A massive circus tent had been erected in the middle of the field. An old-style big top, a mix of red and yellow stripes. There were four peaks in the billowing roof, a big flag flying from each, bunting running from the spikes to the ground.
There was a large, framed entrance. An awning swept down over it and there was a painted sign above that. As Cat stumbled forward, hardly able to believe her eyes, the text on the sign came into focus.
MR. DOWLING’S EMPORIUM OF WONDERS
The words meant nothing to Cat, but they made her shiver regardless, because she could see now that they had been painted with blood.
Fresh blood, still dripping slowly down the canvas.
There was a low, steady growling noise behind her. It had been there all along and Cat had mistaken it for a natural hum, an electrical generator or something like that. But as Cat paused and stared at the sign, she realized this was like no other hum she had ever heard.
With a horrible, sick feeling, Cat forced herself to turn and look at the rest of the stadium. She’d assumed it would be abandoned, but to her shock and dismay she saw that every seat was taken.
By a zombie.
Cat’s head spun. She had no idea how many people the stadium could hold, but figured it must be at least thirty or forty thousand. She couldn’t see an empty seat anywhere she looked. Every single one was occupied by a member of the living dead, men, women and children. She’d never seen so many zombies in one place before. And they were all sitting still, just growling and staring… at her.
Cat didn’t know how so many had gathered together, or why they were seated like that. All she knew was that she had to get out of here, and quick.
Cat took a frantic step back towards the mouth of the tunnel. As soon as she did that, every zombie leapt to its feet. There was an audible crack in the air as they all stood at the same time and glared. The noise of the growling rose sharply.
Cat gulped and stepped away from the tunnel. The zombies slowly sank back into their seats, the growl settling into its low rhythm again.
Cat started to cry. It had been a long time since she’d shed tears, but this had shaken her like nothing else. It wasn’t just the fact that there were so many of them and that they could surge forward and take her in the blink of an eye. It was the way they were behaving. Zombies didn’t act like this. Something was wrong here, wrong in a way that nothing had ever been wrong for Cat before.
For a few minutes she could only stand there, sobbing, wanting to run but too afraid to move.
But because Cat was made of stern stuff, she eventually wiped away the tears and took stock. The zombies were still sitting and watching her. She could see that some of them were drooling, licking their lips at the thought of digging into her fresh, hot brain. But for some reason they held back.
Cat didn’t know what was going on, but she knew the only way was forward, into the tent. If she tried to retreat, the living dead would attack. She hated playing into the hands of whoever it was that had set this up, but she had no option. Nobody could argue with tens of thousands of zombies.
Turning her back on the stands, shivering uncontrollably, Cat Ward faced the big top and read the ominous sign again. She had no idea who Mr. Dowling was, or what might be stored in his emporium of wonders.
But she knew she was about to find out.
Sniffing miserably, wiping the last of the tears away, Cat lowered her head, took the deepest, shakiest breath of her life, and started forward into the gigantic, hellish red and yellow tent.