Monsterland Read online

  Praise for Michael Okon

  “… brings his buoyant mix of terror and humor to a tale of three major monsters of classic horror … his take on zombies, werewolves, and vampires is rooted in warmly likeably characters … the adventure ramps up to an enjoyably gore-soaked finale … full of both mayhem and heart.”

  —Kirkus Review

  “… toys with our preconceptions of scary creatures in his delightfully entertaining novel … part satire, part coming-of-age story, part genre gore-fest, Monsterland is smart, campy fun … peppers the narrative with real-life significance … a talented and clever enough writer to imbue his characters with real emotion … it is this deepening of the plot that elevates Monsterland above standard monster fare … the novel will prove an entertaining and thought-provoking read for both teenagers and adults.”

  —Scott Neuffer, Foreword Reviews

  Monsterland

  Michael Okon

  Contents

  Book Description

  copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  If You Liked

  Book Description

  Welcome to Monsterland—the scariest place on Earth.

  * * *

  Wyatt Baldwin's senior year is not going well. His parents divorce, then his dad mysteriously dies. He’s not exactly comfortable with his new stepfather, Carter White, either. An ongoing debate with his best friends Melvin and Howard Drucker over which monster is superior has gotten stale. He’d much rather spend his days with beautiful and popular Jade. However, she’s dating the brash high-school quarterback Nolan, and Wyatt thinks he doesn’t stand a chance.

  * * *

  But everything changes when Wyatt and his friends are invited to attend the grand opening of Monsterland, a groundbreaking theme park where guests can interact with vampires in Vampire Village, be chased by werewolves on the River Run, and walk among the dead in Zombieville.

  * * *

  With real werewolves, vampires and zombies as the main attractions, what could possibly go wrong?

  Monsterland Copyright © 2017 NYLA Blvd., Inc. Originally published by NYLA Blvd., Inc. 2015

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the copyright holder, except where permitted by law. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously.

  * * *

  ISBN: 978-1-61475-595-1

  Cover painting by Michael Mastermaker

  Cover design by Michael Mastermaker

  Edited by Kevin J. Anderson

  Kevin J. Anderson, Art Director

  Published by WordFire Press, an imprint of WordFire, LLC PO Box 1840 Monument CO 80132

  Kevin J. Anderson & Rebecca Moesta, Publishers

  WordFire Press Edition 2017 wordfirepress.com

  Dedication

  For Eric, my monster movie companion.

  * * *

  To Sharon, Alexander, Cayla, Jennifer, Hallie, Zachary, Mom, and Dad,

  To Susan, Nick, Kim, Brittney, Julie, Dave, Kevin, and WordFire Press …

  A friend is someone who will bail you out of jail. A best friend is the one sitting next to you saying, “boy that was fun.”—The Maugles

  Thank you all for being my best friends.

  Courage is being scared to death … and saddling up anyway.

  John Wayne

  Chapter 1

  The Everglades

  The fire Billy created burned bright; rabbits roasted on a spit made from hickory, the juices dripping to hiss in the flames. Seven of his hairy friends lay in scattered repose, enjoying the late afternoon lull—two napped, the others tossed a stuffed fur in the form of a ball around the clearing, hooting with amusement when it rolled into the brush. They traveled in a pack, his group, his makeshift family, foraging together, hiding in plain sight. It had been that way for generations. But the glades were getting smaller, the humans invasive.

  Mosquitoes droned lazily over the still water. Frogs croaked while they sunbathed on waxy lily pads. The sun started its slow descent to the horizon, hot pink and lilac clouds rippling against the empty canvas of the sky. Here and there, fireflies lit the gloom, doing a placid ballet in the humid air.

  Unseen, the men moved closer to the campfire as the sun sank into the western treetops.

  A lone hawk cried out a warning, disturbing the peace of the glade. Huge birds answered, flapping their wings, creating a cacophony of swamp sounds. The area became a concerto of animals responding to the disruption of their home—wild screams, squeaks, and complaints of the invasion of their territory.

  Billy stood, his head tilted as he listened intently. He heard a melody, that strange organization of sounds, predictable as well as dangerous. It had been years since he’d heard music. His stomach clenched with uneasiness. Where those rhythms originated meant only one thing—they were not alone in the swamp.

  His pack rose, tense and alert, their eyes watching the waterway. Billy silently parted the thick leaves to expose a flat-bottom boat with dangerous strangers floating slowly toward them.

  The boat was filled with people, excitedly searching the banks of the swamp, their expensive khaki bush clothes ringed with sweat.

  Little John, Billy’s best friend, leaned closer and whispered, “Tourists?”

  Billy noticed the rifles before the rest of the group. He held up his hand signaling for silence. “Not tourists. Enemies,” he replied.

  Men’s voices drifted on the turgid air.

  This is no good, Billy thought furiously. He was gauging the time, his eyes opening wide. It was late. They had to get out of there. It’s going to happen, and those people are going to see it.

  The bald top of the moon peeked over the line of trees in the south, the sky graying to twilight with each passing second. Night came fast in the swamp, dropping a curtain of darkness, extinguishing all light except for the beacon of the full moon. It continued to float upward, indifferent to the consequences for its innocent victims.

  A halo of lighter blue surrounded the globe, limning the trees silver, the cobwebs in the branches becoming chains of dripping diamonds in the coming night.

  What do these strangers want? Billy fought the urge to scream. This is our home. Humans don’t belong in the swamp.

  The moon continued to rise, the familiar agony beginning in his chest. A full moon, a dangerous moon. Billy fought the demons churning within his body, feeling the pain of metamorphosis.

  He curled inward, hunching his shoulders, the curse of his nature making his spine pull until his tendons and muscles tore from their human positions to transform into something wicked.

  A howl erupted from his throat, followed by another, and then another. Grabbing handfuls of
dirt, he tried to fight the awful change, but, as the sun set, the moon took control of his life, and the unnatural force tore through his unwilling body.

  Reason fled, his heart raced. Falling on his hands and knees, Billy let loose a keening cry as his face elongated, his body changing into a canine, fangs filling his mouth. He raced in a circle in a demented dance, knowing his fellow pack members did the same thing.

  Slowing, he regulated his labored breathing, forcing the icy calmness he needed to keep some semblance of reason. He peered through the dense brush. Lights from the search party bobbed in between the thick reeds. The odor, the stench of humanity, filled the clearing. The enemy had arrived.

  He turned, digging furiously on the ground, throwing dirt on the campfire flames, hiding their existence. Discovery would ruin everything. No one could live with their kind.

  Humans brought disease; humans brought anger; humans brought hatred. They were there; he could smell them, see their clumsy bodies splashing through the bog.

  “They’ve found us,” he growled in the unique language they used after transformation. “Run!” he barked as he turned to his pack, watching his friends’ naked skin transform until it was covered with the same silvered fur.

  They cried out in unison at the pain, howling with the injustice, and then ran in fear from the interlopers threatening their habitat.

  They separated into two groups and took off in different directions to confuse the strangers.

  Billy tore through the brush, thorns ripping his fur, and, in his adrenaline rush, he didn’t feel anything. He glanced backward; the humans were chasing them, one running with a huge camera. Nine other hunters followed, the long barrels of their rifles bearing down on them.

  Behind him, he heard multiple shots and triumphant shouts, knowing that his friends were succumbing one by one.

  With a frantic growl, he urged Little John, Petey, and Todd to run faster.

  Little John’s massive body was blocking him. Billy bayed at him to keep his head closer to the ground. He worried about Little John, knowing that his big frame might as well have had a target painted on it.

  “Stay close together,” he urged. His heart sank when he heard Todd yelp. The shot hit his friend from behind, sending him careening into a trench. Billy wanted to stop but knew he couldn’t help Todd. The humans were on his friend’s fallen body seconds later. He had to find Petey and Little John a place to hide.

  There was a loud scream as one of their pursuers stumbled on a root to their left. Billy paused, panting wildly, to get his bearings next to the broad trunk of a cypress tree.

  “Which way?” Petey asked.

  Billy’s eyes searched the tangle of the mangroves for an opening.

  A shot rang out, splintering a tree, sending shards of bark around them. Billy reared in surprised shock. It wasn’t a bullet. A red feathered dart was vibrating next to him, sticking out of the wood.

  “What is that?” Petey whimpered.

  “It’s a dart,” Billy said. “They’re trying to capture us. This way!”

  He and his packmates took off, disappearing into the twisted vines.

  They clawed through the swamp, hiding behind clusters of Spanish moss, dipping under the water when the hunters approached.

  One man in the group stood taller and leaner than the rest, his dark wolfish eyes scanning the dense undergrowth looking for them. The man paused, training his gun in Billy’s direction as if he could see straight through the foliage.

  Billy held his breath, terrified of discovery, but the harried sounds of a chase distracted the leader of the hunters.

  Billy and his pack skirted solid ground, their bodies quivering. He glanced at the sky, wishing for the sun to rise so that he would transform back to being human.

  The splashes of their pursuers seemed to recede. The pack waited in claustrophobic silence for the time to pass.

  Billy spied a dinghy heading towards the flat-bottom boat as dawn approached. They heard the sputter of an engine being turned over.

  “They’re leaving,” Little John said hopefully.

  The rays of the sun lit the eastern sky. It was quiet once more. They paddled softly toward the shore. Coming out of the water, they shook themselves of the muck. Early morning birdcalls broke out in the thick stillness.

  Billy barked a cry of dismay as shots rang out. Little John went down in a tumble of leaves and mud, a dart silencing him.

  Billy veered right, squirming under a broken log, Petey barreling over it. The report of another shot and a loud thump told him that he had lost Petey too.

  What do they want from us?

  Billy dug his paws into the marshy land, his heart pumping like a piston. He leaped high over an alligator dozing in the shade of a leafy tree. Billy felt the impact of a dart, a sharp pain ripping into his flank.

  His eyes dimmed as he tumbled headlong onto the boggy ground. He rolled over and over, coming to rest on a bed of rotting leaves. He couldn’t move; his limbs were leaden. His ears registered the sound of running feet.

  Billy looked up into the triumphant, black eyes of the man who led the attack. The hunter placed his boot on his neck, holding him down.

  “Got ya,” he heard the man say with a thick accent before everything went dark.

  Chapter 2

  Copper Valley—the Badlands in California

  The house was little more than a bungalow with a screened porch that doubled as a den in the summer. Carter White had his feet on a ratty old ottoman, his large frame sprawled on the flowered couch he’d inherited from his aunt Junie when she died. They had blended all their furniture when they married, Gracie and him. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but with her two monsters, it didn’t pay to have new furnishings.

  Maybe “monsters” was a tad too extreme, Carter admitted. Sean was a handful, but Wyatt was a good kid. They were Gracie’s sons—Sean was fourteen, and Wyatt was turning eighteen this spring, right before graduation, which was five weeks away.

  He and Gracie had been together for two years, meeting a year after her divorce when she moved back to Copper Valley and into her folks’ old place. They finally tied the knot early this past September, and six months later they got word that Gracie’s ex, Frank, had died suddenly while on a job.

  Sean burst through the screen door, practically ripping it off its hinges.

  “Hey!” Carter shouted in his best highway patrol voice. “Take it easy.”

  Sean paused, breathing hard, his feet encased in the red mud of the high desert, his tennis shoes stained as if he had just left a crime scene.

  “Your mom’s gonna kill you.” Carter looked down at his stepson’s feet. “Don’t track that stuff in here.”

  Sean threw his knapsack on the faded couch and then ripped off his shirt to wipe down the white leather of his sneakers. “Dammit,” he muttered.

  “Hey, now.” Carter lowered the sound on the television, his news program forgotten. He gave the youngster an arch look. “You running in the wash again?” The wash was a gully that ran parallel to the school. Gracie was too lenient, and he was in that cloudy area when it came to parenting. He found his disciplining methods meeting head on with the “you’re not my father” comment.

  They were still working on his role in the kids’ lives. While they seemed to like him well enough, hit the hoops and watched baseball with him, they kindly rejected his offer to call him Dad, and, more often than not, he was made to feel unwelcome in their tight trio. He put that down to their closeness after the abusive relationship they’d had with their father.

  Frank Baldwin was a creep, a lying, low-down, crooked lawyer who liked to torment Gracie and make the kids choose sides. He pushed them away with his selfish ambition, cloaked in concern for the well-being of his family. Frank had left them high and dry, with Carter’s cop salary and Gracie’s teaching job supporting them. Frank donated all his money to some hole-in-the-wall charity. Well, none of that mattered now, Carter thought. He had it under control. Stil
l, when Frank crooked his finger, the kids ran to see him. But now he was gone, and somehow it ruined the peace of their home. Carter couldn’t put his finger on it, but he knew it was true.

  “Nah … um, no. I—” Sean’s reply was cut off by pounding footsteps. Sean spun quickly, latching the flimsy screen door, and then burst out laughing. Wyatt slammed his fist against the chipped green paint of the door.

  “Sean!” he shouted, his eyes narrowed with anger. “Sean, I’m gonna kill you.”

  Carter unfolded himself from his comfortable spot, his six-foot-four-inch body filling the crowded room. “Did some damage, Sean?” he asked quietly.

  Sean shrugged indifferently, bolting when Carter motioned for him to leave with a slight nod.

  Carter unlatched and then caught the abused screen door as Wyatt yanked it open. “Hard day?”

  “Where is he? I’m gonna rip the little bastard apart.” Wyatt drew his breath in great gulping sobs. A crumpled piece of paper was fisted in his hand.

  “I have it on the best authority that your parents were well and truly married when Sean entered this world. Little brothers are the devil. Sit down and cool off.”