Nightmares unbound, p.7
Nightmares Unbound, page 7
The voice echoed through the aisles of the festival. I thought to myself how similar it was to the Purge announcement. I passed a ton of great art, including someone who made beautiful Japanese rice scrolls of famous cartoon characters, almost causing me to spend the money on a samurai Hank Hill design.
By the time I had reached my table, the crowds were descending the stairs, elevators and escalators. Even for a Friday, the sheer volume of people flooding in was overwhelming; a cacophony of sounds and movement filled the space. I immediately went to work, and within minutes, I already had a dozen people lined up for me to sign their copies of my books or to purchase a new one.
“I really loved the one about the guy with the lawnmower,” one person said.
“Are these really based on true stories?” another puzzled.
“You’re my favorite writer,” one said, clearly unaware of any other authors in the world.
“Hey, can you tell me about this one?” A man pointed toward my science-fiction novel.
I gave him the rundown of the plot as best I could. He seemed spacy and distant.
“And this one here? What is your favorite one in this short-story collection?”
Again, I spent a few minutes explaining the story’s core elements and plot progression, carefully avoiding any major spoilers. It was a hard thing to do, but I want to keep it interesting without revealing the crux of the story.
“Oh, cool. Thanks for regaling me with your tales. I don’t have any money, though.” The man took a curt bow, tipped his imaginary hat, and exited down the aisle.
After several exhausting hours of signing books, pitching synopsis, and explaining the books to what felt like hundreds of people, I finally got a break at 8 p.m.
“You’ve been crazy busy, man,” a voice said from across my table.
I looked up from my book rack to see Barrios—dressed in a dark wizard outfit, his naturally frizzy curly hair exploded into a cloud of chaos to add to the outfit, with a shaggy beard to match—venture across the aisle to talk.
“That’s impressive, dude.”
“Surprisingly, yes, and it’s only Friday!” I said.
Fridays were typically the slower days. We would muddle through Friday so we could get into the meat of the busy day, which was always Saturday. Everyone was off work and longing for something fun to do. With the assortment of authors, special guests, and activities, how could one not attend?
“Book count is three for me.”
My gaze fell upon Barrios. I remembered the three-book-sale events. Hell, I remembered the zero-book-sale events from the early days of my career. “Three is solid, dude. Hell yeah! Not bad for a Friday.”
Barrios smirked. “I guess you’re right. It just bummed me out a bit.”
I nodded, doing my best to reassure him that some days were better than others. As I fished for my next thought, my phone buzzed in my back pocket. I reached for it, and Barrios took his leave. The call was from my wife. Audrey had the unique privilege of being one of two people in my phone with backgrounds for their caller ID. Hers was of Gunter, the penguin from Adventure Time, playing piano, with the words FUCK YOU emblazoned over him. It was so fitting, and I chuckled every time I saw it.
“What’s up?” I answered and noticed the aisles had died down fairly well for the moment.
“You need to get your child.”
The voice on the other end did not sound pleased. And when Violet was my child, we knew this would not go well. I braced myself for the follow up.
“Could you take her for the weekend? I just spent the past two hours on the phone with her teacher. She’s been acting out more than we thought. Plus, everyone called out of work tomorrow, and guess who gets to go in on their day off?”
I bit my tongue to not answer with a smartass comment for the rhetorical question. “So, what do you want me to do?”
“Which hotel are you staying at? Can I bring her by tonight?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight. I won’t have time in the morning. She’ll probably pass out asleep before I pull up to the front doors.”
I could tell Audrey already had Violet’s bags packed and halfway into the car. My sixth sense tingled; I wasn’t saying no to this one.
“The event ends in two hours. That should be just enough time to bring her my way. We’re going to dinner though. Think she’ll find energy to do that?” I asked, sitting in my chair behind my booth.
“Vi! You want dinner with Daddy?” Audrey screamed into the receiver, followed by Vi’s excited squeals. “I guess she wants dinner. We’ll load up her overnight bag and head your way. Text me the hotel address.”
I must have audibly sighed. Audrey picked up on it faster than a bloodhound around piece of dropped turkey on Thanksgiving.
“Just call me when you’re in the area, and I’ll figure out the rest. I shouldn’t be long leaving here. I’ll let Brian and the gang know. He’s picking up Analise from the hotel, since she wanted to veg out and watch terrible horror movies.” I checked my watch. “I’d imagine that won’t take him longer than it will for our exchange.”
Violet yelled in excitement over the phone. Audrey could barely get a few words out. “Thanks, I owe you. I know she’ll be a handful to keep an eye on at the event. We’ll head out now. See you soon. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The phone disconnected, and I was once again thrust back into the reality of being at the convention. Surprisingly, it was trafficked but fairly dead by all rights. I spotted the one or two stragglers traversing my aisle alongside small families dressed as Art the Clown or wearing competing convention shirts to show they’d been to a different con and that they support the brand. I doubted I would sell another book.
I admired the artwork on the hanging signs. I wondered who did their convention art. Was it someone here, or was it an outside source? Then I noticed the abundance of cameras tacked to every pillar and column as far as I could see. There wasn’t a blind spot in the joint. Big Brother really was watching, weren’t they? With the uptick in public violent attacks, it was a reasonable measure. Between that and the guards wanding everyone on the way in, this should be uneventful.
I stared into the abyss, awaiting the coveted announcement stating the convention would be closing in ten minutes. The booming voice was a welcomed sound to my ears, because I wasted no time packing up my electronics and other goodies and loading my backpack to begin the journey to the exit. I figured it best to text Brian on the way out, letting him know I’d be plus-one for this evening. It was going to be a long Saturday.
Chapter 14
“This situation has got eldritch coming out the ass.”
— Cpl Flynn Taggart, DOOM by Dafydd ab Hugh
Brian understood what had gone down. The quick text of I have a plus-one seemed straightforward enough. I pulled into the front of the hotel and noticed my wife’s SUV parked already. The vehicle was vacant, and I assumed they were in the lobby. I grabbed my electronics for the event, slung the bag onto my back, and started for the lobby.
“Daddy!” Violet screamed as she squealed her way across a tired lobby. For the hour that it was, this kid was full of energy. “Are we dinnering with Mr. Brian?”
I took a knee, looking my wife in the eye briefly, then refocused on Violet. “We are! Do you want to ride the elevator to the top? We can put your bag in the room.”
“ELEVATOR! ELEVATOR! ELEVATOR!” Violet chanted as she marched around the lobby sofa with her bag dragging behind her.
“Thanks for this. I owe you,” Audrey said.
“It’s easier for me to keep an eye on her where I am than it is for you. It’s not an issue. She can restock my books.” I laughed as Violet still paraded around the chair with limitless energy. “It’s the least she can do.”
Audrey checked her phone. “I need to get back if I want to get enough sleep for work tomorrow. See you on Sunday night?”
I stared blankly. Any questions involving money, time, or dates were a blur to me. “Yes? Oh, right. The thing ends on Sunday. Should be home by eight.”
Eventually the gears turned enough for everything to make sense. I checked my phone as well to verify the convention information.
“I’ll be up here tomorrow around four to snag her. It’s an hour or so from work. If I get out on time, I’ll be there,” Audrey said. “Should I just text you when I’m in the area?”
“Yes. Also, text Brian. You know how I am at an event. More eyes looking at their phones, the better. At least he could send over Marissa or Callie to poke me.”
I hugged my wife, and she said goodbye to Violet. As soon as the revolving door ceased to spin, Violet calmed down entirely.
“We are riding the elevator now, yes?” she asked.
I nodded, fishing my room key from my pocket. I walked her to the elevators, but not before mouthing my apologies to the exhausted-looking receptionist. Violet took the key from my hand and activated the elevator. She dashed inside the first open lift, and I quickly followed.
“Which floor are we?”
“Three,” I said. I wondered if Keith had the day off today. He seemed like a cool dude.
I watched Violet stare at the number pad for a few moments before I gestured toward the button that read 3.
“I knew that!” she scoffed.
Once inside the hotel room, we dumped our belongings, and Violet took a grand tour of the luxury one-room suite. She thought the ironing board was classy, as was the luggage stand. To this day, I don’t think I had ever used the luggage stand. I actually had to Google what the hell it was used for a few years ago—resting a bag on during unpacking to not dirty the bed. I let the kiddo stare in amazement at our super-high third-floor view, which overlooked an overhang full of trash and bird shit.
“Neat!” she said.
“Ready to grab food with Mr. Brian and the gang? Analise is there.”
“Analise! She’s my bestest friend,” Violet belted out as she marched toward the front door.
I thought to myself I had a strange kid, but I also know it was good how expressive she was. Very assertive little brat sometimes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. We ambled toward the elevator as I texted Brian that we were on our way.
Chapter 15
“The fear of blood tends to create fear for the flesh.”
— Silent Hill
The restaurant was packed. I was thankful Marissa had called ahead for reservations. I approached the table and saw Barrios had also joined us, as well as Sawney and even Cailin. We were clearly a server’s worst nightmare, with the number of us who circled the table. Violet immediately took the chair next to Analise.
“About time you got here,” Brian joked.
“Did you have the corn?” Marissa laughed.
I knew I’d never live that down. I sat next to Barrios and quickly grabbed the menu. This place was a Tex Mex and Asian infusion restaurant. What a combo!
“We let the server know to come back in a few. Shouldn’t be waiting long,” Callie said.
I panned the menu while everyone engaged in small talk.
“Did you happen to watch any of the Mayfield Mayhem films?” Barrios interjected.
The table fell to a mild hush.
“Those movies are fu—I mean messed up,” Sawney said, eyeing Violet.
“I watched the one where the family is in a motel, and a group of psychos torture them. It was messed up, and that’s putting it lightly!” Cailin said. “I’m not into gross horror like that, but I wanted to know who this guy was.”
“Is it that bad?” Callie asked.
“Woof,” I breathed out.
“That bad, huh?” Callie replied.
Sawney sat forward. “I wrote a book about a dude who banged a space cat, and even I was taken aback. Let me just say that.”
“I happened to watch the one from a few years ago called Zoopocalypse, and it was just so gritty and nasty. Animals just tearing into screaming people for the sake of shock value,” Marissa contributed. “I stopped after the first fifteen minutes.”
“Fifteen? That’s a new record for you and horror,” Brian joked.
Marissa smirked before regarding the waiter. We put in our orders and had a pleasant evening. Marissa ordering chocolate milk with whipped cream for some reason was the highlight of discussion for a while. The food was amazing. We even saved room for dessert, as they say. Violet tore into her hybrid mochi and fried ice cream. It sounded weird to me, but she absolutely enjoyed it. Before long, we had cleared our table and were in the parking lot. Violet yawned, and her blinks became longer and longer.
“Well, that’s it for me, you party animals,” Brian said, checking his phone.
“Eleven too late for you?” I asked.
“Okay, Mr. ‘I don’t sleep ever.’ Some of us actually want to sleep before this thing starts tomorrow.”
“Is it nine?” Sawney asked, fishing for his keys.
“Early entry is nine. Event proper is ten,” Cailin added, tightening her hoodie.
Two or three of us groaned, knowing it would be a long day tomorrow. Nine in the morning all the way until eight at night? A thirteen-hour marathon. I figured we’d be dead by tomorrow night. Somehow we would have to dig in our heels and find the strength to make it to Sunday. This was what I always did, though. I’d bitch and moan about the length of the event, and by Monday, I’d be missing it. My friends, the excitement, and the environment would make the event go by so much faster.
Each of us packed into our respective cars. I don’t know when Violet fell asleep on the ride to the hotel, but she was out like a rock. I had to carry her corpselike body, limp and unresponsive save for the occasional snore, through the lobby. The receptionist likely picked up on the change in my energy as I boarded the elevator—the slowness of my steps, the quiet sigh I let out, all screamed bedtime.
I carefully laid out tomorrow morning’s outfits, and I ensured I properly placed Violet in the bed. I took a few moments to get myself together and unwound by watching another Mayfield film on my laptop, listening with my earbuds. This one was an early film, from almost seventeen years ago, simply named, Found. Most of his titles were a play on the plot, like something about an office or a subway station. This was such a vague title.
A young, blonde female victim stumbled upon two others before the killer descended upon them. The third girl tried to write HELP US in the sawdust-coated floor before meeting her demise. There was no thought in this, but I could see how folks clung to the visceral animalistic nature of the filming process Mayfield took.
After about twenty minutes of another so-called recording that the police had found, according to the splash text, I’d had enough of this madness. I powered down the laptop and passed out in the bed without disturbing Violet.
SATURDAY
“We’re on an express elevator to hell, going down!”
— Pvt Hudson, Aliens
Chapter 16
‘It strikes me profoundly that the world is more often than not a bad and cruel place.”
— Patrick Bateman, Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho
Getting myself together was one thing. Getting Violet together? Another beast. Try to put stockings on a cat while it was on fire on a roller coaster. That was the easier of the two tasks between that and getting Violet dressed in the morning. To my surprise, she’d already hit the bathroom, had cleaned herself up, and was brushing her teeth. Who was this child, and where was the pod she had emerged from?
She waved to me and continued to brush. I stumbled awake, turning the television on to Disney. Bluey was playing, as was my morning tradition. Something about Dad getting takeout, I believe. Violet wrapped up in the bathroom and plopped down to watch cartoons. I showered, dressed, and snagged all of my electronics from their chargers.
We ventured to the hotel-provided breakfast. Violet grabbed six whole pancakes and an orange. I didn’t stop her. Who was I to tell her that it was a bad idea? I poured a cup of some generic Special K-looking cereal and 2% milk. I finished fairly quickly as Violet munched on pancake number four. To my surprise, she only didn’t finish the orange, which I could reconcile by bringing with us to the convention.
“You ready for a big day?” I asked.
Violet nodded.
“Mommy is coming to grab you in the afternoon so you don’t have to stay there all day with me,” I said before slurping up the milk in the bowl.
Violet pouted and harrumphed as she shoved one more bite of pancake into her face, then called it quits completely.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
Violet tapped her stomach. “Someone around here ate too much pancakes.”
I glanced around the room. “Who would have done such a thing?”
Violet smiled and shrugged innocently. I checked my watch—8:30. We needed to get into the building before they opened.
Violet tried to get up from the table but knocked her unused syrup onto the booth. I groaned and hastily grabbed a wad of napkins to soak up the syrup explosion. Feeling our window of arriving on time closing with every tick, we rushed to the car. After being convinced we hit every red traffic light in the city while driving to the convention center, I turned into the garage.
A different sentry manned the gate, much younger and not as friendly. “Fifth floor, turn left for the parking.” He offered me nothing further. No “Good day, how you doin?” or anything.
The gate lifted, and I pulled around and upward. I parked near where I had yesterday, which was nice for familiarity. I quickly grabbed my badges, electronics, and Violet, and we strode to the show floor.
“Cutting it close, are we?” Cailin asked as I pushed down the aisles to my table.
“You know it,” I said with a smile.
“Where is Mr. Brian’s table?” Violet asked.
“I’ll take you there soon, and you can hang out with Analise for the day if you’d like. Okay?”
