A gust of spray blinded him . When his eyes cleared he saw the monster had passed and was rushing landward. Big iron upperworks rose out of the headlong structure, and from that twin funnels projected and spat a smoking blast shot with fire. It was the torpedo ram, Thunder Child, steaming headlong, coming to the rescue of the threatened shipping.
"Has anyone seen Dracula?" Burlie asked as she led her small, strange crew towards the bandstand. The doctor and his monster were side by side behind her, blocking the sheriff and Maxima Batt who was bringing up the rear. Piggsbee had recovered enough to be amused. Burlie had given him his keys back and he twirled them on his finger.
Maxima was sour. The back of the line was not her accustomed place. "Dracula?" she asked, disgusted. "Friend or family?"
Burlie ignored her.
Booths and rides were abandoned as the carnival crowd surrounded them. Burlie raised her hands in the air. "Excuse us, please," Burlie said. "Let us through to the bandstand and I'll explain everything. We have a problem." A tall, gawky boy stood directly in her path. "Excuse us," Burlie said again. He blinked and swallowed as he stared at her scarab. "Please!" she barked. He jumped out of her way as laughter spiraled up from the crowd. The poor kid almost went entirely purple. "Thank you," Burlie said as kindly as she could.
"Make way," cried a woman with painted on freckles, a straw hat, and over-patched farm clothes. She had a corncob pipe clenched in her teeth and waved a small pitchfork. Burlie guessed she was supposed to be either Tom Sawyer or just a stereotypical hayseed. "To the bandstand." She jumped in front of the procession. "Make way for the Black Witch!"
"Move!" the Monster bellowed and a clear path opened immediately. The hayseed high-stepped along it, elbows and knees jerking, as if she were leading a parade and Burlie swallowed the urge to boot her out of the way.
"Hello," she said to an old man who took off his hat as she passed by. Another man, a soldier, saluted. There were quite a few soldiers, actually, with flat-brimmed hats and green uniforms. Well, of course. World War I was underway when the Spanish Flu hit. It killed more soldiers than the war did. What were they doing in town? Was there a base nearby? Did it matter right now?
"Are you connected to the Raleigh McLaurens by any chance?" asked an elegant older lady swathed in lace and pearls.
"No, ma'am, my family's from Savannah," Burlie said. "We moved to Souls just last March."
"Lucky you. Raleigh's awful."
"Good evening," another soldier said, thrusting out his hand as she went by.
She shook it. "Yes, hello. Hi."
"She touched me!" He swooned, cradling his hand. His friends laughed.
Two little girls, grinning with the fun of it all, dashed behind her. Completely unafraid of her eight foot bodyguard, they each seized a corner of her cloak and held it off the ground. Everyone clapped as Burlie just kept walking while they pranced behind her.
"The Dark Witch approacheth!"
"I'm not a damn witch," she muttered to herself. Distracted, she walked into a man dressed as a cavalier. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. He bowed forgiveness and stepped out of her way. She passed him.
Quite the crowd. The apprehension she felt in Plum Tree was magnified.
Leaves. She could still smell the leaves. Burlie thought of her little sister and her heart wept. At least Lydia was with her parents and a cop that could break a truck in two. "Hang on, baby, I'm coming," she whispered.