Chapter 11: Part Two
Playing Dead
Chapter 11: Playing Dead (Part Two)
One Week Later: The Night of the Super Blood Moon
The afternoon of the night of the Super Blood Moon, Wendell rented a mini moving van and loaded up his restraints in the back of it just like he did for every ordinary moonset. Only this time it was anything but ordinary.
His first stop was Aurora’s house to pick up the pounds and pounds of cheap meat from her.
He couldn’t stomach buying it from the grocery store butcher himself, and he was always grateful to Aurora for coming through for him and doing it, even though she was a vegetarian too.
“I can wait in the van for you,” Aurora insisted. “You don’t have to do this alone, Wen.”
“No way,” Wendell said, “I can’t risk the maniacs who did this abducting or hurting you too.”
“But how are you going to lock yourself up!?”
“That’s the last thing I’m worried about right now, Auri. I need to find Cayden and Stevie and get them out of there. If I survive that, Cayden and Stevie are both purebreds, so they keep their human minds when they transform. They can help. They’re still alive. I know it. Did you do any readings with your cards?”
“I did a quick spread and it’s … conflicting,” Aurora said, “there’s an indication that there’s a betrayer in your midst. Are you sure you can really trust Violet?”
“She hasn’t given me a reason not to trust her,” Wendell said, “But I’ll keep my distance. I don’t want to give her a reason to change her mind about working with me. I’d better get going now. It’s a long drive, and I want to get there before the 7:30 time they told Violet to arrive. I’m hoping they’ll be impatient and I can confront whoever it is before the moon is fully up at 8:15.”
“Text me when you get there, okay!?” Aurora pleaded.
After a series of huge (and tight) hugs from his best friend, Wendell hit the road.
The last time he took the drive to Wonder Hills was twenty years ago, and he had the fortune of being a passenger riding in the fancy coach bus Brad’s parents paid for. He spent the whole time playing games with Rodger and the other scouts, so it didn’t feel like a long drive.
Going alone and knowing he was facing possible death made the ride this time longer and a whole lot less pleasant.
There was no sign of Dirk’s truck, so he and Violet either left early as well or were planning on leaving later in the day. Wendell agreed with Violet that it was best that they didn’t share their arrival plans with each other.
It was just before seven that evening when Wendell pulled into the campground’s parking lot. Even though twenty years had passed, the campsite looked like it did that day in July when Wendell and the rest of the Scouts disembarked off the bus.
Wendell walked a lap around where he, Rodger, and Brad pitched their tent, and where everyone told scary stories around the campfire the night of the attack.
Whatever bloodstains seeped into the grass from the mauled and mutilated bodies of his friends and fellow scouts long since washed away. But if he stared long enough, he could see it and the bodies around him. He was in the middle of the carnage just like he was the day after the attack, when, like a sleepwalker, he returned to the gruesome site with the group of amateur ghost hunters.
“No, this isn’t real. Not now, it’s not,” Wendell told himself firmly, as if he could shame his PTSD into disappearing, or at least behaving for the night.
Even though the summer nights were long, the big, red moon was already visible in the gradually darkening evening sky. The red glow would be even more luminous in a few hours. But by then, it would mean nothing to Wendell. He’d be a hairy beast on four paws with an insatiable appetite. He fought the urge to throw his head back and howl.
“None of that!” Wendell snapped at his inner wolf.
Service was unsurprisingly spotty, and none of his calls or texts to Aurora went through. He knew the moment he got back to civilization, he’d see a slew of missed calls and texts from her. He felt a surge of love and gratitude towards his best friend.
With 7:30 quickly approaching, Wendell started the trek through the woods to get to the abandoned Wonder Hills Fun Park.
He was out of shape, and even though it was barely a hike, it left him sweaty and breathless. He didn’t let himself linger, though; otherwise, his eyes would find the place where he and Rodger shared their first and last kiss, and the path he took back to the campsite when the screams began.
He couldn’t let those phantom memories haunt him. He shook his head, panted, rubbed his sweaty forehead with the back of his arm, and pressed on through the unruly trees and brush.
Just like the first time, the Ferris wheel was the first thing he saw rising up in the distance. It looked exactly the same as it did that day he spied it twenty years earlier. Next, he’d see the entry sign welcoming him into the amusement park. Would the words still be legible?
Wendell wouldn’t find out, because other than the word “Welcome” a stained cloth banner hung over the rest of the words, obscuring them. It said FALSE ALPHA WENDELL BATTY painted in aggressive red streaks of paint.
His stomach twisted and his heart thudded in his ears. They were here and they were ready for him. Was Wendell ready for them? Second guessing himself wasn’t an option, so he pressed on, head held high.
It wasn’t a breezy night, so the rides were silent. No metallic squeaking from the hanging Ferris wheel cars. No flapping fabric from the old banners. Even the animals and whatever bugs and other critters inhabited this land were silent.
Maybe the rogue lone wolf really did make this his territory and scared everything else off, Wendell thought. It’d explain the skin-crawlingly unnatural and haunting silence permeating the abandoned amusement park.
In the distance, past the tea cup ride and the concessions booths, Wendell saw what looked like a dozen people lying on their backs in a circle. In the middle were the remnants of a massive bonfire.
“What the hell,” Wendell breathed. Checking to make sure he wasn’t being watched or followed, Wendell crept up to the figures.
As he approached, he saw they were wearing robes just like the ones the lyc chasers in the fake transformation video wore. They had runes painted onto their bodies. Some had them on their hands and wrists, others on their foreheads and cheeks, all in chalky white paint.
More runes were drawn into the dirt. Candles, long since snuffed out, were interspersed with the fake symbols.
None of them made a move to rise as Wendell walked even closer. They were stiff and silent. One thing was for certain. They weren’t playing dead.
Whether it was a suicide pact or murder, all twelve of the lyc chasers in front of him, including the fake DONHE agent Gideon Crow and the lone wolf girl from the video and the lyc chaser house were dead.
There was no sign of struggle and no visible wounds. Just like Odd Todd.
However they died, they went willingly. Or were caught completely off guard. Whatever the case, Wendell felt a surge of pity and grief for them. No one deserves to die like this. Their families and loved ones are going to be devastated.
“Whoever did this wants Violet to think that they were my hostages in the note,” Wendell whispered to himself. “They’re staging me as a ruthless killer. Don’t believe them, Violet.”
Whether or not Violet heard him, Wendell didn’t know. He sniffed the air trying to see if he could catch a whiff of her or her weapons, but he smelled nothing. Either she was amazing at masking her scent or she wasn’t at this part of the amusement park. She was out there somewhere though, silently stalking in the shadows with Freya, her favorite werewolf hunting crossbow.
Wendell tried to take comfort in knowing Violet was on his side. Aurora’s cards might’ve been talking about something else with their betrayer warning. They had to be, Wendell insisted to himself.
Now, he needed to find Cayden and Stevie before she tried to “kill” him.
As quietly as possible, with his stomach churning and his heart racing, Wendell turned back to the amusement park. He passed the old, long dried up, water ride where he was bitten, and the mini dragon roller coaster. He was rounding the carousel when what he saw froze him in place.
On one of the weathered and worn carousel horses slumped a muscular figure. His head was bowed and he was silent and still, just like the lyc chaser victims. Heavy silver chains encircled his waist and chest. His legs were bent and his feet were chained to the metal stirrups by the horse’s peeling hooves.
Wendell crept up. It was Cayden. His eyes were shut, and thick, stained fabric covered his mouth. His nose looked like it was bleeding at some point.
Wendell desperately wanted to cry out his name and sprint over to his bound and gagged almost-ex-husband, but his instincts screamed at him to keep his distance.
Cayden’s unnatural stillness was unnerving. Either the silver chains weakened him, or he was poisoned with wolfsbane. Maybe both, Wendell tried not to panic. He looked up and down, carefully observing everything he could about the eerie set up.
The very top of the pole that held the horse in place was bent. But just barely. It was so slight, Wendell almost didn’t notice it at all. Cayden must’ve fought back as he was being chained to the horse.
Wendell tiptoed over to Cayden. Tears started to blur his vision. He furiously blinked them away. He didn’t have time to break down. “Cayden,” Wendell whispered, “Cayden, it’s me. It’s Wen. I’m going to get you out of this.”
Cayden’s eyes instantly popped open. He tried to sit up and get out of his hunched position, but the tight chains clinked and held him in place. He tried to talk, but the thick fabric of the gag muffled his words.
“I’m going to help you!” Wendell whispered, “I just need to figure out—”
“WEN!” Stevie’s scream rang out. “WEN!”
Cayden’s eyes widened. His words grew more panicked and urgent. The gag still did its job and muted them out entirely.
“I know, I hear him too! I’ll be right back to get you out of here, Cayden,” Wendell kissed Cayden on his forehead.
“WEN! WEN! WENNNN! WEN IF YOU’RE THERE HELP ME!” Stevie’s scream echoed.
“Stevie, where are you?” Wendell raised his voice just enough for the boy to hear him.
“HE WON’T LET ME GO! WEN! HELP!” Stevie screamed back.
Wendell picked up his pace as he wove around the broken down rides and beat up game stalls and concessions booths. Stevie’s voice was echoing from somewhere. . . and that somewhere was an old fun house.
Wendell took in a shaky breath and darted in. It smelled damp and dusty like a basement. Thanks to his werewolf enhanced vision he was able to see in the dimly lit conditions. He held a hand over his nose to block out the stench.
Stevie continued crying out. His voice echoed and bounced closer and closer.
Wendell tripped over the tilting and uneven floorboards in one part of the fun house. He swayed and nearly wiped out as he walked over rolling barrels in another. He breathed a sigh of relief once he was flat and even flooring, only to turn into a disorienting maze of mirrors.
He fought his way through the smudged and cracked mirrors, smacking into walls of many Wendells once, twice, three times in his frantic pursuit of Stevie. His glasses nearly broke the third time and he could feel bruises forming.
Finally freed from the treacherous mirror maze, just like his twin brother Wylan so many years ago, Wendell turned into the next room.
The walls were painted with rainbow stripes and bulbs were embedded in the walls and floors. They weren’t illuminated, but if they were, Wendell imagined they’d flash in patterns to try to make fun house goers dizzy.
Stevie was sitting cross legged on a blanket with a camping lantern lit in front of him.
“Took you long enough,” Stevie pouted, crossing his arms. “He could’ve killed me ten times over with how molasses slow you are.”
Stevie wasn’t in chains or gagged. In fact, unlike Cayden, Stevie looked completely untouched by the mysterious abductor.
“Stevie, what’s happening?” Wendell frowned.
“Ugh. Gross. I thought you were smarter than this, Wen,” Stevie rolled his eyes. “Let’s just end this already,” he said, looking at a point behind Wendell.
“End what?” Wendell stiffened. “Stevie, end what? You’re not making–”
A sudden blow to the back of his head brought Wendell’s wonderings to a screeching halt. He went to turn around, but the same force hammered into his head a second time. Stevie’s gleeful smirking expression was the last thing Wendell saw before his vision went black.
* * *
Dazed, Wendell blinked his eyes open. His vision was smeary at first, and his head throbbed. Did someone knock me out? Wendell thought to himself. He expected to wake up chained and gagged like Cayden, and was surprised to see he was unrestrained.
He was sitting upright on his butt in the dirt by the carousel.
“Hello, Wendell. Back to the land of the living… but not for much longer,” a male voice behind Wendell said. It was the same voice that narrated the fake transformation video in the lyc chaser house. It sounded even more familiar in person, if not a little rougher, drier, and hoarser than it used to be.
Wendell slowly turned.
“You,” Wendell gasped.
It was a face that Wendell thought he’d never see again.
His glasses were gone, and his orange hair was long and dirty.
“K.C.! You were … you were … dead!” Wendell stammered.
“Almost.”
Here we are in the final stretch of Millennial Monsters! If you know anyone who might want to binge an unputdownable paranormal mystery and urban fantasy, consider telling them about Millennial Monsters and passing the link to your favorite chapter along! 🖤🐺✨