Andy lifted his arms and whooted as they flew through rings of LED lights, gaining speed until the rings began to blur into a single epileptic tube. Andy’s arms shot back down and he clung to the railing as they were thrown left and right, then tipped upside down. His Combat Conceptualisation protocol was going haywire trying to keep track of his positioning, making his eye twitch and spasm. Beside him, his passenger wailed with each twist and turn, the screaming suppressed by the roar of wind in their faces.
Finally, the carriage slowed and the tunnel opened up before them. Their carriage dipped through a doorway curtained with strands of white rags, like bandages. They rode into a dimly lit crypt, about ten metres off the floor. Yellow light glowed from lanterns sitting atop stone tombs and hanging from stone columns which stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Tombs were scattered across the floor in all shapes and sizes. Some clung upright against the walls like protruding windows into the realm of the dead. Andy leaned over the railings almost far enough to touch one of the crypts, then the ride turned aside. The tracks took them around the roof of a large mausoleum and down into the belly of the crypt. Something moved amongst the tombs to his left, drawing his eye. Andy narrowed his gaze, hand resting on Julie. Was it a rat? No, too big for that. A cultist watching them?
A dark figure shot at him from his right. Andy drew Julie and fired with enhanced Killer Instinct. Woodchip and stuffing burst from the gunshot as a tinny voice groaned over a speaker. “Join us in the underworld.”
“Whoa,” Andy breathed, clutching his chest. “That got me there. Bloody hell.” He holstered Julie, a little embarrassed. The figure was dressed like a mummy, wrapped in bandages with booths hands outstretched towards the carriage, except now it had a hole where its head was.
“What are you doing?” the passenger said. “You’ll anger him.”
“I thought it was real.”
“That one wasn’t,” the man said shakily. “But some are.”
“Sure.” Andy was determined not to overreact again. He replaced the round he’d wasted and put his hands firmly on the guardrail, passively observing the ride.
Assessment: Threat level zero, his AI informed him. Target is innate, an imitation operated by hinge and spring mechanisms.
“Are you making fun of me?”
Query comprehension error. Please repeat the question.
“What?” the passenger said. “No.”
“Not you,” Andy said, tapping his skull. “Private conversation mate.”
Mummies rose out of the tombs around them, one at a time, until they filled the room, above and below them. The carriage climbed upwards, passing an upright tomb on the wall. Suddenly, the concrete cover slid down and mummy pounced from inside, groping for their carriage. His passenger screamed, but the mummy fell short before it hit their cart, twanging on a bungee cord disguised as a length of bandage. It was all pretty high tech as far as ghost trains went. Andy was impressed.
Assessment: Threat level zero-
“Please don’t do that every time,” Andy said. “Let me suspend some disbelief.”
They passed through a curtain and into another dark corridor. One by one, green lights flickered to life, illuminating the roof, leaving a trail of dots behind them. The sound of scampering feet ran beneath him on a series of speakers. The sound repeated itself quietly, accompanied by shrill chattering voices. The chattering suddenly cut off as they came close to the speakers emitting it, as though the creatures who watched them did not want to be detected. Andy smiled, appreciating the subtleties to the craftsmanship. Overall, it built a sense of paranoia and suspense which he let himself indulge in.
Ahead, green lights illuminated a metal doorway. A sign above the doorway read: ‘Dr Evil’s Laboratory.’ The carriage stopped at the top of a short decline before the doorway, suddenly quiet. They leant forward in their seats. Andy could hear the man beside him breathing heavily, and smell his sweat. Why did he have to be partnered up with such a crybaby?
The sound of a fist rasping on metal rattled from a speaker three times. Knock. Knock. Knock.
Silence.
A claxon wailed. Andy jumped as a thudding noise sounded from behind them, like heavy bolts locking shut. All of the lights in the room suddenly turned red. Behind him, a beast’s growl raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Andy and his companion twisted in their seats to look behind them. Somewhere in the dim light, some kind of large animal snarled, then roared and charged towards them. The sound of hooves stampeding over the carriage railings echoed down the length of the corridor, growing louder, surmounting like a cacophony of harsh drums. Behind them, the red lights along the corridor went out one at a time as the beast hurtled towards them. Andy’s hand snapped to Julie, but he reminded himself that it wasn’t real. Or was it?
One by one, the lights went out, until the beast was upon them. The sound of its hooves clattering off the tracks was deafening. His partner shrieked and rattled the railing. Andy cursed, willing the cart to move. With a thought, he could activate his Augmentation, turn around and start shooting, but then he’d be giving in to fear, and the ride would win. He wouldn’t let that happen. The last of the red lights went out. All was black. The clamour engulfed them.
Their cart lurched into action. The doors to ‘Dr Evil’s Lair’ shot open before them, and they catapulted through. Wind rushed in Andy’s face, and he whooped with relief.
“Fuck me, that was close!”
The cart descended for a short while, then whirled back around on itself and rose steeply. His passenger wept softly in the quiet, mumbling gibberish to himself. Andy turned away from him, trying to imagine that the sobbing was all part of the ride so that it wouldn’t break his immersion. All around them were glass cylinders, the like which reminded Andy of the Augmentation Master Console vats. Murky water filled the glass cylinders, bodies floated lifeless inside. Abominations, disfigured and faceless. One pressed a webbed hand to the glass. Tubes ran from the top of the cylinders above their heads like veins connecting to an artery. Ahead, over the lip of the incline, bright fluorescent light illuminated white walls.
Atop the rise, the track evened out down a straight corridor. On either side of them was a row of hospital beds. Above each bed shone a tube light which spotlit the bed, casting sharp shadows between each fixture. The beds were occupied, bodies hidden beneath thin white sheets. As their carriage travelled deeper, Andy noticed that one of the beds was covered in blood. A hand stuck out from under the sheets, tied to the bed’s railing by thick leather straps. Tools lay on a tray beside one bed–saws, clamps, scalpels, syringes and a drill. As their carriage passed it, the light above the bed flickered and went out.
Ahead, there were fewer working lights above the beds. Those he could see were covered in blood. The darkness grew about them. Something rustled beneath the shadowy sheets to his right. A groaning sound played over a hidden speaker.
“This is what happens to you if they catch you in your dreams,” the man beside him whispered. Sweat plastered his long black hair to his forehead. His eyes were wide and his lip was bleeding where he had bit it. “This is where you wake up.”
“Ohh, spooky,” Andy said.
“It’s real,” he said. “My wife was taken one night. I never saw her again.”
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The sincerity in his voice caused Andy to pause. He looked over the beds. That wasn’t real blood, was it? The body twitching beneath the bedsheet did so in a mechanical fashion–three twitches, pause, rustle, three more. Or did he just spot a break in the routine? Was there some randomness to it? Could it be real?
Something crashed in the dark. It sounded like a tray of tools being tipped over. A drill whirled behind them, boering into squeaking bone. Bodies squirmed in their beds beneath the sheets, moaning woefully, unable to escape their bounds and reveal themselves. It was creepy, but more low-key than the room before. A chance for people riding to have a breather.
“This is fun,” Andy said. “So you guys built your whole civilisation around this fair ride?”
“What?”
“I mean, that explains why you’re all such goths.”
The passenger frowned. “We settled here as servants of the dark lord.”
“Oh, is he in the final room then?”
“Yes, but… how don’t you know that?”
“My first time,” Andy said.
“But everyone who has been initiated knows that.”
“Erm, I’m uninitiated.”
“Then why are you here? Who are you?”
“I’d stop asking questions if I were you,” Andy said. It was the only warning he’d give the man.
The goth stared at him, mouth slightly agape, oblivious to the nightmarish scene around him.
Strips of clear plastic draped over their carriage and their faces. The man was obscured from Andy’s view for a second–it was his only chance to potentially get the jump on Andy. But as they travelled out the other side, the man had returned his attention to the scene around them.
Right choice, Andy thought.
They were in a tower, the ride’s tracks spiralled upwards just above the steps of a staircase. Paintings of regal figures donned the walls. Cages hung in the centre of the tower, chained together and hanging from one another like fishing lures on a colossal line. They swung absently on a draft which whistled through cracks in the walls. Skeletons occupied the cages, sometimes crammed in family units. Their limbs fell through the bars, sinew clinging to the joints like old thread.
The ride ascended for minutes, circling around dozens of hanging cages, climbing the neck of the tower. The practical effects craftsmanship on the bodies was incredible. It was a miracle that this place had survived the cataclysm in such good condition. The cultists must maintain the ride regularly, which made sense given that they worshipped the place. One cage hung close to the cart. The body inside still had its flesh, rotting away a greenish grey. It stunk of decay. How could they emulate that effect? Had someone put rotting animal meat in the cage? No… Andy held his breath.
It was real.
The tower’s ceiling pressed upon them. A door above admitted them into a large room with a massive ornate window covering the back wall. A throne stood before the window on a red velvet dias. Sat on the velvet carpeted steps before the throne was the cultist matriarch wearing her large oval collar. Her legs were at her side, the cloak draped elegantly over her body. She gazed up at the figure in the throne, diminutive, like a child at the foot of her master. Slouching with his head in his chest was a decrepit old man, long and slender with dark flesh visible beneath an unbuttoned white shirt. He wore a cloak with a tall spiky collar that mimicked his pointed ears. His withered hands rested atop the armrest pomels, carved like bat’s heads.
Their carriage clicked in line, assembling the final piece of the train. A girl wearing a white bodice and dark cloak lifted the safety railing above his head and extended a hand to help him out. More of the acolytes were lighting a canopy of candles adorning the walls and chandeliers with long rods. Andy joined a line of cultists forming a semi-circle around the throne and placed his hands behind his back, drinking in the atmosphere.
The full moon outside shone through the ornate window. On the far left, the colours of the glass were muddy yellow and gloomy green. They depicted a slender man slumbering in a tall tower. The colours transitioned through to blues and purples as the glass told a story. A bolt of lightning struck the tower, awakening the figure, transforming it with sinister energy. Its canines grew sharp, its ears pointed and nose diminished like a bat. Depicted below, the vampire descended on the village, a dark aura around it. People fled, maimed and tortured. A vagabond alone opposed the evil creature. They battled, but the vampire got the better of him, looming over him, razor claws clutching his neck. Flames licked its wicked face. It enslaved women, forcing them to return to the tower to be his concubines. Finally, in the bottom right of the painting, a lick of orange light rose to put an end to the mural.
Andy looked around the room. The goth with the briefcase was standing two spaces away from him. Seeing the payload jolted Andy awake. Maybe it was the smell of the incense, or the allure of the ride, but he had become far too passive and relaxed. He was here to do a mission after all. Glancing around the room, Andy prepared his exit. Nobody seemed to be armed except him. There was no real rush, but why draw things out? If the ritual didn’t kick into gear and get entertaining pretty soon, he’d flick the switch in his brain and get the job done.
The matriarch spoke softly to the figure sitting in the chair. The body looked weak, meagre. The flesh dropped on its face, sickly fingers poking out through a cloak too large for purpose. So this was their master? Not very scary after all. Andy wondered what their reaction would be if he put a bullet in its head now.
Caution, his AI advised. Threat level unknown.
“Step forward,” the matriarch said. The first of the cultists in the semi-circle approached the throne nervously. He unravelled a blanket, inside which were a pile of ornate golden chalices and candlesticks, then stood before the throne offering a response.
Their master’s eyes remained closed. It didn’t move. Had they really come all this way to present trinkets to a fair ride wax figure? The goth bowed his head and returned to his place in line.
Andy looked at the carriages which they’d rode in on. The front most carriage stood on tracks leading out the opposite side of the room. It was likely that the ride continued in a loop to the position where it started. That would be his way out. A lever beside the tracks held the brakes on, so he’d have to flick that and jump inside, and hopefully the mechanisms would do the rest.
“Approach,” the matriarch said. Another cultist toddled towards the throne, holding a framed painting. He held it against his chest like a shield, displaying it for the seated lord.
“This is a painting I made of you, master.”
“Do not speak,” the matriarch hissed.
“Sorry,” he said.
Suddenly, the figure in the throne shifted. “A fair gift.” It lifted its head stiffly and squared its shoulders, sitting upright. “Your power is potent.” Gazing down its long nose, the being opened its eyes. They were pure black, with a ring of silver around the edge, like a sun eclipsed by the moon. “I thank thee for thy coming, Andrew.”
Andy leapt into action, barging down the line towards his target with the briefcase. He drew Julie and shot the goth in the shoulder, nabbing the payload as it fell to the floor. Sprinting towards the carriages, Andy yanked the lever and hopped inside. The cart set off at a slow pace, clicking over the tracks. The cultists were stunned–some ducked for cover while others huddled in groups, hands over their mouths in shock. They gawked at him and their lord, powerless to stop him as the cart wobbled into action.
The vampire rose to its feet, seeming to swell in size. Its flesh transformed from dark grey to ash-white as it descended the dias steps one at a time. Its muscles rippled, filling out his cloak like squirting expanding foam into a plastic bag. “Verily, I doth not bethink thou wilt be departing.”
Alert: Threat level severe, his AI warned.
Andy wasn’t in the mood for negotiations. With Enhanced Precision, he shot the vampire in the heart. The shot turned the vampire’s shoulder, but it kept approaching. Andy clenched his jaw and fired four more times, targeting its knees, hip and head. The cumulative impact finally knocked the vampire off its feet. It fell onto its back, lying in a pool of its silken cloaks, then rose on a dark energy. Its arms outspread, it levitated in the centre of the chamber as black fog spread beneath it like a mushroom cloud. Black smoke weeped from the wounds Julie had bore, slowly reconstituting it. A chunk of its skull which had been blown apart reassembled before Andy’s eyes.
“Come on.” Andy shook the guardrail, willing the ride to go faster.
The cultists fled to the corners of the room, whimpering and clawing at the walls like rats trapped in a burning pit. The vampire extended a hand towards the matriarch cowering on the steps. A midnight-purple tendril shot forth, snatching her up with a puff of smoke. She screamed, but did not resist as the tendril ushered her towards the vampire’s outstretched claw. Snatching her by the neck, the vampire appraised her. “Thou has been the most wonderful servant.”
Her eyes bulged, hot and white with terror and a plea for life.
The vampire bit down on her neck. She screamed silently, her body twitching in his grasp, toes and fingers splayed, convulsing as he sucked her dry. The colour drained from her flesh, lending a luminescence to his. In seconds, she withered like a dried fruit, smoke emitting from her eyeballs and mouth, climbing towards the high ceiling. The vampire tossed her aside just as Andy’s carriage travelled through a swinging doorway and into the fair ride beyond.
“Flee little rabbit.” The vampire’s voice seemed to occupy the very walls. “Yet swear this unto me. Ere all is done, thou shalt reveal thy true power.”