Monsterland

by Michael Okon

  “Are you a vampire?” Sean looked at him carefully.

  “Hardly,” the hunchback answered witheringly. “I am a performer.”

  “Is that thing real?” Sean pointed to a misshapen lump on the man’s right side. “Are you a zombie then?”

  “Why, yeth,” he lisped. “I am real, and, no, I am not a zombie.” He snorted, enjoying his performance more than his audience. “Hunchback. But we actually prefer to be called vertically impaired.” The crowd laughed.

  “You’re not a character actor?” Theo demanded.

  “Do I look like a man in a cothtume?” He mugged for the crowd.

  He started to walk away when Wyatt called out. “Um, not really. How’s the pay?”

  The performer thought for a minute and then said, “The perkth are nithe. Dr. Konrad offerth four weekth paid vacathion.”

  “Very generous,” a man said with a nod.

  “And the lunch at the commithary ith exquithit.”

  “What’s your name?” Theo asked with a laugh.

  “Why, ith Igor, of courth.”

  “Igor? Really? Couldn’t think of something more original?” Theo rolled his eyes.

  “Where’s the vampire ride?” Sean asked, bored with the artist.

  “Thith way,” the hunchback pointed to multiple doorways leading to an interior. “The thow ith about to thtart. Enter the theater at your own rithk.” He ran ahead, playing a flute, melting into the crowd.

  “I thought this was going to be cool. It’s not. It doesn’t look like it’s a ride,” Sean complained as they entered an amphitheater.

  “It’s a show, Sean,” Wyatt said.

  “How’d you know that?”

  Wyatt nodded to a giant LED display. “Next show is in ten minutes.”

  “This is gonna suck,” Theo said. “Who wants to see a show? Why’s the Hunchback of Notre Dame here? He doesn’t even go with the scenery, or the vampires, for that matter.”

  The arena was shaped in a huge oval and felt like it could easily hold hundreds of people. Wyatt and his friends were propelled by the crowd to the very front, inches from the massive stage. The stadium was surrounded by rows of thick white marble columns giving it a majestic feel.

  Wyatt gazed at the star-dotted sky, feeling overwhelmed by the size of the venue. Sean was talking to him, but he could barely hear him over the clamoring crowd.

  Wyatt shrugged, his mind drifted back to Jade, his fingers still tingling where she had touched them. He thought about where she was, and wished he could be here with her, holding her hand.

  He wondered how many people they could squeeze in the theater. He searched for the exit and realized he couldn’t find it.

  The hunchback climbed awkwardly up the stairs.

  “Hello, eager fanth!” His voice blasted from speakers the size of Mack trucks hanging over the stage. Wyatt put his palms over his ears to protect his abused eardrums.

  The hunchback went on, “Monthterland welcometh you to the Nightmare Arena, where all your dreamth come true.” He laughed. “Thponthered by Kickerth Kandy Barth. And now, for our feature prethentation tonight, Monthterland proudly prethenth our rethident band, The Abracadaverth.”

  The theater went dark. Strobe lights lit the night sky. Loud music blasted them, surrounded them, the beat so loud it reverberated through their bones.

  Chords blared. The vampires strutted across the stage, and the sound of heavy metal filled the air.

  “I heard these guys were really old, but they’re sort of cool,” Wyatt said to Howard. The beat made him start to move. He turned to see his group swaying to the music.

  It was primal, carefully staged to grip the deepest, most elemental roots of what made people human, latching on and dragging them into the vampire’s soul.

  Love bites! Blood unites!

  It was a simple song, one sentence repeated over and over again, almost like a mantra.

  Love bites, blood unites. It started with Raoul. His deep baritone washed over them. His voice was magnetic, holding them entranced, freezing the breath in their throat. It oozed and slithered around them, like melted chocolate mixed with caramel.

  Soon, the audience was shouting the lyrics as if they had become one brain. Love bites, blood unites. All around them was a sea of cell phones lighting up the arena. It seemed to captivate them. Even if the words made no sense, the steady stream of guitar and the beat of the drums invaded their consciousness.

  “I thought you said their music was dated,” Wyatt leaned close to say in Howard’s ear. “I’ve never heard anything like this.”

  “I … this is not what I was expecting. It’s good … in a weird sort of way.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not what I have on an old CD at home.”

  “What?”

  “IT’S BEEN CHANGED TO APPEAL … oh forget it.” Howard gave up trying to talk over the loud sounds. It was not what he thought they would do. He liked the old campy stuff better, made them more pathetic.

  Raoul strutted across the stage, his long, lean legs going on forever, his head thrown back in ecstasy. Sexual appeal radiated from every pore of his body. His dark hair gleamed under the hot lights. His pale white skin sucked the light inward, so all that they noticed were his black, soulless eyes.

  The crowd was wild. Raoul stood before Howard’s portion of the stage. He was powerful. Howard felt a chill shiver down his back. He looked nervously for an exit, feeling the edge of panic when he couldn’t find one. He then glanced back at his friends.

  Wyatt, Sean, and Theo were moving their heads, caught in the music. Keisha held her graceful hands in the air, waving.

  The lead singer leaped off the stage, landing nearby. He pushed through the crowd, coming to stand before Keisha, holding his hand out, palm up; the crowd was completely entranced. Keisha, her dark eyes half closed, moved sideways through the mob.

  Howard observed in a detached manner, his hands fisting convulsively, as she pushed her way through the crowds, placing her palm on Raoul’s waiting one.

  Raoul screamed with triumph, dragging her toward the steps. The audience was like a squirming mass, people jumping in place with the steady beat of the music, repeating Love bites, blood unites. The erratic lighting touched them and then moved on to illuminate another perspiring head.

  Howard gasped with mounting horror as Keisha was led onto the stage. The vampires surrounded her, their voices raw with primal screams. She undulated with the music, rotating her hips. Raoul moved behind her, his grip possessive on her waist. He pulled her close to him. Keisha swayed, almost falling against him. Two female vampires ran to either end of the stage, clapping their hands overhead, creating a frenzy on both sides of the platform.

  Fireworks exploded from the pillars surrounding the arena, bathing the entire place in shades of purple, blue, and green.

  Howard could barely catch his breath. His lungs felt like they were trapped in a vice. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He felt sluggish, the music moving through him. His anxiety of before evaporated like a cloud, replaced by lethargy, leaving him feeling as if he couldn’t move even if he wanted to.

  He looked at the eager faces surrounding him. How had he become one with this crowd? He cocked his head, trying to detach himself emotionally. Clinically, he tried to figure out what was happening.

  Howard spied the hunchback sitting on an amplifier in the corner. His ugly face was painted more sinister by the shifting shadows. The sharp dark eyes caught Howard’s, and he opened his mouth into a wide grin resembling a wicked jack-o’-lantern.

  The world narrowed to the two of them, and the hunchback laughed hard then, as if he knew something that Howard didn’t. Howard felt panic return, his stomach tightening in his gut until the only thing he felt was the beating of his heart in time to the pounding drums.

  A roar exploded behind the teens. They twisted to the rear; their jaws dropped when a vampire wearing huge rawhide wings soared over the arena in a graceful
arc.

  Wyatt pointed to the other side of the theater and yelled, “Look!”

  They turned to see five more vampires gliding toward them, their leathery wings creating enough wind to cool the overheated crowd.

  People were screaming and gasping, some were laughing. The flying vampires were skimpily clad females. Howard wondered how they had the strength to pluck members of the audience up and bring them airborne to the stage.

  Screams of “Take me!” filled the air from the spellbound audience.

  Underneath their feet, the ground shifted, and the entire amphitheater began to vibrate, as the floor circled in one direction and the stage moved in the other.

  The boys grabbed each other’s arms as they moved slightly off-balance. Howard and Wyatt felt a tug and stared slack-jawed as Theo was snatched from his spot by one of the flying vampires. Theo’s sneaker slammed into the person’s head in front of him as he was dragged to the revolving stage.

  They watched him being gently dropped, along with other members of the audience, on the platform. He jumped up to dance eagerly with an ivory-haired female vampire. He started to bump and grind, getting into the music.

  Theo grabbed the girl around her waist, pulling her to him and planting a passionate kiss on her mouth. The crowd went nuts.

  Keisha was up there. She only had eyes for the dark-haired vampire. Howard waved frantically, trying to get her attention, but she remained oblivious to him. The vamps circled her, their eyes piercing, their hands possessively touching her, gripping her arms.

  Keisha was dancing provocatively. She swayed, her face caught in a dreamy expression. Panic bubbled in Howard’s chest, spreading until his skin tingled, his feet moving restlessly, not in time to the music.

  An empty feeling welled inside of him, squeezing into a hard knot that caused the pit of his stomach to burst like an exploding shell into his circulatory system. Howard Drucker was sweating like a pig. His heart began to race. He turned, punching Wyatt hard in the shoulder.

  “Ow, Howard Drucker. What’s that for?” Wyatt’s voice was slurred as if he were drunk. Wyatt tried to focus.

  “They’ve got Keisha!” He shouted over the deafening music.

  “What?”

  “Keisha. They are crazy. He wants Keisha.” He pointed to the lead singer, who held Keisha in the crook of his elbow, the mic in his other hand.

  Wyatt looked at Howard’s face, the words taking root in his distracted mind. He glanced up at the stage to watch Keisha move in rhythm with the beat, her eyes closed, her head resting on the chest of the lead singer, who sang behind her. Keisha appeared strange, as if she were possessed.

  One thought entered his mind. Jade. He had to find Jade.

  Wyatt watched in dawning horror as an Asian vampire separated himself from the band, dropping his guitar and grabbing Theo by the neck, pulling him away from the female angrily. He lifted him high into the air and swung him against a large speaker, making it reverberate.

  People cheered, thinking it was part of the show. Wyatt knew it wasn’t.

  The stage went black for an instant. When the lights came on, Theo was on the floor, drained of color, his neck at an odd angle. The crowd was so caught up in the hypnotic beat of the music; they never noticed his body.

  Wyatt heard Howard Drucker scream, “Keisha!” in a long, loud wail.

  Howard was using his hands to separate the pulsing crowd. People swayed in unison, becoming a solid wall, preventing him from reaching the stage.

  Wyatt shook himself, calling to his friend. Much as he wanted to find Jade, he had to help Howard first. “Howard! Wait!” He spun to his brother, grabbing both his arms. “Get out of here!”

  Sean ignored him, caught up in the loud music. Wyatt pulled his brother’s face, slapping him hard.

  Sean made a fist and swung for Wyatt, but Wyatt caught it within his hand. “There’s no time. I have to help Howard Drucker. Something’s going down here.” He shook him hard. “Do you understand me?”

  “It’s just music. It’s cool.”

  Wyatt held his brother’s gaze firmly. “It’s not. Something’s happening.” They both looked up in time to see one of the vampire’s plunge their face into the exposed neck of a member of the audience.

  “You think that’s part of the show?” Sean’s voice was little more than a squeak.

  “No.” Wyatt gave him a shove.

  The guard staff began lining the upper walls, their faces red and blue in the strobe lights, staring straight ahead with blank expressions. “I’ll meet you by the garage. If I’m not there in a half hour, leave. I’ll find you. Got it?”

  Wyatt searched again for a lit exit sign, and, after locating one with a sigh of relief, he pushed Sean in that direction. Sean nodded and slid through the crowd. He paused to look at Wyatt once more. Wyatt waved him out, his face taut.

  He looked up at the stage. Keisha leaned against the lead singer, her face serene, her neck exposed. Raoul held her, imprisoning Keisha in a possessive embrace. Her arms hung listlessly at her sides.

  The music grew louder, Raoul’s singing vibrating in Wyatt’s head. He closed his mind to the message and started humming the ABCs frantically to lock out the hypnotizing words. Howard Drucker was almost at the stage. Wyatt saw his friend haul himself up, propelling himself to Keisha.

  Wyatt searched for Theo on the stage and couldn’t find him. The strobe lights blinked, throwing the scene into a frantic, writhing mass of movement.

  Within seconds, the audience participants onstage were lying flat on their backs, their faces bleached of color and a bright trail of blood leaking from their necks.

  Raoul screamed a high note, his fangs popping out to shine like polished steel in the lights. The caps were gone, and they gleamed like knives. Raoul arced and then plunged, moving to cover Keisha’s pulsing artery in her exposed neck.

  Howard Drucker moaned, launching himself at the duo, smashing into them so that they fell into a tangle of limbs. Howard pummeled the singer, while Keisha sat in stunned silence, watching them.

  The two females threw down their guitars and moved to pull Howard off Raoul as Wyatt reached the stage. Wyatt looked up with the shocking realization that none of the vamps were playing, but the music continued, piped in from above him.

  The two female vampires flung themselves at Howard, slamming him against the raised platform holding the drum set, and his head connected with a loud crash. Another male vampire ran toward his prone friend, kicking Howard roundly in the stomach.

  Keisha pulled herself onto all fours, shaking her head as if she were waking up. She roared as the two women took hold of Howard’s shoulders. She stood, still groggy, and then she leaped on unsteady legs toward the two of them.

  Keisha grabbed both their heads with each hand, banging them together. The sound of their skulls meeting was muffled by the music, but the dazed vampires slid into an untidy heap on the stage.

  Howard was on the floor, Raoul standing over him, his hands roped around the younger man’s neck, squeezing hard. Keisha’s eyes narrowed, becoming silvery with hate. Moving fast, she head-butted him, but he held on tight to Howard’s neck.

  Wyatt attempted to lift himself onto the stage when the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness. People started screaming, both on the stage and in the audience. Wyatt heard the pounding of feet, and he gripped the stage as the mob in the pit pushed past him.

  Sirens rent the night, and strobe lights lit the stage. The panicked mass of people tried to escape. Wyatt hauled himself up in disbelief, waiting for the flashing lights to illuminate the darkness once again.

  The red and blue lights painted the area, splashing colors against the abyss. It lasted a minute or so, the room emptying as if the guests were stampeding cattle. The last sounds echoed in the blackness.

  Wyatt pulled out his phone, bathing the surrounding area with light. His eyes searched the entire perimeter, squinting hard into the darkness, but he could not find anyone on the st
age. Theo was missing. Keisha, Howard Drucker, and the vampires were gone.

  Chapter 20

  Carter took the point position, walking with Jessup, the president, the ambassador from Russia, and different military personnel behind them in a sea of black suits.

  On the other side of the park, the pulsing sound of loud music drowned out the roar of the crowd.

  Jessup turned with a smile and asked, “Hear that?”

  Carter smirked and said, “Must be one hell of a concert.”

  The long winding path to the Werewolf River Run felt as dark as it was dangerous. Carter rolled his eyes, thinking this was a recipe for disaster. Anybody could be hidden in the foliage. What the hell were they thinking?

  Secret Service had cleared the VIP line, so, by the time they had arrived at the pneumatic gate, they could see the boats pulling up next to some godforsaken spit of land across a sluggish body of water.

  “We have to cross that thing?” Carter asked, his eyebrows rising to his hairline.

  Jessup shrugged his broad shoulders and responded, “It’s gotta be safe. It’s all part of the theme park, Carter.”

  President McAdams approached, a smile plastered on his benign face. “Let’s get this show on the road, gentlemen!” He clapped his hands once.

  Agent Barstoe, the president’s lead security man, pointed at Carter and then Jessup. “Cross that thing and scope out the island. Call once it’s been secured.”

  Carter looked at the dirt hill and wondered what island this goon was talking about. He glanced up, then back at the agent. “Maybe you should drop him in by helicopter?” he asked innocently. Jessup gave him a stern look of warning, but Carter couldn’t stop himself. “Don’t you think that’s a safe alternative?”

  Agent Barstoe scratched his bullet-shaped head. “There’s no room for the chopper to put him down there.”

  “Yes, yes. All the trees,” Carter agreed, trying to keep a straight face.

  “I’m waiting,” McAdams said, with an edge of impatience.