If you needed to quickly organize a zombie apocalypse, you could do no better than to hire Mike Estep.

As chairman of the Fort Howard Haunted Dungeons, Estep choreographs a fright-fest in the Eastern Baltimore County park that welcomes close to 1,000 visitors each weekend. Those who dare enter are treated to an hourlong walk through Fort Howard Park and the remnants of the military installation that has been there for more than a century.

Known as the “Bulldog at Baltimore’s Gate,” the Fort Howard military base closed about a century ago, but the vestiges remain at the public county park. Estep’s crew puts them to good use.

More than a haunted house, the Fort Howard Haunted Dungeons are a haunted village, complete with an “infirmary” that includes psychiatric “patients” in hospital gowns and Freddy Krueger types brewing up potions to cook severed body parts. Using trick mirrors, the all-volunteer cast — many of whom are middle school and high school students — make good use of the corrugated ceilings and arched brick walls to conjure a world of horror.

In the process, Estep’s crew raises thousands of dollars for the Edgemere-Sparrows Point Recreation Council, which helps support field maintenance, uniforms and year-round programs.

I’m not that into zombie apocalypses, but as a longtime environment reporter, I can’t get enough of shuttered military bases. They are time capsules from the days when the United States had little regulation to prevent dumping chemicals, such as lead, into our waterways. Fort Howard wasn’t the worst offender by any stretch, but its location on the Chesapeake Bay tells a story about the sometimes conflicting needs to protect a nation and ensure clean air and water.

I’m a realist, though — most people are in it for the zombies.

When I invited my eighth grader, Lila, to join me, zombies and dungeons are what sold it. These days she rarely does anything without her four best friends, so we invited them, too. Three agreed to come, so on a Friday night, we drove 30 minutes from our Towson neighborhood rapping Hamilton tunes to reach what seemed like the end of the world.

We arrived at 6:30 p.m. and had to wait until 7 p.m. for darkness to set in and the park to open. We were entertained with people dressed up as Chucky and his bride and Frankenstein and other monsters scaring us as we watched the “Thriller” music video play out on the big screen. For my daughter, surely the scariest part was me dancing to “Thriller” and lip-synching. It would get worse when House of Pain came on and I took literally the command to “jump around.”

After a scary encounter with the pitch-black inside of the porta-potties, organizers led us to another line, where we paid and met our tour guides, two blonde middle schoolers. They led us to each attraction and waited outside while we entered the old military structures, makeshift graveyards and mazes. All the while, a beautiful moon loomed over the Chesapeake. I made a note to return during the day, when Halloween is over.

Just as we had recovered from one member of our group being grabbed and chased with a fake chain saw, a clown popped out of the bushes and tried to frighten one of the girls. “Don’t worry about him. He’s probably only 10,” I said. “I’m 14!” the indignant clown bellowed back at me.

Along the path from one dungeon to another, scary jack-o’-lanterns, ghost-like figures and fire pits help light the way and also keep the area warm. We went on a perfect-to-me, 60-degree day, but the girls were grateful they’d brought sweatshirts. I was relieved I’d worn my running shoes; I felt like we’d walked a couple miles, and the terrain wasn’t exactly smooth.

Not being a haunted house aficionado, I wanted to debrief over some French fries and pie at our local diner and see how the girls felt this experience compared to other horror-fests. One friend loved the creativity of the costumes and the elaborate design of the path as well as the organization. Another girl appreciated how scary it actually was, but not in a way that she kept thinking about afterward. And a third friend loved how the strobe lights and the smoke created powerful special effects.My daughter thought it was fun but would have been more fun had I not subjected her friends to my singing and dancing.

Entry isn’t cheap — it costs $20 a person — but it supports a good cause, and the Fort Howard Haunted Dungeons are different from your average haunted house. Estep said children as young as 6 have enjoyed it, sometimes more than their parents. There are “chicken exits” in case anyone doesn’t want to enter a particular place.

And they are strict about no flash photography. Seriously — don’t try it. The scariest part for me was when a volunteer saw me take out my phone, chased me and yelled at me. She might have been joking around, but I didn’t take it out for the rest of the night.

The Fort Howard Haunted Dungeons are open Oct. 25 and 26. Doors open at dusk, and you can enter at dark (about 7 p.m.) Check the website for inclement weather closings.