The dusty wind whipped through my hair as I got out of my car. There wasn’t a soul around, so I decided to hop the gate.
I jammed the toe of my sneaker into the chain link wire to get a foothold, then reached up to the top. But just as I started to crawled up the metallic web, a voice shouted at me from the other side:
“Hey! You, there!”
Out of the weeds marched a broad-shouldered security guard—and he was pissed! I jumped down as the big brute faced me through the gate.
“Can’t you read?” he yelled. “This here’s private property!”
Most private security guards wore navy blue trousers and a white shirt, with the company name embroidered on the sleeves. This guy looked like a foot soldier, ready for military combat. He had on a camouflage uniform with a flak jacket over his large chest. The brim of his helmet floated above his wraparound shades. In spite of the guard’s brawny appearance I didn’t feel that intimidated by him, until I noticed the holstered firearm at his side.
“No one’s ‘loud inside here!” said the guard sternly, “lessin’ you was invited by your Jimmie.”
“But, I was,” I lied.
“How come y’all didn’t come up with the others?”
“I decided to drive up on my own. That way I’ve got a ride in case I decide to leave early.”
The guard immediately reached into his belt and pulled out a scanning wand, like the one used on Fred at the Happy Fun Mart. He waved it over my forehead. After reading the results, his head jerked up.
An angry scowl crossed his lips. He gripped his sidearm and slowly backed away, as if challenging me to a gunfight.
“Y’all just turn back ‘round and go on home. Ya hear?” he said.
I put up my hands and slowly backed up, being careful not to make any sudden moves. The guard’s stare didn’t leave me until I was in my car and headed down the hill.
My encounter with that crusty guard left me a little frazzled, but I knew I would be back. The Fun Zone mystery had just taken a new twist, and now begged the question: What was so valuable beyond that gate to warrant enlisting G.I. Joe to guard it?
I hadn’t traveled far when things got even more mysterious. A dozen school busses passed me going up the hill, like a long, yellow caravan. Fun Bus to the Fun Zone was stenciled on the side of each one, Through the bus windows I saw the faces of their teenage passengers.
And a rowdy bunch they were, running up and down the aisles and screaming with laughter. What kind of bus driver would allow that kind of riotous behavior, I wondered. Then I realized that there were no drivers! The busses were all self-driving vehicles!
I pulled over and stopped while the Fun Zone gate was still in sight. Fully expecting the busses to be turned away by that surly guard, he instead swung open the gate and let them through. He even waved to the kids as each bus drove on.
There was little doubt now that Nell had been transported there the same way. It was all coming together now. The final piece to the puzzle lay just beyond that gate. I would return after sundown, and under cover of darkness, discover the real truth behind the Fun Zone.
Chapter 8
Night Spy
A misty blanket of fog rolled in as night fell. Fortunately for me, it wasn’t so thick that it hindered my drive up to Summit Lake. Not one car shared the narrow road with me, as Shankstonville faded into darkness at my back. I kicked on my high beams. The brightness lit up the trees along the twisting highway, casting ghostlike shadows on the pine forest beyond. The woods in my rear view mirror were set ablaze by the red glow of my tail lights.
The gate to the Fun Zone lay just ahead, but I turned off the main road and headed for ol’ Gus’s boat shack. Sneaking into the amusement park from the road wasn’t going to happen. That much I knew. Short of dropping in by parachute, the only way inside was to approach it from the lake.
I parked my car out of sight under some low tree branches. From there I walked the short distance to the lake. My key chain flashlight lit a narrow path through the darkness.
The planks on the dock creaked, as I crept lightly to the rear of the shack. The neon Closed sign in the window reflected in the calm water. I looked around me, like a thief about to knock over a convenience store, then untied one of the paddle boats from its mooring. Climbing in, I pushed off, sending the little boat out onto the listless lake. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then started to pedal, steering toward the sweeping light rays of the lighthouse.
I was careful to keep the shoreline in view at all times. Pedaling too far out on the lake could mean getting lost in the fog, that had already swallowed up the far shores. The night air was a little nippy, but rubbing my hands over my arms kept the chill away well enough.
The flip-flap of the paddles in the water worried me. Sound tends to travel far and wide in the still of the night. I continually looked behind me to make sure I wasn’t being followed. But why? Who else would be out on Summit Lake at night in the fog, except a fruitcake like me?
My body now shivered with anticipation. The hazy beacon of light sharpened, the closer I got to it. And as the last wisps of fog parted, there was the majestic lighthouse, its brilliant beam reaching for the horizon from a high cliff.
Then more lights began to seep through the fog; lights that followed the spokes of a Ferris wheel; lights that chased the curves of a roller coaster. They were the lights of the Fun Zone, as colorful and thrilling as they had been a century ago!
But as the dazzling lights broke through the mist, another beam illuminated the shoreline next to me. I glanced over my shoulder. A searchlight, mounted to the bow of a slow-moving vessel, was scanning the breakwater.
A patrol boat!
I peddled as fast as I could toward the shore, then ducked into a small cove.
Angling my boat behind a large boulder, I bent over, wrapping my arms around my knees. My heart raced like a frightened fox hiding from bloodthirsty hounds. The boat’s spotlight shined on the cliffs above my head, missing me entirely.
The floating predator then continued on its way, outwitted by its prey in the shadows.
I had to move quickly if I wanted to reach the Fun Zone before that pesky boat came back. I leaped off my floating bicycle onto the shore, and started to climb. Rocks covered the face of the cliff, like those climbing walls you see at street fairs, only this one didn’t come with a safety line.
Scaling the cliff one stone at a time, I made certain that each foothold was secure before reaching up to the next rock. But the moist air had coated the cliffs with dampness, causing me to slip now and then, losing valuable ground with each misstep.
Then a flash of light appeared below me. My paddle boat had drifted back out onto the lake, and was now aglow in the patrol boat’s searchlight.
The crew thoroughly scoured the cove for trespassers, then slowly angled the light up in my direction. I scrambled to go higher, but my fatigue and the slick stones worked against me.
I hung on, motionless and helpless.
The rim of the light was only inches from my feet, when a hand grabbed my arm and pulled me down into a large crevice. I fell onto someone in the darkness.
“Quiet,” whispered a voice.
The searchlight slowly pass overhead, then went out. Sitting up, I peered down at the lake. A tow line had been attached to my paddle boat, and the patrolmen were towing it away.
“Thanks,” I said to my rescuer. “That was a close one.”
Then I turned on my key chain flashlight to see the face of the Good Samaritan. The face belonged to Zac!
“Again?” I said. “I swear, I can’t go anywhere.”
“You’re one to complain,” said Zac. “I just saved your hide.”
“I’m perfectly capable of saving my own hide, thank you.” I thought for a moment. “Wait a minute! How did you get out here? You don’t drive.”
Zac looked down and fidgeted with his fingers. “Well, you might say I hitched a ride.”
“With
me?” I asked, my mouth gaping. “What did you do, hide in the trunk?”
“That’s ridiculous,” he said. “I would never do something so obvious. I hid under a blanket in the back seat.”
I shook my clenched fist in his flushed face. “I could have you arrested for breaking and entering!” Then I relaxed my fingers. “But for being the last person I ever wanted to see. I’m kinda glad you’re here.”
Zac was the only person I knew who didn’t have a Jimmie, and the only one who could possibly help me. Partnering with him on this adventure hadn’t crossed my mind, but probably would have been a good idea. I was kind of moved by is concern for my welfare. My mission would have already failed had he not shown up when he did. I should have thanked him for that, but I wasn’t quite ready to be that generous.
“Are we friends now?” asked Zac.
“No!” I stated emphatically. “You’ve earned points with me for heroism. That much I’ll give you.”
Then my dear missing cousin crept back into my thoughts.
I looked upward. “Nell’s up there,” I said.
“I know,” said Zac, “along with at least a dozen others that I know of.”
I pointed skyward. “Let’s go!”
We soon reached the plateau at the top of the cliff, and found ourselves knee-deep in a field of tall grass. The chain link fence surrounding the Fun Zone wasn’t more than 100 feet away. Keeping our heads down, we cautiously advanced.
Then Zac grabbed my arm. “Listen!”
In the distance were the unmistakable sounds of a merry-go-round pipe organ, the popping of shooting gallery BB guns, the bursting of carnival game balloons.
“You hear that?” I said excitedly.
I charged toward the fence. At that moment, Zac dropped to the ground, taking me with him.
“Get down!”
Guarding the fence was a man wearing the same military uniform I had seen on the gatekeeper, only this guy had a rifle. His square jaw chomped on gum, while scanning the field for intruders. More gunmen stood guard along the fence about every 10 yards or so.
We were so close, yet too far away to see beyond the wire barrier. Luckily, Zac had the foresight to bring a pair of binoculars. Handing them over to me, I was amazed at what I saw through the lenses.
The rides and attractions looked brand new, as if they had been put up yesterday! Beneath the strings of lights were the missing teenagers—hundreds, maybe thousands of them—laughing, running, and thoroughly enjoying themselves.
The Ferris wheel had stopped to let on more passengers. I zoomed in on the very top seat. To my shock and delight—Nell!
“There she is!” I cried.
“Let me see!” said Zac. But as I waved him off, a dark figure now blocked my view. Standing over us was the mean-looking, rifle-toting, gum-chewing guard.
“Looking for something?” snarled the large man.
Zac jumped to his feet, with his shaking hands high over his head. “Don’t shoot! We didn’t mean to cause any trouble. We saw the lights and just wanted to see what it was. That’s all.”
“Well, you’ve seen it, kid,” growled the guard.
“Now get the hell out of my face before I really get pissed!”
The man raised his weapon.
I heard the other guards laughing hysterically, as Zac and I bolted over the grassy terrain, stopping only when we had reached the safety of my car.
The tires of my VW rumbled over the railroad tracks into Shankstonville’s low-rent district. Broken bottles and newspapers tossed to the wind littered the streets. A homeless man bundled himself against the night air on a bus stop bench.
“There’s my house,” said Zac, pointing to the porch light of a modest, yet well-kept home.
“Aren’t your parents worried about you coming home this late?” I asked.
“They would be,” said Zac, “but nobody knows where my parents are. I live with my grandmother.”
I pulled up to the curb in front of the house and left the engine running. Not wishing to pry, I didn’t ask anything more about Zac’s folks.
Zac reached for the door handle, then paused.
“Will you come in for a minute?” he said. “I want to show you something.”
“I don’t know if I should, Zac. What will the neighbors think?”
“Hang the neighbors! It’s okay. Grandma is sound asleep by now.”
Zac switched on a floor lamp in his bedroom. An American flag hung on the wall above his bed. A military recruitment poster was mounted over his dresser. Support Our Troops ribbons were stuck on just about everything else.
On his nightstand sat a desktop photo of a young man in a U.S. Marine uniform, standing in front of Old Glory. Beside it rested a velvet jewelry case. Zac picked it up and flipped open the lid. Inside was a heart-shaped medallion.
“It’s a purple heart,” said Zac. “The government gives them to war veterans who have been wounded in action. It was my dad’s.”
Zac handed me the sacred honor.
“Was?” I said, with concern. “He wasn’t killed, was he?”
“No. He was left with some pretty ugly scars, but he’s okay—or so Grandma tells me.” He ran his fingers over the photo frame. “I haven’t seen my dad since I was a child.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, handing him back his treasured medal. “You don’t have to tell me anything more if you don’t want to. I won’t be offended.”
“But I want to tell you—
“I’m an adopted child. My parents took me in when I was still in diapers. Everything was great. I had a loving mother. My father was the best dad ever. Then he was deployed to some godforsaken place, to fight in some godless war. His first tour of duty was brutal, but they kept sending him back.
“Coming home, the nightmares and the drinking started almost immediately. Doctors treated him with drugs and psychiatric therapy, but nothing helped. His violent temper would flare out of control for no reason. Mom was afraid he might hurt me, so she brought me here.
That was the last time I saw either of them.”
Zac returned the medal to its honored place beside his dad’s photo.
“There was a time when soldiers returned home from battle to cheering crowds,” he said. “Maybe if he had been shown some appreciation for his sacrifice, things would have been different.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I said. “War is a terrible, terrible thing, but sometimes they need to be fought.”
“This one didn’t!” he insisted. “But that didn’t stop us from getting mixed up in it. Everyone was told that it was the patriotic thing to do, and they all bought it. What’s the matter with people?”
“What if I told you they’re infected with a virus that affects their judgment?”
He raised his voice. “I’d say that’s a lame-ass excuse!”
“Shh!” I said. “You want to wake up your grandmother?”
Zac slowly breathed out his anger.
“You know, Amy, I wasn’t afraid of that guard tonight. Given our situation, what I did was our only hope of getting out alive. I think Dad would have approved.”
“You really miss him, don’t you?” I said.
“I’ve learned to live with it. Too bad they don’t give out medals for that, too.”
Zac walked me outside, and we sat on the front steps, under the glow of the porch light.
“I’m going back to the Fun Zone, you know,” I said. “Tomorrow night. I don’t think you should come. You have enough on your plate, and I really don’t need your help.”
“Yeah, right!” said Zac. “You stormed the enemy beaches in a paddle boat. Trust me. You need me.”
“That place is too heavily fortified,” I said. “It can’t be penetrated by land or by lake. That leaves only one other way to get in. One of us is going to have to get a Jimmie!”
Zac jumped to his feat and stood at attention. “I’ll do it!”
“No. It has to be me. One of us has to stay normal
, and you’ve already proven yourself a better field officer than me. If I get turned into a Jimmie vegetable, who’s gonna save Nell?”
“I’m afraid for you, Amy. There’s no telling what will happen once that Jimmie takes hold.”
I rose and placed my hand on his slender shoulder. “Nothing worthwhile is ever achieved without taking risks. Right—partner?”
Chapter 9
My Jimmie
"Good morning, Amy.”
“Yawwwn. What time is it?”
“It’s time to get up.”
“I’m still sleepy.”
“It’s going to be a perfect day. 73 degrees, mostly sunny, humidity 54%.”
“Great. Wake me when it gets here.”
“No can do. Rise and shine.”
I had just survived a strenuous and very late night, and wanted to sleep in. Whomever was badgering me to get up wasn’t going to stop until I did. The voice I heard was too high to be my mom or dad, and way too polite to be my brother or sister.
I grudgingly pulled back my covers and sat on the edge of my bed. Then I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and surveyed my bedroom. No one was there!
“Alright! Who’s doing this?” I demanded.
“Sorry, Amy. I didn’t mean to freak you out. Jimmie Voice takes time to get used to.”
My Jimmie! I had visited the all-night Jimmie store and taken the brain pill at bedtime. The night was so exhausting that I had fallen asleep before its effects kicked in.
My first impression of Jimmie was that it could do with a lesson in manners. Its discourteous wake up call showed clear evidence of that.
But I was prepared to put up with whatever it could dish out. Surrendering my brain to a Jimmie was the only way to get into the Fun Zone. Unfortunately, my noble sacrifice also meant joining a fellowship I didn’t want to belong to. I was now officially a Jimmiehead!
I rose to my feet, but dropped back onto my bed, as something big and bright popped up in front of me. I closed my eyes and shielded them with my hands. I was getting my first look at Jimmie Vision. Interestingly, the object disappeared, my eyelids acting like a kind of window shade. For a time I stayed with the darkness before opening my eyes again. But as my room came back into view, I saw something amazing: a wide-screen video projection, floating in the middle of my bedroom.
The Age of Amy: Behind the Fun Zone Page 7