Kayla was shaking in her sneakers; wishing she was at home, sipping on Southern and singing Marshall Tucker, rather than here. “There are probably more answers in there than there is out here.” Shades and shadows slithered over and around them, trailing wisps of damp air; the smell of sticky-sick blood, and the smell of decay stained the air.
They looked around for an open gate. Not one had a line or an employee. No one seemed to mill about front gate area. The five of them stared in disbelief at the main gate. Had Disney quarantined this area off? Had Dinny gotten in in time, before the quarantine? The wind now howled like a pack of wolves. “Call Dinny and ask how she got in!” urged Elizabeth, there was a little wildfire burning in her usually angel eyes.
Michael did just that, dialing Dinny’s number, hoping she picked up. She picked up! “Din! How did you get into Disneyland?” asked Michael. “What? What are you talking about? There were people in the pic you sent me…tell me, baby, how’d you get in?”
He hung up. “What did she say?” asked Elliot, not even waiting for him to put his phone away, his pulse was quick.
“She said she just jumped over the turnstiles,” said Michael, stuffing his phone into his pocket. “What’s weird is that she says that there isn’t a soul at Disneyland today, even though her pic showed her around a crowd.”
“Elliot did say she needed stronger glasses,” said Alan. He knew his words were bullshit, but maybe they would lighten up the group. It did not seem like they did the trick as they broke into the park.
“Did she say where she would be?” asked Kayla to Michael. She tried to remain as cool as a cucumber. He showed Kayla a text from Dinny telling him where she would be. The Refreshment Corner.
Elizabeth had to text her boyfriend, who was a huge fan of Disney and confess to him that she just broke into the park. She hit send and the phone responded with out of range. “That’s odd,” Elizabeth said, hiking her phone into the air. “It says I’m out of range?”
They ducked under the tunnel beneath the train tracks, passing the Newsstand on their left, heading for the Refreshment Corner. Main Street looking nothing like the pic Dinny had texted to Michael. The clouds that hung above them formed a thick, ashen colored ceiling. The smell of decay rode on the swirling wind. “Where is everyone?” asked Elliot.
Suddenly, what Dinny had told Michael did not seem horribly far-fetched, but still nothing made sense. The sounds of the Horse Drawn Street Car made itself known. The four of them glanced back behind them and saw a streetcar being drawn, a white horse trotted up Main Street, looking rather diseased. “This can’t be real,” breathed Elizabeth.
Arrows stuck out from all over the horse while nestled between each arrow were bulbous tumors, resembling the boils from the Bubonic Plague.
All around them, they could hear the fragile voices of children. Coming from the other end was another streetcar; a ruby colored horse pulled this one, covered in more scars than Dinny’s arms. Her scars were from razorblades; these scars were from battle and swords.
A few open and fresh wounds festered along the line of the mane. “When He broke the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, “Come” and another, a red horse, went out; and to him who sat on it, it…” mumbled Alan. “I think those are the Horsemen’s horses.”
Michael did not hold with such nonsense. “Horsemen?” asked Michael. A shivering breeze sprung up. “You don’t mean…the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse horsemen, do you?”
“I believe we just saw the White Horse, Pestilence and the Red Horse, War,” said Alan; his voice was as loud as the crack of Dinny’s whip against Michael’s back. If the two of them indulged in the BDSM lifestyle.
“Could we be the last people alive after the apocalypse?” gulped Kayla, clutching the golden cross that hung around her chubby neck. Her mouth flooded with that horrible sour black taste of fear. A distant scream struck their ears like a pebble made of glass.
No one answered her; no one had an answer for her. No one knew what was going on. The Funeral March piped loudly from the speakers, to the point where it was deafening.
The tall tree of the Refreshment Corner came into view; it’s branches clutching Mickey mouse balloons. “There’s evidence that people were here,” said Michael, his voice was falling; faint. “Someone had to blow up those balloons.”
They rounded a corner and there sat Dinny on a red vinyl and white steel chair; her eyes were glued to the branches, the balloons caught in the wooden fingers.
The blood of the five pounded in their throats. They followed her eyes to the end of the strings to the chopped off hands of children where the balloon had once been tethered too.
Each hand looked fresh, their pulses jacked. Elizabeth’s scalp prickled. “I’m starting to think Kayla’s apocalypse theory is right,” shivered Elizabeth, she felt shaking and weak in the legs. Her pretty face, usually so calm, was a mask of terror.
Dinny stared at the group. “You guys saw Famine and Death too?” asked Dinny. The backdrop of children’s hands lent the Refreshment Corner a crazy sense of profundity.