Phantasos (15 page)

Twenty-Seven

DANNY SAT AT A STOOL BEHIND his kitchen counter, quietly buttering a slice of burnt toast. Across the room from him Aaron lay on the couch, legs splayed over the side, drool running from the corner of his lips and down his chin.

Slowly, Aaron started to wake up. A toss and turn at first, a groan, a yawn, and then a: “Smells great. What’s for breakfast?”

Danny half smiled, reached across the counter, and dropped two more slices of bread into the kitchen toaster. He turned the dial down a degree or two—
So his won’t be burnt—
then said, “As long as you’re up, can you turn on the TV? I like to watch the morning news with breakfast.”

Aaron stood up, let out a roar of a yawn, and scratched at an armpit. “Sure.”

He clicked on the television then stumbled half awake into the kitchen, a zombie searching for brains. When he found the fridge he opened it, pulled out some milk and orange juice, then asked if Danny had any Cocoa-Puffs.

“I don’t, dude. I have Cocoa-Pebbles.”

Aaron scoffed.

“What?” Danny said. “They’re essentially the same thing.”

“It’s too early in the morning for me to tell you everything that’s wrong with that sentence,” Aaron said.

“Fine. You can go grocery shopping next if you don’t like my cereal options.”

Aaron shrugged. “Cocoa-Pebbles are fine, man.”

Just then, the morning news chimed in with a breaking news story. Danny motioned for Aaron to shush and chewed the hunk of toast in his mouth slowly and quietly.

“This just in from our affiliate in Portland,” the news anchor said. “The name of the victim and other key details in last week’s fatal head on collision in Irvington have been released. Samuel Veloz, a thirty-two year old husband and father of two, allegedly drove forty to fifty miles over the posted speed limit and into oncoming traffic, according to authorities, when he collided into a semi-trailer truck travelling southbound on I-84. Veloz suffered critical head injuries and died at the scene. An official spokesperson for the Irvington Police Department has stated that no citations or charges will be issued to the driver of the semi.

“Veloz was a notable member of the Portland video game scene. He was the sole proprietor of the Electric Arcade in Irvington, and was also well known for his contribution to the Gaming North West computer network, where friends knew him as Portland Gamer Guru Sixty-Nine.

“In other news, a string of burglaries in North Portland were put to an end this week, when police apprehended—”

“Hey, buddy,” Aaron said, snapping his fingers in front of Danny’s face. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Danny looked away from the television and down at the cold slice of toast on his plate. “It’s…that guy. Who was just on the news.”

“What about him?” Aaron said.

“I was reading his posts on the Gaming North West message board last night. He played a Phantasos machine in Portland, and now he’s…”

“Gone.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s trippy, dude,” Aaron said, and he shoved a tablespoon of Cocoa-Pebbles into his mouth.

Danny gave Aaron a sideways look, then pushed his plate of toast away and stood up.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to finish that? You gotta eat.”

Danny said, “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Then, do you mind?” Aaron said, reaching across the counter.

“Go for it. I have to shower before work.”

“All right, dude,” Aaron said, and he grabbed Danny’s remaining slice of toast and took a bite.

Twenty-Eight

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

Lauren stood outside of Alley’s bedroom, chewing on a fingernail, waiting for her brother to open the door.

“Alley? Alley, it’s almost ten o’clock. Even for you, that’s pushing it.”

Silence.

“Alley, you’ll miss your mid-morning dose. Come on.”

Still no answer.

Lauren jiggled the doorknob to Alley’s room, found his bedroom door stuck in the jamb.

“Alley, open up. Mom’s still pissed about the number I did on the bathroom door, I really don’t want to break another one.”

Lauren pressed her shoulder into the door and heaved, spun the knob again, and with a quick
click
she flew into his room.

Alley was lying on the hard floor, wrapped in blankets, splayed out and asleep. Lauren knelt down next to him.

“Al? What are you doing?”

His eyes fluttered open, his face blank. He focused on Lauren’s worried face and mumbled, “Hey.”

“What are you doing on the floor? Did you have bad dreams?”

Alley shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

When he sat up, sore and aching from the floor, that’s when Lauren noticed it. Four thin, crimson stripes in varying lengths—a tiger’s mottling—running parallel with one another from just behind Alley’s ear and to his chin.

She pulled her brother into her arms and held him tight. “Alley, what’s going on?”

“I don’t—I don’t know. I don’t want to—”

“Talk about it?” She shook him. “You have to let me in, Alley. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. What happened? Who did this to you? Did you do this?”

“No.”

“I should call mom.”

“Don’t call mom,” Alley said, in a slumbered voice. “I don’t want her to miss work. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, do you hear me? Never.”

“I’m fine. Please don’t call mom.”

Lauren pulled the stray, flattened hairs away from the side of her brother’s head and examined the wounds more closely. “Did you scratch your face? Did it happen when you fell off the bed? Do you remember falling off the bed?”

Alley stood up, yawned, and collapsed into his bed. In an instant he was snoring.

Pound, pound, pound.

Lauren beat her palm on the front door of the Bauer’s home, less like a knock and more like a drubbing hammer.

Benji quickly appeared at his front door. Before he finished opening it all the way Lauren said, “Are you still grounded?”

“No, I—I just woke up—”

“Come over to my house. Now.”

“Is everything all right? Is Alley okay?”

“He won’t talk to me. He won’t open up to any of us, about what’s going on with him. He has completely shut down. And I’m terrified. You’re his best friend, and I want you to try talking to him. Now.”

“Of course. I’ll come right over.”

Lauren opened her brother’s bedroom door and let Benji in.

“Wake up, Al. Benji’s here. He wants to hang out with you. Maybe get a few levels of Mario in.” She clapped her hands. “Come on, up and at em.”

Alley stirred underneath his blankets and groaned. Lauren raised her eyebrows to Benji—
Good Luck
—and backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Benji sat down at the foot of Alley’s bed. The room smelled foul; it reeked of sick. It reminded Benji of how his own bedroom smelled the week that he was isolated in it with chickenpox, back in second grade.

Alley flipped sides, and Benji gasped at his friend’s pallid complexion and the dark wounds on his face.

Benji shook his friend’s foot and said, “Hey, Al. It’s me.”

“I know it’s you. I’m sick, not incompetent.”

“Lauren’s worried about you, man. She says you’re not yourself.”

“I just want to be left alone. Nobody will leave me alone.”

Benji shook Alley’s foot again. “Come on. Tell me what’s going on.”

Alley sat up in bed. “I saw her again. Last night.”

“Who?” Benji asked, and for a moment she hovered just behind Benji’s shoulder, her jaw stretched open wide, her hollowed eye sockets gazing down at Alley.

Benji turned around in the direction Alley was looking, mouth gaped, and saw that the room was empty.

Alley blinked and she was gone.

“Alley, who?”

Alley sighed. “Sometimes she looks like mom. Sometimes she sounds like Lauren. Sometimes she sounds like you on the phone. Last night she looked like Melissa Tipton.”

“Melissa Tipton? That senior cheerleader you liked in sixth grade? The one with the giant—” Benji crudely held his hands in front of his chest.

Alley returned a blank stare. “Yeah. Her.”

Benji cracked a smile. “Well that doesn’t sound so bad—”

“Shut up. It is bad. It’s very bad.”

The smile on Benji’s face faded. “I’m sorry, dude. I…”

“I’m going to say it, Benji. I’m going to say it but you have to promise not to utter a word to Lauren, or my parents, or anyone.”

“Say what?”

“I’m going to die. She showed me. We all are, very soon. It’s all part of her plan. She showed me every agonizing detail.”

“Alley, I don’t know if someone is prank calling you or what, to put all of these ideas in your head. No one is going anywhere. Especially you.”

“I am,” Alley said. “And there’s not much time to explain, so listen to me. Don’t ever, ever,
ever
play the Phantasos machine at the Planet X Arcade. Actually, don’t every play
any
Phantasos machine. Understand? Don’t let Lauren, either. Never. Do you promise?”

“Yeah, Al. I promise.”

“I’m serious, Benji. That’s how she got to me, and that’s how she’s planning on getting to you and getting to Lauren. You have to swear to it.”

“I swear.”

“Good. Then her plan can never work.”

Benji sighed. Alley looked terrible, the worst that he had ever seen him. Big, puffy, bluish half-moons hung underneath his eyes. His lips were chapped; his skin was paper white and practically translucent. He studied his friend for a moment then said, “Why don’t we get some breakfast, bud? Lauren mentioned that she was going to make pancakes to lure you out of here.”

For the first time all morning, Alley smiled.

“Sounds great.”

Twenty-Nine

DANNY AND AARON SLID A KEY into the front door of Planet X, then let themselves in. Right away, they realized that they weren’t the only two in the arcade.

In the center of the arcade stood two gentlemen and a small, well-dressed child. The one gentleman—who Danny quickly recognized as Mr. Varghese—was wiping away tape and residue from the coin slot of the Phantasos machine. The other gentleman—a stranger—was muttering words to Varghese, while the child beside him spun around, dancing with a doll.

Danny cleared his throat. “Excuse me. Can I help you?”

“Ah,” Mr. Varghese said, standing upright. “Mr. Feist. We were just talking about you.”

“What the hell—” Danny caught himself, remembering the little girl twirling in front of the machine. “What the heck are you doing in my arcade?”

“We came to inspect Phantasos—”

“How did you get in here?” Danny spun, turned to Aaron, and pointed towards the office. “Go get the phone—call the police.”

“There will be no need for that,” Mr. Varghese said. “We let ourselves in here lawfully, as is our right per the agreement we have with your establishment. We used the key that Todd Prower himself provided us with.”

Danny approached the two men. Mr. Varghese was dressed as dapper as any other time Danny had encountered him. His partner, however, was one million times more fashionable. A tall, brooding fellow, hair slicked back, massive gold watch on his wrist, his tie clip and cuff links glinting in the afternoon light. Diamond encrusted. Beneath the dazzling jewelry was a three thousand dollar suit, cut at a perfect trim, framing the man majestically.

“And who do you think you are?” Danny said, but the words left his mouth unevenly and the finely dressed man simply smiled.

“My name is Dominic Bloom. I haven’t had the chance to make your acquaintance.” Mr. Bloom stuck out a hand and shook Danny’s vigorously. What a grip he had! Mr. Bloom exuded power, wealth, and confidence, and it overwhelmed him. But there was something more to him than all of that, too. Danny couldn’t place it.

“From Bloom & Bloom LLP?” Danny asked, already knowing the answer.

Mr. Bloom laughed. “So you’ve heard of us!”

Danny wanted to say,
Who hasn’t?
But instead he swallowed and said, “Of course.”

“One more introduction,” Mr. Bloom said, “before we dig into the specifics of why we’re visiting your fine establishment so early in the morning.” He waved his hand, motioning for the young girl to stop her frolicking and come over to introduce herself.

“It’s take your child to work day,” Mr. Bloom said, smiling ear to ear. “She wants to be a lawyer when she grows up. Just like her father.” Mr. Bloom patted the small child’s shoulders. “Go on, Vega. Introduce yourself.”

The tiny girl, no older than four or five, Danny thought, extended an impossibly small hand. Danny crouched, shook it, and smiled.

“Vega Bloom, pleased to meet you,” she said in a squeaky, sing-songy voice.

Danny suddenly felt very warm. Perhaps it was the fragility and innocence of the young girl, so starkly juxtaposed against her warrior of a father. “That’s a very pretty name you have. Danny Feist. It’s good to meet you, too.”

“Run along now, Vega,” Mr. Bloom said. “Play with your doll. Don’t touch anything. The grown-ups have to talk.”

Vega nodded, tossed her doll in the air, and ran through a row of machines before disappearing around a corner.

Danny stood up from his crouch and put his hands in his pockets.

“Now Mr. Feist, as you’re probably aware, my services have been contracted by the Vidtronix Games Corporation. Mr. Varghese, being an agent of Vidtronix, has been filling me in on some—well, let’s call them disagreements—you’ve had with a contract your former business partner entered into. Todd, was it?”

Danny nodded.

“And, sadly, I’ve been informed that Todd has passed away just recently.”

Again, Danny nodded.

“I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Feist. Allow me to preface what I’m about to say with that. I’m so sorry, and I have nothing but the deepest condolences and sympathy for you.”

Mr. Bloom’s voice was warm. Hypnotic. Danny wanted to hate the guy, but he caught himself sliding over every buttery word that left his mouth.

“The issue here, and correct me if I’m wrong, is this: you believe that an agreement that Todd entered into is invalidated upon his passing. Unfortunately, this is not true. The agreement was between Vidtronix and Planet X,
not
between Vidtronix and Todd. It is an agreement between businesses, not people. Furthermore, Mr. Varghese has alluded that he has informed you of this fact already, which frankly, makes my time standing here a bit of a waste.”

Danny shrugged. He didn’t know where to look.

Mr. Bloom continued. “Can you please tell me, for what reason did you place an out-of-order sign upon Phantasos? Our inspection showed that the machine is functioning perfectly.”

“I don’t want anyone in my arcade playing it.”

“Why not? Phantasos is a video game, this is a video game arcade.” Mr. Bloom held his hands up in disbelief. “It seems simple enough to me.”

“It’s trouble, and I don’t want my customers playing it.”

Mr. Bloom let out a deep sigh. He bent over, picked up a briefcase, and pulled out a thick stack of stapled papers. He flipped through them, then pointed to a page in the middle of the stack.

“Right here,” Mr. Bloom said, “are five reasons we could charge you out the rear right now. If we wanted to. Interfering with the machine, preventing use of the machine, and the damage to the paint on the machine—from the tape residue.”

“Are you kidding me? What damage?”

“Let me finish, Mr. Feist.
If
we wanted to. There is cosmetic damage outside the realm of normal wear and tear. We have proof that you denied access to the machine. All of this amounts to fees in the thousands. Frankly…” Mr. Bloom scanned the room, then looked back at Danny. “You couldn’t afford it. Let’s be real, yeah? So I’ve proposed a more than fair compromise. You have twenty-three days remaining in the term of this contract. Obviously you have no interest in renewing the contract past that point, and honestly, neither does Vidtronix. So in twenty-three days we’ll have deliverymen here, at daybreak. They’ll remove the machine, and that’ll be the end of it. So long as you promise to cut the shenanigans. No more unplugging it, no more out-of-order signs. No fines or charges will accrue. Sound like a deal?”

Danny started to shake his head no, but Aaron suddenly chimed in for the first time all morning. “It sounds like a fair deal, Dan. You should take it.”

Danny gave Aaron a confused look.

“Do you two need to speak for a moment?” Mr. Bloom asked.

Danny shook his head, said: “No.” He trusted Aaron and whatever scheme he had concocted. Aaron was a slippery sort, talented at weaseling out of sticky situations. “It’s a deal,” Danny said.

“Excellent,” Mr. Bloom said, and he nodded. He clapped his hands, said, “Come, come, Vega,” and the little girl emerged from behind the Pac-Man machine. The three gathered around the entrance, and Danny held the door open for them as they left.

Mr. Bloom smiled at his daughter, and then at Danny. “She really loves your arcade.” He excused himself, took Vega by the hand on his right side, and walked towards the street with Mr. Varghese on his left side.

When the three were finally far enough away Danny said, “Thanks for all the help. You stood around like a statue, and then the moment I needed your input, you immediately caved.”

Aaron smiled. “It doesn’t matter, Dan.”

“Like hell it doesn’t!”

“Agree to his terms, don’t agree to them. It doesn’t matter; I was just trying to get them out quick and make it easier for you.”

“What on earth are you concocting now, Aaron?”

Aaron smiled a big, devilish smile. “I’ve got a plan. A great plan. You’re gonna love it.”