The Behemoth

A blast. That’s what she told me we would have.

That was not what we had, though. The term that best expresses what we underwent would be… hell.

Let me backtrack a few days, as the above sentence has probably confused my lovely readers.

Two days ago, Stacey, a colleague and fellow theme park buff, suggested we fly to Canada’s Wonderland for the weekend.

The park sounded fun and was one of the few we had yet to explore. Games and food drew me to these places, but the rollercoasters drew Stacey. The more outrageous the rollercoaster was, the better—her words.

More of a bumper cars gal myself, the thought of a seventy-meter drop made my stomach queasy.

Stacey, as we know, vowed the Behemoth—the name of the rollercoaster—would be a blast. We plan that monumental ordeal for our last day there.

And so starts our adventure.

Saturday dawns sunny and hot as we head from the hotel to the amusement park. A queue of other adventure seekers greets us—mostly young parents and rowdy teens—and a happy thrum hangs over the area as we take our place at the back. Stacey talks nearly non-stop as we slowly make our way to the gates.

Once through, we stop to look around. The map we have shows every aspect of the park, and we effortlessly track down the rows of food vendors. Maybe a belly full of greasy, battered hotdog wasn’t the smartest move before noon, but the smells compel us.

Next, we meander along the thoroughfare and our eyes eagerly peruse the endless stalls. Stacey stops often, happy to try her luck at a game of ball toss or balloon darts. Not to be outdone, my efforts pay off when the carny tosses me a small stuffed bear. Stacy’s own hard-earned treasure—a blue whale—peeks out from her backpack.

Pleased by our loot, we move on to another area of the park.

A golden tent off to our left catches my eye and causes me to make a sudden U-turn. Stacey huffs at my abrupt move but follows me. The smell of sage greets us as we enter the shadowy space and the glow from several candles casts strange shadows on the walls.

Goose bumps form on my arms, and a gasp escapes me when a woman greets us. Translucent colourful scarves obscure most of her face and a robe of deep blue covers her from head to toe.

She offers us a seat at a small round coffee table, and we lower ourselves onto deeply padded loungers. As she proposes to read tarot cards for me, her unusual accent sends a calm warmth over my body.

At my nod, she pulls out a deck from the sleeves of her layered gown. Stacey watches—her endless commentary stalled for once as she focuses on the woman.

Her calloused hands shuffle the cards before she sets them face down on the table. “Do you trust yourself, Mary?”

My eyes narrow at her use of my name. Stacey must have called me Mary when we entered. Yes, that must be how she knew.

“Trust myself? Sure. Don’t most people?”

Her brown eyes sparkle between the layers of cloth. “Actually, very few do.”

She reaches for the cards and turns the top three over. “Two of swords, reversed. The three of swords and the temperance card.” The woman closes her eyes and breathes deeply for several seconds.

Her eyes open and our gaze’s lock. “You must trust yourself. When you are forced to choose, choose you. Any other path could lead to a sorrowful and unbalanced… event.”

Obscure as her words are, they make me shudder as a deep fear clutches my stomach. “Gotcha! Choose me… doesn’t seem hard to do.”

Stacey follows my lead, and we both nearly run from the tent.

“That was creepy,” she mumbles.

“Just a tad.”

After that… unexpected drama, we end our day at the park’s restaurant. A bottle of beer for me and a glass of vodka-soda for Stacey.

“What do you suppose she meant? Can you even call that a fortune?” Stacey asks.

The odd sense of unease from our strange encounter hasn’t left me and my answer comes out sharper than Stacey deserves. “Meh, who knows. The woman came off pretty hokey. These amusement park employees seem to do whatever they can for cash. Let’s just drop the subject.”

Stacey frowns. “Sure, but you never gave her any money. We ran out of her tent too fast.”

“Crap.”

We agree to go back tomorrow to pay her, as we both suddenly feel exhausted and make our way back to our hotel for some much needed rest.

****

Our second day at the park starts pretty much the same. A cloudless blue sky and a long queue full of fellow adventure goers.

We slowly make our way to the golden tent, the two of us not keen to go back. But eventually we reach the place where the tent had been.

Or at least where we thought the tent had been yesterday.

We look around, the same frown on our faces as our eyes lock. “Check the map, would you?”

“Should be there.” Stacey jerks her thumb to the left of us where a cotton candy stand now rests.

We meander around the area for a few moments on the off chance the tent was moved. But when no golden tent appears, we stand there, baffled. “Guess she packed up. Vendors do that, don’t they?”

Stacey shrugs. “They must. Let’s not worry about her. She clearly wasn’t concerned about the money, so we shouldn’t feel bad.”

Goosebumps cover my arms, and when Stacey moves towards the bumper cars, my feet hurry after her.

We don’t talk about the strange woman or her golden tent anymore. Our focus turns to bumper cars, carousels, funhouses, hunted houses, the Scrambler, and, of course, rollercoasters. One to be exact. The Behemoth.

As we draw nearer to the tall structure, my stomach clenches and sweat beads on my brow. The sounds of screams as the coaster rushes overhead, doesn’t help my nerves.

Stacey sees my pale face and pokes my arm. “You better not wuss out on me!”

The rollercoaster was supposed to be the best part of the park for her, so my fear shouldn’t hold her back. “Who me? Never!”

“Okay, good! Don’t worry, we’ll have a blast!”

My heart tells me to stay on the ground, that Stacy was an adult and could go by herself, but my head mutters don’t be a scaredy-cat, Mary. My head overrules my heart and the two of us shuffle closer to the operator’s booth.

Dread, pure dread, clutches my gut as the operator ushers us to a car. Stacey takes the farther seat, so my body reluctantly accepts the vacant one. Stacey’s face exudes joy as she looks around and she chatters on about God knows what. My focus narrows on my fear and my queasy tummy.

Even when the seatbelt and the orange safety bar push me back securely, my fear doesn’t abate. And when the rollercoaster jerks forward, a scream nearly bursts from me.

My eyes close as we ascend. Maybe darkness can shutout the terror that has taken hold of me. Even though rollercoasters have never been fun for me, such abject fear has never plagued me as badly as now.

My body jerks back and forth at each bend and turn. Stacey’s elated screams become a strange wall of comfort that surrounds me. My eyes stay closed even when my body comes off my seat as we take one of many loops.

We must be almost done. That thought has my heartbeat return to normal. But when we don’t slow down, my eyes crack open. Oh, God, we’ve passed the platform! The operator has sent us out for another run!

My cry of fear matches Stacey’s cry of joy. Once more, my eyes lock shut.

As our car slows down at the apex of a loop, a sudden thought makes me wrap my arms around the safety bar that keeps me locked to my seat. Hold on, Mary!

My body braces for the unknown when the recent screams of joy turn to alarm. We should not have slowed down yet!

My eyes snap open when the coaster comes to a complete stop. Our car hangs slanted partway through the bend of a loop.

“Holy crap! Why the hell are we stuck?” Stacey asks.

“No clue. At least we aren’t ups…” A strange clunk sounds from my seat and as the feel of my safety bar loosens, a gasp escapes me.

“Was that your safety bar?”

“Yup.” My arms are nearly numb as they stay locked around the bar.

“Crap, crap, crap! Help! Help us,” Stacey screams. But the cacophony of everyone else’s calls swallow her words.

Stacey keeps up her calls for help, but my eyes stay glued to my arms and my hold around the bar that was supposed to secure me. My tombstone won’t read ‘death by rollercoaster’. That’s my vow to myself.

My body moves the smallest amount towards the edge of the seat and a drop to the ground that would surely send me to my maker, but somehow my hold doesn't loosen.

Hours? Seconds? Later, the cars start to move. As the rollercoaster crawls towards the platform and we level out, my heartbeat slows. My end won’t come today.

As the emergency workers rush us off the cars, Stacey looks at me. “Not the blast we wanted, hey, Mary?”

Trust yourself. Remember to choose you. The tarot reader's words come back to haunt me.

“Nope, not at all. My rollercoaster days are done. Sorry, Stacey.”

She laughs. “Yeah, for me too. The bumper cars are way more fun, anyway.”