Predatory Aura

Carol fiddled with her watch. It was almost ten o'clock.

"Donna, you there?"

It was a gift from her mom, all she had left. Carol wiped the face, ashamed she'd let it get dirty at all. She licked her thumb and buffed out a smudge.

"Barkeep! Hey Donna, you're looking low. Want another?"

The numbers were starting to dim. Carol gave the watch a soft tap on the side.

"It's solar powered."

"I know," Carol finally responded. She looked up at Jimmy. His eye let out a little twitch, as if the gaze he'd been begging for stung.

"Are you bored of this place already?" Jimmy asked. He ran his manicured hand over his shiny black hair with a nervous grin.

"It's Saturday, right?" Carol checked her watch again. She could make out that the 'FR' was read, indicating 'Friday.' "I think my watch is off."

"Yes, it's Saturday. We've gone out everynight this week," Jimmy whined. "You've been asking about this place since we've met and now you can't get off that watch."

"Jimmy," Carol adjusted the watch to the right day. "Jimmy I really appreciate you bringing me all the way out here, but I thought Flytrap was playing tonight."

"Oh he does. He really does, every Saturday. I called ahead and they said he'd be here tonight. Barkeep!" The Barkeep came over in a chocolate colored vest and fiery orange goggles.

"Jimmy! What can I get you and this lovely lady?"

"This is Donna, my date! Hey, do you know when Flytrap is supposed to come on?"

"I'll have to go ask, but normally I'd say he's on before midnight. Can I get you two anything?"

"Barkeep, do you ever mess up drinks wearing those goggles?" Carol chimed in as she shook the dapper man's hand.

"Never once ma'am."

"Then I would like a dirty martini."

"She likes them really dirty," yelled Jimmy.

"Yes, please make it extra dirty," giggled Carol.

"You know, we've got specialties, since you've come all this way," the barkeep's eyes lit up from beneath the goggles like tiny suns. "A Vesuvius martini suit you? We use habenero but it's not too spicy."

Carol and Jimmy side eyed each other.

"Make it two, barkeep," interjected Jimmy. "If you're going to poison us, better if we die together." He grabbed Carol off her stool and held her tight. "You ready for the tour?"

"I promise I'll pay attention," sighed Carol, a little smushed in Jimmy's arms.

"Good," Jimmy chuckled as they walked out to the dance floor.

Several stories above their heads were spotlights of all different colors, automated and pivoting about. They would take turns pointed at the giant disco ball hanging from a crane overhead.

"That weighs over a ton," Jimmy said following her gaze.

"Oh yeah?"

"They call her Mommy Salami."

"And why is that?" Carol snorted.

"They built it for a festival in the Philippines. Salami is a word for disco there."

Carol snorted again. Her eyes fell toward the stage where the music was coming from. It was some DJ at the helm, not Flytrap. Jimmy hugged her from behind.

"Don't worry, he'll be here. Look down."

Carol did. Her eyes grew wide and warm when she saw where they were standing.

"The glass is thick as shit, nothing like it in the world. It's reinforced too."

They were floating several stories above a lake of lava. Neon orange cracks formed as bubbles burst. It looked like a shapeshifting spider web.

"Don't you get sweaty just looking at it?"

Carol grimaced as she caught a whiff of Jimmy's pits. It had been a whole week of nights like this, but she'd finally made it here. She held her breath and turned around.

"I can't wait to dance here all night," Carol lied.

Jimmy's smile grew wide. Carol thought he didn't have enough skin to smile like that. She tightened her lips and gave him a quick peck on the mouth.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

"You enjoy the helicopter ride too?" Jimmy prodded.

"Mmmm, not so much."

"I could tell you were tense," Jimmy massaged the back of her arms as he held her. "Do you know why they call this place Jamboree?" Carol shook her head. "Well, when the real show starts, Flytrap has some tricks up his sleeve."

Jimmy took a step back, and they stared down through the glass together. He pointed to pipes along the edge of the lava lake.

"There, there, there, and there. Those are different gas pipes. From the DJ stage, they can change the color of the lava, of the dance floor."

"What's your favorite color?" Carol humored him.

"Hmmm, I think blue. It feels like you're dancing over a jar of blueberry jam. That’s why they call it Jamboree"

"There’s no way that’s the reason," sneered Carol. She looked down again. "I can't wait to see it."

"Let's go get our spicy drinks," Jimmy said leading her back to the bar.

"Actually," Carol stopped and looked around. "I should probably go to the bathroom before Flytrap starts."

"It's past the crane for Mommy Salami," Jimmy pointed.

"Thanks, I'll meet you back at the bar." Carol turned and made her way toward the crane.

As she walked, her gaze turned down toward the lake again. The lava churned directly below everyone there, and no one seemed to care. What kind of lives did these people lead? Carol knew Jimmy as a 'producer,' but he never went into more detail and she didn't care enough to ask. He was just her ticket in.

Carol approached the crane base. It was screwed into the stone flow with giant bolts. She looked at her mom's watch again. It was ten forty-five now.

"Ma'am, are you looking for the bathroom?" Carol looked up to see a man in chocolate suit and a giant earpiece. His eyes tired and unfriendly. "You can't be this close to the crane ma'am. Bathrooms are that way." He pointed behind her.

She smiled, and without a word turned toward the bathroom. She was face to face with another man now, the one she was looking for.

He was old now, but she knew the face. His suave brown pompadour was just a couple wisps of unkept gray. His blue eyes were sunken, and he mouth was like a shriveled rose. The little light in his eyes flitted toward hers, and his shriveled rose curled into a smile.

She smiled back. He'd lived so much of his life, but at least she was going to be able to take some of it.

"Hi, I'm Donna," Carol said.

"Donna, Donna, Donna. That's a lovely name. We used to have a Donna who worked here. She practically lived here," his voice quivered with every word. "That was a long time ago. My name is Clifford. The ladies call me Cliff," he winked.

"Well Cliff, I hope you have a fun night tonight."

"Donna, you really look just like her. Donna. Hey, Seamus!" Clifford shouted at the suited man. "You remember Donna? No you don't," he answered himself. "That was before your time. Anyways, let this Donna in wherever she wants." He craned he frail head back to Carol. "Donna, I'll be in the owner's suite up above. Seamus will take you up whenever you want." Clifford gave her a wink and was off.

"Cliff," she stopped him.

"Donna," her turned back.

"I'm a big fan of Flytrap. I hope I see you on the dance floor."

His crooked shriveled rose curled even more, and he nodded assuring. The lift he was standing in close, and he vanished.

Carol turned to continue her journey to the bathroom. Fortunately, she didn't actually have to go. Pushing open the door, Carol was greeted by harsh fluorescent light, maybe enough to charge her watch if she held it up.

The bathroom looked empty. She checked under each stall door to be sure, and then walked up to the mirror. She'd been wearing mascara all week, maybe more than she'd ever worn it in her life. She turned on a sin, wet her hands, and splashed her face. If she could wash it off here, she would. But now wasn't the time, there wasn't a lot of time left.

Her hair was in a top knot, something else she rarely did. She pulled her hair out and caught a little cream sphere. Plastic explosive. Her mother's watch, she looked it over one last time and then took it off, and wrapped it around the sphere. She popped off one of the buttons to reveal two exposed wires that she jammed into the explosive.

As she was tucking the bomb away, someone burst into the bathroom. In a green jump suit and long red nails, a dark featured woman stormed in. She stopped when she noticed Carol.

"Pardon, I thought the bathroom was empty," said Flytrap.

"It was until a minute ago, I was just about getting ready to leave," responded Carol. "I'm a huge fan."

"You are? Well I love to meet fans. Have any requests for tonight?" She was wearing mascara too, green. Carol had never seen her face.

"I have a favorite actually, Predatory Aura."

"Oh? I don't get that one very often. I promise to play it then. What's your name?" She extended her ivy green arm and sharp red nails in greeting. "My real name is Cassandra."

"Carol," admitted Carol as she shook Cassandra's hand. "My real name is Carol."

"Well Carol, I'll be sure to give you a shout out."

"I can't wait," Carol lied. Her smile faded as she realized what she had to do. She glanced quickly at Cassandra's other hand, she was holding her signature Flytrap mask.

Cassandra's smile faded too, as she realized the handshake wasn't ending. She tried to pull back, but Carol held tightly. Carol jerked Cassandra in, and swept her legs. Cassandra fell on her back and she started kicking toward Carol desperately.

"Help!" she screamed, backing up into a stall. "Somebody help me!"

Carol couldn't let her get another word out or everything would fall apart. She jumped on top of her, straddling her. She put her hand over her mouth, but Cassandra started biting down, like a fly trap. Carol ripped away her hand and wrapped her fingers around Cassandra's throat.

"Help!" Cassandra let out one last time before she lost her voice. Carol whipped Cassandra's head into the side of the toilet, and she was out. Bleeding too. Carol, was saving her, even if it was messy.

"You'll thank me," she said as she unzipped Cassandra's jump suit.

A minute later, she was in it herself. She looked at herself in the eyes one last time before she put the Flytrap mask on. Clifford was right, she did look like her mother. She was surprised he remembered her at all.

She held the watch bomb in her hand, thinking of her mom. Donna loved her as much as she could, but she could never cope with what had happened here. And now she was going to put all of it to rest. She pressed the buttons on either side of the watch and a timer started for five minutes.

She put on the mask and walked outside, leaving the bathroom and Cassandra behind.

She walked up to the crane, Seamus still standing there.

"Hello Ms. Flytrap, are you ready to go on?"

She nodded in her fly trap mask, unsure she could mimic Cassandra's voice. Seamus turned to lead the way, and Carol placed the explosive on the crane before following.

The DJ before her stopped the moment he saw and leaned into the mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Flytrap is here." The dance floor rumbled with cheers and hollers. The crowd glowed a fiery orange. She stepped up to the stage, and across the crowd she saw Jimmy alone at the bar. She couldn't make out much, but it didn't look like he was touching his drink.

The crowd went silent in anticipation. On the left side of the dance floor, she saw Clifford shuffling in. He was looking for her. She only had time for one song.

Carol leaned into the mic. "This one goes out to Donna." She queued up Predatory Aura on the laptop and the crowd began to bounce. She'd never actually heard the song, or any by Flytrap, but it wasn't bad. It was a good way to go.

She looked at the switches in front of her. She held down the green and watched as gas ignited out of a pipe along the lava, turning a portion green. Then she held down the blue button and the red. The entire cavern was shimmering a dim rainbow now, it was almost dizzying if it wasn't filtered through the mask.

Now Clifford was standing in the center of the crowd, looking around for her. The song was almost over, and the old man was too slow to shuffle away now. He was standing directly under Mommy Salami.

Carol leaned into the mic one last time, as the music faded.

"I want us to give it up for Cliff, Jamboree's one and only creator." The crowd cheered as she gestured toward him. "How many men stay in the nightclub business at his age?" Clifford was no longer looking around, he was staring up at her.

"Who is that?" she heard him say through the cheers and laughs.

"No, the only men who stay in this business for this long are the ones franticly looking around for new tail to chase." The dance floor grew quiet.

"I wonder if Cliff would be looking around this desperately if he was trying to find his daughter?" Carol ripped off the mask to start Cliff down.

"Donna?!" he cried, confused.

"I'm not Donna. She's dead. You killed her."

"I would never had killed Donna! I loved her."

"If that's love, I have some love for you."

She looked over to the crane base and Seamus. There was a flash of light and a loud pop, then the creaking began. The crowd looked up in horror as Mommy Salami came crashing down on them with a thud.

There were people who didn't instantly die that were trying to pull themselves out. Carol leaned over the table and saw the top half of Cliff scratching at the glass floor. Jimmy rushed from the bar to try to help people, many others had gathered to help too.

These weren't good people, she was sure of it. Then she heard a crack, and then another. The entire dance floor was splitting open. The people that had scrambled to help turned tail, but it was too late.

As Carol fell into the rainbow abyss, surrounded by cries and screams, she was finally at peace.