riders, dying somewhere within the ride while the opening of the sinkhole shook the park.
He stood alone now, looking up at the dark mountain. The back-and-forth walls of the waiting area had been high fences topped with red pitchforks, creating a prison-like environment for park visitors waiting for their turn on the ride. These fence walls had collapsed together into a rat warren, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if actual rats or other animals nested inside it.
He took a deep breath, lowered his head, and forced himself to walk through it. The tunnel of collapsed fencing was dark and smelled dank, and he had to push aside heavy sections of pitchfork-topped fence blocking his way. Unseen things scurried and hissed near his feet, but he continued on.
He made it through the gauntlet, but he still couldn’t stand up straight, because the roof of Inferno Mountain’s loading and unloading station sagged low and steep. He moved in a crouch toward the weedy tracks ahead.
A trail of dark spots led toward the front corner of the waiting area, where the head of the train would have braked. It occurred to him that these could be bloodstains from Tricia herself, the remains of her neck dripping while they wheeled her away, the stains on the concrete protected all these years by the slowly collapsing roof above.
Or the blood drops could have belonged to her last-minute deathmate, the teenage tourist boy who’d taken Carter’s place next to Tricia, gotten his head sheared off, and left Carter to a life of morbid confusion and an inescapable feeling that he was supposed to be dead already. He didn’t feel much guilt over the unknown guy who’d died in his place, but felt deeply guilty about leaving Tricia to die alone. His cowardice had saved his life but cost him his heart and soul, leaving him a zombie.
He reached the edge of the platform and looked down at the overgrown black-steel tracks below. He could barely see them in the post-sunset gloom.
Across the tracks, the body of the ride operator lay on the unloading platform, next to the control console. The years had reduced him to little more than a filthy skeleton wrapped in a blue star-spotted Starland uniform. The side of the skull was caved in. Carter remembered the operator had been knocked out, but he didn’t know the guy had died, and apparently nobody had bothered to collect his remains. Carter shivered—a little at first, then harder and harder.
Don’t be a shiver-shit , a voice whispered somewhere in his brain...or maybe it had come from out there, in the darkness that filled the overgrown park. It was a boy’s voice, but he wasn’t sure whose.
Carter told himself he had to go back through the maze of collapsed fencing, find Victoria, and get the hell out of here.
Then he felt the platform tremble, and he wondered if the sinkhole was still active, still expanding after all these years, swallowing more and more of the park and making the remaining ruins less and less stable. Cold sweat broke out all over his skin.
Rusty squeals and heavy mechanical thudding sounded inside the black volcano of Inferno Mountain, as though enormous, decaying gears were being forced to turn deep within the ride.
The red pitchfork gate at the base of the mountain, the ride’s exit, swung open. The black train came rumbling and squeaking down the tracks, under the station roof, and clattered to a stop. The train radiated an immense heat that rippled the air, and it hissed and popped as it settled into the station.
All the seats were vacant except one—Tricia, sitting in the front car. The seat beside her was empty, waiting for him to sit down beside her.
It was just her body, her head still missing, her necklace of pumpkins and black cats still damp with gore around the brutalized stump of her neck, the blood fresh and red all over her white dress, soaking her hand-painted dragons and unicorns.
When Tricia spoke, he could hear her voice soft and clear, though her body
He stood alone now, looking up at the dark mountain. The back-and-forth walls of the waiting area had been high fences topped with red pitchforks, creating a prison-like environment for park visitors waiting for their turn on the ride. These fence walls had collapsed together into a rat warren, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if actual rats or other animals nested inside it.
He took a deep breath, lowered his head, and forced himself to walk through it. The tunnel of collapsed fencing was dark and smelled dank, and he had to push aside heavy sections of pitchfork-topped fence blocking his way. Unseen things scurried and hissed near his feet, but he continued on.
He made it through the gauntlet, but he still couldn’t stand up straight, because the roof of Inferno Mountain’s loading and unloading station sagged low and steep. He moved in a crouch toward the weedy tracks ahead.
A trail of dark spots led toward the front corner of the waiting area, where the head of the train would have braked. It occurred to him that these could be bloodstains from Tricia herself, the remains of her neck dripping while they wheeled her away, the stains on the concrete protected all these years by the slowly collapsing roof above.
Or the blood drops could have belonged to her last-minute deathmate, the teenage tourist boy who’d taken Carter’s place next to Tricia, gotten his head sheared off, and left Carter to a life of morbid confusion and an inescapable feeling that he was supposed to be dead already. He didn’t feel much guilt over the unknown guy who’d died in his place, but felt deeply guilty about leaving Tricia to die alone. His cowardice had saved his life but cost him his heart and soul, leaving him a zombie.
He reached the edge of the platform and looked down at the overgrown black-steel tracks below. He could barely see them in the post-sunset gloom.
Across the tracks, the body of the ride operator lay on the unloading platform, next to the control console. The years had reduced him to little more than a filthy skeleton wrapped in a blue star-spotted Starland uniform. The side of the skull was caved in. Carter remembered the operator had been knocked out, but he didn’t know the guy had died, and apparently nobody had bothered to collect his remains. Carter shivered—a little at first, then harder and harder.
Don’t be a shiver-shit , a voice whispered somewhere in his brain...or maybe it had come from out there, in the darkness that filled the overgrown park. It was a boy’s voice, but he wasn’t sure whose.
Carter told himself he had to go back through the maze of collapsed fencing, find Victoria, and get the hell out of here.
Then he felt the platform tremble, and he wondered if the sinkhole was still active, still expanding after all these years, swallowing more and more of the park and making the remaining ruins less and less stable. Cold sweat broke out all over his skin.
Rusty squeals and heavy mechanical thudding sounded inside the black volcano of Inferno Mountain, as though enormous, decaying gears were being forced to turn deep within the ride.
The red pitchfork gate at the base of the mountain, the ride’s exit, swung open. The black train came rumbling and squeaking down the tracks, under the station roof, and clattered to a stop. The train radiated an immense heat that rippled the air, and it hissed and popped as it settled into the station.
All the seats were vacant except one—Tricia, sitting in the front car. The seat beside her was empty, waiting for him to sit down beside her.
It was just her body, her head still missing, her necklace of pumpkins and black cats still damp with gore around the brutalized stump of her neck, the blood fresh and red all over her white dress, soaking her hand-painted dragons and unicorns.
When Tricia spoke, he could hear her voice soft and clear, though her body
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