Monsterland

by Michael Phillip Cash

  “No,” Carter said flatly, looking around the deserted street.

  People were hiding, and the wolves had spread out. In the distance, they heard screams, but this part of the park seemed empty. Occasionally, a dark shape flitted by.

  Jessup and Carter studied the base of the steel poles, feeling their way around them in the darkness.

  “There’s no way up,” Carter shouted.

  “I don’t see any exit signs.” Jessup looked around and then up. He hugged the pole, trying to inch upward. “They’re too smooth to climb.”

  Carter looked around the park, his eyes resting on one of two trash cans. He tried to lift it, but it was bolted to the floor. “Come on. Help me.”

  Together both men pressed all their weight against the mesh can. Carter’s veins stood out on his neck from the strain, his face crimson. The can groaned and then tore off its base. Carter rolled it toward the pole. They spied another one and soon heaved the second trash can so that they now had a structure eight or nine feet tall. Carter hauled himself up, wobbling as he stood, but he used his weight to balance.

  Quickly, he stripped his shirt, wrapping it tightly around the pole. Using his feet as leverage, he began to inch his way up the slippery metal pole. He looked down to watch Jessup climb up the garbage cans after him.

  Carter paused, sweat pouring into his stinging eyes. He heard his phone ping with a message, but his hands were clutched tightly in his shirt. It would have to wait. Loosening his hold, he jerked the material upward to continue his slow climb.

  Emergency lighting had now turned on. He could hear screams, closing his eyes with the horror of the sounds of this disaster.

  He heard Jessup shout. A huge wolf stood on his hind legs, iridescent eyes glowing with excitement, its growls turning into fierce barking. Carter started to slide down, Jessup’s orders stopping him.

  “No. Go. We’ve got to shut this thing down.”

  The animal was leaping, its fangs snapping as it lurched up. Another circled the base of the trash cans, nudging them so Jessup wobbled dangerously. “Get out of here!” he screamed.

  Carter let go with one hand, reaching for his gun.

  “Forget it. It won’t do any good,” Jessup called as the wolf finally grabbed his arm. He fought, pistol-whipping the beast, but it barked stridently, calling for help. Its jaws snapped, clamping on Jessup’s thigh, pulling him down off his pedestal. Jessup screamed once, the sound cut off as his throat was torn out.

  Carter’s eyes closed with disbelief, his gorge rising. His legs shook, the muscles screaming with the strain. His shoulders were on fire, his stomach churning, but he continued inching upward, the sounds of skin tearing echoed loudly in his ears.

  The landing came into view, and he hooked his foot over the railing, his arms shaking with the effort. Dangling over the edge, his arms weakened for a moment, but adrenalin coursed through him enabling him to vault over the barrier to land in a sweaty heap on the floor. With trembling hands, he pulled out his phone to look at the text.

  “Josh is on the way home. I will be too as soon as I get Jade. Zombieville.”

  “Shit,” Carter muttered.

  Rolling onto his knees, he stood on legs that barely supported him. He unraveled his shirt from the tight wad it was in his hand and put it back on. He stood, his legs rubbery, his mouth watering, and he fought the urge to vomit. He glanced over the railing to see the wreckage of his friend. The wolves formed a circle below, their intelligent eyes watching him. They howled with triumph. The green glow of the lights on their collars dotted the park, looking like a field filled with fireflies. Carter turned, and his feet carried him toward the other end of the tunnel. Lights went on overhead, dim now—a generator supplied the power, he reasoned. The weak light lit small pools of white that chilled him more than full darkness. If the place was being run by a generator, where were the support staff?

  His feet echoed in the dark tunnel, his breath loud in his ears. Carter paused, banging on the outline of doors along the wall. No response. He felt for a lock, found a keypad, but his tired mind couldn’t recall the numbers he had seen Vincent punch. Frustrated, he headed to the mouth of the tunnel.

  He ran toward the entrance, hitting his fist on the metal barrier separating him from the outside world. It echoed in the confined space with a tinny resonance. Shouting, he placed his fingers along the seam, straining to separate the two halves. It was locked tight. Carter cursed loudly.

  He heard scrabbling at the other end of the tunnel. There was a loud thump, as though a body were hitting the railing. He hugged the cool metal of the walls, moving toward the sound. He saw the outline of a wolf jumping, its long claws trying to hook themselves on the glass barrier. It continued its attempts. It had to be jumping forty or fifty feet. Carter cursed softly. Dual paws caught, the hind legs scratching against the glass. Carter watched the bared teeth gleam in the minimal light as the beast pulled itself up and over the barricade.

  Carter’s breath whooshed out of him. He turned, running to the nearest invisible door that dotted the wall. The paws scraped against the tiled floor, the loud panting filling his ears.

  He felt the sides blindly for a keypad. Closing his eyes, he frantically tried to recall the number he had watched Vincent type into the keypad earlier.

  “Five-eight.” There was more. He pressed his sweaty head against the wall. He could do this. He whispered the numbers again. He moved his fingers over the keypad. Come on, numbers, numbers. What were those numbers? he thought, closing his eyes, trying to recreate the moment with Vincent. All he saw were those dark eyes mocking him. He slapped his head. Think, he ordered. “Five-eight-forty-five-oh-…” What was the next number? He tried again, going for the five. The animal was picking up speed, another wolf landed with a thud after reaching its goal. Four pairs of claws clicked on the surface of the floor. There was an additional number to the code, he recalled Vincent had covered the keypad. A menacing growl echoed behind him. Carter hissed with fear, his fingers punching the keypad, going through the sequence again and again, his fingers slick with sweat, pressing each of the digits until he got to seven. The wolf launched itself at Carter, the lock made a noise and the door popped open. Carter squeezed in, slamming the door behind him, smiling at the satisfying thwack and the arm-numbing vibration of the wolf hitting the steel door. Carter slid on the floor, his back against the abused door, laughing with relief.

  CHAPTER 23

  The tunnel was dank, water from the lagoon dripped from the overhead pipes. It was dark. Here and there, pools of blood coagulated around the abused bodies of the staff of Monsterland. The wolves had done their damage, Raoul told them. Now they were waiting for the chance to finalize their escape.

  Howard groaned. His neck ached as if it had been wrung—well, it was, he thought. He cracked open one eye to survey his surroundings. His glasses were gone, and everything had a fuzzy quality. They were underground, the belly of the park; he looked up at the pipes, knowing from the muted sound that he was under a body of water, like an aquarium.

  He scanned the room. Keisha was sitting, her eyes closed, her knees against her chest. A trickle of blood sluggishly oozed from a spot on her neck.

  Howard stiffened. Booted feet stood next to his face.

  “He’s up.” A girl with matted pink hair crouched to look at him. She pulled his face from the dirty floor. “I like him. Can I have this one?” she asked with a plaintive wail.

  Raoul separated himself from the shadows on the wall. “Not yet, Sylvie dearest. Young Howard here will lead us out.”

  Howard sat up, groaning. “How did you know my name?”

  Raoul smiled contemptuously. He nodded to Keisha. “My drone told me. She told me everything, Howard Drucker.” He said the name slowly, savoring it, as if by saying both names they were confidants, close.

  Howard pulled at his tied hands, bound painfully behind him.

  “What did you do to her?” Howard demanded.

  “Rela
x, lover boy. She’ll be coming out of it soon. I only sipped a bit of her nectar. She won’t stay in this state for long, unless I maintain a steady diet.” His eyes sparked.

  Howard pulled at the ties confining him, finally giving up, exhausted.

  “You might as well stop fighting it. You can’t win,” Raoul told him in a silky voice. “We’ve been around forever, since the beginning of time. You can’t stamp us out.” He got up, walking around, warming to his subject. “You persecuted us for being different.”

  “You’re parasites.”

  “No better or worse than a deadbeat relative or a petty criminal. You’re stuck with us, so you better make the best of it.”

  Howard heard a sound, watching in revulsion as a vampire, and then another, detached themselves from the darkness to scurry over to the pools of blood outside their hiding spots. He heard slurping and must have made a face.

  “We used to fascinate you.”

  “That was before I really knew what you were.”

  “What are we?” Raoul bent down to touch his face in a familiar way. “Monsters?” He shrugged. “We do what we do to survive.” He snapped his fingers, and Keisha rose, her eyes blank. She walked over toward him. He pulled her down to rest against him, settling her close with an intimacy that made Howard squirm.

  “You have to get us out of here.”

  Howard shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “You know, I like this one,” Raoul said in a friendly manner. “I droned her. Maybe I’ll go all the way. Turn her into one of us.” He turned to Keisha, stroking her face. “Would you like that, my pretty?” he asked softly. He looked at Howard. “You know how we do that, don’t you?”

  The vampire observed the young boy’s clenched hands, his gritted teeth. “You wouldn’t like that, Howard Drucker,” he purred. “You wouldn’t like that, at all.”

  He stood easily, taking out a knife from his pocket, freeing Howard’s arms. The blood rushed through his abused limbs like needles.

  “Oh, I hear it, Raoul, let me taste it,” Sylvie cooed. She rubbed his arms, her tongue flicking with delight. Howard pulled away from her, a sneer on his face.

  There was a crash above them. “Come, children. We must flee. Young Howard will lead the way.”

  He pushed Howard on the shoulder toward the passageway leading to their freedom and Howard’s hell.

  CHAPTER 24

  Wyatt sprinted toward the part of the park he wanted to go to, and the only part he hadn’t seen. He ducked into an empty store, ripped a tee shirt from a hanger and wrapped it around his stinging hand. It had stopped bleeding, but he looked like he had just come off a Call of Duty battlefield. Merchandise littered the streets, windows gaped, broken, and listless curtains waved like flags of surrender. He walked carefully, avoiding the ominous red puddles. Piles of corpses lay in the dimly lit streets. The bodies were unrecognizable. A barricade separated him from Zombieville. A small suburban town had been built, that much he knew, but it was behind a steel wall, confined in an impenetrable prison, cut off from the rest of the park. A dismembered body lay on the ground, a steel mesh glove abandoned by its side. An unholy voice rent the air, breaking the eerie silence. The steel gate that held the zombies from society shrieked as a lever groaned, and the gate started its slow movement, opening up Pandora’s box. It stopped at the midway point.

  Wyatt gingerly picked up the glove, pulling it on his arm. The mesh went all the way to his shoulder where the leather strap looped over his head to hold it there.

  The park had gone silent. Overhead, the stars twinkled from the inky sky. There was not a sound; even the breeze had died.

  Wyatt sucked his breath in, stopping from inhaling deeply, the sour stench of rotting flesh making the air heavy. He looked back through the alleys and streets he had come down, wishing he could go back, find his brother and run for safety. A wolf howled, and he shivered. Jade was somewhere in there. He had to get her and Nolan out. He put his foot forward and then followed with the other. The metal gate, a solid wall of riveted steel, rolled on it hinges making a great creaking noise. Wyatt pushed himself to walk to it, his eyes searching the darkness for any movement.

  He reached the opening, the faint agonizing grunts and muffled moans floating on the still air. He stepped on porous rock, wincing when the crunch magnified in the dark. It was followed by a silence so thick he felt underwater. Wyatt sniffed, his face grimacing from the stench of decay. It enveloped him, smothering him, until he felt his gullet meet the back of his throat. The axe felt heavy in his hands.

  He saw them from the corner of his eye. They were slow moving, just like he imagined. They moved with a mindless motion, rocking as if their kneecaps didn’t work. There was no light but the dim emergency bulbs that flickered with an orange glow. They were in various stages of the disease, their skin a yellowish green, not unlike the color of the shamrock marshmallow in Lucky Charms, he thought inanely.

  Most had their arms outstretched; some had eyes, others empty sockets with sticky black puddles that overflowed to paint their cheekbones in striated patterns. They shuffled rather than walked, and when the first one moved close enough so that its gnarled fingers brushed against the thick mesh adorning his arm, Wyatt reacted, whacking the axe against the head, watching in sickening astonishment as it cleaved it in two, brains spilling out like water from a broken faucet. The thing groaned, falling to its knees to land with a soft whisper on the floor. He backed away, revolted by the sour stench of the blood, sickened by the way a group landed en masse like a tackle in a football game, the soft sucking and crunching noise of their feast making bile rise so that it coated the back of his throat.

  “Jade!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “Jade, where are you?”

  Frantic knocking answered him, and he raced down the street to where it grew louder.

  CHAPTER 25

  Billy leaped by the trash can, a bark forcing him to stop. He turned, spying the new kid. He ran over, licking the cub’s ear, which was drenched in blood.

  The lad rubbed his face happily against him.

  Billy smiled—at first he was repulsed by the human when he’d invaded their territory. He was ready to rip his skin, to feast on the warm organs. When he held out the camera, as an offering, Billy’s conscience pricked him, and he decided to let him go. The tables turned when the kid begged to be incorporated into the pack.

  Little John was horrified. They hadn’t added for years—it was a code between them. It was a hard life, but the yearning in those eyes made him do it. A bite, a nip really, their blood intermingled to morph and change the boy forever.

  It was instantaneous, a miracle to watch, really. The body embraced the changes, the youthful howls shivery in his delight. Of course, he was sloppy at first, his initial kill a messy job, but, Billy thought with pride, he learned fast.

  “It’s eat them or be killed,” Billy warned. “No time for maudlin sentimentality like you showed those cops.” He gestured to the dead policeman at the base of the mezzanine.

  “I don’t have a collar like yours,” he yelped.

  “No need. These are collars of captivity. I like yours better,” Billy told him with gentle barks. He licked the gold wolf’s head. “See, it has green eyes that resemble our lights. You’re one of us.”

  “For real?” he barked in wonder.

  “For real,” Billy responded.

  Melvin smiled a toothy canine grin, then turned to plunder and pillage, his heart filled with joy.

  Billy’s eyes teared up. “No, thank you!” he growled loudly. Billy was happy at last. Happy and free, thanks to the boy.

  CHAPTER 26

  Carter ran through the miles of halls, trying doors, using his formidable shoulders to break open the locks. He heard sobbing, and he banged on the door, finally kicking it open to find a trio of Monsterland employees huddling in the corner. One rose, brandishing a broom.

  “Where is everybody?” Carter demanded.

  “Gone. G
one or dead. There’s no way out. The wolves have the garage, the zombies just broke through their gate, and the vamps are missing. We’re doomed,” he cried.

  “Have you called for help?”

  “We’ve called Washington. They said help is on the way, but what kind of help?” a girl whined, her face lined with mascara.

  “They are going to bomb us; they have to.”

  Carter nodded grimly. “Where’s Vincent?”

  The man shrugged. “Probably gone.”

  Carter shook his head. “He wouldn’t leave.”

  “Try the main control room.” He pointed up the dark passageway.

  Carter nodded and took off. He heard them close the door and heard the movement of furniture behind it.

  The halls echoed eerily. Carter passed the weapons room, pausing and then ducking inside to grab a shotgun. He stuffed as many shells as he could in his pockets and then loaded the gun. He came up to the control room, trying the doorknob.

  He double pumped the gun, blasting the locked doorknob so that the door flew open. Vincent turned around, his eyes opening wide with surprise.

  “Officer White, just in time.” He held a phone to his mouth. “No, no it was nothing. Everything is under control here. The president…ah yes, the president is in the eating facility safe and sound. I’m afraid cell phones aren’t working well…I understand. Hmmm…well that’s no problem.” His finger depressed the lever on the base, disconnecting the phone. “The secretary of state. She’s so tiresome. I’ll have to do something about her tomorrow.”

  Carter grabbed the receiver from his hand. He punched in numbers.

  “Officer Carter White of the Copper Valley Police Force. We are in trouble here. The president is dead. Security’s been breached…” The line went dead.

  Vincent tugged and then held up the phone wire in his fist. “You’ll ruin everything. I have it all under control. Monsterland is safe.”