Wendy thought only of her daughter Julia. She thought of holding on a little bit longer, of driving Julia to college herself. Running after the car to steal one more goodbye. Another hug. Another good luck. Another I'll miss you. The peaceful ache of pure fantasy. As soon as she got out of this awful place, she would call Julia. What did it matter what she'd say? What did it matter if her unwillingness to let go only annoyed Julia? Yes, it was important not to smother, but she had to get out if for no other reason than to call her daughter and make sure she got settled in okay. She hoped too much time hadn't passed, and her mind gifted her with a foreign, frightening notion that she was somewhere outside of time. That a hundred years had passed beyond the amusement park's stark white walls and sagging gate.
That was a crazy thought. She didn't even know where it came from. It didn't matter. It was wrong. The outside world was only a few paces away, and no more than a few hours, maybe a day had passed. Julia was waiting for her call. Might even be worried she hadn't heard from her mother. Undoubtedly, Robert was worried too. Even if he had someone on the side, even if he sometimes spoke to her with such obvious annoyance, he loved her and wanted—needed—her back home.
When she reached the exit, she turned and looked at the others. Neither of the hooded figures had moved. Her fellow captives also remained still. They stared at her like a bunch of confused kids. She should've just left them behind, but she didn't have it in her. Aside from the professor, most of them were just kids, even the police officer. And that Vanessa really did remind her of Julia. She held out her arms.
"What are you all waiting for?" she said. "They're just a couple of statues."
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It could've been half a heartbeat. It could've been half a minute. During that indeterminate length of time, it seemed Wendy was right. Vanessa watched the hooded figures with rapt interest for any sign of life. The twitch of a black-gloved finger. The raising of a hooded head. A step forward or back or sideways toward Wendy. For half a heartbeat or half a minute, none of that occurred. Vanessa even opened her mouth to tell the others they should go while they could.
Then, each figure lifted the arm closest to Wendy. Each limb moved like a marionette appendage controlled by a mad puppeteer wielding unseen strings. The hands hung limp like dead spider legs. Before anyone could call out a warning, the hands quickened and became claws. Their arms extended like rubber snakes and clamped onto Wendy's wrists. Against the black leather manacles, she writhed and yelped as each pulled her in opposite directions. Her expression switched between a grimace of pain and a gaping maw of panic as she gasped for air, for strength.
"Help MUUUUAAAAHHH!"
No one moved to help her. Vanessa couldn't speak for the others, but she wished she could. More than anything, she wished to will her legs to move, to charge in for the rescue. To bring an end to the woman's pain and terror. But her legs would not unlock themselves. It was like her body knew what her mind refused to accept: that any attempt to save Wendy would be an exercise in futility. Even if not, could she risk her life for a stranger? She wanted to believe she could, wanted to believe she was good, the type of person who ran into burning buildings to save children, pets, and even would-be Karens.
But her legs refused to move. Everyone's legs refused to move. Even the cop stayed frozen in place, watching in abject horror as Wendy split down the middle.
The rift began between her breasts, a vertical mouth grinning with flappy, crimson-spattered teeth. The grin widened, exposing ropey strands of gristle with a series of wet ripping sounds. A vile odor, like a rank stench from a broken sewage pipe, wafted across the broken lot. It made Vanessa's eyes stream and her gorge rise.
She and the others may have been screaming, but she only heard these stomach-churning sounds of Wendy rent apart. Flesh ripped like wet cardboard as one corner of the mouth stretched down her belly to her pelvis. Bones crackled and crunched as the other spread up her chest to her throat. Split from groin to gullet, the hooded things still clutching her wrists, Wendy's body tore in two. Only one side kept her head. It flopped back and forth on her spine like a broken jack in the box while her mouth stayed frozen in a grimacing gag. The black-gloved hands released her, dropping both parts of her body like two juicy sides of beef.
Everybody began to run. The hooded killers gave chase.
Kayson and Werth sprang ahead of the others and ran toward the Gravitron. Vanessa veered away instinctively, remembering how she once threw up all over her pink Strawberry Shortcake sneakers on that ride. She could still remember how the vomit had soaked into her socks. How her father had put his arm around her shoulders. How she'd hidden her face in his shirt out of shame. She found herself wishing he could be here now to protect her.
That was the little girl inside. The grown-up version of her knew her father could do nothing. Even if he were here, this was something beyond his—beyond anyone's—expertise. The only thing to do was run and hide.
Kayson and Werth knocked into each other as they scrambled through the Gravitron's broken door. Werth slipped through, diving into darkness as if he'd forgotten dark places had rats. Kayson spun and made eye contact with Vanessa. He waved her in, yelling, "Come on!"
As she bypassed it, bypassed him, she heard him call after her, something that sounded like, "No rats inside!"
She kept running, through shadows of more rickety rides and disused concessions.
Hannah ran beside her, clutching those yellow heels like a football and wincing as hot pavement scorched and stabbed her bare feet. Cullen brought up the rear, huffing and puffing like a steam engine on its last ride.
They weren't gonna make it. None of them were gonna make it. The hooded figures with their black gloves and superhuman strength were too close; they'd passed the Gravitron without so much as a sideways glance. Did they know something Vanessa and the others didn't? Probably so. They likely knew this park in and out. It was their home.
Vanessa reached an empty wave pool. The concrete shone bone white, except where it was black with oil stains or something like mold. Beyond the reservoir and filtering system loomed a rusty roller coaster. A large section of it had collapsed and now leaned against the side of the park's cinderblock perimeter.
"There!" she said and pointed.
"I don't know," Cullen said, raggedly coughing out the words. "I don't think I can …"
He was starting to slow down, staggering like a wine mom on Memorial Day weekend. The hooded figures were gaining, gloved hands hooked into claws. Less than twenty or thirty feet and they'd be upon him.
Images of bisected Wendy threatened to recreate themselves.
Wendy, a mother. To a daughter. A daughter just like Vanessa.
She groaned and sprinted to Cullen.
"What are you doing?" he asked, wheezing now.
She grabbed hold of his arm and began dragging him across the wave pool.
"Let's fucking go!"
He stumbled the first few steps, but eventually, he matched her pace. They caught up to Hannah and ran for the roller coaster. Behind them, something crashed as one of the hooded figures knocked over a gumball machine. Dozens of multicolored candies preserved well past their expiration date clattered and rolled over the pavement.
Vanessa, Cullen, and Hannah reached the reservoir wall. What water remained behind the valves stank of stagnation. With the thuds of booted feet, the hooded figures reached the edge of the wave pool. Under their hoods, Vanessa still couldn't see their faces. They could be anything, even something inhuman. She imagined rat faces with yellow buck teeth and red eyes, some perversion somehow evolved from spending decades among the rodents. Sure, that wasn't how science worked, but things were different here. She knew that with every fiber of her being.
Aside from skinning her palms, she scaled the wall with ease, using the valve openings as footholds. Hannah tossed her shoes up and climbed with as little trouble. Cullen heaved himself up and shimmied over the ledge. He lay on his belly, breathing laboriously.
"Come on," Vanessa said, reaching for him. "We have to keep moving. Get to higher ground."
"I can't." He shook his head. "I won't make it."
"It's on the wall," Hannah said, looking toward the roller coaster. "We can climb out of here for good."
That was true. Vanessa hadn't thought that far ahead. It got Cullen moving again.
But the hooded figures were halfway to the reservoir wall. Cullen had slowed Vanessa and Hannah down, and it would only get worse as they climbed up the side of the roller coaster. It'd require a lot more upper body strength.
The only hope was to slow their pursuers down somehow. If only she knew …
Then, it dawned on her. She took the music player out of her pocket.
"What are you doing?" Cullen said.
Hannah's face was twisted into desperate panic.
"Buying us some time," she said.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Hannah asked.
Vanessa unlocked the screen and prayed that Kayson and Werth were safe inside the Gravitron. Then, she pressed play.