"The remnant asphalt heat still shimmers at 3 a.m. It emanates off the blacktop, from wrist-thick power cables that snake their way throughout the grounds, from the corrugated metal skin of the rides that have sprung from the lifeless earth. It is felt and seen, on the ramps that lead to the Ferris Wheel; on the synthetic blue-and-red fur of the hanging, plush bears jammed tight under the cover of rope-tourniquet canvas; on the undulating, shape-shifting mirror that casts its reflection from the House of Fun."
From above the carnival burns bright. Double-looping neon-sequined roller coasters, Ferris wheels, and dozens of other rides spin wild screams into the ink-black sky. A labyrinth of games branches out onto the asphalt, and barkers beckon the river of passers-by with spinning wheels and bouncing balls, promising a quick buck or a giant stuffed bear. They come from miles.
On the ground, behind the curtain, a different world exists: the sugar-high promise of the Midway has an underside, where unwritten rules are applied without concern for causality or casualty. The impossible can be dreamed here.
When Wyatt finds himself pulled into the carnival, time loosens its hold. He becomes magnetized by the Midway. The frenetic 24/7 physical and mental demands force him to become a part of the fabric, whatever form it takes. It's an unrelenting, unforgiving realm where all who enter are either abandoned or consumed.
