Page 8 of Serenity Falls

Sadie smiles. She can’t help it. Her dad is such an idiot.

They pull off the freeway. Ahead of them the famous arched gates of Winsom Wonderland rise over the road, marking the point at which they are entering land owned and run by the Winsom Corporation. A huge, huge area, including Serenity Falls, and far larger than the actual Wonderland Park.

The sign is illuminated even in the day. Grinning characters wave and smile. Sparkling stars glitter. Sadie stares up as they pass underneath, and panic suddenly grips her. She can’t breathe. Her heart pounds. Everything blurs. The sign, the road. She turns to her dad to try and tell him to pull over. But she can’t seem to speak.

And then, just as quickly, it’s gone. She sits back tentatively. Her head still feels a little tingly. Some kind of anxiety attack, she thinks. Or bad air. That’s what her dad always calls it. Like you just walked through a metaphysical pile of crap.

She looks at her dad. He’s driving, hands on the wheel, humming to himself. An old tune she can’t quite place. He glances over and frowns.

‘You okay?’

‘Yeah. Fine. Just felt a bit odd for a minute.’

‘Maybe it’s the jet lag. I felt a little whacked out back there myself.’

She rubs at her head. ‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘Hey, look.’ He points ahead. ‘We’re almost there.’

They’re coasting down a smaller road; beautiful, tree-lined. Ahead of them, on their right, Sadie can see a double set of gates. High and white, set amid red-brick walls and thick shrubbery. A small security building sits in the middle of the two gates. Above it, an ornate sign reads: Serenity Falls. Welcome with an etching of a pretty town and a gushing waterfall underneath.

Opposite the entrance gates, on the other side of the road, there’s another building. It’s a weird triangle shape, with tall windows of tinted glass, like some kind of futuristic office block. A sign outside reads: Human Utilities Building.

She stares at it curiously for a moment, then turns back to the gates. A guard in a pristine tan uniform, including a peaked cap and white gloves, steps out. He’s short and squat with a tiny moustache. A name badge on his shirt reads: Fred. He looks like a Fred, Sadie thinks. So much so that she wonders if it’s his real name.

Dad slows and lowers the window.

Fred smiles at him. ‘Good morning, sir. How can I help you – visiting someone today?’

‘Erm, well, actually, we’re moving in. I’m Daniel Barker. This is my daughter Sadie. We’re the new owners of 22 Acacia Avenue.’

Fred’s face changes. He straightens. ‘Of course. Mr Barker. I should have realized from the accent.’ He doffs his cap. He really does that. ‘Frances, your realtor, is waiting to meet you at your new home. Oh, and I almost forgot.’ He darts back into his little sentry box. Sadie can see a chair and TV monitor, newspaper unfolded on the desk and beside it, a large automatic handgun.

Suddenly Fred doesn’t seem quite so cosy any more.

Before Sadie can let the thought settle, he hustles back and holds out what look like two bracelets: twisted metal straps with an oval-shaped identity tag in the middle – one olive green, one purple – engraved with the letters SF.

‘Sorry, what are these?’ Dad asks.

‘These are your keys to Serenity Falls, sir.’

‘They look like bracelets.’

Fred chuckles. ‘Exactly. But each has a small chip embedded in it, unique to you. So, you can use it to open your front door, set your alarm. You can pay for your groceries, cinema tickets, and it’ll charge to your account. You can connect it to your phone too.’

‘Snazzy,’ Dad says with a fake enthusiasm which flies over Fred’s head.

‘Isn’t it just!’ Fred beams.

‘Well, thanks.’ Dad reaches for the bracelets. ‘We’ll be sure to try these out later.’

Fred holds them out of reach and shakes his head. ‘Oh. I’m afraid you must put these on before you enter.’

Sadie stares at him. ‘Why?’

‘Everyone who lives in Serenity Falls has to wear a bracelet, Miss.’

‘Has to?’