A Rift in Space and Crime by R E McLean

A Rift in Space and Crime by R E McLean

Author:R E McLean [McLean, R E]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Catawampus Press
Published: 2020-05-28T16:00:00+00:00


“Hey.”

Lacey stirred. She was dreaming of ice cream sundaes, piled high with strawberries and topped with so much whipped cream it defied gravity. And ten cherries on the top, balanced in a tower.

“Hey. Who are you?”

She brushed at the ice cream scoop that was poking into her hip. She grabbed it, eager to attack the sundae. It didn’t give.

“Wake up.”

She clenched her eyes shut, desperate to stay in the dream. She sniffed then gagged.

She opened her eyes.

A group of people had gathered around her.

It wasn’t any ordinary group of people. They looked like rejects from a fancy dress party. One, the tallest, wore a gorilla mask and a red nose. Another wore a blue gingham dress and ruby slippers. She carried a small dog. It yapped at Lacey and she recoiled.

She turned to see the person who’d been poking her with the ice cream scoop, which she now realized was a three foot long candy cane. The figure was short, wearing what looked like a purple ringmaster’s coat and a pair of trousers in a shade of green that reminded her of snot. She leaned forward to see that it was, in fact, smeared with snot.

She pulled back.

“Who are you?” the person in the ringmaster’s coat asked. “Ain’t seen you around here before.”

She stood up. They pulled back.

She hesitated, then took a step forward. They took two steps back.

She smiled.

“I’m Lacey. Who are you?”

“I’m Fred,” said the person in the ringmaster’s coat. He pointed at the other two in turn. “This is my mum, Jackie. And my dad, Phil.”

Lacey squinted at them. “Really?”

The person calling himself Fred wrinkled his nose. “Course. Why would I lie about something so dumb as our names?”

“You don’t look like a Fred, Jackie and Phil.”

The taller one—Phil—stepped forward. “Don’t cast aspersions on our names, please. I’ll have you know this name has been handed down to me over the generations. I am in fact Philip Hardcastle the Third. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

He held out his hand. It was clad in a dirty red glove that smelled like he’d plunged it into a bucket of fish and left it there for a few days.

She gripped it with her fingertips. “OK.”

“So who are you?” asked Jackie. “How did you get here?”

“I’m Lacey. Didn’t I already tell you that?”

“You don’t look very lacy to me,” replied Fred.

Jackie gave him a clip round the ear. “Don’t be rude.” She turned to Lacey. “He’s right though. You don’t have scrap of lace on you. And what’s your name?”

“It’s Lacey.”

“What is?”

“My name.”

“How can a name be lacy?” asked Fred.

Lacey stared at them. “Lacey is my name. L-A-C-E-Y. Lacey.”

Phil took a step back. “Ooh. Foreign.”

“I’m American. From Illinois.”

“What you doing here then?” asked Jackie. “Everyone got out years ago.”

“Not you.”

Fred grinned. “Nope. We stayed put.”

“We had no choice,” continued Jackie, who looked less pleased. “Wasn’t our decision to make.”

She shook her head at Lacey. “I still don’t understand what you’re doing here, all the way from Illinois.”

“I was brought here. By someone called Pip.



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