Book Five, Chapter 62: A Walk Down Memory Lane

With an abundance of caution, we decided not to go to the bowling alley immediately but rather to head back to the loft to do some research.

Now that we knew the name of the storyline—or at least were reasonably confident that we were on the money—we could do some digging. The only way to confirm that this was the right storyline, unfortunately, was to find the actual omen and see if the missing posters of Logan and Avery appeared on it when we were near it.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the mini-quest we were on; it was that I didn’t need to trust when I could verify.

If we had the most recent copy of the Atlas, we would have all kinds of details about the bowling alley, even if it was missing a whole bunch of older stuff. But since we had the older version, Grace and her team weren’t around to map out how to navigate that area.

Luckily, we weren’t going to try bowling or hanging out indefinitely. We just needed to get in and get out, and I was confident that my scouting trope would be sufficient for that.

On the one occasion we had gone to the bowling alley before, I was able to anticipate most or all of the problems that Grace and her team had studied, even if I didn’t know how the individual mobile omens would behave.

Avoiding them would not be a problem, but we would certainly not be able to bowl a whole set.

As soon as we got back to the loft, we sat in the living room crisscross applesauce because we didn’t have enough chairs for everyone, so it was first-come, first-served.

Meanwhile, Kimberly whipped out her phone and dialed up her talent agent, Sal.

It only rang for half a ring.

“Kimberly, sometimes it feels like you only call me when you need to ask about a role,” Sal said as soon as he picked up.

“You try to tell me about a role every time I call anyway,” she said.

“You got me there, sweetheart. What can I help you with?” he said.

“What can you tell me about the movie Stray Dawn: The Mark?” she asked.

“Huh, well, that one is a remake,” Sal said. “Let me look through my stacks.”

We listened as he shuffled through papers. I had to wonder if the NPC playing Sal was just fumbling through random sheets of paper or if he actually had information or scripts in front of him.

“Oh, here we go,” Sal said. “That one was already made a few years ago. It was a moderate hit, but, you know, they do have a script floating around for Stray Dawn. I don’t know if it’s a reboot or a remake, or heck, this might actually be the original script. I can poke around if you’re interested.”

Kimberly muted the phone and looked up at me. That was not a response we had gotten from Sal before. He would usually tell us about any story, even stories that we were grossly incompatible with.

“She’s the Detective advanced archetype,” I said. “Stray Dawn: The Mark is probably a version of the movie that was altered by her advanced archetype, so we can’t run it.”

Kimberly nodded. She unmuted the phone and said, “All right, tell me everything you know about Stray Dawn.”

“I made some notes when I first read this script, and I have to say, this one will be a little bit of a challenge for you. It’s an older stylistic horror with some ancient curse involved. Honestly, if you ask me, it’s a bit of a clash. On the one hand, you have this angsty, emotional teen story that takes center stage, and on the other hand, you have a much older, more ancient backstory that I think doesn’t get the attention it deserves.”

That was Sal for you—details without details.

“Do you know where it’s set?” Kimberly asked.

“Yeah, just something about a gothic mansion in southern Carousel, though I think most of the shots of Carousel Proper are from southeastern Carousel. I imagine they’ll try to make it look like those two places are close together, but I don’t know, whatever the case. There are no big city sites for this story. I know you’ll hate that.”

“Can you tell me anything about my character?” Kimberly asked.

“A fish out of water who’s new to town and just trying to fit in. It’s that type of thing. It’s one of those frustrating stories that’s about finding yourself when all the audience actually wants to know about is the cool lore, the mystery, and the background characters.”

“Anything else you can tell me?” Kimberly asked. “Anything about the difficulty or the plot?”

“I’ve forgotten the plot, and I didn’t make a note about it, but that was probably because it didn’t really have an effect on me. This is a coming-of-age sort of thing, probably not that complicated if you follow me. I will say there’s some brutal, bloody stuff in this that’ll probably get cut out for TV,” Sal said.

From what he was talking about, there was good news and bad news.

From the sound of it, the storyline was too challenging to get much concrete information using her talent agent trope. But on the other hand, it wasn’t going to be too far out of our league because he wasn’t exactly tight-lipped like he was when you asked him about a storyline that was just too strong.

“All right,” Kimberly said. “I’ll give you a call later.”

“Ciao,” Sal said, and he hung up the phone.

“That doesn’t sound right,” Andrew said. “It’s on the mountain near the Powerworks Pavilion. I don’t remember there being a gothic mansion up there, and if there were, surely that would be the location listed on Logan and Avery’s missing posters.”

I had similar thoughts.

“It has to be,” Antoine said. “It would be too much of a coincidence if we just happened to find a very similar werewolf in a storyline that’s completely unrelated. Plus, the Powerworks Pavilion is as southern as Carousel goes.”

“There’s only one way to know for sure,” I said. “We have to actually take the missing posters and get eyes on the omen. Until then, we’re just guessing. And let’s not forget that we don’t actually know how missing posters work. For all we know, the Powerworks Pavilion is just listed as their place of death because it’s the nearest major setting.”

We talked for a bit about our plans, and most of us were in agreement.

In the morning, we were going to the bowling alley, but this time we weren’t bringing everyone. This wasn’t a relaxing time out or a shopping trip.

This was surveillance, and we needed to move quickly and be ready in case we encountered a problem.

As I sat at the kitchen table, continuing a fruitless search for any information about the bowling alley from our outdated version of the Atlas, Kimberly, Antoine, and Dina approached me.

“Can we talk?” Kimberly asked.

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” I said, but I smiled so they’d know I was really saying yes.

“What do you wanna talk about?” I asked.

“We need to discuss what happened today at Carousel Family Video,” Antoine said.

I was puzzled.

“Hasn’t that been what we’ve been talking about all day? I mean, we’ve been planning this trip to the bowling alley since before we even knew what storyline we were looking for.”

They looked at each other with a concerned gaze that made me uncomfortable.

“We’re talking about that poster,” Kimberly said. “Why were your parents on a poster? Those were your parents, right?”

“Oh, that,” I said. I thought for a moment, then replied, “Carousel’s just messing with me. It has been since the beginning—talking about my grandparents, just teasing me, that sort of thing.”

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“Why would it put a picture of your parents—and you—on what looked like a storyline poster? That is what we’re asking,” Antoine said.

I shrugged. “Like I told you, it’s just teasing me. It’s trying to lure me back there, so I’ll fall for whatever trap it was the crybaby warned us about. Just Carousel being Carousel.”

The others didn’t seem so sure.

“Well, don’t you want to know what’s going on there?” Antoine pressed. “Why would Dina’s son’s ghost tell you to go downstairs, but the baby warns you there’s a danger if you walk in that direction?”

“I don’t know why,” I said. “We won’t know until we try it, and we agreed to put it off. If we don’t pull the thread, the sweater stays together.”

“Just because we’re putting off actually going there doesn’t mean we can’t discuss it,” Antoine replied. “Was that a real picture of your parents—and you—on the poster?”

I nodded.

“We took it on a trip to Six Flags, or some theme park, maybe a carnival—I don’t remember; I was too young. But it was in our house, the picture. I don’t know why Carousel put it on a poster, but probably just to mess with me, like I’ve been telling you over and over again.”

They paused, exchanging glances again, which was really starting to bother me. They were acting like I’d been diagnosed with some strange, deadly illness.

“I thought you were an orphan,” Kimberly said. “That’s what Anna said—that your parents died.”

I didn’t talk about that.

“So, if you know, why do you need to talk to me about it?” I asked.

“Because we’re concerned,” Antoine said. “How did Carousel know you’d be drawn to a poster with your parents on it?”

“Because it’s human nature,” I replied. “If it had been a poster of your brother, you’d have tried to read what it said.”

“Yeah,” Antoine said, “but my brother was literally in Carousel and died here. Your parents died over a decade before we even got here, didn’t they?”

“I’m telling you,” I said, standing up from my seat. “Carousel just likes to mess with me. That’s why it talks about my grandparents. That’s why it got Dina’s ghost son to try to lure me into a trap—actually, I’m not sure what was going on there, but the point is, it likes to mess with me. I mean, it gave me my old TV just a few days ago.”