by Michael Okon
“I told you not to get too close!” a co-worker yelled as he pulled the guard to his feet. “You can’t taunt them. You’ve been warned.”
“Yeah, yeah. What are you going to do, replace me? Nobody wants to work in this stink hole,” he grumbled. They left the room.
“You okay, Billy?” Petey growled.
“Never better,” Billy said, holding up a flat, plastic card. It was the passkey to all the cells.
Chapter 10
Carter leaned against the wall, his eyes scanning the growing crowd of dignitaries invited to the grand opening. Danny Jessup, his boss and chief of police, walked past him, pausing to take a sip from his ever-present coffee cup. He exchanged a look over the rim, catching Carter’s shrug. Carter’s phone vibrated with a message. He pulled it out, noting that Wyatt informed him he’d just arrived.
Carter texted back, “Can’t now—on duty. Meet you later.”
The press walked around, getting interviews from the guests. The air buzzed with excitement. Carter laughed. It was like the friggin’ Oscars, he snorted to himself.
Jessup’s deep-set eyes watched him intently. He was just past forty, and his love of burritos showed on his waistline. He hitched his pants and nodded. “Kids?”
“Yep. They’ve arrived. Yours?”
Jessup shook his head. “Nope. Told them I didn’t want them here. Don’t want distractions.”
Carter nodded. “Mine got special invitations.”
“You could have said no.”
Carter cocked his head. “What, and be the evil stepfather? No thanks. I’m still working on getting them to play ball with me.” He looked at the coffee cup. “I thought we weren’t allowed food or beverages in the park.”
“We are considered to be in a safe zone,” Jessup said with a smirk.
“Duly noted,” Carter stated, as if that was all that had to be said. They had worked together for close to fifteen years and could practically read each other’s thoughts. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Too many important people here. I heard the ambassadors from both Germany and Russia just landed,” Jessup said, looking at his watch. “Not to mention the president, a clutch of senators, and a bunch of militaries.”
Carter nodded to a brace of suited men obviously in the Secret Service. “They’ve brought their own guns.”
“Not enough for my taste. The way I see it, we’re outnumbered at least a hundred to one.”
“That only counts if this thing goes south,” Carter said. “Konrad keeps assuring everybody he’s got it under control. The inhabitants are heavily sedated.”
“I’m not comfortable with it.” Jessup threw his cup into a garbage can.
“I read the playbook. Monsterland has protocols in place. The wolves are behind impenetrable glass, they keep the vampires sated with blood, and the zombies are in a walled-off village. Visitors wear special suits.”
“It seems Dr. Konrad thought of everything,” Jessup said.
“Yeah,” Carter laughed. “And they said the Titanic wouldn’t sink either.” There was a bite of sarcasm in Carter’s voice. “What could possibly go wrong? Have you talked to them?” He gestured to the Secret Service.
Jessup inclined his head. “Seems they dance to their own drum. They don’t want to expose any plans on how they protect the president. We appear to be on our own.”
“Sometimes it’s better that way. I still don’t like it,” Carter said with a shake of his head.
“What, in particular, is bothering you?” Jessup asked.
“Well, start with the fact that we are surrounded by a hostile population.…”
“He seems to be well organized. He has security in place. You saw the wall of guns.” They had been given a tour of the park earlier and shown a room with mounted shotguns. The ammo shells were loaded with silver shot.
Carter shook his head. “I don’t understand why he keeps his arsenal under lock and key.”
“He explained it all.” Jessup shrugged. “The park is filled with silver axes behind glass doors every ten feet, for emergency use. The silver works on all three groups, the axe on anybody. He didn’t want armed guards in the park. I get that. The whole place is under surveillance. He looks like he’s got a good security team here. Created a lot of jobs.”
Carter laughed. “Yeah. They’re an odd bunch.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just a feeling. I can’t quite put my finger on it, Dan. I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.”
“Well.” Jessup put his hand on Carter’s shoulder. “Keep your feelings to yourself.”
Chapter 11
Zombieville was set up like a bizarre television or movie set, with tree-lined streets and pastel-colored bi-level homes. They could have been in a small suburban town anywhere in the States.
Maintenance people patrolled alongside guards dressed in metal armor, not unlike chain mail. This prevented the zombies from biting and infecting them. It was only through the exchange of body fluids that the disease traveled. Their faces covered, they walked through the byways, cleaning blood and guts from the pristine streets.
There were a total of twenty homes, each filled to capacity with pus-covered, rotted wrecks of humanity that dozed in a drugged stupor all day, roused by their keepers with the tantalizing smell of meat when the sun slipped behind the mountains. They would wake each other, moaning with desperation to get to the food, climbing over each other to find a way out of their four-walled confines to the large tube that brought the food into the development.
They didn’t talk to each other; their brains had lost the ability to communicate anything other than the driving need to consume flesh. They burst out of the door, staggering across the manicured lawns, their arms stretched out before them to feel what they could find and feed the voracious hunger keeping them alive.
He couldn’t believe he’d ended up here. He had to get out. Some remnant of his mind told him he needed to feel fresh air. Vincent had put him here, of that he was sure. He had gone into the danger zone for him, for Vincent. He returned to find himself changing within a few hours of being infected.
At first, his skin turned putty-like, its color the pale green of celery. His bones became brittle, and his hair fell out in clumps. Where was the hospital, he wondered? Vincent was supposed to take care of him. They had a deal. He had a deal!
Instead, he was shipped off to an internment camp in the remotest part of Montana. Now this—the man scanned the wreckage of humanity lying in catatonic oblivion.
A bell sounded. The call to food. He knew where he was—it wasn’t an invitation to food. It was the call to make Vincent richer and even more powerful than he ever was. Not him. He was a Rhodes scholar once. He graduated at the top of his class. He was a family man—well, he was once.
He stood, pushing a woman out of the way, stepping on her leg, not caring when he heard her femur break. Sidetracked, he spun, watching her fold on her unsteady leg.
She sank to the floor, her hand clasping her head. He smelled the blood of her wound as it seeped from her crushed leg onto the floor.
They were on her in a minute—the room filled with the sound of her flesh being torn from her bones, the splatter of her body fluids as they hit the concrete floor.
The man turned back, grabbing her wrist in his hand. He pulled, watching in fascination as it detached from her body, the rubbery tendons glistening in the light. He put it to his lips and ate.
Chapter 12
They parked the car on the ninth level, and Howard Drucker promised to remember it because it reminded him of the ninth circle of hell from Dante’s Inferno, which he had just read for AP English.
There was the ever-present sound of water dripping, creating an eerie mood. The crowd was strangely subdued. They met up with Nolan and the others at the elevator. They piled in like sardines in a can, and when the pneumatic doors closed, Wyatt was surprised to feel his brother stand very close to him.
The doo
rs opened to bright floodlights turning night into day, a concrete path with green areas on either side.
A red carpet had been spread; all the major television networks were there. Giant strobe lights crisscrossed in the sky, creating white beams that seemed to go to the heavens. Beautiful reporters in long gowns talked into bejeweled mics to actors and actresses, all holding tickets. Some held parchments, and others held silver strips like the ones Vincent had given Nolan. Everybody was tense with anticipation, thrilled to be included in this exclusive activity.
The noise level was high, and flash bulbs burned Wyatt’s retinas, but he and his group were largely overlooked because of all the talent that arrived.
Water gushed from a waterfall, and birds screeched from the swaying palm trees. Wyatt’s eyes searched for the familiar khaki-colored uniform of his stepfather. He saw, instead, a sea of Monsterland employees dressed in black jumpsuits.
“This is creepy,” Wyatt told his brother in a hushed whisper.
“You were expecting Knott’s Berry Farm?” Wyatt heard Howard Drucker say from behind.
Melvin walked briskly before them, taking in the lush scenery. Wyatt felt a person near his other side and smiled when he realized Jade had come up close to him. She returned his greeting, her eyes softening. They walked close together, squeezed by the packed crowd. The air charged between them, and Wyatt felt his heart beat a bit faster. Nolan stood slightly behind her. He gave Wyatt a dirty look and then grabbed Jade’s hand, pulling her to walk next to him.
Wyatt turned around, looking for Howard Drucker, and didn’t see him through the crowd. His eyes met Keisha’s, who brightened and motioned that Howard was now beside her. Wyatt recognized the top of his friend’s head.
They shuffled en masse along the winding path that opened to a vast plaza with three life-sized statues of monsters on a grassy knoll in the center.
The noise level increased as they got closer, and voices meshed together until they seemed like a giant beehive of people. At the end of the walkway, they unwound from the tight ball they had become. There was a bronze plaque and a bust of Vincent Konrad next to it.
People milled around the plaque. Wyatt pushed through to read the contents.
“Monsterland was created with the sole intent of introducing the habitat of those unfortunate creatures to create a better understanding of the species with which we share our world. Dr. Vincent Konrad is working hand-in-hand with the government to foster tolerance and keep our different environments from colliding,” Sean read aloud. There was applause and scattered chatter.
Three helicopters rose from the theme park, creating black outlines against the stars. Their rotors whipped the trees to life, and the crowd instinctively ducked as the choppers hovered and then headed east toward the airport.
With grinding gears, 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 the park.
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 saw Nolan holding Jade possessively by the hand as they went through the entrance to his right.
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. She 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 handed him a map of the park and directed him to an escalator where he saw Melvin halfway to the top. Wyatt stuffed the map in his back pocket.
Wyatt saw Nolan go to another doorway. The jock looked at him with an exaggerated shrug, Wyatt shrugged back. He noticed Jade was close to the quarterback’s hulking side. Wyatt turned to the attendant and asked, “My friends, can they join us here?”
“No,” she said. “Dr. Konrad 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’re supposed to be over here!”
Keisha looked up. She was holding onto Howard by the back of his shirt. Howard smiled sheepishly and winked.
“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,” Sean laughed.
“She’s aggressive; I’ll give her that. What did Vincent call her, Diana the Huntress?” Melvin asked.
“Looks like she finally got her prey,” Sean added. “But it should be the other way around. Howard Drucker should be the hunter.”
“Howard Drucker wouldn’t know how to hunt, even if a deer landed in his lap and said, ‘Take me,’” Wyatt said with a chuckle.
“And you would?” Melvin asked him.
Wyatt didn’t answer. Melvin was already getting on his nerves, and they hadn’t even gone inside yet. He wished Howard had stayed with him. Wyatt watched mutely as Keisha and Howard were dragged through the entrance, Theo trailing behind them, 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. Sean turned, yelling, “Hey!” He stumbled ahead, his sneaker half off his right 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 on long lines.”
Wyatt nodded with understanding, but he was feeling 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, looking at the three of them. “What, did 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 people.
There were hundreds of people in business suits milling throughout the reception area. 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 mob of people. 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 Sean, he jumped. Sean pushed him with a nervous snort.
Wyatt saw Vincent then, glad-handing the crowd. Above them, screens were set up,
each displaying different Monsterland openings all over the world. Vincent Konrad was looking 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. Vincent walked around like a candidate running for office, a huge smile pasted on his face.
Wyatt studied the doctor, shaking his head. This 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. Sean reached forward, snagging a handful of pigs in blankets, stuffing them into his mouth.
“Sean,” Wyatt admonished.
“What, they’re free, and we’re guests.” Sean lurched to the right. “Melvin!” he called as he ran to Wyatt’s buddy, who had a martini in each hand. “Give me one!”
“Melvin, what are you doing?” Wyatt said, then added, “If you give my brother a drink, you’re dead.”
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 rolled his eyes and then squeezed through the crowd, listening to the conversations, mostly business. He reached Melvin, who was now leaning casually against the wall.
“You’re going to get us thrown out of here,” Wyatt told Melvin.
“Vincent Konrad needs us more than we need him,” Melvin responded, spitting as he spoke.
Sean raced over, his face flushed with excitement. “There’s McAdams.” Sean pointed to the president. Wyatt pulled him back, forcing them to melt into the crowd. “What? Cut it out. You’re just like Mom.”