After Max’s crew loaded
their gear onto the small pontoon boat, they were off and headed down the
river. Brittany sat back, enjoying the
feeling of the cool air on her skin as the boat sped down the murky
waters. She did her best to ignore the
small scenes that had been set up on the riverbanks. The small, weather worn huts, and chipped and
dirty figures didn’t seem right to her.
It wasn’t their condition. No, it
was something else. The dead, glassy
eyes of the elf figures, or their large, unnatural smiles seemed to hide
something.
She pushed the thoughts
from her mind. She had faced creatures
far worse then a couple little elves.
Jean was sitting next to
her, his legs pressed together at the knees, his hands neatly folded in his
lap. He looked uncomfortable.
“What is it with this
place?” She glanced over at him. “You seem scared, but… you also seem in awe
of it.”
Jean let out a small,
squeak of a laugh. “Fantasy Land has
been like a curse and a blessing to me.”
He glanced across the bank at one of the scenes, a mother elf guiding
her five children down an overgrown path.
“When I was a kid this place was magical. I loved being here, and I thought my uncle
was the most amazing man in the world for creating it. But when I got older…”
He paused, and his face
tightened.
“Well?” Brittany didn’t have much patience for
nostalgia. She didn’t really see the
purpose.
“When I got older the
magic started to fade.” He looked down
at his hands. “My uncle was an odd
man. Before he opened the park he was an
academic, a professor. It was his
studies that brought him out here. He
was obsessed with the tribe that had built that temple, and when he finally was
able to get inside that temple everyone had expected him to become famous for
his discovery. Instead, he left the
academic world and started this theme park.”
“He chose money over
knowledge.” Brittany brushed a stray
hair out of her face. “There’s nothing
shocking about that.”
“This… this isn’t Fantasy
Lands’ first disappearance.” Jean looked up, but his eyes seemed to be focused
on nothing. “Ever since it opened, maybe
once or twice a year, someone would go missing.
Usually it was an employee, a drifter, someone no one would miss. Once it was a child. A young boy had wandered off when he and his
older sister were in the funhouse. The
park had shut down for three months after that.
Every inch of every amusement was searched, but they never found
him.”
Jean paused.
Brittany glanced around
the boat. Everyone was looking at them,
at Jean specifically. Rico had his
camera up, and pointed over at them. He
had caught every word of Jean’s story.
“So, there was no trace
of him? None at all?” Max’s eyes were wide, unblinking.
“I shouldn’t have said
‘never’. That wasn’t exactly true.” Jean flinched. “He was never seen alive again.”
Brittany watched as Jean
began to wring his hands violently, the skin alternating between red and white
because of the pressure he was putting on it.
His fear was creeping back in, and whatever past wonder he had dug up to
protect himself was already almost completely faded away.
“Where did they find his
body?” Max leaned in closer, but stayed just outside of the camera’s view.
“By Ujin’s hut. It was about… six months after he had gone
missing. The park was open for
business.” Jean looked up, his eyes wet
with tears. “He was next to the fake
little woodpile by the front door. The
boy was… well, it appeared that animals had gotten to him. There was nothing left other then bones and a
few rotten hunks of meat.” Jean took a
deep gulp of air. “I was on the boat, on
this ride, the day they found him.”
For the first time
Brittany felt sorry for someone. She had
seen plenty of horrors in her day. Hell,
she had even caused a few of them, but she could never imagine the terror of
being a small child and seeing something like… well, like what Jean had
described.
“I’m sorry, could we
please change the subject.” Jean shook
his head, and stood, walking towards the front of the boat. “I’ve spent so long burying that memory, and
I really don’t want to dig it up again.”
Everyone’s eyes followed
him. He stepped next to Clare, who was
behind the wheel of the pontoon boat, guiding them down the river.
The whole boat fell quiet
for a few minutes. Everyone was still
taking in the story Jean had told them.
Brittany couldn’t deny how horrific it all sounded, and that cool breeze
suddenly felt like a dreadful chill as it rippled across her skin.
She glanced towards
Clare, ready to break the silence, when her words caught in her throat.
The boat passed through
the mouth of the river, and into a small, round, lake. To the left, just as Jean had said it would
be, was Ujin’s hut. The structure was
round, with dirty white walls, and dark brown, wood trim windows. The roof was thatch, and shaped like a large
cone. In front of the door was a fake
log pile, most likely made out of fiberglass or plaster, and sticking out of
the woodpile was an axe, with a faded red handle.
“Where’s the
figure?” Brittany glanced at Jean.
“Just wait.” Jean glanced back to her, not smiling. “The boat will pass over a sensor. When you hear the click, you’ll see
him.”
Just as Jean had said,
there was an audible click, and the door to Ujin’s hut opened. Ujin himself came walking out of his house, a
metal pole on a guided track moving him along, as some mechanism in his legs
caused them to kick wildly in some weak attempt to make it look like he was
walking.
“Rico, make sure you get
that.” Max was whispering frantically to
his cameraman, pushing him towards the side of the boat. “And you… what’s your name?” He pointed to a young woman, one of his production
assistants, “get some stills. That thing
is creepy!”
“My name is Rita.” The girl, who couldn’t have been old enough
to drink, pouted.
“Rita, right.” Max gave her a half-assed apologetic look,
and then motioned towards the scene going on across from the lake.
Ujin made his way down
the guided path, towards the beach. Once
he reached the sand, he stopped, and appeared to sit down. His left arm lifted, and in it was a fishing
pole. Then he just sat there.
“That whole scene was one
of my uncle’s favorite things in the world.”
Jean half smiled. “Even after all
these years it still runs smoothly.”
The whole boat was still
quiet.
Ujin sat there, stone
still, his fishing pole in his hands. It
looked like the show was over. Then, without
warning, the figure’s head snapped towards the boat. Rita screamed. Brittany, as much as she hated to admit it,
almost did as well. There was something
about that movement, about the way that the Ujin figure was looking at them, that
just felt wrong.
“Was it supposed to do
that?” Brittany stood, walking towards
the edge of the boat.
“No.” Jean squinted, leaning over the side of the
boat to get a better look. “Some of his
springs must be loose.”
Something smashed into
the side of the boat hard enough to pitch Jean forward. Brittany acted quickly, grabbing Jean’s arm,
and pulling him back, just as the boat was hit again. In her act of heroism, Brittany lost her
footing, and fell forward, her hip hitting the low railing of the boat.
In a violent flip she
went end over end, over the railing. She
felt her head smack the boat’s side, and then the freezing cold water engulfed
her.
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