Field notes for survival: Fosters have determined that holidays are an excellent opportunity to blend in. Monsters use the blank chaos of any holiday to be up to all kinds of no good. Thanks to technology, Monster Assassins trump the average monster hunter because they don’t have to patrol an area and hope to stumble across the monster. It''s much better to do as monsters do as slip into a public gathering. It’s an excellent chance to catch a glimpse of who might be in town and who or what might be passing through for a quick visit or have plans for an extended stay.


    By the time we got into town, for an outside observer, the number of police and even a few people wearing FBI jackets, one would have thought that the president was in attendance. I spotted people in matching shirts moving around the different booths, and the mood seemed stiff, but there was already a decent crowd, and evidence showed that it was on the verge of growing.


    Nothing to it. I thought A large crowd and an outside venue were not a deal breaker. The city group that spearheaded the carnival had printed an itinerary, and they had a map that indicated where certain vendors were located and where the big activities were to be set up. It wasn’t detailed, but we reviewed the information, and experience told us that one can find the hole to exploit in carefully laid out plans. There weren’t any ushers, and the organizers were knee-deep in making sure everything was running smoothly. They were not looking for a family of assassins.


    And hopefully, even after tonight. I hoped that would still be the case.


    “This is probably the safest place in the state,” Tony said.


    Pop grunted, and to my surprise, he slightly snorted. “Don’t be fooled kiddo. Bullets kill monsters but these guys will take this as a challenge.”


    “At least no one else will cause some problems,” Tony said.


    “One can hope,” Mom replied.


    I found the conversation going nowhere, and there was a bite in the air that I wasn’t eager to add to. I did a quick check of my sleeves, tools, and neckline and then turned my attention to the crowd. This wasn’t a simple social gathering. This was a beehive, and we were on the brink to poke it.


    “Are those news vans?” Mom asked.


    She pointed and I followed her arm, and I glimpsed some vans sitting in the parking lot of a print and copy store.


    “It seems to me that they’re expecting something to go wrong,” Pop said.


    “Most likely,” Dad said in agreement.


    “I bet they’ll be little puppy dogs on the carnival’s organizers,” I said, “they’ll want to catch real-time reactions and get immediate responses for the late-night headlines.”


    “That is an extra problem,” Dad said, “but it will help us out.”


    “How?” Mom asked.


    Dad adjusted his tie. “If the reporters are annoying the organizers and the vendors. They won’t be watching for independent people like us.”


    “It will give us a few seconds of cover,” Pop said, “For all the good it will do.”


    Dad slowed with the traffic, and we watched cars slip into different parking spots; there were multiple groups, large and small, happily congregating on the corners and strolling across the road with their kids in tow.


    “I’m surprised there are so many people here,” Dad said, “given everything that’s happened, I figured a portion would stay home.”


    “The panic and fear fest had nothing to center on,” Pop said. “I’d wager most people when they snapped out of it, were left wondering what the heck was going on.”


    “This is a nice way to bounce back,” Mom said.


    Traffic began to move, and I was pleased that the kids seemed excited to spread out to collect candy and have fun at the different games. Two minutes later, we pulled into a parking spot near a carousel. Now stationary Dad turned in his seat.


    “If anyone wants to stay behind,” he began.


    “Babe,” Mom said. She sounded confident, but I detected a hint of reservation. “We’re way past the moment to bow out.”


    “I know,” Dad said, “but I was going to hate myself if I didn’t say it before we go out there.”


    “You weren’t wrong when we were talking about this,” Tony said, “We’ve got to at least try and make sure this thing doesn’t go south.”


    “And Dad,” I said, “This is what we do. If you’re worried about us. We know how to handle ourselves. You both taught us well.”


    Dad assumed a solemn attitude and he seemed five years old for a few seconds. Then he handed the keys to Pop.


    “Then let’s head out.”


    “I’ll stay back for a moment,” Pop said, “It will give us a chance to make a getaway.”


    “Good idea,” Dad said.


    The door clicked open, and we all fanned out in multiple directions. Mom and Dad moved as a pair and headed to the right along the sidewalk and a line of trees. Tony headed toward some larger activities along the outer edge, and it connected to some vendors which would give me a chance to browse. I felt my shawl close around my shoulders and held a tambourine and I headed down the middle of the carnival, where two lines of booths were set up with a variety of games like throwing hoops at bowling pins, bean bags into the mouths of ghosts or monsters that had been expertly painted on large sheets of wood. I considered watching, and I did, but I kept my presence brief and hopefully unassuming. Some of the attendees waved at the police officers, and they waved back. Some of the officers were even playing with the children. The majority of them had their hands on their belts and they paced around an internal perimeter, ready to jump at the first sign of trouble.


    There are a fair number of officers, but there aren’t enough for this kind of crowd. I looked past the officers and without a break, more people were moving into the park.


    Based on the types of cars close by, that only accounts for probably about half the people here. That didn''t account for the walkers, people who lived or who had parked at a local business and come the rest of the way. There would be workers, too, and Someone, the shapeshifter could be any of them. I moved up beside a tree and a plaque that explained the park’s history along with some brief highlights of the town''s benchmarks of growth. A faint chill caught my shawl, and it slipped from my grasp. I pulled it back over my shoulders as kids in various costumes shuffled past, accompanied by a few adults and their teenage siblings. Who, at a quick glance, told me most didn’t seem super happy to be there.


    A Halloween carnival is the perfect cover. Suzy could easily just dress like a witch, and she could run around here without anyone giving her a second thought.


    I gripped the tambourine and tried to prevent it from jiggling and took another look at the perpetually growing crowd.


    This is just like Curse of the Stickers. I considered it, and it didn’t make it any easier, but it put me in the right frame of mind. Most adults were wearing costumes or masks, but it was reasonable to dismiss the dads wearing superhero shirts and the moms holding small babies in cloth wraps or if they were loaded down with strollers.


    That left the people who loved Halloween. Those who spend several months to make sure they have the perfect costume. They would have a reasonable amount of face paint that would mask their features. They would layer clothing for the cold, but there was a chance that they had done so to conceal a tool or weapon. I glimpsed girls wearing ridiculously impractical high heels, but at the same time, they were another factor that brought people’s height into question. I couldn’t trust eye or hair color due to contacts and wigs either. Suzy and her legion of bad guys would strike at some point; the question was how and where.


    “Hey, can I get a picture?”


    “Wow, great costume.”


    “Dang girl, give me a twirl!”


    “Good job on the costume, that looks really nice.”


    I reached a few vendors and ran into people; parents, friends, people from past classes when I had attended a bit more regularly on campus. When I knew them, I said hi, and if it seemed innocent enough, like a parent and a child, I relented and took a picture with the kid.


    “By princess!” a little girl yelled after her mom thanked me for taking a picture. She waved, and I waved back, feeling pleased and excited while I hoped that I could hide my anxiety behind my smile.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Hopefully Someone or Amy One doesn’t have any kids.


    I doubted it, but I wasn’t sure. I proceeded on my way and college students had created a dance circle thanks to half a dozen people who had brought their instruments. I came close and some people waved me over, so I shook the tambourine and cheered.


    “Join in!” a person with hippie hair and glasses said.


    “Next time,” I said shielding my face as some people came over and were holding their phones in a live stream, or they were taking pictures that would probably end up on social media.


    I can''t be uptight with people who want to take pictures. I tensed and stumbled when something caught my foot.


    “Sorry,” a pregnant mom said as she adjusted a stroller. A blond Barbie hurried over and helped her out. I braced myself against the table and half expected either of them to pull a gun and make quick demands to take me hostage. When neither of them said anything further and seemed intrigued to go to the dance circle. I rolled my foot and then rolled my shoulders and headed in the other direction.


    “Anything?” I muttered using my shawl to block my mouth. I hung out for a second but didn’t get a reply. When I proceeded, I only managed a step when I met the gaze of a Jack-O-Lantern, and it made my heart flip.


    “Roar!” a kid yelled. “He’s the Halloween terror. He’ll munch and crunch everything for his treats.”


    “Roman, calm down.” A Dad with a thick beard said. He looked up from his chair. “Can I help you?”


    “I’m good,” I said all at once. At the same time, people cheered; someone had won and won big.


    I put a hand on my chest and the man graciously handed me a soda.


    “It makes me jump every time.”


    “Thanks,” I said. Accepting the drink.


    “Any word,” I said, opening the soda and taking a drink.


    About 30 minutes later, I caught sight of Tony, who was standing near some trees. He adjusted his sleeves in a bond-like fashion. A few people took pictures with or of him, and it took less than a minute before he was alone. And once again, on the prowl. I figured Pop was near the car or hanging out on a bench while laughing at the kids in the crowd. Mom and Dad were known by most of the adults, I reasoned. So, I figured they were probably chatting with former coworkers. Book club members or the most sociable neighbors.


    They’ll have a harder time avoiding people. It had come up, and they would have done their best to avoid face-to-face encounters, but they couldn’t avoid all of them. That meant Tony and I needed to step up. I lapped some small groups and passed beside some trees. There were a few vendors and some small businesses spinning wheels where the attendees could earn coupons. Treats or small cash prizes.


    “Clear,” Tony whispered, but I caught some voices coming up to him that sounded like college girls in awe of his costume.


    “Sorry for the delay Emma,” Pop said, “I was filling in Grandma. I’ve not seen anything out here. It''s busy but quiet.”


    I’d say busy is an understatement.


    By now, the streetlights began to come on, and the decor on the booths or strings of lights hidden beside the walking path began to light up. Soon, the entire carnival seemed encased in shadows, and all the attendees started to huddle inside their pockets as they were determined to party and have an enjoyable time. I jumped into a few lines and played a few games. Once we reached fifteen minutes beyond the hour mark, my feet started hurting, and I leaned against a tree. It wasn’t hard to tell that most of the benches were occupied. The chill was getting a bit brisker, and as groups left, a persistent flow of branding people filed into the park.


    Had Amy One been wrong about the Carnival?


    Could we have misread the events?


    I registered van sounds in my ear, and then Pop spoke, and his voice was laced with suspicion and concern. “Why do I get the sinking feeling that this was a setup?”


    “I think you’re right,” Dad said in a hushed whisper. “There’s not been so much as a whisper, and I think even the police are getting bored.”


    “I think we need to regroup,” Pop continued. “We should drive around and-”


    My attention wavered, and I completely missed what he said next. As I realized someone was tugging softly on my skirt.


    Keep myself composed as a little girl stared up at me. My whole demeanor melted as her green eyes looked up at me. She wore a traditional Japanese kimono. And she had a katana in her hand. She looked to be about six or seven years old.


    “Are you a princess?” She asked. Her voice sounded innocent and friendly.


    “Sorry.” It was a simple question, but it hadn''t been what I would have anticipated, and I was surprised at how much it caught me off guard even though it was the tenth time I had been asked.


    “Are you a Princess?” The girl repeated. “You look like Sleeping Beauty when she was in the big forest with the three fairies.”


    “Ohh!” I felt my face brightened. The little girl seemed so excited and innocent. I looked down at my outfit. I didn’t have her hair, but I could vaguely see enough similarities now that she said it.


    “My name is Briar Rose. What''s?”


    I trailed off and turned my head away as Tony cried out in alarm over the comm. I missed what he said, but some kind of commotion was beginning to stir within the crowd.


    “Showtime people,” Pop said.


    “We’ve got action near the dart game and a ring toss,” Mom said with some fake coughs.


    Tony was the next to speak. “There’s a guy in a red jacket and a girl with blue hair chasing some other guys who noodles for arms and legs.”


    Noodle arms? “That’s got to be Frankie from the restaurant. They’re here.”


    No one replied, but panic was beginning to mount, and I watched chunks of the crowd head to their cars. Half a dozen officers were hurrying toward the booths to pin down the source of the disturbance.


    “Remember guys,” Pop said, “Just keep watch. We’ve got to let the police be the front line of defense.”


    The crowd thinned, but a sizable chunk was still present, and some finished their transactions or continued with their games. I looked around, feeling on edge as the officers called for people to remain calm.


    “Oh, honey, you shouldn’t run off like that.” a lady called as she hurried over to us. I felt a jolt run up my back when I realized the little girl was still there.


    “I am sorry,” the mom said breathlessly, “I hope Gwen didn’t cause you any trouble.”


    I simply shrugged, putting on my best impression of Dad’s social smile. “No problem. She’s quite cute. She asked if I was a princess.”


    “That’s my Gwen,” the mom embraced her daughter, and I glimpsed two additional officers hurrying across the grass, and a patrol car turned its lights on.


    “Now this is getting interesting.” A voice cackled with unnerving glee.


    “I better go find my family, if you’d excuse me.”


    I didn’t wait for a reply and I hurried through an oncoming through that had taken the hint now that the police were getting involved and seemed concerned. I kept an eye out for camera and I breathed a sigh of relief when it seemed most of the crowd were eager to leave. I slipped between two booths just as an individual with a tail coat and a bowler hat began to heave and groan against the shirt of a court jester, which seemed to have seized and squeezed his torso, and was getting tighter and tighter the more he tried to free himself.


    “That looks like Frankie,” I said, “Who tied him up with clothes. Do we have something that can do that?”


    “No, we don’t, I think,” Dad began, but the explanation stopped abruptly as people began to scream and even some of the police turned tail and booked it toward the trees.


    “What’s going on!” I said as I spotted a uniformed officer talking on his radio and then I smelt smoke.


    “Frankie just torched a booth, and no one thinks it’s a show,” Tony said, “We’ll have S.W.A.T or a heavier response in a matter of minutes.”


    I shuffled through a crowd, and at the exact moment, Tony stopped talking. The ambient chill hanging in the open areas intensified, and people started running towards the street. I remained stationary as they heard tire squeal and mounting amounts of panic and terrifying exclamations and cries.


    “Dispatch,” an officer yelled from a few feet away. He conveyed the official crowd, but his voice drowned out as more people began to flee. I bolted through the crowd and stopped when I spotted a blue-haired girl and a guy in a red jacket. They stood side by side, and Frankie stood on a stage, and he danced merrily up and down like he was a village idiot dancing at the Pub. He gestured toward them in an agitated fit and pointed an accusatory finger.


    “Not cool,” he blurted out, “but thanks for the trick!”


    The blue-haired girl gripped something in her hand, but together, the two pulled back as Frankie rose into the air, and then he gestured toward a Jack-O-Lantern sitting beside a booth selling hot chocolate, brownies, and candied apples. The pumpkin rocked back and forth like an egg about to hatch. The first movement was simple, but the shaking increased as the pumpkin began to grow in size. First, it grew a few inches. Then, it began to inflate like a balloon when it became more than the simple white table could handle. It started to shake and snap, and the pumpkin rolled across the ground and grew.


    “Ohh no,” Pop exclaimed. I could hear screams around him and the crunch beneath his footfalls. “Get out now. That poltergeist is known as a copycat, and he just copied an animation spell. People. That''s wizard-level magic.”


    “A wizard!” Mom exclaimed. “Yes everyone, get out now!”


    Foster’s never repeated themselves, and for good reason. If you find yourselves involved in a fight, one of them is a wizard, you don''t stick around. It''s literally the equivalent of a finger on the big red button. A wizard would be better equipped to deal with a dark witch and a poltergeist.


    Even the most powerful beings have to live and learn.


    “Say hello to the Muncher,” Frankie bellowed with a whoop and a cheer.


    The sight of an enlarging pumpkin caused the rest of the park, the police included, to flee. I had come out right at the edge, so I had no choice but to follow. I ran a few feet and then decided to duck and cover, so I pushed through some low-hanging branches and collapsed beside the trunk of a large pine tree. Amazed by just how fast my heart was racing.


    Was the fear getting to me?


    I pulled back the branches but released my grip and felt my nerves press down on my control. I wasn’t a twenty-year-old adult. I felt like a kid waiting to get eaten by a dinosaur. I cringed and pleaded as multiple vines spread out like tentacles from the pumpkin. The duo took off down the path, and with malicious glee, the muncher Frankie, who sounded amused and he cheered when he gave the order to follow.


    “Is this some kind of life-and-death test for the wizard?” Tony asked.


    “Doesn''t matter,” Dad said firmly. “We''re done, Emma. Head to the van. If a dark witch wants to take on a wizard. That is a whole other ball game.”


    I was about to reply when a hand came down on my shoulder. I went and shuffled across the mulch in alarm. It was when the little girl from before.


    “Oh, hey Gwen,” I said quickly. “Where''s your mom?”


    “Do you know what fear does to paranormal and supernatural creatures?” Gwen asked.


    “Pardon?” The questions struck my soul, and I tightened my grip on my tambourine.


    “Your name isn''t Gwen, is it?”


    I steadied myself in case she tried to touch my arm or tackle me instead with her sword. Gwen pulled back the branches. Just enough time for me to see the Joneses, Lauren, and her parents. Lauren wore a red cape and weathered black dress. She spoke with her parents in hushed voices, and her dad appeared beyond crestfallen. They headed rapidly across the sidewalk. Lauren ran across the street and proceeded up the. Up the road towards the student housing. ten seconds, a car came by five seconds. She was a red dot identifiable only by the porch lights that created a single line until the next intersection. I heard a few cars honking, and people were starting to run. Fate kept my friend in my line of sight, and the moment she reached the next corner, a hunched figure jumped from the bushes, and I heard the distinct, guttural howl.


    How did I not realize this sooner? The smell, the poor hygiene, the slurred speech and the over anxious desire for meat. I felt my vigor return, and without any hesitation, I booked it from the trees and joined a few jaywalkers who were advancing across the street.


    “Mayday,” I cried over the persistent rattle of my instrument.


    “What''s going on?” Tony asked in alarm.


    “Tell Dad, my friend Lauren from high school. She''s become the target of a werewolf, and ironically, she dressed as Little Red Riding Hood.”


    “Emma?” Dad said.


    “I’m heading up Lawson Avenue,” I said, “I’m in pursuit because there is no way she will get home otherwise.”