The Funhouse

the fairgrounds.
        In the taxi he thought back over what he had done from the moment he had found the corpse on the gondola tracks, and as far as he could see, he hadn't made any serious mistakes. The coverup probably would work. Gunther would remain free-at least a while longer.
        Conrad couldn't let them take Gunther from him. Gunther was his son, his very special child, his own blood. But more than that, Gunther was a gift from Hell, he was Conrad's instrument of revenge. When Conrad finally found Ellen's children, he would kidnap them, take them to an isolated place where their screams couldn't be heard, and turn them over to Gunther. He would encourage Gunther to play with them in cat-and-mouse fashion. He would urge Gunther to torture them for several days, use them sexually again and again, no matter if they were girls or boys, and then, only then, tear them apart.
        Sitting in the darkness in the back of the taxi, Conrad smiled. He seldom smiled these days. He hadn't laughed in a long, long time. He wasn't amused by those things that amused other people, only death, destruction, cruelty, and damnation-the dark handiwork of the god of evil, whom he worshipped-could bring a smile to his lips. Ever since he was twelve years old, he had been unable to obtain joy or satisfaction from innocent, wholesome pleasures.
        Not since that night.
        Christmas Eve.
        Forty years ago…
        The Straker family always decorated their house from top to bottom for the Christmas season. They had a tree as tall as the ceiling would allow. Every room was festooned with evergreen wreaths, nut wreaths, candles, Nativity scenes, tinsel, Christmas cards received from friends and relatives, and much more.
        The year that Conrad turned twelve, his mother added a new piece to the family's enormous collection of holiday decorations. It was an all-glass oil lantern, the flame was reflected and refracted within the angled walls of the lamp, so that there were a hundred images of fire instead of just one, and the eye was amazed and dazzled.
        Young Conrad was fascinated by the lantern but wasn't permitted to touch it because he might burn himself. He knew he could handle the lantern safely, but he couldn't convince his mother of that. So when everyone else was asleep, he crept downstairs, struck a match, lit the lantern-and accidentally knocked it over. Burning oil spilled across the living room floor. At first he was sure he could put the fire out by beating it with a sofa cushion, but just a minute later, when he realized his folly, it was too late.
        He was the only one to escape unscathed. His mother died in the blaze. His three sisters died. His two brothers died. Papa didn't die, but he was scarred for life-his chest, his left arm, his neck, the left side of his face.
        The loss of his family left Papa with mental and emotional scars every bit as horrendous as his physical injuries. He wasn't able to accept the idea that God, in whom Papa devoutly believed, would let such a tragic accident happen on Christmas Eve, of all nights. He refused to believe it had been accidental. He made up his mind that Conrad was evil and had set the fire on purpose.
        From that day until Conrad finally ran away several years later, his life was hell. Papa constantly badgered and accused him. He was not allowed to forget what he had done. Papa reminded him of it a hundred times a day. Conrad breathed guilt and wallowed in self-hatred.
        He had never been able to run away from his shame. It came back to him every night, in his dreams, even now that he was fifty-two years old. His nightmares were full of fire and screams and the scarred, twisted face-of his father.
        When Ellen became pregnant, Conrad had been certain that, at last, God was giving him a chance to redeem himself. By raising a family, by giving his own children a wonderful life filled with love and happiness, perhaps he would be able to atone for the death of his mother, his sisters, and his brothers. Month by month, as Ellen became heavier with child, Conrad became increasingly sure that the baby was the beginning of his salvation.
        Then Victor was born. Initially, for just a few hours, Conrad thought that God was heaping more punishment on him. Rather than give him a chance to atone for his sins, God seemed to be rubbing his face in them, telling him in no uncertain terms that he would never