Monsterland (16 page)

The hunchback climbed awkwardly up the stairs.

“Hello, eager fanth! Montherland proudly welcometh you to the Vampire Village. And now, for our feature prethentation tonight, Montherland proudly presenth 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.

Cords 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. Josh was shouting something to the artists, but you couldn’t hear him due to the roaring from the stage. 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. It was a pretty simple song, one sentence repeated over and over again. Soon, the audience was shouting the lyrics as if they had become one brain. 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 souls.

“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. The crowd was wild. He stood before Howard’s portion of the stage. He was powerful. Howard felt a chill shiver down his back. He looked nervously to the exit and then looked back at his friends.

Wyatt, Josh, and Theo were moving their heads, caught in the music. Keisha stood, holding 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 going wild. Keisha, her dark eyes half closed, moved sideways through the mob. Howard watched in a detached manner, his hands fisting convulsively, as she pushed her way through crowds, placing her palm into Raoul’s waiting one. He 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. The erratic lighting touched them and then moved on to illuminate another sweaty head.

Howard watched with mounting horror as Keisha was lead 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 either side of the stage.

Howard’s breath came in short pants. 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 a lethargy, leaving him feeling as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He cocked his head, trying to detach from himself emotionally. Clinically, he tried to figure out what was happening. He 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.

Keisha was up there. She wasn’t looking at him with those mysterious dark eyes. He waved frantically, trying to get her attention, but she was oblivious to him. The vamps circled her, their eyes half-mast, their hands possessively touching her, gripping her arms. Keisha was dancing in such a provocative way. She swayed, her face caught in a dreamy expression. Howard watched, panic welling in his chest, spreading until his skin tingled, his feet moving restlessly, not in time to the music. An empty feeling welled inside, squeezing into a hard knot that caused the pit of his stomach to burst like an exploded 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?” His 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. One thought entered his mind. Jade.
He had to get to Jade
.

Wyatt watched in dawning horror as Howard Drucker used his hands to separate the pulsing crowd. People closed in, as if their brains had united into one cell, telling them what to do. Wyatt shook himself, calling to his friend. He had to help Howard first. “Howard! Wait!” He spun to his brother, shaking him.

“Get out of here!” he screamed.

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

Josh made a fist, but Wyatt caught it within his own hand. “There’s no time. I have to help Howard Drucker. Get Theo and find Carter. 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 arms firmly. “It’s not. Something’s happening.” They both looked up to see the guard staff 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?”

Josh nodded. Wyatt watched him pull Theo down the cramped aisle toward the exit. 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 a mic in one hand, his ripped body behind Keisha, his arm imprisoning her 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
ABC
s frantically to lock out the hypnotizing message. Howard Drucker was almost at the stage. Wyatt watched his friend haul himself up, propelling himself to Keisha.

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 stunning realization that none of the vamps were playing, but the music continued on, piped in from above him. The two female vampires launched themselves at Howard, slamming him against giant amplifiers, 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 to 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 like an old Three Stooges movie. 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 toward the exit. Sirens rent the night, and strobe lights lit the stage, the panicked mass of people trying to escape. Wyatt hauled himself up in disbelief, waiting for the flashing lights to once again illuminate the darkness. 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 stage. Keisha, Howard Drucker, and the vampires were gone.

C
HAPTER
20

C
arter came to
as the boat made its exit from the dark tunnel. His shirt was covered with blood. He rubbed the bump on his forehead, his fingers coming away stained red. He felt his stomach flip and then Jessup was shaking him.

“Come on, man. Get up. We have to get out of here.”

Jessup had one leg on the landing, the other in the boat, his foot sliding on the growing puddle of blood. The hump of a dead body lay on the middle seat.

“The president?”

“Dead.” Jessup choked, his voice cracking. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“You okay?” Carter asked, looking him up and down for a wound.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.”

Carter grunted. “I don’t know why it didn’t kill us.”

They had been seated with several secret service agents; Carter was in the front of the boat, Jessup in the rear. They rode low in the water—between them, the president, and the extra guards, they were one more than capacity. It was
mildly amusing, Carter thought, very much like the Jungle Cruise he had taken the boys on at Disney. He even laughed to himself, noticing the fake wolves on the outcropping of rocks, before they did a ten-foot drop into a hellish lagoon.

They landed with a crash, bumping into an overturned boat, the water oily with blood. Bodies bobbed in the water. Carter unhooked his belt, shouting to the attendant. “Is this part of the ride?”

The guide’s startled face told him everything—he was crouched low in the boat, the echoes starting as the fake moonrise painted the horizon of the artificial lake.

“I asked you if this was part of the show?” he demanded.

The secret service agents surrounded the president, their guns drawn, their faces alert.

“No…um…I don’t…” He reached down to press the button on his radio. “Lights on. Something’s wrong. Code 8.” He repeated.

A weird silence descended. Carter saw a bobbing body in the water. His hand closed on the soggy suit. He lifted—it was surprisingly light. He squinted in the darkness at the face. Gentle moonlight bathed the pasty skin, and Carter gasped when he realized he was holding the arm of the Chinese ambassador. Other bodies floated by, all dead, some with their throats torn out. The boat shuddered with his movement. The body rolled away, sinking, the arm detaching in his grip, torn from the trunk to be held aloft by Carter. He recoiled, dropping it into the water to land with a loud splash.

“Down, down, down.” The secret service agent covered the president with his own body. Nothing but the whine of mosquitoes and the croaking of frogs filled the cavern. Carter leaned over the bow, peering into the darkness, when a huge
shape leaped from the water, punching Carter in the chest. He landed painfully on the floor of the boat, blood fountaining from the back of the craft to splash on his chest. He gagged. Distantly, through a muddled haze, he heard screams and ripping sounds. Howls mixed with growls filled his ears, blotting out everything else. He pulled himself up, only to feel the hot breath of one animal against his cheek, and another had its back paw on his legs. He caught sight of a gold pendant in the furry neck of the beast, emerald glass eyes winking in the gloom. It teased a memory, but his muddled mind instinctively moved into protection mode. He scrambled up, reaching for the gun at his ankle, the boat swaying drunkenly as the beasts lurched off, pieces of humanity in their iron jaws. He tried to get his balance, and, when he fired, the boat leaped with the recoil, sending him crashing against the bow. His head connected with the sharp side of a seat, and Carter knew nothing else.

Carter rolled up painfully, clutching his shoulder. It hurt where that thing, that animal, rammed him. He was surprised it didn’t knock him completely into the lagoon. He sat up, scanning the frantic crowds running to the exits. Papers littered the floor, trash cans were overturned, people screamed as they ran from the various shops. The piped-in music played serenely giving Monsterland a surreal quality, as if Armageddon had moved into suburbia.

“Guards?”

Jessup shook his head. “They’re gone.”

“Have you called for backup?”

“Cells are working sporadically. I’ve sent images and messages out, but I’m not receiving anything.”

“We have to go back,” Carter said, getting to his feet unsteadily.

“Nope.” Jessup stayed him with a hand. “We have to restore order here. It’s a bloodbath in there. Trust me, there’s no one to go back for. I say we head for the control room.”

He pulled out his phone, reading the last few messages from the boys. They were in Vampire Village.

“I have to see if my kids are still in the Vampire Village.” He stared at the yawning opening, the dark confines a velvet abyss.