He decided to set the alarm for 4:00 p.m. That would give him time to try the ticket booth once more before closing time.
What if Dana’s still there?
Cross that bridge when I come to it.
He saw himself step up to the ticket window. Dana smiled at him. A soft, warm smile that made him long for her. “Hi, Owen,” she said.
“Hi, Dana.”
“You just keep coming back for more, don’t you? What are you, a glutton for punishment?”
“I can’t get enough of Beast House,” he told her, thinking I can’t get enough zoom, either.
“Where were you last night?” she asked.
The question knocked his breath out.
As he tried to think of a lie, Dana said, “I thought we had a date.”
“We did?”
A look of disappointment on her face, she nodded and said, “I stopped by the motel, but you weren’t there.”
Oh, no. Oh, no. It can’t be true.
“I really wanted to see you,” she said.
“I really wanted to see you, too.”
“I missed you so much, Owen.” Reaching out through the ticket window, she gently took hold of his hands.
In his right hand, he was holding John’s ticket for the Midnight Tour.
Dana saw it. “Oh, you’re going on the tour tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Me, too.”
“That’s great.”
“Will you be alone?”
His heart pounded hard. “Yes.”
“Me, too. Do you think we could... do it together?”
Somewhere, a car door slammed. Owen woke up, realized he’d only been dreaming, and almost cried.
He hoped to fall asleep again quickly and return to the dream.
But you never get the great ones back. Just the nightmares.
Owen was rushing through the halls of a huge old school building, jerking open doors and glancing into classrooms. At any second, the tardy bell would ring. Where’s my room? Gotta find it! Oh, my God, where is it? I’ll never find it in time. if only I knew the room number!
Suddenly, the bell rang.
No! I’m late!
He woke up.
The noise wasn’t the tardy bell, after all. It came from the telephone on his nightstand. Each time the phone rang, the little red message light flickered..
He squirmed toward the edge of the bed.
Who could it be? Nobody knows I’m here.
Just John.
Maybe he wants me to bail him out.
Bracing himself up with an elbow, he reached out and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
Through the earpiece came an empty sound, a quiet hiss.
“Hello?” he asked again.
At the other end of the line, the caller hung up.
Owen hung up, too. Then he flopped onto his back and shut his eyes and sighed.
No big deal, he told himself. Probably a wrong number.
But it must’ve come through the motel switchboard.
So what? Who cares?
He looked at his wristwatch.
3:50
His alarm would be going off in ten minutes. But he felt awfully groggy. He didn’t want to get up in ten minutes and go over to the ticket booth.
Besides, it’s probably still Dana. I’ll just sell the damn thing when I go over for the picnic. Somebody’s bound to want it.
He reset his wristwatch alarm for 6:30 p.m. That would give him an hour to get ready for the night’s big events, plus half an hour to rid himself of John’s ticket.
Owen woke up sweaty and hungry.
He checked his wristwatch. It showed 6:10.
Sitting up, he looked around the room. He saw John’s glasses on the dresser and felt his stomach squirm.
Still not back
It’s all gonna start in a couples hours, man. Where are you?
Owen climbed out of bed. He took still another shower, then sprayed his armpits with Right Guard, shaved, combed his hair and brushed his teeth.
By 6:45, he was dressed and almost ready to leave.
He grabbed his camera and hung its strap over one shoulder.
Then he slipped the two Midnight Tour tickets into the left breast pocket of his sport shirt.
He had already decided to walk.
He made sure he had the room key, then opened the door.
He’d expected golden sunlight, warmth, and a mild breeze.
But sometime during the afternoon, while he’d been shut away in his room with the curtains closed, a fog had crept in.
It drifted like a gray mist around the cars in the parking lot. Owen could barely see to the other side of the motel courtyard. The cabins over there were fuzzy blurs.
A chill had arrived with the fog.
Owen hurried inside the room for his windbreaker. On the back, CRAWFORD JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL was emblazoned in big gold letters. He tossed his camera onto the bed, slipped his arms into the sleeves of the windbreaker, fastened a couple of the front snaps, then rushed outside.
The jacket helped, but its sleeves felt cool against his bare arms.
He paused for a moment, wondering if he should go back inside and put on a long-sleeved shirt.
Gonna be indoors most of the time, anyway.
Then he wondered if he should give up the idea of walking, and take his rental car instead.
Probably crash and kill myself.
Besides, he thought, it’ll be neat to walk through the fog.
He set off for Beast House.
Halfway there, he realized he had left his camera in the room.
The hell with it. Wrong film, anyway.
He kept on, but he felt its loss—and wondered what else would go wrong.
Stopping at the corner of the high, iron fence, Owen looked through its bars. He was half an hour early. Though he saw no tourists on the grounds, most of the regular guides were busy getting ready for the picnic. He spotted Dana right away, helping a guy carry a picnic table across the front lawn.
Two other picnic tables had already been brought out, along with a couple of smaller tables and three barbeque grills. Near the picnic tables, a bar was being set up by the only person not wearing a Beast House uniform. This man sported a red jacket, a white shirt, and a red bow tie.
Owen found Dana again.
She put down her end of the table. Then the guy from the other end walked toward her, smiling and talking.
Who the hell is he?
He looked a little familiar...
The lunch counter guy?
He joined up with Dana. As they headed away, Dana slipped an open hand inside a seat pocket of his shorts.
Owen suddenly felt as if he’d been slugged in the guts.
What did you expect? Of course she’s got a boyfriend.
Sure, he thought. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Dana and her friend disappeared around a corner of the house.
Since she’s busy, Owen thought, who’s minding the ticket booth?
Probably no one. The self-guided tours were over for the day and the Midnight Tour had been sold out since yesterday, so the ticket booth would probably be closed.
Closed or not, a number of people were milling about the area in front of it. Waiting for the festivities to start, he supposed.
Maybe one of them could use a ticket.
Owen started walking toward the gathered tourists.
John wasn’t among them.
A couple of the gals were real babes, even though one of them looked like a weirdo.