Free Carnival by William W. Johnstone

think my daddy had something to do with the burning down of that carnival years back.”
    â€œWhy do you say that,” Gary asked.
    â€œâ€˜Cause right before he died—started about two days before he passed—my daddy kept talking about the flames and how they were going to eat him up and he was goin’ to burn forever. I kept telling him he was a good man, and that he wasn’t goin’ to Hell. He told me he’d already seen it. Said he had a part to play in it. I didn’t know then what he meant by ’it.’ I do now. He cried and cried and begged for forgiveness. Said he’d seen the hell-fires back thirty years before. That’s what got me to digging into that so called accidental fire. Daddy died in October, ’84. I never saw a man that suffered so much. You remember it, Doctor Tressalt; you was there even though my daddy wouldn’t let anybody except Old Doc Reynolds touch him. My daddy couldn’t get enough to drink.”
    â€œI remember, Audie.”
    Martin wiped sweat from his forehead, even though the day was not that warm. “What was the date of his death, Audie?”
    â€œMy daddy died four years ago exactly come next Thursday.”
    * * *
    Martin stood with Gary and watched the deputy drive off. Audie had told them he would be at the fairgrounds that night, just to keep an eye on things. Gary had smiled and said, “Sure you’ll be looking at people. And that city patrol-person named Nicole’ll be one of them, won’t she?”
    Audie had grinned boyishly and allowed as to how that was right.
    Martin said they might join him. The deputy said that would be fine.
    â€œAssuming that everything Audie said—including that bit about his father and the hell fires—is true, what has that got to do with the odd happenings occurring around town?” Gary asked.
    â€œYou don’t believe in Hell, Gary?”
    â€œI believe in a Hereafter. And I also believe in the supernatural.”
    Martin looked at him for a moment, his eyes unreadable. “Well, old friend, if you’re waiting for me to say anything like the devil has arrived in Holland, you’re going to be in for a long wait.”
    â€œI don’t think this has anything to do with the devil, Martin.”
    â€œThen? . . .”
    â€œMartin, without making myself appear to be a fool—and I’m not saying this has anything to do with what’s been happening in town, let me tell you something, some . . . things I’ve seen over fifteen years of practicing medicine. I’ve seen people that I pronounced dead come back to life. Nearly every doctor in the world has seen that. I’ve seen people so eaten up with disease that I would have bet money they wouldn’t last a month. But they’re alive and well and walking around today. And I’ll tell you something else—a couple of things: I’ve seen people hang on to life for just one reason: revenge! And many of them hung on long enough—against all odds—to get that revenge. And I’ve had patients who’ve died on me come back to life within two or three or four minutes and tell me about that dying—out of body experiences. And they were sent back. They actually crossed over and were sent back!”
    â€œAnd you believe that?”
    â€œYes, I do.”
    Martin rubbed his chin. “Then . . . what are you trying to say, Gary? Or what are you telling me that’s not getting through?”
    â€œMartin, I’d like to find out who owns this carnival that’s in town now. And who owned the carnival that was destroyed.”
    â€œOh, come on, Gary!”
    â€œNo, Martin—no. I’m adamant about this. I think there is a connection. Call me a fool, think me a fool. Whatever. There is something going on here that we don’t understand. Over the years, I’ve asked my father dozens of times about the fire. I told you this. I get