by Brian Harmon
(And he also didn’t want to be eaten by hell rats again…)
He withdrew four tokens from his pocket and closed his fist around them, then he walked into the arcade and looked around.
Now that he was really looking, he realized that there were lots of places a child could hide. Most of the machines were large and bulky, many of them crammed together in clusters. It would be easy to find a nook or cranny to slip into. But Todd wasn’t hiding behind the Jurassic Park game with its oversized display. He didn’t have to.
Just because he didn’t see him, didn’t mean he wasn’t here.
Maybe it helped if he was thinking about him. If he concentrated on his face. Or his name.
He forced himself to slow down and relax. He didn’t rush through the arcade, searching desperately, in spite of the voice inside him screaming at him to hurry. He strolled. He looked at the machines. He observed the children as they ran around, screaming like little lunatics.
And the whole time, he kept his mind focused on Todd.
He walked past an arcade machine not so different from any other, and then stopped.
It was odd. A sort of blossoming awareness. Logically, it made no sense, but logic never had much to do with this sort of thing anyway.
He turned and laid the tokens on the control panel.
Todd reached out and picked them up.
There was nobody standing here when he walked by, but he was here now. Whether he’d been here the whole time, merely unseen, or whether he appeared here after he’d passed, Eric couldn’t be certain.
It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that he’d found him.
But Todd didn’t say anything. He slipped two of the tokens into the machine and began to play.
The title over the screen identified the game as Ick Fighters. The artwork on the side of the cabinet was of a morbidly obese cartoon character in dirty, brown pants and a stained, white tank top (or a “wife beater” as Karen was fond of calling them). He was wielding a toilet plunger and a small army of buzzing flies and was apparently appallingly smelly, if the green, cartoon fumes rising off him were any indication.
Todd selected a character that appeared to be a living pile of garbage and began playing. It was a simple, two-dimensional fighting game, not so different than Street Fighter or Mortal Kombat, both of which he’d played plenty of when he was younger. Except that the characters appeared to all be comically and outlandishly gross. His first opponent was the pungent charmer from the cabinet’s artwork. As soon as the fight began, Eric could tell that it was not just the character designs that were offensive.
“Is that guy fighting with farts?”
“Uh huh,” said Todd as he lobbed what appeared to be a dirty diaper at his foe.
Wife Beater responded by barfing on Garbage Guy.
Was it yet another sign that he was getting old that he didn’t find this game even remotely amusing? How old were the people who designed this thing?
“You want to play?” asked Todd.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”
“Then are you going to ask me a question?”
Right. Back to the point. “I need help with Eliot.”
“Let me guess. He won’t take you to Judith unless you win a game that he won’t let you win.”
“Yeah. That’s the problem all right. I don’t suppose you can make him take me to her.”
He reached out and placed one of the tokens on the control panel, obverse-side up. “Nope. He looks smaller than me, but he’s stronger.”
The token told him it was the truth.
“I see,” said Eric, although he didn’t. Did that mean that Eliot had been dead longer than Todd? More ghostly seniority? Or simply much older, wiser and stronger, in spite of being stuck in the physical form of the four-year-old he died as?
Todd whipped up a tornado of trash (a trashnado?) to finish off Wife Beater, winning the first round.
“I met William. He said if I wanted to win the game and talk to Judith, I’d have to change the rules.”
Todd reached out and flipped the token over. It was a quick, smooth motion that didn’t even distract him from playing. “William’s wrong. If Eliot doesn’t want to take you to Judith, he won’t. That’s all there is to it. You might as well give up now.”
Eric stared at the token. Tails-side up. A lie. William spoke true and there was definitely a way to make Eliot take him to Judith. “Well that sucks,” he said, playing along. “I guess that’s why it didn’t work. I thought I could change the rules by going back with my brother. Two against one, you know?”
Again, Todd flipped the token over. Heads. “That wouldn’t work. It doesn’t matter how many people play, Eliot always wins.”
“He cheats,” said Eric.
“It’s not really cheating,” he explained. “He follows the rules. It’s just that he makes the rules. And he never likes to lose.”
“So there’s nothing I can do.”
He turned the token over again. Tails. “Nothing at all. Sorry.”
Eric nodded. “He says he doesn’t care if something bad happens to everybody.”
He flipped it back to its obverse. “He probably doesn’t. Eliot’s always been selfish.”
“But to let all these people die?”
“He doesn’t have much of a perception of life and death. To be honest, none of us really do. It’s kind of a foreign concept to us.”
That seemed odd. Shouldn’t ghosts have a better concept of life and death than the living, seeing as how they’ve experienced both sides?
But then again, maybe it was because they all died so young. Maybe it wasn’t death that they didn’t get. Maybe it was the living part that confounded them.
Todd won the second round and moved on to the next challenger, an exceptionally ugly and mangy monkey. The fight started decently enough. Some clean punches and kicks. Some fairly impressive kung-fu for a primate. Then Monkey turned his back on the screen and peed on Garbage Guy.
“That’s just not right,” said Eric.
Todd didn’t disagree. He just shrugged, as if to say, “What can you do?” and continued playing.
“What I don’t understand,” said Eric, getting back to the point, “is what William thought I could accomplish by changing the rules if Eliot makes all the rules anyway.”
“William seems to think that Eliot is bound by the rules of the games he plays, even the games he makes up. If that were true, then, theoretically, you could win if you could find a way to change the rules so that you have a distinct advantage.”
Eric nodded. It was still odd to hear him speak like an adult when he looked like an ordinary seven-year-old boy.
“Or better yet,” he added, “an unfair advantage.”
Eric stared at the token. He hadn’t turned it over. It was still obverse-up. Heads. The truth. “And how would I do that? Just out of curiosity.”
“That’s a good question.”
They fell into silence as Todd battled the foul monkey and Eric watched him.
“Please tell me that’s mud he’s throwing,” said Eric.
“He’s a monkey,” said Todd. “It’s what they do. Ask anyone.”
That was just wrong.
Bad monkey.
“It’s an interesting riddle, though,” said Todd. “Changing the rules, I mean. Not the poop throwing. I think you’d have to consider that any time you change the rules you also change the game. I mean a game is essentially defined by its rules, right? So any time the rules change, it has to change the game.”
Eric nodded. That made sense, he supposed.
“So if that were the case, then maybe you shouldn’t worry about changing the rules. Maybe you should just change the game.”
Change the game? How did he do that?
Todd flipped the token over again. Tails. A lie. “But of course it won’t work. Eliot doesn’t like to play new games. So even if you could think of one, you’d still be out of luck
.”
Eric looked out toward the playland, pondering what Todd had told him.
Don’t just change the rules. Change the game. Eliot liked new games.
And the most important part: Find a new game that gave himself a significant advantage.
That might just work…
He turned to thank Todd for his time, but he was already gone. And so were all the tokens.
The nasty monkey had won the round and was standing on an unconscious Garbage Guy, scratching his butt as the timer counted down the time left to continue.
He turned and walked away. It didn’t matter. He had all he needed to know. He headed for the playland again, hopefully for the last time.
Chapter Thirty
Eric found Paul leaning against the mesh wall near the first floor entrance to the playland, watching the children play.
“What the hell does ‘booyakasha’ mean?” he asked.
Eric shrugged. He had no idea.
Paul let it go. “So what’s the plan now?”
“I’m going back in.”
Paul glanced toward the entrance. “That kid’s making a fool out of us. You know that, right?”
“I know. But I think I might have the answer now.”
“Really?”
“You stay here. I’ll be back.”
He put his hands up. “No arguments here.”
Eric walked into the playland and immediately headed for the padded steps. It was too crowded here. He needed to find somewhere quieter, but without leaving the playland.
He took his time. He crawled through tunnels and pushed his way through hanging, plastic balls. He climbed higher and higher, making his way all the way to the top, to the little room with the little tower.
There were still lots of children up here, most of them playing in and around the tower. Eric made his way to one of the corners of the room, where no kids were playing.
There, he sat down with his back against the mesh wall and waited.
He didn’t expect it to take long, and it didn’t. Within a couple minutes, Eliot appeared in front of him, looking annoyed.
“Hi, Eliot.”
“Why aren’t you playing?” he demanded.
“I don’t want to play anymore,” replied Eric. “You don’t play fair.
“I play fair! It’s not my fault you’re too slow to catch me.”
“You had no intention of taking me to see Judith.”
“I would’ve if you’d won. You didn’t win.”
“I couldn’t win. You don’t play fair.”
Eliot’s face flushed a little at that. He was getting angry. “I play fair!” he shouted.
Eric had to be careful here. If he didn’t play this right, it could all be over right now. “Okay, fine. You play fair. But I don’t like that game. I want to play a different game.”
“I don’t want to play a different game.”
“No? How about a new game?”
Eliot didn’t reply at first. His little eyes narrowed. He seemed to be sizing him up, as if trying to decide if he could trust him. “What kind of game?”
Gotcha, thought Eric.
Now he just had to hope he didn’t screw this up.
“Come on over,” he said, lying down on his belly and stretching out. “I’ll show you.”
Slowly, Eliot sat down in front of him.
“First, we need something to play for.” Eric pulled out his wallet and took out a twenty-dollar bill. “How would you like a chance to win this?”
Eliot didn’t look impressed. “I don’t really have any use for money.”
It was a good point, but not one he hadn’t thought of. He smiled. “Maybe not, but twenty bucks is a big deal to most people. I’ll bet you could make a lot of mischief with one of these. For example, you could put it on the other side of the mesh, just out of reach… Watch these kids drive themselves crazy trying to get it.”
He stared at the bill. Eric could see the wheels turning. He liked the sound of that. “How do I play?” he asked.
“First, we lie down like I’m doing.”
Eliot followed the directions and lay down on the mat, facing him.
“Then I put the bill here.” He laid it on the floor between them. “Now you hold your hand over it, palm down.”
Again, he did as he was told.
Eric held his hand out over his. “Now the rule is you can’t move your hand until I do, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now I’m going to try to grab that bill. Like this.” He slowly moved his hand around Eliot’s and placed it over the twenty. “I’ll have to go around your hand to get to it. But as soon as you see me move, you can try to grab it first. If you get the bill, it’s yours.”
Eliot squinted at him. “That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch. You said it yourself a minute ago, I’m too slow to catch you. I’m not as young as I used to be. I’m not as skinny as I used to be. But I think I’m still faster than you. Just not at crawling through playgrounds. I’m betting I can still move fast enough to take this bill before you can, even though you’re closer to it than I am.”
Eliot stared at the money.
“And if I do get it first, you have to take me to see Judith.”
He squinted at him again. He was suspicious, but that was okay.
“Of course, if you don’t want to play a game with me, you don’t have to.”
“No,” said Eliot. “I want to play.”
“Good.” Eric held his hand out over his. “So do we have a deal? You win, you keep the money? I win, I see Judith?”
Eliot nodded. “Yes. Deal.”
Eric smiled. “Good. Ready?”
“Ready.”
“Remember the rule. You can’t move until I do.”
“I remember.”
Eric lay there for a moment, staring at the twenty-dollar bill. God, he hoped this worked. Just a couple more seconds and…
In the blink of an eye, they both went for the bill.
But it was Eric who was holding it in the end.
Eliot’s hand remained empty.
“I win,” said Eric, trying his best not to look relieved. He’d seen this game on television. He knew it was a trick. It took a certain amount of reaction time for your brain to register the movement of the other person’s hand and get your own hand in motion, making it impossible for you to snatch the money first, even though your hand is closer to it. What he wasn’t entirely sure of was whether or not that reaction time lag was also true in ghosts.
It seemed that it was.
Eliot stared down at his empty hand, then looked up at Eric, stunned. “You cheated,” he said.
“I didn’t cheat,” replied Eric. “You’re just too slow”
He jumped to his feet, angry. “You cheated!”
Eric sat up. “I didn’t cheat,” he said again, calmly. “I told you the rules. You agreed to the rules. You promised.”
Eliot glared at him.
“You have to take me to Judith now.”
“Judy doesn’t like to talk to people.”
“Sometimes I don’t like to talk to people, either,” said Eric. “But sometimes I have to. This is important.”
His hands were balled into fists at his side. He wasn’t happy.
“You are going to play by the rules, aren’t you? I was told you played by the rules.”
For a moment, it seemed that Eliot didn’t care about the rules. He was mad and he wasn’t going to keep his end of the bargain. And why not? Eric could think of no reason for him to.
And yet, he didn’t run off. He didn’t disappear.
Something was keeping him here. Something was making him keep his promise.
Judging by the color in his cheeks, Eric guessed it wasn’t his upstanding moral code.
“Fine!” he growled. “Follow me.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Eliot led him acros
s the top level of the playland, through the small crowd of hyper, screaming children, to a white, plastic tunnel.
Eric could already tell that something was different. He’d seen lots of big, plastic tubes like this one, had lost count of how many he’d crawled through, but this was the first one he’d seen in white. In fact, nothing in the playland had been white until now. Everything was bright red, blue, yellow, green, purple and orange. The structure itself was black, as was the mesh and the netting, but there was no white anywhere else in the playland.
It was also astonishingly bright and clean. As he lowered himself onto his hands and knees and crawled inside, he saw not a single smudge or scratch. Every other tunnel he’d crawled through today was well-worn by countless little hands and feet, but this one looked brand new.
He was sure that if this had been here before, he would’ve remembered seeing it. It seemed to have appeared only when Eliot showed it to him.
It was a much longer tunnel than any of the others, too. And as he crawled farther into it, he could hear the screaming and laughing of the children grow steadily fainter. By the time he reached the far end and stood up, it had fallen silent. It was like the other times, when he crossed into the clown’s world, except this time it didn’t turn cold or dark. If anything, it grew warmer and brighter. It looked like the playland, but it was somewhere different. It was considerably larger, for one thing. Everything was bigger here. Gone were the cramped, narrow passageways and small tunnels. He didn’t have to crawl anymore. He didn’t even have to worry about hitting his head.
This was a playland built big enough for grown-ups.
There was nothing hellish about this world. It was quiet. Peaceful. Serene.
And it was beautiful. He didn’t go far before sunlight began to filter down through this new playland. And soon after that, he found flowers and vines snaking their way onto the path.
He could even hear the sound of trickling water somewhere nearby.
“Where are we?” he asked. “What is this place?”
But Eliot apparently wasn’t speaking to him. He only marched on ahead of him in surly silence.