Phantasos

by Robert Barnard

  “What can I you do for…what can I…what can I do you for?” Todd slurred.

  Danny wrinkled his nose. The office smelled disgusting. “Have you been drinking?”

  “Hey,” Todd said, setting down the magazine. “Have you read this?”

  “Read what?”

  “This guy, Clinton. Some governor from Arkansas. They say he’s gonna run for president in ’92, and that he’s got a good shot at winning.” Todd slapped the table. “A real good shot!”

  “Is that so?” Danny said, leaning in the doorway.

  “Could you imagine, Dan? A democrat! After all these years of Reagan and Bush and their little cronies…and that Bush, if he don’t win re-election, he’s got a bunch’a kids. A bunch’a ‘em!” Todd sounded angry; he was drunk. “Mark my words, if that bastard loses to this Clinton guy, he’ll have one of his kids up on the throne one day. Mark my words.”

  “I never knew you were so interested in government. You glean a lot of political insight from this month’s Playboy, Todd?”

  “Sure did, buddy,” Todd said. “Suuuuure did. Also, you’ll be happy to know, Miss July has fantastic tits.”

  “Okay,” Danny said, placing a hand firmly on the doorframe. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

  Todd pulled out an empty bottle of Jim Beam from beneath his desk and set it on a filing cabinet beside him. A big empty bottle. He hiccupped and in an angry tone said, “None of your damn business how much.” Then immediately after, this time sounding saddened, he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t save you any.”

  Danny sat down at the desk across from Todd. “I’ve manned this entire place tonight, on my own, while you’ve sat in here drowning in bourbon and examining the measurements of Miss July. What’s wrong with you? You’re a grown man. Why are you wallowing?”

  Todd furled his eyebrows and said, “I know where I’ve been tonight and I know where you’ve been, pal. I’ve already figured payroll for the week, and I dropped an extra fifty bucks in your check. We square?”

  “Todd!” Danny yelled. “I don’t want an extra fifty bucks. I don’t care about picking up slack in the arcade, I’m happy to run it! I just want to know what’s going on with you! What’s gotten into you today? You’ve been acting strange ever since last night. Is it debt collectors? Is the arcade in trouble? Why won’t you let me in?”

  “You’d never believe me if I told you—”

  The phone rang, cutting Todd off mid-sentence.

  “Do me a favor, buddy,” Todd said. “Go ahead and answer that for me.”

  Danny stood up from the desk and picked up the phone.

  “Hello?” he asked.

  Silence...then a hissing pop of static.

  “Hello?” Danny asked again.

  More silence, more static, and Danny couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard breathing.

  “Who is this?” Danny asked, and he heard a click on the other end, followed by the rapid beep beep beep beep of a dial tone. “They hung up,” he said, and he shrugged and hung up the phone. “Prank caller again—?”

  The phone rang.

  Todd pointed at the ringing phone and frowned. “One more time, please,” Todd said. “Answer that for me.”

  Hesitantly, Danny picked up the phone. Something didn’t feel right, like there was electricity in the air. Before he even touched the phone, he felt the little hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

  “Hello?” Danny asked, impatiently.

  Static. Crackle. White noise.

  “Who is this? I demand you tell me right now who this is.”

  A voice—a thick, raspy, guttural voice, an otherworldly voice— plainly croaked: “Not the one I want.”

  “Excuse me?” Danny yelled.

  “Not the one I want.”

  Click. Dial tone.

  Danny hung up the phone, turned to Todd and said, “You have to tell me what’s going on right now. You have to tell me why someone is messing with you.”

  Todd clasped his hands together. “I have no idea who is messing with me, or why.”

  “Then we have to go to the police.”

  Todd laughed. “And tell them what?”

  Danny said, “You didn’t hear that guy just now. I feel like I’m going to throw up. Is someone trying to hurt you?”

  Again, Todd laughed.

  “Why do you keep laugh—God, I almost forgot, you’re plastered.”

  “Buddy,” Todd said, “calm down. We’ll lock up, then we’ll go out for a drink. Everything will be all—”

  The phone rang.

  Danny put his hands on his hips, protesting. “I’m not getting it this time. You answer it.”

  “How about neither of us answer it, and we let that bastard tire himself out?”

  Danny nodded. He didn’t want to agree, but what better plan was there?

  The phone rang, and rang, and rang. A full minute passed by and finally Todd said, “Enough. It’s giving me a headache.” He stood up, almost tripping over himself. He stumbled over to the phone and picked it up.

  “Who the hell do you think you are—?”

  “Todd?” a soft, sweet voice asked. “Baby, is that you?”

  “Who…” Todd coughed, nodded, and waved Danny out of the office. Danny shook his head and slunk away.

  “Baby,” the beautiful voice continued. It was kind and delicate and feminine. “Baby, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”

  “I know,” Todd stammered.

  “Did you get my note?”

  “Yeah, babe,” Todd said. “I got it.”

  The voice on the other end paused for the cutest little giggle. “Well then. You’re not trying to give me the cold shoulder, are you big guy?”

  “No,” Todd said, regaining composure. “I would never do that to you, baby.”

  “Good,” the voice said.

  “God, baby, it’s so good to hear your voice again,” Todd said, and he fought back the urge to cry.

  “Yours too,” the female said. “Yours too.”

  “Where are you?” Todd asked. “Where are you calling from?”

  “I’m in Grand Ridge. I’m staying in town.”

  “Huh…huh…” Todd had to force the word out. “How?”

  “How?” the girl laughed. “Well, first I got on a plane…and then I flew here. It was a long flight from New York, baby. Before I left, I drove a little ways upstate to that town of ours. You remember the one, right? East Violet. That’s what it was called. You called it a boring little yuppie town in the boonies. I had to beg you to drive through and go adventuring with me. Remember, they were having that adorable little apple harvest when we visited? Remember how hard you fought me on exploring that quaint little town, and how much fun we ended up having? You must have apologized a million times! Remember when we kissed on the Ferris wheel and you told me how much you loved me?”

  “I remember, baby. I remember all of it.”

  “Then you certainly remember that humble confectionary on the edge of town, where we stopped for fudge, and you said it was the best fudge you’ve ever had in your entire life? And you gave me that sweet, sugary chocolate kiss after?”

  “Of course, baby.”

  “I drove up there, before my flight, and I picked you up a pound of it. I brought you homemade, New York fudge from clear across the country. Now how can you get luckier than that? Me and fudge?” the female said, and she snickered.

  “I love you so, so, much, Shelly,” Todd said, and he said her name quietly in case Danny might hear, because God knows how Danny would react if he heard him.

  “I love you too, baby. Now when are you planning on visiting me? You gotta get out of that dusty arcade of yours someday.”

  “Not tonight,” Todd said. “I’m a mess. I’m sorry if that’s not the answer you wanted, but how about tomorrow afternoon? Where are you?”

  “I’m at the Sunway Hotel, on the north end of Grand Ridge. You know the one?”

  “I do,�
�� Todd said.

  “Great. Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  “You will.”

  “Don’t keep me waiting too long,” she said, “and I’ll try not to eat too much of your fudge,” and she hung up the phone.

  Twelve

  BENJI OPENED HIS EYES TO THE soft morning light filtering its way through the blinds in the Emerson’s living room. He awoke in the recliner, and he had a cramp in his leg. Lauren was flipped on her stomach on the couch, her magazine crumpled on the floor beside her. Alley was asleep on the rug, curled up like a cat, a Nintendo controller still firmly in his clutch even though the console and the television had been shut off.

  The house was quiet, empty, and still, save for Benji, Lauren, and Alley. Benji figured that the Emerson’s must have left for work already; how they managed to tiptoe around the trio without waking them, Benji had no clue. Then again, teenagers can sleep through anything.

  He stood up and stretched his legs, trying to will away the cramp. After a good stretch the cramp lessened and he yawned, louder than he meant to. Lauren started to stir.

  “Wakey wakey,” Benji said, playfully.

  Lauren grunted, tossed a throw pillow at Benji, then rolled over and buried her face into a couch cushion.

  Benji grinned, nodded, and wandered off towards the kitchen on his own. He stretched his arms over his head and examined the kitchen; just like his parents, the Emerson’s left for work early in the morning. So, the kitchen was untended to, and still a mess from the night before. No one bothered to put Alley’s cake in the refrigerator, so the frosting had spread thin and oozed out over the remaining slices of cake. The lettering on the cake that once said “Happy Birthday, Alec!” now read as: “H y b y, A !”

  With a sigh, Benji picked up some paper plates, stray napkins, empty plastic cups—whatever he could get his hands on—and started tossing them indiscriminately into the trash. The kitchen was halfway back to normal when Lauren walked in.

  She opened the fridge door, grabbed a jug of Sunny Delight, and started sipping it from the bottle. When she had enough, she returned it to the fridge and asked Benji, “What are you doing?”

  “Just cleaning up a little.”

  “All right. That’s a little weird, but all right.”

  “Why weird?”

  Lauren meandered to the pantry, took out a loaf of bread, and sunk a couple of slices into the kitchen toaster. She set the dial to a high setting and plunged the lever on the side of the appliance. “It’s just kind of weird to clean up someone else’s house, don’t you think?”

  Benji shrugged, tossed some plastic utensils into the trashcan, and continued to clean. “Maids clean other people’s houses.”

  “Yeah, but. You’re not our maid.”

  “Then I’m just being a decent friend, Lore. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Just forget it,” Lauren said. “It’s really nice that you’re helping clean up. Forget what I said, how I’m acting. Just forget it.”

  Benji stopped what he was doing to look at Lauren for the first time since she woke up, to really look at her. She looked like hell. Dark circles under her eyes, strands of hair flying in every other direction. Like she had tossed and turned all night.

  “What is it?” Benji asked

  The smell of burning Wonder Bread wafted through the kitchen.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Come on. You’ll feel better.”

  Lauren rolled her eyes. “I had the dream again. The worst it’s ever been.”

  Benji took a deep breath, exhaled sharply. The dream. The dream. She needn’t have to say more—though he hoped she would, she always felt better after venting—and he knew exactly what the dream was about. If the conversation had stopped there, the entire matter would have went unspoken. Benji would have known exactly why Lauren was so distraught.

  “What happened differently in this one?” Benji asked, not sure that he wanted to know the answer.

  “It’s Alley’s…you know…and we’re all standing around in this great big church. I mean, the building is three times as tall as it is wide. The arches seem to go on forever, reaching for the sky. It’s hard to see through the stained glass, but it is dark out. It’s about to rain, if it hasn’t already. I can’t tell. Anyways, we’re all there, and we’re walking up to him one by one. And my parents are a wreck, your parents are a wreck, everyone—they’re just in absolute agony.

  “And it’s my turn to walk up, and I look over into the…you know…and he’s lying there, so still.”

  Lauren stopped, rubbed her eyes with her palms. Her thinly applied eyeliner started to smear.

  “Only this time, something isn’t right, it isn’t the same, and I can tell. I can just tell. And I reach down to feel him, or to hug him, just one more time and he springs up. He springs up, turns his head to me, and opens his eyes. Big, red, fiery eyes. And he screams—he screams in this inhuman voice—he screams: ‘This is all your fault. This is all your fault and you know it, you worthless bitch.’”

  Benji froze where he stood. Shivered. “Then what happened?”

  Lauren choked for a second, then said, “Then? Then this tall, gnarly goon is standing above me, saying ‘Wakey, wakey,’ with his stupid smile.”

  Benji nodded, then went back to tossing things into the garbage. He didn’t want to let on, but just the mere mention of Lauren’s dream had upset him, too.

  “Well? What do you think?” she said.

  Benji raised his eyebrows high, tossed an empty two-liter of Coke into the nearly filled trashcan and said, “I think it means we shouldn’t watch so many Nightmare on Elm Street marathons at The Marquee.”

  “You’re right,” Lauren said. “You’re right. It’s just that—anytime we’re on spring break, or summer break, or any type of vacation where I’m home and my parents aren’t, I feel so much responsibility to look after him. I constantly fear that I will fail him. That I’ll forget one of his meds at lunch, or that he’ll fall down the stairs while I’m watching TV or tanning in the yard.”

  “He’s not…” Benji paused. “He’s not a paper doll,” Benji said.

  “He might as well be.”

  “You worry too much. He’s a tough kid. You’re stressing yourself out needlessly.”

  “Maybe,” Lauren said. “But it doesn’t necessarily help when I catch you speeding down Shady Reach at one hundred miles an hour, and neither of you are wearing a helmet.”

  “That was a one time occurrence,” Benji said, “and I promised we’d wear them in the future.” By now the kitchen was practically spotless. He started taking down some deflated balloons. “Besides, haven’t I repented?

  Lauren smiled. “How late were you two up playing that infernal game?”

  “At least midnight. Maybe later. We got pretty far, too, just to find out that there isn’t a save feature.”

  “So you lost all your progress?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. Alley found this clever trick in one of his magazines, though…early on in the game, if you get a flute, you can sort of fly back to where you were…” He could tell by Lauren’s face that she was losing interest.

  “Fly? On a flute?”

  “It’s kind of convoluted, but it works. You’d think for forty-five-freakin’ dollars, there’d be a save feature built in.”

  Lauren shrugged.

  By now, maybe because of all the stirring in the kitchen, Alley was wide-awake. When he strolled into the room, his sister was buttering some toast, and Benji was pouring a giant bowl of Honey Smacks. Benji looked up and said, “There’s the man of the hour. Can I fix you a bowl, too?”

  “Sure,” Alley said, “sounds good.”

  Lauren became paranoid, wondering how much—if any—of her conversation with Benji her little brother may have overheard. “Sleep good?”

  Alley sighed. “As good as you can sleep on the floor, I guess.” He poked some sleep dust from the corner of his eye. “I had a weird nightmare.” />
  “About what?” Benji asked.

  “You know, as soon as I woke up, I forgot about it. So I guess it couldn’t have been too bad.”

  Benji poured some milk over Alley’s Honey Smacks, and the trio sat down at the kitchen table together.

  Alley said, “So, we gonna bike over to Planet X later?”

  Benji looked out the kitchen window at the menacing thunderheads forming far, far off on the horizon.

  “I don’t know,” Benji said. “It looks like it might start to storm.”

  Thirteen

  TODD WOKE UP LATE IN THE morning. By the time he rose from bed, the sun was already high overhead, its rays struggling to break through a cluster of dark, billowy clouds looming in the distance.

  He started his morning routine the same as any other day: a quick shower followed by a simple breakfast (scrambled eggs, coffee). He put out some food for his cat, Elvira. Today, he poured a little extra in her dish.

  The one break in routine was when he sat down at his kitchen table with a notebook and a pen. He scribbled out a note, tore the paper out, folded it in half, and placed it on the table. Then he repeated himself—again, he scribbled out a note, tore it from the metal spiral of the notebook, folded it neatly, and placed it on the table.

  He stood and glanced around his apartment, giving it a quick inventory. On a bookshelf near the rear of his living room was a photo of Shelly and him, taken at the Statue of Liberty several years earlier. Shelly was looking directly into the lens of the Polaroid camera, Todd was looking away and off to the side.

  What a beautiful picture that could have been, he thought.

  Todd knelt down, stroked Elvira’s back, then grabbed his keys from the counter and exited his apartment.

  Danny knew that Todd wasn’t coming into work that day. After the night before—long, mysterious phone calls in the office; flagrant intoxication; sobbing—the two both agreed that a day off was probably in Todd’s best interest.

  Todd walked outside, stood next to his Pontiac Fiero, and studied the horizon for a moment. The early morning sun was positively beautiful, bathing the drab parking lot of his apartment complex in lively shades of gold. It was breathtaking, even with the thunderheads inching closer in the distance.