James Axler – Watersleep

A STATUE OF GUSSY GOOSE held up a broken wing in a sad greeting as they went through the twisted iron gates that led to the incredible Greenglades rep­lica of a turn-of-the-century small-town American street. Central Avenue was a collection of shops and eating establishments, with a city hall, a fire station, an old-time cinema and even a post office all located shoulder to shoulder. An appropriately seedy penny arcade promised thrills and excitement for a mere cent. A ladies’ boutique advertised the latest in spring hats from Paris.

Near the end of the street, a large granite railroad station was tucked away in a far corner. A twin ex­tension of elevated spaghettilike tracks for silver monorail cars to glide to and fro, carrying passengers to other parts of Greenglades, stretched out from the second floor. The monorail tracks had fallen in several places near the exits of the station, eliminating the possibility of any future journeys.

More evidence of transportation could be seen on the avenue proper, as well—horse-drawn trolleys mi­nus the steeds to pull them along, double-decker tour­ing buses with stripped engines and flattened tires, pitted yet somehow still red fire engines and ancient replicas of horseless carriages once gave visitors the option of riding instead of walking, but now all the vehicles were frozen and silent.

Some of the little buildings along Central Avenue were in better repair than others. Boss Larry hadn’t allowed Ryan and the others to tour this section of the park during their earlier stay, probably because of its ill repair. The fat baron’s ego wouldn’t and couldn’t have allowed guests to view any part of his domain that was less than perfect.

The memories and thoughts the quaint street trig­gered in each member of Ryan’s party were differ­ent—for Doc and Mildred, a vision of what America once was during their individual lifetimes came rush­ing back, more so for Doc, who had literally lived in such a turn-of-the-century setting with his family, but even the younger Mildred had seen this type of homey ambiance on a daily basis during her small­town Southern childhood.

For J.B. and Dean, such period architecture had only been glimpsed in books and vids, yet at the same time, there was a sense of place and community here, even in the exaggerated form the theme park pro­vided. And for Ryan and Krysty, the cracked side­walks and overgrown flower beds, the broken shop windows and elegantly sculpted rooftops, the non-functioning fountain at the center of the hub at the end of the street—all of it was a whispered kiss of what a man’s and a woman’s life could be, and once was, before the darkness fell across the world.

Only Jak seemed unmoved.

“What happened after we left?” Mildred asked as they walked down colorful Central Avenue and ap­proached the central hub of the theme park.

“All hell broke loose, missy, that’s what hap­pened,” Bill replied. “Most of us still in the retire­ment complex didn’t know much about blasters or fighting. That’s what we were paying Boss Larry’s boys for. A few of us had blasters and at least had the presence of mind to take up the guard stations, but after a week or two, we decided we were guarding ourselves against nothing but a case of boredom. The murders in the complex had stopped. We found out later Traven was sneaking in with his band of crazies and killing off families for kicks.”

The group strolled past the mock streets of Central Avenue and entered a new section, easily identified by the new color of the curbs, trash cans and other markers.

“Here we go—Magicland. The most popular part of Greenglades Theme Park.” Although the old man tried to sound jovial in his mock introduction, there was no mistaking the hint of bitterness that lurked in the back of his throat.

This section of the amusement park was a shock to everybody. Even though some of the rides had started to exhibit signs of age or lack of adequate repair dur­ing Larry’s reign, now the once carefully cultivated grounds were overgrown and tangled with vines. The paved walkways were chipped and cracked from the earthquakes, and many of the larger colorful rides had fallen over in a massive heap of metal, creating a rusted shambles.