The Funhouse

that the barker wouldn't think she was making a move against him, and when she stooped down toward Joey, she abruptly changed directions, turned, launched herself at the carny, and drove the rusty knife through his throat.
        His hateful eyes popped open.
        He fired the pistol reflexively.
        Amy was aware of the bullet's slipstream kissing her cheek, but she wasn't afraid. She felt as if she were protected.
        The barker gagged and dropped the gun and put his hands to his throat. He went down hard, and he stayed down, dead.
        
        * * *
        
        Liz scuttled backwards on her hands and feet, like a beautiful spider, along the earthen floor of the funhouse basement, until she backed up against the softly vibrating metal casing of a large piece of machinery. She crouched there, her heartbeat so forceful and rapid that it seemed capable of smashing her apart from within.
        The freak watched her. After pulling her down through the trapdoor, he had cast her aside. He hadn't lost interest in her. He just wanted to see what she would do. He was teasing her, offering her an illusive chance of escape, playing the cat to her mouse.
        Now that she had put fifteen feet between herself and the freak, Liz stood up. Her legs were weak. She had to hold onto the humming machine in order not to collapse.
        The creature stood half in shadow, half in yellow light, its green eyes glowing. It was so tall that it had to crouch a bit to keep from hitting its head on the low ceiling.
        Liz looked around for a way out. There wasn't one. The lower level of the funhouse was a maze of machinery, if she tried to run, she wouldn't get far before the freak would be all over her.
        The thing took a step toward her.
        “No,” Liz said.
        It took another step.
        “No. Stop.”
        It shuffled closer, until they were only six feet apart, and then it stopped and cocked its head and stared down at her with what appeared to be curiosity.
        “Please,” she said. “Please let me go. Please.”
        She had never expected to hear herself begging anyone for anything. She prided herself on her strength and toughness. But she was begging for her life now, and she found it easy to grovel when so much was at stake.
        The freak began to sniff at her as a hound might sniff at a new bitch. His wide nostrils flared and quivered as he snorted with increasing excitement.
        “Smell good,” the freak said.
        Liz was startled to discover that he could speak.
        “Smell woman,” he said.
        A spark of hope flickered in Liz.
        “Pretty,” the freak said. “Want pretty.”
        My God, Liz thought, almost giddy now. Is this what it comes down to? Sex? Is that the way out for me? Why not? Hell, yes! That's what it's always come down to before. That's always been my way out.
        The freak shuffled closer, raised one of its huge, rodent claws. It gently stroked her face.
        She tried to conceal her revulsion. “You… you like me, don't you?” she asked.
        “Pretty,” he said, grinning, showing his crooked, sharp, yellow teeth.
        “You want me?”
        “Real bad,” he said.
        “Maybe I could be nice to you,” she said quaveringly, trying hard to slip back into the role of the sexpot, the teaser, the fun girl, the party image she had sanded and buffed and polished until it was smooth, comfortable, and splinter-free.
        The thing's wickedly taloned hand slid down from her face to her breasts.
        “Just don't hurt me, and maybe we can work something out,” she said shakily.
        The thing licked its black lips, its tongue was pale and speckled, utterly alien. It hooked one claw in her T-shirt and shredded the thin fabric. One razorlike nail made a long, shallow cut across her right breast.
        “Wait,” she said, wincing. “Now wait a second.” Panic rose in her again.
        The freak pushed her against the purring machine.
        Liz squirmed, tried to shove the creature away. It seemed to be made of iron.
        She was powerless against it.
        The thing appeared to be far more excited by the thread of blood that decorated her bare breast than it was by her nakedness. It tore off her shorts.
        Liz screamed.
        The freak slapped her, almost rendering her unconscious with that single blow, and then bore her down onto the floor.
        A