thing’s insane. And we’re stuck in the middle of it.”
“For how long?”
“What time is it now?”
“Twelve-fifteen.”
“It ends at dawn.”
“You’re shitting me.”
The crowd continues to swarm. Dozens of kids tap every part of the car they can reach, while continuing their chant.
“What are they talking about?” Jack says.
Jill shakes her head in disgust. “Crazy, stupid, fucking festival,” she says.
“Explain it to me.”
“ What ? Why?”
“What else can we do? On the bright side, the Fosters aren’t getting out of the trunk anytime soon. Not with all these guys dancing on it.”
She smiles in spite of her anger. “They’re probably wondering what the hell’s going on.”
“I am, too. So tell me.”
“It’s so stupid !” she says. “You’d literally think less of me if I explain it. You’ll wonder how I know about something so ridiculous.”
“Try me.”
She sighs. “I just want to get out of here. I want to go to Willow Lake, to your lake house. Why the fuck did you turn south, Jack? What made you do that?”
When he fails to answer, she looks at him and says, “I’m sorry. I’m just so…”
“I know.”
“I thought we were actually going to make it, you know?”
“We’ll still get there.”
“ How ? The whole world’s against us!”
“You’re just saying that because fifty people are licking our windows simultaneously.”
It’s true. Those who aren’t dancing and chanting are tapping and licking.
“This is the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she says.
“Explain it to me.”
“It has something to do with Vikings and their swamp relatives. They come from all over the world, show up by the thousands every twelve years.”
“This only happens eight times a century?”
“That’s right. And only in this one place.”
“And we just happened to hit it?”
“Lucky us, right?”
“I want to hear it all, okay?”
“Okay.”
“But I mainly want to know two things. Are we in danger? And where the hell were they hiding?”
“We’re not in any danger. I mean, sure, they seem deranged. But their kids are here, and gumbo’s being cooked.”
“Speaking of the kids…”
“Yeah?”
“I thought Vikings were Scandinavian. You know, blond hair, blue eyes? These kids are like Children of the Corn .”
“Except creepier.”
“I don’t understand why the women and kids are licking our windows. They’re full of dead bugs.”
“Told you they were hungry.”
“When’s dinner?”
“After the chant.”
“How long does the chant last?”
“How the fuck should I know? I can only tell you what makes them stop.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you really give a shit?”
“I do.”
She says, “I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. Okay, so they stop chanting to smoke the Jester. After that, the torch people come to light the way.”
“The way to what?”
“The bayou.”
“What happens there?”
“Food, drink, more singing, dancing, chanting, tapping, and licking. Not the car, but sugarcane.”
“Sugarcane?”
“Then the virgins ride up on horseback, the Ging Master launches the pirogue into the bayou, and every sixth man spits on the foot of the fifth, and hurls his torch at the boat.”
“Then what?”
“You’re letting Ging Master slide?”
Jack shrugs.
Jill says, “Then they watch the pirogue burn in the water, down to the last ember.”
“Then what?”
“Then they lie down and go to sleep.”
“Back up to the part about the virgins.”
She shakes her head. “Typical male response.”
“Well, it’s the name of the festival, after all. The Virgin Boat Festival, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
She sighs. “Okay. Look. I don’t know the whole story, but here’s how it works. The festival starts at sundown, when all these numbskulls gather, and six topless women ride down the trail on horseback.”
“Virgins?”
“They symbolize virgins.”
“Right. Then what
“For how long?”
“What time is it now?”
“Twelve-fifteen.”
“It ends at dawn.”
“You’re shitting me.”
The crowd continues to swarm. Dozens of kids tap every part of the car they can reach, while continuing their chant.
“What are they talking about?” Jack says.
Jill shakes her head in disgust. “Crazy, stupid, fucking festival,” she says.
“Explain it to me.”
“ What ? Why?”
“What else can we do? On the bright side, the Fosters aren’t getting out of the trunk anytime soon. Not with all these guys dancing on it.”
She smiles in spite of her anger. “They’re probably wondering what the hell’s going on.”
“I am, too. So tell me.”
“It’s so stupid !” she says. “You’d literally think less of me if I explain it. You’ll wonder how I know about something so ridiculous.”
“Try me.”
She sighs. “I just want to get out of here. I want to go to Willow Lake, to your lake house. Why the fuck did you turn south, Jack? What made you do that?”
When he fails to answer, she looks at him and says, “I’m sorry. I’m just so…”
“I know.”
“I thought we were actually going to make it, you know?”
“We’ll still get there.”
“ How ? The whole world’s against us!”
“You’re just saying that because fifty people are licking our windows simultaneously.”
It’s true. Those who aren’t dancing and chanting are tapping and licking.
“This is the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she says.
“Explain it to me.”
“It has something to do with Vikings and their swamp relatives. They come from all over the world, show up by the thousands every twelve years.”
“This only happens eight times a century?”
“That’s right. And only in this one place.”
“And we just happened to hit it?”
“Lucky us, right?”
“I want to hear it all, okay?”
“Okay.”
“But I mainly want to know two things. Are we in danger? And where the hell were they hiding?”
“We’re not in any danger. I mean, sure, they seem deranged. But their kids are here, and gumbo’s being cooked.”
“Speaking of the kids…”
“Yeah?”
“I thought Vikings were Scandinavian. You know, blond hair, blue eyes? These kids are like Children of the Corn .”
“Except creepier.”
“I don’t understand why the women and kids are licking our windows. They’re full of dead bugs.”
“Told you they were hungry.”
“When’s dinner?”
“After the chant.”
“How long does the chant last?”
“How the fuck should I know? I can only tell you what makes them stop.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you really give a shit?”
“I do.”
She says, “I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. Okay, so they stop chanting to smoke the Jester. After that, the torch people come to light the way.”
“The way to what?”
“The bayou.”
“What happens there?”
“Food, drink, more singing, dancing, chanting, tapping, and licking. Not the car, but sugarcane.”
“Sugarcane?”
“Then the virgins ride up on horseback, the Ging Master launches the pirogue into the bayou, and every sixth man spits on the foot of the fifth, and hurls his torch at the boat.”
“Then what?”
“You’re letting Ging Master slide?”
Jack shrugs.
Jill says, “Then they watch the pirogue burn in the water, down to the last ember.”
“Then what?”
“Then they lie down and go to sleep.”
“Back up to the part about the virgins.”
She shakes her head. “Typical male response.”
“Well, it’s the name of the festival, after all. The Virgin Boat Festival, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
She sighs. “Okay. Look. I don’t know the whole story, but here’s how it works. The festival starts at sundown, when all these numbskulls gather, and six topless women ride down the trail on horseback.”
“Virgins?”
“They symbolize virgins.”
“Right. Then what
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