It rained the day of the alumni carnival, and I stood at our living room window, staring into the glare of the gray and glumly watching the big raindrops splash over our front yard.
I felt Mom’s hands on my shoulders. “You can’t control the weather, Julie,” she said softly. “You’ve controlled everything else wonderfully. You’ve done a great job for this party.”
“There’s been so much bad news,” I said. “I just want something to be nice. And normal.”
“I’m sure it will be,” Mom said. “I’m so impressed with your organizing skills. You never could organize your clothes closet, and now you organized this whole event.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the compliment, Mom.”
Amber and Delia showed up at the gym to check over the last details. A couple of the posters had come down and we tacked them back up. A few balloons had to be reinflated.
Frankie Gerard came to test the sound system. The three of us clapped our hands to our ears as “Ice Ice Baby” blasted from the speakers. Frankie shouted something to us, but we couldn’t hear him. Finally, he stopped the music.
“Frankie, we couldn’t hear you,” I called.
“I was asking if that was loud enough,” he shouted.
“I think maybe some people would like to have a conversation,” Amber said.
Frankie squinted at us. “You mean turn it down?”
“Where are the party bags?” Delia asked. “Did anyone fill them up?”
The party bags were a going-away gift, a collection of nineties candies in each bag. “They should be in the hall,” I said. “I’ll go with you.”
The red-and-yellow bags were lined up against one wall. I peeked inside one. It had Skittles, Hubba Bubba Bubble Tape, Sour Patch Kids, Haribo Goldbears, Airheads, Nerds, and Wonka Runts. Excellent.
Delia held up a pack of Sour Patch Kids. “Are these really sour?”
I shrugged. “Probably.”
A hundred candy bags all lined up looked impressive. Some of the candy had been hard to find. But we wanted to bring back memories for the alums. And we expected one hundred guests at the carnival.
Sure enough, people started to arrive a little after seven. I could feel my muscles tighten as the first couple walked in. I told myself to lighten up. Everything was organized. The party had to be a total success.
You don’t have to do everything, Julie, I told myself for the hundredth time. Everyone has a job. Everyone is in place.
I gazed around the gym. Frankie had his music going, toned down so it didn’t seem to be coming from inside your brain. Liam and Delia were at the food table. Amber was at the bar.
We had all worked so hard. I thought about it as I watched more alums walk into the gym. Sure, we wanted to give a great party. But that wasn’t the reason we threw ourselves into it with such eagerness and enthusiasm.
I think it was a serious distraction from the horrible murders, from all the nightmares we had been living through.
I watched the Linden grads entering the gym and gazing around at the posters and other nineties decorations. They were all in their thirties. Most of them looked their age, or even older. Some of the men had bald spots on the tops of their heads and stomachs poking over their belts.
The women were mostly in better shape, although some looked tired, maybe from being parents.
A few couples began to dance immediately in the center of the floor. I saw a lot of handshakes and people introducing each other. Some couples mingled a little awkwardly. I guessed they hadn’t seen each other in a while.
Name tags. The word popped into my head.
There were supposed to be name tags for everyone. I glanced to the name tag table in front of the entrance. No one there. “Morgan.” I said her name out loud. Morgan was in charge of name tags.
I trotted over to the food table. “Delia, have you seen Morgan? She isn’t at her table.”
Before Delia could answer, the double doors swung open and Morgan strutted into the gym. Her coppery hair was down over her shoulders. Perfect. Her green eyes caught the light from the ceiling and sparkled. Her skin looked creamy and pale in the bright light.
A thin smile spread over her face as she moved toward the center of the room. She made such an entrance—she was so stunningly beautiful—people stopped their conversations and turned to look at her.
“Hello, everyone! Hello!” she screamed.
More guests turned to watch her. For some reason, Frankie cut off the music. Voices murmured softly. Then a hush fell over the gym.
“Hello, everyone!” Morgan cried, raising both arms to make sure she had everyone’s attention.
What on earth is she doing? I asked myself. I clenched my fists at my sides. My whole body tensed.
What is this about?
“I brought some guests of my own!” Morgan shouted, her voice ringing off the gym walls. “Don’t worry. They don’t need name tags. They’re all DEAD!”
She tossed back her head, her hair flowing down her back, and laughed, a crazy maniacal laugh.
And then the doors pushed open once again—and her friends began to stagger and stumble in.
Screams rang out as we saw their tattered clothes, their decayed bodies, gray faces with patches of skin missing, empty eye sockets. Bony hands, missing legs. Skeletal creatures, stumbling, falling to their bony knees, as if they hadn’t walked in a long time.
One after another, a dozen, then a dozen more. And as the grunting, moaning creatures circled the gym, a horrible stench rose up. Sour and disgusting, the smell floated thickly over the room. The smell of rotting flesh, the smell of death.
Gripped in horror, I couldn’t move. I stood trembling, my legs like rubber bands, my arms stretched in front of me like a shield. Screams all around me. The odor made my stomach churn. I tried to hold my breath, but the smell was already inside my nostrils.
I opened my mouth, but the scream choked in my throat.
And as the dead guests stumbled and staggered with their empty eye sockets, their grinning skeletal teeth, their missing arms and legs . . . As they circled us, trapping us in their odor, their hideousness, the horror of this scene of living dead . . . Morgan raised her arms in triumph and shouted over the screams:
“Let’s party, everyone! Let’s party till we drop! Ha-ha. It’s a carnival. And the freak show has just begun. Who wants to dance with us? Who wants to dance with the DEAD?”
