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"Dummies?! Did you see their faces? Their eyes and everything else?"

"Well, probably, some are dummies, and some are live actors..."

"Actors, sure. Well, blood, ripped skin, screws, the stake–all right, all are makeup and special effects. But the chopped-off limbs? How can you fake that?"

"Mirrors. Especially since it was dark there. We saw only what was illuminated."

"And the last one? We passed directly under her! There were no mirrors there–nothing that would make it possible to hide the bottom half of a woman!"

"Listen", Mike stopped and turned to Jane. "Even assuming that they really do such things in front of lots of witnesses... do you think that anyone can live after being torn in half? Unless he's an earthworm, of course..."

"That's not funny."

"And I'm not laughing. I don't know how this trick was done, but..."

"Well..." murmured Jane after a pause, "of course, yes... it must be some trick... but... it was so real..."

"I told you–we shouldn't have gone in there," Mike muttered. "Now we may have nightmares about it..."

They finally got out of the thickets. No one was visible here either. But once they passed the toilets, a door slapped open behind them.

At another time, Mike wouldn't have looked at the person leaving such a place, but now he shuddered and rapidly turned back.

In front of the booths the clown stood. The same one, with the drawn red smile. He stood motionless and silent, looking at them.

Certainly, there was no reason to stop and it would be more logical just to continue on their way, but Mike suddenly stepped forward.

"And?" he aggressively inquired. "What?"

The clown kept his silence and didn't move. In Mike's mind flashed the foolish thought that he was a dummy, too.

"What are you staring at?" Mike raised his tone and moved ahead with the look of a person ready to fight–though ac
tually he never was combative. Jane turned back, too, stepped after him and grabbed his elbow to prevent a scrap.

The clown with the sudden gesture of a magician took out from nowhere a small notebook and offered it to the girl.

"Oh... thank you very much," she said, taking the notebook and pushing it into a pocket of her jeans. "Let's go, Mike," now she dragged him away to where music rattled, shooting gallery guns clapped and visitors happily squealed on rides. Several seconds had passed and there were already a lot of people around them.

"What did he give you? " Mike asked.

"My notebook! Probably I lost it in a toilet booth..."

"In a booth? Or in the 'cave?'"

"Why the 'cave?' He came out of a booth!"

"Personally, I didn't see he come from there," Mike muttered.

"So what–did you see him in the 'cave?' You think he was lurking after us? Mike, that's ridiculous! He simply found my thing..."

"And how did he know it was yours?!"

"He didn't. He just assumed. He found it, then saw us. So he thought, maybe we just lost it?" It was as if they had traded roles: now Mike was suspicious and Jane looked for rational explanations.

"Not we. You. He gave it right to you."

"Are you jealous?" the girl smiled.

But Mike didn't accept her tone.

"Is there your name there?" he inquired.

"No. But the handwriting is female. You see, everything is simple."

"Yes. As simple as in the 'cave'... Why was he silent? Is he mute?"

"Maybe he is..."

"Hm, by the way," Mike suddenly reflected. "Perhaps they employ disabled people for work in the 'cave?' There were freak shows in the past, so why not now... That is, all violence which we saw is, of course, staged. But maybe the amputated limbs aren't. And... perhaps, I know how the last trick was arranged. A dwarf! Her head is normal, but the body is so small that can be hidden completely inside a rubber imitation of the torso. Maybe she even has no legs... And the guts are, of course, rubber, too."

"I didn't see any seam on her neck. Where the real head should stick out from..."

"With skillful makeup you won't see it even in half an hour. And we looked for just a few seconds, with the light in our eyes."

"Yes..., you're probably right," said Jane without real con
fidence in her voice.

They passed by a food booth and this time Mike bought cola to get rid of the taste in his mouth.

"But I still don't like that this guy looked in your notebook," he said, throwing the plastic cup into a trash can. "Okay, there was no name there, but what about anything else that would allow him to find you? Address, phone?"

"Mine aren't there, but yours are," Jane smiled. "So now you'll be harassed by mute clown calls."

"Not funny," Mike said. "I really don't like this. Check if he tore out a page as a souvenir?"

"What nonsense! Why would he need it?"

"I don't know. But I don't like this odd guy. By the way, he beckoned to me right before I came to find you... Seriously, check your notebook."

"Well, if you insist... " she pulled out the notebook from her jeans pocket and began to riffle through it. Suddenly, her hand trembled and her look changed.

"What's there? " Mike immediately inquired. "He took out something? Or, maybe he wrote something in?"

"No, simply... here it is," Jane's fingers pulled a gray rect
angle from between pages. "CAVE OF HORROR. You will SCREAM..."

"What's that–he gave you a ten-buck ticket for free?" Mike frowned even more.

"Well, maybe a promo action..." said the girl and suddenly interrupted herself: "No, we're idiots! That's my own ticket–see the torn stub?"

"How could it be in the notebook that you lost before we bought tickets?"

"Simple–I put the ticket in my pocket and it got between the pages when I put the notebook in my pocket too."

"Sure. Sounds logical. Only I clearly remember that I had both our tickets. And after that guy tore them, I put them... " Mike dipped his hand into his own trouser pocket–first the left one, then the right, then checked both back pockets which he usually didn't use. The tickets weren't anywhere.

"Damn..." he checked the pockets once again. "I probably lost them somewhere. But I remember that I didn't give you yours."

"But you don't remember where you put it?"

"And you? Do you remember that you took it from me?"

"No"... the girl acknowledged. "Apparently, both of us did it mechanically."

"Give it to me," the young man pulled out the gray piece of paper from Jane's hand. "I think it's not your ticket."

"Then whose is it?"

"I don't know," Mike turned the ticket over. "What do you think is this?"

On the reverse side of the ticket, closer to the torn edge, there was a small red-brown spot, already dried up.

"Are you saying that it's... blood? Real blood?"

"I don't know," Mike repeated. "Perhaps, clown's makeup."

"But he never had this ticket in his hands."

"That's just your assumption. You don't have anything to stain it in your pocket, do you?"

"Perhaps it was sold already in this condition," Jane proposed. "The cashier or the mustached man... could have stained it. Maybe, even with blood. Couldn't one of them have cut a finger after all?"

"They could..." the young man thoughtfully turned the pa
per again.

Discount at revisit. Bring your friends!

In a resolute gait, Mike returned to the trash can where he had thrown the plastic cup and dropped the ticket there.

"What are you doing?" Jane exclaimed indignantly.

"And why do you need a stranger's... well, let even your own used ticket? You aren't going to go in that damned cave again, are you? Even for a discount..."

"In my opinion," the girl slowly said, looking somewhere beyond her boyfriend, "we haven't seen everything there."

Mike couldn't deny it. He remembered how he had closed his eyes–but he was ashamed to admit it. He had intended to inquire derisively "did you squeeze your eyes shut?"–but right then he remembered how he had vomited in full view of Jane and decided not to ask for trouble. But she apparently meant something different.

"There were more shouts and groans than... those we passed by. Some came as if from far away or through a barrier..."

"A record. And why the hell 'far away?' You saw the building from outside. It's not so big."

"Maybe. But there were switches."

"What switches?"

"Rail switches. Didn't you notice?"

"I hardly saw even the rails in the darkness..."

"But I saw them. Cars can be sent on different routes. I'm sure so they do. Perhaps they show a less terrible version to chil
dren. At least to children with parents..."

"Judging by the reaction of that woman who rode before us, I wouldn't say so."

"It seems to me, if she had seen what we saw, her reaction would have been even stronger. And she definitely would have filed a complaint, despite the signed paper. And also... do you remember how he hinted to the boy? Like, come again, only not with your mother but with a friend... then you'll see something
really
worth..."

"He said nothing like that. He only mentioned the dis
count, that's all. That's also written on the ticket."

"Exactly. If it is written already, why emphasize it verbally?"

"Advertizing rule. Repetition doesn't hurt."

"But why do you think he didn't repeat the offer to us?"

"Because we had already heard it," Mike answered not too consistently, feeling the increasing desire to end this stupid conversation.

"And then, they have strange concept of advertizing. The ride is so hidden that it's hard to find. It isn't on the carnival map."

"Probably, you simply didn't notice it."

"Look yourself if you are so smart! " Jane set off at once and turned back. They were already near the exit from the carni
val and Mike had no wish to return to the post with the map.

"All right, all right, let's assume, it isn't. Then all this is just a part of the concept. A mysterious cave of horror..." Mike, however, understood himself that that sounded unconvincing and offered another version: "Or perhaps they still had trouble with vigilant moms. So they really try to keep a low profile, relying on word of mouth to bring in customers."

"Could you reach many customers that way? And how much, you think, all these fantastically realistic dummies cost? If they are indeed dummies..."

"I don't know. It's not our problem," they finally went through the gate and it seemed to Mike that the air became fresh
er, which was, of course, total nonsense. "Listen, enough of this idiotic 'cave' for me. I don't want either to speak or think about it anymore. Let's not ruin the rest of our evening."

Jane, it seemed, obeyed and didn't return to the subject again, but during the evening Mike noticed more than once that the girl's thoughts wandered away somewhere. As for himself, the damned "cave" left him a nasty emotional aftertaste which was much harder to get rid of than the sourness in his mouth. He was angry both with himself and with Jane–who had dragged him to this devil's attraction and now was falling into thoughtfulness when it was time just to carelessly relax. As a result, he brought her home even before the10 p.m. curfew set by her strict mother.

They sat in his car in front of Jane's house. The girl didn't hurry to say goodbye, but kept silent. The pause lingered.

"Listen," Mike suddenly said, "you didn't answer my question."

"Which one?"

"You aren't going to go back to that damned 'cave?'"

"Why do you think I am? " Jane asked

"You said yourself–we supposedly didn't see everything there. Though as for me, we saw more than enough. And also you were annoyed when I threw out your ticket."

"Well, and if I did want to get a better view of everything there, so what? The first time around, all that was so unexpected... but now, knowing what to look at, where there should be seams or mirrors as you said..."

"Don't even think about it!"

"Why? You said yourself–none of that can be real?"

"Of course it can't."

"So why not go back?"

"And why do it? Why do you need it?"

"Just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat..." Mike grumbled.

"But I am not Cat, I am Jane," the girl tried to laugh the matter off. "Well, really. Admit, you also suspect something screwy there?"

"I don't suspect anything! And if I did, I would tell the po
lice, instead of trying to investigate it myself."

"So there
is
something to investigate?"

"No! That is, nothing in the criminal sense. But magicians don't like it when people try to learn their secrets. There's a reason it's forbidden to photograph and so on there... And," Mike smiled, "I don't want to think that my girlfriend is a pervert who likes such nasty things."