Monsterland by Michael Phillip Cash

anything other than thedriving need to consume flesh. They burst out the door, staggering across the manicured lawns, their arms stretched out before them to feel what they could find and feed the voracious hunger keeping them alive.
    He couldn’t believe he’d ended up here. He had to get out. He needed to feel fresh air, some remnant of his mind told him. Vincent put him here, of that he was sure. He had gone into the danger zone for him, for business. He returned to find himself changing within a few hours of being infected. At first his skin turned putty-like, its color the pale green of celery. His bones became brittle, and his hair fell out in clumps. Where was the hospital, he wondered. Vincent was supposed to take care of him. They had a deal. He had a deal! Instead he was shipped off to an internment camp in bum-fuck Montana. Now this—the man scanned the wreckage of humanity laying in catatonic oblivion. A bell sounded. The call to food. He knew where he was—it wasn’t a call to food. It was the call to make Vincent richer and even more powerful than he ever was. Not him. He was a Rhodes scholar once. He graduated at the top of his class. He was a family man—well, he was once. He stood, pushing a woman out of the way, stepping on her leg, not caring when he heard her femur break. Sidetracked, he spun, watching her fold on her unsteady leg. She sank to the floor, her hand clasping her head. He smelled the blood of her wound as it seeped from her crushed leg onto the floor. They were on her in a minute—the room filled with the sound of her flesh being torn from her bones, the splatter of her body fluids as they hit the concrete floor. The man turned back, grabbing her wrist in his hand. He pulled, watching in fascination as it detached from her body, the rubbery tendons glistening in the light. He put it to his lips and ate.

C HAPTER 12
    T hey parked the car on the ninth level, and Howard Drucker promised to remember it because it reminded him of the ninth circle of hell from Dante’s
Inferno
, which he had just read for AP English. He noted it in his cell anyway, so he wouldn’t forget, just in case.
    Water dripped, and the crowd was strangely subdued. They met up with Nolan and the others at the elevator. They piled in like sardines in a can, and when the pneumatic doors closed, Wyatt was surprised to feel his brother stand very close to him. The doors opened to bright floodlights turning night into day, a concrete path with green areas on either side. A red carpet had been spread;
Entertainment Tonight
,
Access Hollywood
, and all the major stations were there. Giant strobe lights crisscrossed in the sky, creating white beams that seemed to go to the heavens. Beautiful reporters in long gowns walked with bejeweled mics to actors and actresses, all holding tickets. Some held the parchments, and others held the silver strips like the ones Vincent had given Nolan. Everybody was tensewith anticipation, thrilled to be included in this exclusive activity. The noise level was high, and flash bulbs burned Wyatt’s retinas, but he and his group were largely overlooked because of all the talent that arrived. Clearly, they were small fish.
    Water gushed from a waterfall, and birds screeched from the swaying palm trees. Wyatt’s eyes searched for the familiar khaki-colored uniform of his stepfather. He saw, instead, a sea of Monsterland employees dressed in black jumpsuits.
    “This is creepy,” Wyatt told his brother in a hushed whisper.
    “You were expecting Knott’s Berry Farm?” Wyatt heard Howard Drucker say from behind.
    Melvin walked briskly before them, taking in the lush scenery. Wyatt felt another person near his other side, smiling when he realized Jade came up close to him. She returned his greeting, her eyes softening. They walked close together, squeezed by the packed crowd. The air charged between them, and Wyatt felt his heart beat a bit faster. Nolan stood slightly behind her. He gave Wyatt a