where before there had been so many. To see the Timeless River with an unmanned boat floating on it, to see the big wooden roller coaster with no cars running, abandoned.
She catches her mother’s eye, asks the question again.
Mom’s mouth tightens, a look in her eyes that Athena can’t understand, because it’s not anger, and it’s not love, and it’s not concern, but it’s perhaps all of them. Or perhaps it’s something else. Mom doesn’t sign in response, just shakes her head once.
She doesn’t know. She has no idea.
They follow Dana. Walk along a pathway that would’ve been crowded before and is now empty and spacious. There are signs on wooden posts, directing them to Lion’s Safari to their right and the Pyramids of Ke-Sa to their left, and the Euro Strasse to their south, but they keep going. Everybody else is gone, Athena can’t see anyone, thinks they must be some of the last people still here, heading this way, at least.
Dana stops at these giant wooden gates, like the kind of gates you’d imagine finding in a jungle for a fort. The gates are open, the space through them narrower than the path, and Mr. Howe stops with her, and Athena can tell they’re both counting everyone, making sure they’re still all together. Then they’re moving through the gates, no longer in the park proper, but instead in some sort of service area. There’s three little golf carts parked here, all with the WilsonVille logo painted on them, and some bundles of plastic painted to look like wood, and lots of big oil drums, and a sign on a little building that says AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. Behind that, there’s a concrete wall, easily three times as tall as Athena herself, and it stretches to the right and the left as far as she can see, curving gently out of sight in both directions. She can see cameras on narrow posts on the wall, the kind you see in banks.
Dana walks them along this narrower path, a black asphalt road that radiates heat, running between the concrete and the fake wood. It narrows further, and now only four, maybe five can walk abreast. The road curves, and Athena thinks they must be following the top edge of the park here. There’s nobody ahead of them now that she can see, and she realizes they’re all walking a little faster. Mom’s palm is pressing even more firmly on her upper back. Mr. Howe turns to speak to Mom, and Athena reads something about hearing sirens, perhaps there was an accident or something?
Athena sees the man in white coming around the bend, points, but Mom has seen him, too, and so has Dana, and they all stop. Athena thinks it’s a man, at least, wonders if it’s a costume. He’s wearing white coveralls, and it really does cover almost everything, except maybe some of his face and his hands, and even those are hidden. He’s wearing a mask for breathing, black and lumpy, and his hands are covered with shiny black gloves, and he’s holding a black duffel bag in one of them.
He raises his free hand, and Athena thinks he’s speaking, but she can’t see his mouth, doesn’t know what he’s saying.
Mom’s hand moves up to her shoulder, pulls her back into her, a little closer. Mr. Howe starts to step forward, and so does Dana, and Dana is gesturing back in Athena’s direction, clearly talking about the class. The man in the mask shakes his head, still holding out the one hand, the sign he’s giving perfectly clear. Stop. Do not move.
Behind the man in the mask appears another one, dressed the same way, even carrying the same bag. Then come two more, until there are four men, all in white, faces behind masks for breathing, blocking their way.
Athena is pretty sure they aren’t wearing costumes.
Dana’s gestures are coming faster, broader, and even if Athena can only see her from behind, even if she can’t read the words, she can read the body language. We have to go. Why are you stopping us? You have to let us go. Mr. Howe joins her, his gestures even grander. He’s getting indignant, she’s seen this before, when he feels he has to defend them.
The first man in the mask hoists his duffel bag up in front of him, holding it between himself and Mr. Howe and Dana. Unzips the top with a shiny black hand, reaches inside. Athena feels Mom’s fingers dig into her shoulder, feels herself pulled and turned against her mother’s breast. She twists her head as Mom tries to put a hand to her cheek, to keep her from doing just that thing, but she isn’t in time, and Athena sees what Mom didn’t want her to see.
Sees Dana’s hands flying up to her face, turning to Mr. Howe, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Sees Mr. Howe take a step backward, then try to take another one.
Sees him falter, then collapse.
There is an ugly hole above his right eye.
There is blood.
The other men in masks are reaching into their duffel bags. The other men in masks bring their shiny black- gloved hands out again, and each of them is now holding a pistol.
They point their guns at Athena and Mom and Dana and Joel and all of them. She knows they’re talking, saying something, but she doesn’t need to read their words now. The one in the front, the one who just shot Mr. Howe in the head, who just killed the man who has been teaching her and her friends not just ASL but science and history and literature and art for the last three and a half years at the Hollyoakes school, that man, he points his gun at Mom.
He gestures.
Turn around. All of you, turn around and start walking.
Back into the park.
Chapter Twelve
Eleven minutes and twenty seconds Gabriel Fuller has been hiding in the circle of cash registers at the center of the official WilsonVille Store, back against the cabinets, radio in one hand, gas mask in the other. He’s listened to the sound of the park emptying, the muted voices passing by outside, the sounds of the evacuation. The announcement on the PA has changed, changed about a minute and a half ago, now it’s something recorded. There’s a string of music, the signature Gordo, Betsy, and Pooch theme, and then a sweet-sounding woman’s voice.
We regret to inform you that WilsonVille is closing. Please make your way to the nearest exit. We apologize for the inconvenience and hope you have a pleasant day.
His radio burps out static, twice, quickly, then twice again. He presses his own transmit button two times in answer, then hooks it onto his Tyvek suit at the waist, pulls on his gas mask. Carefully, he leans out from the side of the counter, looking past the racks of clothing and toys, into Town Square. He’s only got a low view, but from what he sees, it’s cleared significantly. He uses a rack of WilsonVille fortieth-??anniversary sweatshirts as cover to get to his feet, takes another peek.
It’s an odd sight, to be sure. A cluster of perhaps seven or eight visitors is heading his way, toward the main gates, approaching from the east side of the square, being hurried along by two of the navy blazers. Further back, just passing the Soda Shoppe, he can see another group, smaller, similarly led, this time by a Skip Flashman wearing twin six-guns and chaps, his cowboy hat, as ever, atop his head. Coming from Wild Horse Valley, Gabriel expects, where Skip most often resides. He watches as each group moves closer, then out of view, passing the store.
Now Town Square is empty. Emptier than he’s ever seen it, even after hours, even after closing, and it’s a strange sight, to see it barren in daylight. At closing, after hours, there’s always someone, a maintenance crew doing touch-up paint or repairs to the streetlights or hanging new banners or something; a custodian, sweeping the sidewalks or watering the grass around the statue of Gordo, Betsy, and Pooch. A navy blazer, making rounds.
This time, there’s no one and there’s nothing.
Gabriel reaches down for his duffel, taking it in his nondominant hand, then moves to the door. He stops again, checks to his right and his left, and then again, and when he looks left a second time, he sees four men in Tyvek suits identical to his own carrying duffels twice as large as his, wearing gas masks and gloves. They stop about a dozen yards into the square, looking around. These are his four, his element for this stage, and he doesn’t know their names, but in his mind he’s already named them Gordo and Betsy and Hendar and Stripe, though he’ll be damned if he lets them know that.
