Monsterland

by Michael Phillip Cash

  Overhead, the stars that were blotted by the shadows of the three helicopters they had seen earlier reappeared. The rotors whipped the trees to life, and the crowd instinctively ducked as the helicopters hovered overhead and then took off toward town.

  Gears grinded, and a row of solid iron doors slid open, revealing murky walkways. Attendants dressed in crisp green uniforms stood like silent sentinels at each portal, their faces impassive. Melvin raced ahead to be the first one in.

  People surged forward like cattle, dividing into small groups to enter the turnstiles one by one. Wyatt gripped his brother’s sleeve, pushing him in front where he could keep his eye on him.

  He watched Nolan hold Jade possessively by the hand as they went through the entrance to his left.

  Wyatt pulled his parchment from his back pocket where it had been folded into a neat square. He handed the girl his invitation, which she examined, and then searched his face to see if she could recognize him as someone special. She gave up with an embarrassed shrug and told him to keep the parchment as a souvenir. She directed him to an escalator where he saw Melvin halfway to the top. Nolan was told to go to another doorway. Wyatt saw him wave at him, Jade close to his hulking side. He turned to the attendant and asked, “My friends, can they join us here?”

  “No,” she said. “Dr. Conrad is waiting to take you on a private behind-the-scenes tour. You can catch up with them later.”

  “Come on,” Melvin shouted, waving wildly from the top of the escalator. “Let’s go!”

  Wyatt followed his brother toward the steep moving stairs, his eyes searching and finding Jade as she disappeared through a portal. He saw Howard walking slightly behind Keisha.

  “Howard Drucker!” he shouted. “You are supposed to be here!”

  Keisha looked up, she was holding onto Howard by the back of his shirt.

  Howard looked up at him and shrugged.

  “Well, that’s one way to get him to take her on a date,” Melvin observed.

  “He thinks he’s not good enough for her,” Wyatt answered.

  “He’s not, but it looks like it doesn’t matter.” Josh laughed.

  “She’s aggressive, I’ll give her that. What did Conrad call her, Diana the Huntress?” Melvin asked.

  “Looks like she finally got her prey,” Josh added. “But it should be the other way around. Howard Drucker should be the hunter.”

  Wyatt said simply, “Howard Drucker wouldn’t know how to hunt, even if a deer landed in his lap and said, ‘Take me.’”

  “And you would?” Melvin asked him.

  Wyatt didn’t answer. Melvin was already on his nerves, and they hadn’t even gone inside yet. He wished Howard had stayed with him. He watched mutely as Keisha and Howard were dragged through the entrance, to be swallowed by the crowd. He didn’t know why, but he felt uneasy as their heads disappeared.

  The escalator rounded the top and Wyatt stepped on the backs of his brother’s feet as they were pushed onto the mezzanine. Josh turned, yelling, “Hey!” He stumbled ahead, his sneaker half off his left foot. They were in a glass-enclosed visitors center. It spanned the entire left side and contained the control center that ran Monsterland. They were halted by an attendant who slapped bracelets around their wrists. Wyatt fingered the material, but couldn’t find a beginning or end to the tag. It was locked securely on his arm. He looked up at the attendant who smiled. “It indicates you are one of the chosen guests. You won’t have to wait in long lines.”

  Wyatt nodded with understanding, but he was feeling mildly trapped in the crowd. A woman with a mic approached him, her cameraman trailing behind.

  “And you are… ” She held out the mic.

  “Wyatt Baldwin.”

  “Any relation to Alec?” She craned her neck hoping to catch sight of him.

  Wyatt shook his head. “Sorry, nope. I mean, no relation.”

  “How’d you get to VIP?” she asked coldly, looking at the three of them. “What’d you win the tickets, in a raffle?”

  Wyatt backed away from her. She was a predator, making him feel tiny and exposed.

  “Hey, kid…Baldwin boy. I have a question,” she called out to him.

  “Go talk to a politician,” Melvin yelled over his shoulder as they pressed through the groups of milling people.

  There were hundreds of people in business suits walking about. They pushed into the center and stopped. Wyatt stared, his mouth open. He saw the governor, two state senators and the speaker of the house all in one cluster, surrounded by men in dark glasses. He noticed a few of his stepfather’s colleagues in their beige uniforms skirting the crowd. His eyes scanned the crowd for Carter. He wanted to talk to him—well, not really. He wanted to see him, just for a second. He knew he would feel more settled if he did. Right now, his insides buzzed with a weird sense of nervous anticipation, as if he were riding to the top of a rollercoaster but wasn’t prepared for the drop. He knew it was coming but had no idea when—or how frightening. His stomach tightened into a knot, and his skin was sensitive, so that when he brushed against Josh, he jumped. Josh pushed him with a nervous snort. Wyatt saw Conrad then, glad-handing the crowd. Above them, screens were set up, each displaying different Monsterland openings all over the world. Vincent paused to look at the monitors, laughing at the antics of politicians and celebrities at each of the seven parks worldwide. Every major leader was there. No one wanted to miss being invited to the biggest event since the Biblical flood. Conrad walked around like a politician running for office, a huge smile pasted on his face. Wyatt studied the doctor, shaking his head. The man couldn’t have killed that wolf, wouldn’t have fed it to the zombies. He was a humanitarian. It had to be actors. It went against everything Vincent stood for.

  There were representatives from all arms of the military—generals, admirals, and foreign dignitaries. Women in Monsterland jumpsuits walked around with black trays full of cocktails and small appetizers. Josh reached forward, snagging a handful of pigs in blankets, stuffing them into his mouth.

  “Josh,” Wyatt admonished.

  “What, they’re free, and we’re guests.” He lurched to the right. “Melvin!” he called as he ran to Wyatt’s buddy, who had a beverage in each hand. “Give me one!”

  Melvin grinned, downing one martini, placing the empty glass on a table. He slurped the other drink, his eyes half closed in ecstasy. He rushed to the other side of the room.

  Wyatt squeezed through the crowd, listening to the conversations, mostly business. He reached Melvin, who was now leaning casually against the wall. Josh raced over, his face flushed with excitement.

  “There’s McAdams.” Josh pointed to the president.

  Wyatt pulled him back, forcing them to melt into the crowd.

  “What? Cut it out. You’re just like Mom.”

  Wyatt took in Melvin’s flushed face. “You look drunk.”

  “Just happy. I can handle it.”

  “I don’t want to have to clean up your vomit.”

  “You really are sounding like your mom. Relax, Wyatt. Where’s Howard Drucker?”

  Wyatt peered through a thick glass wall, pointing to a crowded entrance. “He got swept away with Keisha. He never made it up here.” He texted Howard, but the message wouldn’t go through.

  “Well, I’m bored. Let’s go,” Josh said.

  “I want to hear the president’s speech,” Wyatt said.

  “Look, I’m here for fun, not a history lesson. I’m going with or without you.”

  The president mounted the mezzanine, the crowd parting in awe.

  Vincent Conrad came forward, a broad smile on his face. He held out welcoming arms to the leader of the free world, who walked right into the mogul’s embrace. They shook hands warmly, and Vincent put his arm around McAdam’s back. Wyatt started for a minute. He had taken a course last year on the body language of diplomacy. The doctor had his arm around the president’s shoulders and was clearly declaring himself the dominant man in the room, the more powerful per
son. Sound receded for Wyatt; he cocked his head, staring at them. Vincent’s eyes scanned the room, locking with Wyatt. The black eyes stared at Wyatt like the dual bores of a rifle. Wyatt shivered but held the gaze. Vincent’s thin lips widened into a mirthless smile that seemed to be directed solely to Wyatt, hitting him like an invisible force field. He nodded once. Wyatt felt his scalp tighten.

  The room felt small, too hot. The doctor’s face seemed unfamiliar, as if the stark light revealed a new person. Wyatt didn’t want to hear anything this person had to say. He wanted to leave. “Let’s go.” He turned toward the upstairs entrance.

  “I thought you wanted to hear the president’s speech.”

  “I changed my mind,” Wyatt said, his voice low. He briefly considered leaving the park. Jade was with Nolan, and he was stuck with his brother. Melvin was acting odd, and Howard was missing. This was not what he expected. He looked over the railing at the vast expanse of Monsterland; the noise of the eager crowd was muffled through the thick glass. Speakers announced times for various shows, Werewolves at eight, Vampire Live! at ten, Walking with Zombies at midnight. Zombies, he thought. When would he ever get this chance again? If nothing else, he wanted to see them up close. For years, all things zombie had consumed him. He had read everything he could get his hands on. He couldn’t explain his fascination; he could talk about them for hours. Yet, lately, they didn’t seem as interesting as they used to. He had watched Jade’s eyes glaze over and didn’t mind when she turned the conversation to something else last week. Not that he could remember that discussion either. Seemed all he could concentrate on were her ice-blue eyes and creamy skin. If only he could tell if she were really interested in him. Carter told him to ask her out—she wasn’t engaged, didn’t wear Nolan’s ring or anything. In fact, Keisha whispered that Jade wasn’t too crazy about Nolan and had talked about backing out of her prom date with him. Nolan was leaving this fall, got a full football scholarship to Idaho State. Jade was going to nursing school right here in the Valley. She was staying home, like him. Maybe, she’d go to the movies. Maybe not. He frowned. He searched for her face in the crowd but asked his companions absently, “You want to do the behind-the-scenes tour?”

  Melvin looked longingly through the glass observation windows at the park spread below them. “Hell, no.”

  “Me neither,” Josh agreed.

  “Let’s see what we came for,” Wyatt nodded. He turned to scan the room once more, catching sight of his stepfather, who appeared on the edge of the room with some of his colleagues. Carter’s eyes caught Wyatt’s in a warm smile. Wyatt waved his hand in a friendly salute and turned with his friends to the large pneumatic doors guarded by two men in black uniforms.

  “If you leave this way, there’s no way back,” one of them said ominously.

  Wyatt gulped.

  “The park has exits.” Melvin walked up to one of them, his face close to the guard.

  He nodded. “Yes, but once you leave these doors, you can’t return this way.”

  “Let’s go,” Josh said urgently.

  The guard pressed a combination of numbers into a keypad, and the doors opened, revealing a pitch black tunnel.

  “It’s dark in there,” Wyatt said, peering into the blackness. “Like a vacuum.”

  “It lights up automatically overhead as you walk through. Go on.” He gestured to the tunnel. “I can’t keep this open long.”

  They ran into the dark, tube-like structure that lit the spot they were in as they traveled through it, their feet echoing in the empty chamber. Wyatt paused for a second, looking at where they came from, the tunnel lights extinguishing so that the way back was as dark as the sky. He shook as if chilled.

  “This place is so cool!” Josh said, his voice echoing in the dimly lit corridor. “What’s wrong with you? Come on, look.” He pointed to the dark alley. “There’s no going back.”

  “Yeah,” Wyatt said grimly. He looked at the lights before him and the darkness behind him. His brother was right. There was no going back.

  CHAPTER 13

  Conrad was in his element, he observed, as the older man walked through the groups, shaking hands, smiling his toady smile. Carter leaned forward, his hands fisted on his hip, his gun reassuringly belted to his side, another snug in his ankle holster.

  His eyes began a circle of the room once again, his ears alert to the steady hum of conversation. He felt the doctor’s presence before he saw him.

  “Officer White.” The doctor read his badge. He didn’t offer his hand. “Are you enjoying the park?”

  “I’m here to work.” Carter dragged his gaze from a group of politicians to meet Vincent’s face. “I’m not here for enjoyment.”

  “All work and no play will make you a dull boy,” Vincent said with a laugh.

  Carter shrugged indifferently. “I’ve been called worse.”

  “You refused our complimentary tickets for your family.”

  “My sons are here.”

  “I don’t remember the White family on the guest list.”

  Carter shifted his weight. “My stepsons are named Baldwin. You gave Wyatt Baldwin tickets at Instaburger.”

  “Ah!” Vincent threw back his head. “A delightful young man. He did you proud that day. He is somewhat familiar to me.” He studied Carter’s face with a calm smile. Carter felt those black orbs search him so intently, he felt like his own eyes were being sucked from their sockets. Carter looked away.

  He asked sharply, “Do you know everybody who enters your park?”

  “I make it my business to know everything and everybody that touches my business. That’s the secret to my success.” He placed a heavy hand on Carter’s shoulder. Carter couldn’t help but wince at the contact. “Suppose you lead the way into these rooms, so I can begin my tour, Officer White. Maybe I can change your mind about my venture.”

  Carter turned. “How do you know how I feel about your… venture?”

  He felt the hard scrutiny of the older man’s gaze. The black eyes studied him intently, and, for a minute, the silence was so thick it felt tangible. Carter felt the urge to shift but refused to be the first to give in. He returned Vincent’s stare, his cheek taut with the effort. Vincent broke the hold first, laughing. “I told you, Officer White. I make it my business to know. Please lead the guests to the control center.”

  They followed the older man through the halls, the sounds of the excited guests filling the canned interior. Vincent approached a double door with a keypad on the side. Carter leaned against the wall as Vincent punched in the numbers. Carter nonchalantly observed and couldn’t explain why it seemed important to him to watch. Five-eight-forty-five-oh-five, he repeated in his head. Vincent watched him silently and then covered the keypad for the last number. He punched it with flourish. The doors opened with an efficient whoosh.

  They passed the weapons room, the doctor proudly pointing to rows and rows of twelve-gauge shotguns, each with a pouch of shiny silver bullets the size of his thumb. Carter nodded appreciatively. They would stop a werewolf, vampire, or zombie in their tracks, he thought with satisfaction.

  A diplomat took out a cell phone as if to film. He looked at Vincent, with a question in his eyes.

  “Do you mind if I film?”

  “Be my guest. All of you.” Vincent gestured broadly.

  They all withdrew their cell phones and started taking pictures.

  “Impressive firepower. I bet it would take down an elephant, rhino, or hippo as well,” McAdams added with a smile.“

  Seems incongruous to have guns in a family theme park,” the ambassador from China grumbled.

  A few people murmured, the crowd shuffling uncomfortably.

  “Welcome to the twenty-first century!” Vincent shouted with pride, ignoring the observation.

  The doctor led them into a vast facility lined with five rows of computer consoles. Uniformed techs sat absorbed at each screen. Vincent walked briskly ahead, waving the president and his entourage forward. C
arter lagged behind, and his group took positions in the back of the room, silent sentinels lining the curved wall with quiet observation.

  The entire facing wall was a collection of hundreds of screens that changed with the rapidity of a blink. Naked men in pens, a dining area filled with Gothically dressed vampires, their pale faces large on the screen. Various shots of the park, closeups of workers, guests, and monsters. There was an infirmary with doctors in lab coats treating ailing inhabitants of the park. One room had rows of vampires having blood drawn.

  President McAdams called out. “Are they giving or getting transfusions, Vincent?”

  “Neither, Mr. President. We are taking their blood to study it. Imagine, if you will,” Vincent warmed to his subject, “if we could isolate the enzyme in a vampire’s blood and use it to tame a wild population.”

  “A wild population of what?” the Chinese ambassador asked, his face alert.

  “Why, of revolutionaries and malcontents. Think, gentlemen—war will be obsolete.”

  There was a murmur of discussion in the room, with some rumblings of approval.

  A general walked forward, considering the screen showing a vampire calmly having his blood withdrawn.

  “Sometimes being a revolutionary is not a bad thing, Dr. Conrad. Let’s not forget our own great country was founded by revolutionaries.”

  “The US government is a democracy and would never turn against its people,” Vincent retorted.

  “Governments don’t turn on its people, corrupt politicians do,” the general said gruffly.

  “Come now, General Anthony, is it?” Vincent asked. “We are talking about Vincent Conrad and the United States of America. We are all perfectly safe.”

  McAdams walked over and pulled the general aside. They spoke, their faces serious. There appeared to be a disagreement, but the general was discreetly but firmly disciplined.

  Carter watched the exchange with fascination. Most people were absorbed with the many screens. There was a gasp, and a tremor seemed to travel through the group.

  Carter’s eyes were drawn to a monitor showing a deserted street filled with dilapidated houses. The room grew silent as the guests turned their attention to the image of a house that turned into an interior shot. There was a collective inhale, followed by uncomfortable rumblings. There was a mass of squirming people all fighting over something on the floor. The shot closed in on the back of a man’s head. He turned, his eyes blank, his hand holding the disconnected limb of another, his mouth chewing rhythmically on fingers.