoop. No more questions from you tonight.”

  A card ejected into the opening. Trevor collected it.

  “What now?” Trevor asked. “What’s Loot Scoop?”

  “I don’t know,” Nate said. “And we’re out of questions.” He walked over to the nearest person, a balding guy wearing a dark shirt and jeans. “Would you ask the psychic a question for us? We’ll give you the coin to use plus ten tickets.”

  “What question?” the guy replied.

  “Where can we find Loot Scoop?”

  The guy chuckled. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” Nate said. “We need to know.”

  “Look, I would feel bad taking your tickets,” the guy said. “It’s right over there.” He pointed toward a corner of the bazaar. “You’ll see it by a couple of other games, just beyond the soup stand.”

  “Thanks,” Nate said.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  They found Loot Scoop positioned between a game where a player could use a mechanical claw to grab stuffed animals and a game where a player could launch a Carnie Coin at little targets to win more coins.

  “Pssst, hey, kid.”

  Nate turned around to find the purple-faced clown from the parade leering down at him. He was startlingly tall, and his shoes were enormous. His teeth, certain highlights of his makeup, and the pinstripes of his suit gleamed bright under the black lights.

  Trevor gasped and backed up against the claw game, eyes wide.

  The clown held a cartoonish bomb in one gloved hand—perfectly round and black with a white fuse poking out the top.

  “Light this for me, will you?” the clown asked Nate in a sly voice.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “If you’re going to play these cruddy games, you must be as bored as I am,” the clown said.

  “You want to set off a bomb out of boredom?” Nate asked.

  “Trust me, it’s a quick antidote,” the clown said. “Kaboom! Fire! Screaming! Sirens!”

  “Why don’t you light it yourself?” Nate asked.

  The clown held up a hand to hide his lips as he spoke. “You should see the contract they made me sign to work here. Legalese. Yawnsville. Can’t do this, must do that, electricity has to be under this many volts, no acid on the elderly, rules upon rules until you go cross-eyed. One of the stipulations? Can’t light my own explosives.”

  “So you ask kids to light them for you?” Nate asked.

  “Kids are usually tiresome,” the clown said. “But any port in a storm.”

  “What do you want to blow up?” Nate asked.

  The clown stomped a foot and pointed at Nate. “What is this, Twenty Questions? See what I mean? Tiresome!” He turned to Trevor. “How about the mute? Got a light?”

  Eyes still wide, Trevor shook his head.

  “We don’t know you,” Nate said.

  “I prefer it that way,” the clown said. “Don’t you agree? Less complications. You got a name?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Keep it,” the clown said. “What I need is a light.”

  “I don’t have a lighter,” Nate said. “And I wouldn’t help you if I did. You’re not a nice clown.”

  “Since when are clowns nice? Funny, maybe. Accident-prone, sure. I’ve met clowns who like getting injured to amuse a crowd. Others prefer to do the injuring. I’m the latter. My pain is no joke—yours is hilarious!”

  “Look, we don’t have a light, and we have stuff to do,” Nate said.

  “Right, you have your cruddy games to play,” the clown said. “You’re spending worthless coins hoping to win useless trinkets. That friend of yours is scared of me. He gets it. There may be contractual limits as to how I can amuse myself—especially regarding ticket holders—but when troublemakers try to harm this carnival . . . Well, at that point, I have a very long leash.”

  “We’re not the ones with a bomb,” Nate said.

  “What bomb?” the clown asked, holding up his empty hands. “You shouldn’t talk about explosives, even in jest. Security comes down hard on those kind of jokes. I think your friend may have wet himself.”

  Nate glanced at Trevor. He did have a damp patch on his pants. “How about you leave us alone?”

  “Not until I tell a joke,” the clown said. “So you can find out what kind of clown I am.”

  “I think I know,” Nate said.

  “Then it will be no surprise,” the clown said. “Knock, knock.”

  “Go away.”

  “Come on, be a sport, let bygones be bygones. Knock, knock.”

  “Nobody’s home.”

  “Fine, I’ll tell you my name. I’m Growler. Happy now? I’m no longer a stranger. Knock, knock.”

  “Get out of here, Growler.”

  Growler clenched his fists, face scrunching with barely contained rage. “Breathe, Growler. Just breathe like they taught you. In . . . out.” He took several huge breaths, then smoothed his suit. “How about this? Play along with my joke, and I promise to leave you alone.”

  “Fine,” Nate said.

  “Knock, knock.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “A dead guy.”

  “A dead guy who?”

  “A dead guy who went looking for a skeleton key.”

  The clown spun on his heel and strutted away, taking huge strides with his long legs, whistling as he tossed the cartoonish bomb from one hand to the other.

  Nate watched Growler go. The clown did not look back.

  Nate turned his attention to Trevor. “Are you okay?”

  “I was right,” Trevor whispered. “Clowns are evil menaces to society.”

  Nate folded his arms. “That was a pretty nasty clown.”

  “I need to sit down,” Trevor said. “I feel stupid. My pants are soaked.”

  “You sit,” Nate said. “I need a Desert Token. Then we can go.”

  Trevor sat with his back to the claw game. “But we’ve been warned by a clown.”

  “You can sit on the sidelines for this one,” Nate said. “But we need that key.”

  In Loot Scoop, the player controlled a mechanical arm holding a slightly curved trowel. The game was full of little heaps of gold and silver plastic coins, interspersed with plastic bead necklaces and fake jewels. But scattered among the chintzy treasure were a handful of Carnie Coins as well as some other coins that looked to be made of actual metal. Upon closer inspection, Nate saw that a few of the quality golden coins had camels on them.

  Play Until You Win promised a sign on the game.

  Inside the game, partitioned off from the heaps of treasure, was a chute where players could dump the prizes they scooped up. Nate realized that the challenge would be to dump the valuable items into the chute rather than plastic coins.

  Nate had twelve Carnie Coins in his pocket, some of them leftover from other days. Hopefully he could win with one or two tries.

  He dropped a Carnie Coin into the slot.

  Experimenting with the controls, Nate found he could move the trowel around with reasonable accuracy. Pressing the big button caused it to scoop. The problem was the trowel had a shallow surface, so it could not hold much. A lot of what it scooped up fell off as he tried to move the trowel over the chute.

  But Loot Scoop rewarded patience. There was no limit to how many times he could try until something came through the chute into the bin at the base of the game.

  On about his twentieth scoop, Nate got one of the camel coins to stay on the trowel along with several plastic coins. As he carefully maneuvered the trowel over to the chute, some coins slipped off. The camel coin dropped back among the treasure at the same time a couple of plastic coins fell into the chute. Nate’s turn ended, having gained two plastic coins, one gold and one silver.

  He wanted to kick the machine but instead inserted another Carnie Coin.

  The longer Nate played, the more he realized that the hardest part was getting the camel coin to the chute before he accidentally dumped in worthless rewards. On his fourth turn, he finally moved the trowel around until only a camel coin remained on its surface.

  On the way to the chute, the camel coin slipped off.

  But at least no junk went down the chute, which allowed his turn to continue.

  Nate repeated the strategy again and again, scooping and shaking off worthless treasure until only a camel coin remained. Most of the time the camel coin fell during the process. But he kept those efforts away from the chute, so his turn continued.

  “Can we please go?” Trevor asked.

  Nate had never seen his friend so distraught.

  “I’ve almost got it,” Nate said.

  He tried and failed again. And again. And again. This turn had lasted at least half an hour. His eyes were feeling itchy. Could he try again tomorrow? What if the game only appeared as part of the night market? What if this was his only chance?

  At last, with a single camel coin on the trowel, Nate positioned it over the chute and dumped it. The coin rattled down into the bin.