Sparks sprayed from fraying wires left exposed in the giant wheel's wake. GP swore under his breath and shielded his face with an arm. "We gotta get out of here."

Hand-in-hand with GP and her sister, Tilly started pulling everyone towards the exit. They didn't make it far. The thoroughfare was already swarmed. Bodies were packed, squirming, as more and more terrified fairgoers forced their way towards the main gate. Carnies climbed on faded apple boxes, voices raised, in an attempt to direct the flow of the mob. Their instructions went unheard, swallowed by the chaos. Children cried.

"Please!" An elderly man flagged Tilly down just as she started to wade into the masses. His weathered blue-veined hand was wrapped tight around his wife's trembling shoulder. "Have you seen our Dorothy? She's a girl 'bout your age, brown hair—"

"Said she was going to ride the Cyclone and then the—" There was a catch in the old woman's throat as she caught a glimpse of the runaway ride over the surrounding tents. She paled, eyelids fluttering. "The—the Ferris wheel—oh mercy—"

"Sorry, folks." GP pushed past them with a grim smile. "I hope you find her, I do, but we all need to evacuate—"

"There's still people on the ride." The realization came first as a whisper but the longer it sat in Tilly's mind the angrier she got. She dropped his hand. "THERE'S STILL PEOPLE ON THE RIDE—"

"Shh." He cringed and stepped in front of her, as though his body could muffle the sound of her voice. "I know this is bad but this is a job for the authorities. Police, the fire department, whatever this little podunk town has to offer. Hopefully everybody makes it out okay."

Sprout covered her mouth in horror as she looked to the metal caging that made up the ride's passenger cars. "Somebody's gonna get crushed."

He hushed her, grimacing, before returning his attention to Tilly. "We have to look out for ourselves. Let's go."

Metal squealed. The wheel picked up speed as it trundled downhill. Timber snapped and support beams collapsed as it crushed a row of tents. People flooded out, scattering like ants from a smashed nest. Some rushed for the exit but others just stood, staring, transfixed by the surreality.

GP reached for Tilly's wrist. She pulled away. The exhausted uncertainty etched in her expression solidified into something sterner. "Sprout, mind GP while I'm gone."

"What?" He tried again to grab her as she passed, fingers closing around empty air. His face was fathomless and hollow, jaw working. "Don't—don't tell me you're crazy enough to go after that thing—"

"All right." She broke into a run. "I won't. Be back soon."

"You can't be serious!" he yelled after her. "You're making a huge mistake!"

Following the path of destruction, Tilly slid down the hillside, loose gravel and clumps of grass snowballing in her wake. Something nipped at her heels as she landed. She looked over her shoulder.

Booger's tongue lolled from her mouth, approximating a small smile. "So I guess it's gonna be a late dinner tonight, huh?"

"We gotta catch up to it." Tilly felt braver knowing that her dog was with her. "Can you turn into something fast?"

"You got it." As the dog lunged ahead, tail wagging, she landed on four hooves. Her fur thinned and fell in patches, the fine hairs disappearing before they had a chance to touch the ground. The raised hackles along her neck grew into a wild black mane. She knelt before Tilly. "Hop on."

Tilly threw a leg over the spotted horse and they broke into a gallop. Without a saddle, she bounced along the shapeshifter's back with a yelp and scrambled to lock her arms around Booger's neck. She clung for dear life.

Each hoof fall brought them closer to the wheel, growing larger and more terrifying on the horizon. Booger bobbed and wove around the twisted shrapnel and debris left by the runaway ride as it tore through a trio of concession stands. Popcorn fluttered through the air like snow.

"Well, there's your dinner," Tilly said in the horse's ear.

"Mmf." Booger floundered to catch a few free falling kernels. She munched them thoughtfully. "Needs salt."

As they closed in on the wheel, Tilly leaned forward as far as she could, an arm outstretched. She almost had it.

The ride passed over an oil drum and crumpled it like a boot on a tin can. What remained of the drum toppled over, blocking their path. With an alarmed whinny, Booger long-jumped over it. Her back hooves scraped against metal.

Tilly was nearly thrown off, arm sliding from the horse's neck to her head. Swallowing back a scream, Tilly reflexively coiled in on herself and hugged Booger tightly. A moment passed. She took a slow, deep breath. Then another. She found the courage to open her eyes again.

The wheel was approaching the main gate. Beyond that laid the sleepy little town of Coleville, the first of its windows glowing amber-bright in the early twilight.

Tilly tried again, sitting low, reaching, straining, trying to touch the wheel. She grazed a metal rung. It sliced her fingertips, a long ribbon of blood rolling down her palm. Hissing in pain, she hesitated.

"You don't gotta do this." Booger's voice was the calm in the eye of the storm. "The boy's got a point. You don't owe this town nothing."

"But I got the means to do it." Gritting her teeth she tried to stretch a little further. "That means I have to try."

With a final, desperate push, Tilly rolled from the horse. Her hands locked around one of the wheel's spokes. Her feet tried to find purchase with the ground but the wheel was too strong. It dragged her, heels digging into the grass and mud. The buildings of Coleville became a black smear against the distant, unmoving hills.

The ride kicked up a pebble that struck her on the forehead. Something warm dribbled down her face. Tilly cried in pain but she didn't let go.

Power thrummed within the seams of her dress. The fabric billowed from a sourceless wind. Every fiber in her being screamed, on fire, dying, as she pulled the ride back. Tears left clean tracks down her grimy cheeks.

Then she heard it: A rip of cloth. She had popped a stitch. Magic leaked from the ruined seam like sand from a sieve.

The wheel was slowing but not fast enough.

"This has to work," Tilly pleaded. Her throat was closing. "Please help me, Granny—"

A second stitch popped. She couldn't bear to look anymore.

As she waited for impact, a shadow darkened her eyelids. Though an entire side of her dress was blown out, denim edges worried and frayed with a snare of gold thread, she managed to find her footing.

An elephant loomed above her, trunk wrapped tight around another spoke.

"You're a good girl, Booger," Tilly said, blinking hard and fast.

The elephant's ears wiggled. It was hard not to imagine her small tail wagging behind her like a dog's. "Aw, go on."

They pulled back, together, one more time. Tilly's hemline tore under the pressure. Her strength started to fail, limbs shuddering as though in the throes of a terrible fever.

As the wheel came to a rest, they were left on a void of stunned and terrified silence. The front gate was empty. A crowd of the evacuated had parted to make way for the Coleville Fire Department, which consisted of a solitary red truck with a ladder. The wounded were receiving treatment, faces blank.

There was a flicker of movement in the passenger car just above the elephant's head. A hand pressed against the metal caging.

"Is—is it over?" the girl inside asked.

"Almost," Tilly said. "We just have to get y'all out of there. Booger, help me get this thing laid over on its side."

"Sure thing." The shapeshifter relinquished her hold on the spoke and went around to the side. Planting her head against the side of the Ferris wheel, she began to push. The ride rocked, off-kilter. There was a ripple of screams from the passengers.

"Hold up, hold up—" The moment Tilly let go of the wheel she toppled to the ground. She tried several times to heave herself up but the slightest movement felt like an immense weight was bearing down on her. "This ain't gonna work."

"Y'all okay?" Sprout called. The sound of her foot falls had seemed miles away but suddenly her smoked goggles were staring down at Tilly, upside down, as she stood over her. She grinned. "You look plum tuckered out."

"Lord that ain't the half of it." Tilly gestured for a hand but reconsidered as she saw the bloodied mess they were. Sprout pulled her up by the shoulders instead.

"Looks more like raw hamburger than hands," her sister commented.

"I'll have to patch 'em up later," Tilly said. "Can you help us get the Ferris wheel turned over? Gentle-like? Don't wanna bang up the folks inside anymore than they already are."

"Well, maybe, since you asked so nicely." Sprout crouched and drew a sigil in the dirt. The grass and dandelions around her shivered to attention. She pointed to the wheel. "Pull that thing over on its side, if you please."

There was a crack like a whip as thick cords of kudzu wove their way through the spokes of the wheel. Within minutes, the ride looked as though it had sat abandoned for years, laced with flowering vines.

Booger gave another push, trumpeting from the effort. The ride teetered. The kudzu acted like a pulley system, easing the wheel's descent. Once it was on its side, the caged doors popped open one by one. The passengers emerged, broken and battered—but alive.

Tilly smiled. Sleep pulled at her consciousness. She fell back onto the ground just as the police sirens started to wail.