CHILDHOOD ENDS
Isles of Wonder had been envisioned as the ultimate theme park: the biggest, best, and most awe-inspiring of them all. The crown jewel of the Wonder World Resort, its thousand acres rose from the middle of a huge, picture-perfect lagoon, which was connected to the nearby ocean by a wide meandering channel.
The park itself was actually a cluster of five islands, each its own distinct world. The central island, Atlantis, was a glittering kingdom of sand and shells that looked as though it had risen from the depths of the ocean. It had been built higher than the rest, so that its magnificent Palace, one of the most photographed buildings in the world, would be visible from everywhere in the park. The Palace had the shape and brilliant colors of living coral, its glittering spires tapering to thin, impossibly delicate points.
Near the top of the Palace, from a balcony molded to resemble a chariot pulled by sea horses, the animatronic figure of King Neptune emerged four times a day to thrust his trident out over his empire and greet the cheering crowds who gathered in the Palace courtyard. Then, to the delight of the spectators, the reflecting pool across from the Palace erupted in flames, and from the fiery waters would rise a serpent, or a chorus of singing sea nymphs, or the twisting, tentacled Kraken, each paying homage to their King.
The other four worlds—linked to Atlantis by wide, arced bridges—were no less magical. The one to the southwest, Enchanted Island, was a favorite of younger guests, a land of sweet whimsy and mild wicked-witch frights. There, visitors could stroll down Animation Alley or travel in jeeps, in miniature boats, or on flying carpets through scenes from their favorite fairy tales, TV shows, and movies. Just to the north was Timescape Island, where disparate lands and time periods flowed together seamlessly. The Lost World—a lush, prehistoric jungle inhabited by huge dinosaurs and giant apes—was just a short walk from the Ancient Cities and Roman Coliseum. Those, in turn, morphed into the Heart of Africa and the Barbary Coast, with its six-times-daily pirate battles.
Guests with an eye to the future took the southeast bridge to Inspiration Island and its incredible, visionary attractions. At every intersection, genial robots greeted visitors and ushered them to SkyTown, where “flying” cars zipped by cluster homes in layer-cake neighborhoods, or toward the Exploratorium, where the latest in technology was always on display. Guests could also visit the huge, working BioPods, which replicated what self-sustaining space colonies might look like, climb the moving sculptures in the Kinetic Playground, or talk to holographs of fictional and historical figures in the silver-paneled Holodome.
The final world was Nightmare Island, where it was permanently Halloween. Visitors who had overdosed on the bright colors and wholesome entertainment on the rest of the Islands could wander past an ominous, iron-fanged gate to visit the central city of Necropolis, or venture up the Haunted Hill to where Dracula’s Castle peered down from just beyond the Howling Forest. Not surprisingly, this Island was most popular with teenagers.
Despite its size and complexity, the huge park ran flawlessly. Its atomic power station was actually a government-subsidized prototype for cities not yet built—it could generate electricity for years using a minimum of resources, including the waste that visitors were always providing in abundant supplies. And an elaborate computer management system controlled everything on the Islands, from the lights to the rides to the recycling plant. The minimal human staff liked to joke that people were almost unnecessary.
With its perfectly imagined attractions and state-of-the art engineering, nothing would ever stop Isles of Wonder from being, in the words of its founders and the prayers of its stockholders, “the most magical place on earth.”
And nothing ever did. Until the plague.
The horror began quietly, almost imperceptibly. As children laughed on the rides, wandered through souvenir shops, or stared at the audio-animatronic figures, parents and older siblings began stumbling as they walked, or collapsed beside them on the rides, or slumped on the park benches where they waited patiently for family members who had more energy than they. And then the panic started, the screaming, the mad rush for the exits. People swarmed onto the ferries, stormed the monorails. Some even leaped into the lagoon, trying desperately to leave the insanity behind them.
But it all happened too fast. The four ferries, which for years had tirelessly transported passengers between the mainland and Atlantis, now crashed into the far shore, the nightmares on board no different than the ones taking place on the Islands. The monorails managed to make one last circuit on the double tracks and reach the final exit, but when their doors slid open, only a few people staggered off, some collapsing before they cleared the opening. And since the doors wouldn’t close on the bodies of the fallen, the monorail remained where it was, its gentle mechanized voice asking passengers to please clear the doorways.
Within an hour, no one was running. Within three more, the only sounds on the Isles of Wonder were the moans and sobs of those who remained. And the soft hum of rides that waited patiently for passengers who would never board.
The sun set, rose again, and set. The survivors began to move, forced by hunger and thirst to roam the Islands, searching out the restaurants and concession stands that held the previous day’s supplies of food. A few, some animal instinct kicking in, guarded the supplies they found like starving dogs, refusing to let others come near.
Slowly, small groups began to form. Older children automatically took charge of younger ones, and weaker kids attached themselves to those who seemed stronger. Everyone tried to figure out what to do next. Some climbed to the top of the coaster mountains, using them like crow’s nests to see as far into the distance as possible. Others gathered on the beaches of the lagoons, staring across the water for the rescuers who were sure to be coming for them.
But no help materialized. All anyone could see were the tall poles that marked the parking lots, or, at night, the now-empty shells of the resort hotels that ringed the lagoon, or glowing halos from distant towns where electric lights blinked on at preprogrammed times. But there was no movement—not a car, not a plane, not a person. And what made it all even eerier was that everything looked so utterly peaceful, so completely unchanged. Except for the bodies lying on the ground around them.
Josh sat motionless near the edge of the lagoon, his mind empty. His eyes were wide open, but he didn’t see anything. Sun warmed his skin, but he couldn’t stop shivering. And when a thought tried to enter his head, his mind skittered away like a terrified rabbit.
Like the others, he had been wandering around the Islands in a near-trance, his body forcing him to do the minimum he needed to stay alive. Find a bite of food. Take a sip of water. He probably couldn’t have done even that, except for his little sister, Madeleine.
The trip to the park had been the family’s special present to her. Maddie had been battling leukemia since she was four, enduring endless treatments, from chemo to radiation to bone marrow replacement. Josh, six years older than his sister, had changed overnight from the eternally annoyed older brother to her special friend and fiercest protector. He played games with her when she couldn’t get out of bed, put on puppet shows with her stuffed animals, helped feed her when she was too tired to lift a fork. Somehow he felt that if he stayed near her, nothing could ever steal her away.
And then, one day, about three years after the treatments began, a beaming doctor announced that the cancer was officially in remission. As soon as the laughing and weeping and hugs had subsided, the whole family—his mom, his dad, and his sixteen-year-old sister, Caitlyn—decided to celebrate Maddie’s return to health with a special trip.
“Where do you want to go, Maddie?” their mom had asked, though all of them already knew the answer.
“Isles of Wonder,” Maddie shrieked, bouncing with excitement. “Isles of Wonder!”
“Yeah!” said Caitlyn, jumping up and down next to her sister and calling on her experience as the high school’s loopiest cheerleader to support Maddie’s cause:
Isles of Wonder!
Isles of Wonder!
We want to go
To Isles of Wonder!
Ya-a-a-a-ay, team!
Josh and his dad looked at each other, shrugged, and joined in, the four of them creating a small earthquake in the family room.
Isles of Wonder!
We want to go
To Isles of Wonder!
Maddie stopped bouncing and stomped over to their mother. “And we want to go right now!”
Their mom had stretched out her arms and bowed low before Maddie. “Yes, Princess Anemone,” she said, referring to one of the more popular Island characters. “Your wish is my command.”
They’d all laughed, and Josh’s mom had jumped online and made reservations. Luckily, since it was early February and the offseason, the hotels were wide open; just two weeks later the whole family was getting off the monorail and running up to the gates of Atlantis.
Their first two days at the park had been truly magical. They all reveled in Maddie’s excitement, hugging each other as she danced ahead of them from shop to shop and ride to ride. And since the lines were almost nonexistent at this time of year, they happily indulged her compulsion to visit every attraction at least three times.
In Atlantis, they explored the Living Ocean, laughing at the Peanut Butter and Jellyfish show, then gliding on a moving sidewalk through an acrylic tube and into the huge undersea bubble where rainbows of fish and solemn sea turtles swam around and above them. In the Ancient Cities, they sailed on a barge through an Egyptian pyramid, shrieking as they were stalked by lurching mummies and vicious tomb raiders.
But Maddie loved the thrill rides best, the ones she’d never been strong enough to go on before. Josh himself had proudly been the one to accompany her on her first roller coaster, the Tsunami, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she screamed her way through its loops and tunnels and sea-spray archways. But then he’d stood contentedly outside the loading area as she went on again and again, first with their mom, then with their older sister, and finally with their father, who dared her to ride with her arms raised in the air.
Now Josh and Maddie were the only ones left.
At first, like thousands of others, Josh had crouched next to his family, screaming for help as he watched each of them twitch and shudder where they lay, then grow more and more still. When it was over, he had simply run, stumbling aimlessly around the park, dragging Maddie roughly by the hand and searching for an escape from the madhouse.
Finally, he returned to stare at the ones he had loved most in the world. His mom lay next to Caitlyn, one hand resting on the girl’s cheek as though still trying to comfort her. His dad had collapsed just a few steps away, looking like a bad wax replica of the big man who had cheered on Josh and Caitlyn at a hundred sporting events and school shows, never allowing Maddie’s illness to compromise his attention to his other two children.
This isn’t real, Josh thought. It can’t be. He continued to stare, waiting for the flicker of an eyelid, the twitch of a finger.
There was nothing. And so, still not really believing, he gently moved his family to a protected, shady spot under a beautiful old fiberglass cypress tree. He covered them with blankets from one of the souvenir shops, picked some nearby flowers and laid them on top. Then he sat next to them, Maddie shivering by his side, and they cried.
Eventually, they slept, terror and grief overwhelming them. Around them, the rides and attractions shut down section by section, responding to some automatic timer that had been designed to conserve energy as each area was vacated by the departing crowds. They slept long past sunrise, their eyes refusing to open to the world that was waiting for them.
But finally they did wake, and soon melted into the silent, shambling stream of survivors looking for food and drink at the concession stands. After a bite or two, they lost their appetites again and made their way to the lagoon. There they waited, looking dully out over the water, astonished that there was still sunshine and birdsong and gently lapping waves.
Maddie curled up on the sand next to her brother and went to sleep. Josh retreated to a dark place in his mind. Hours melted past.
An electric shriek split the air. Josh jerked upright, looking frantically around him. All he saw were other survivors blinking in shock, faces tight with terror. There was a crackle of static and a low, steady hum. And finally, from the top of the Coral Palace and thundering from every loudspeaker, came a voice.
“EVERYONE ON THE ISLANDS. IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, COME TO THE PALACE.”
It was the voice of King Neptune.