Book Six, Chapter 94: Knock Knock

Like many nights after coming back to the loft from a storyline, we eventually found ourselves on the roof, relaxing.

But it wasn’t that we were completely comfortable with each other yet. We were getting there, and a few mixed drinks under the stars couldn’t hurt. Normalcy wasn’t the default in Carousel. It was a choice.

Just as I had come to expect, any conversation could eventually become a conversation about our various experiences in storylines.

Like pretty much every team that had come through Camp Dyer, Nicole’s team had run Delta Epsilon Delta and had its own story to talk about.

“So there I was,” Molly said, flutes of champagne deep, “seconds from death, and Ranger Danger is walking over to me, menacing as the day is long. Nicole here was literally in the other room, sifting through papers, trying to figure out the identity of the killer while pretending she didn’t hear me getting murdered next door. Because we already knew the motive, it was obvious the killer was targeting people who had cheated on a recent math final. And unfortunately, our characters had done it. I understood why I would, but I was most disappointed in Nicole. And as he’s towering over me, about to stab me to death, all I can do is put all of my Mettle into one kick, and I kick him right between the legs. But he doesn’t even flinch, not even a little, so Lorne says—”

“Amber, is that you?” Lorne added without missing a beat. They had told this story before.

“Exactly,” Molly continued, “because there was only one suspect who wouldn’t be crumpled on the floor after a kick between the legs. So she takes off her mask, and suddenly it’s obvious, the killer was a five-foot-five, one-hundred-and-ten-pound sorority girl. How did we not notice before? I have no idea.”

People laughed at the stories. It was a pretty good time.

“Ah, the good old days,” Antoine said. “Getting chased around by Ranger Danger, trying to see what you could make happen.”

Everyone had their Ranger Danger stories. Kimberly had told ours, which always made me embarrassed because they tried to make it seem like I was some sort of genius when all I did was get lucky.

Lorne was resting his head on the table as he said, “Storylines aren’t that much fun to live through, but they’re great to talk about afterward, once you get some distance and forget a little.” He looked at Antoine. “How many times have you all run Delta Epsilon Delta anyway? We must have done it a dozen times.”

“Only once,” Antoine said, “but I heard some stories back at Camp Dyer. Really helps remind you it is a game, no matter how real it feels at the time.”

Before anyone could say anything else, Janet commented, sitting in a lounge chair next to Bobby, “Is this a TV show or what? I’m confused. When did this happen?”

Antoine took a deep breath and looked at Bobby.

“It’s a sort of live action role play,” Bobby said to his wife. “People from all over play it. I’ve told you about it. It’s from the forums, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Janet said, but then she quickly turned back to the rest of us and changed the subject. “So what do you all do for a living? I’m curious what kinds of people can just take off for a horror festival for weeks at a time.”

Bobby had to continuously remind her that that was what was going on, because every once in a while, she would ask him when they were leaving to go home.

The tension was palpable, and the Camp Dyer mentality of just ignoring the NPC in the room was wearing thin.

Lorne was the only person who seemed willing to answer. Most were a bit skeeved out by the Janet situation, and we hadn’t had a good catharsis on that yet.

“I was a real estate lawyer,” he said. “Did some criminal defense pro bono.”

There was always a certain sadness when people talked about the before times. Memories of life before Carousel provided less and less comfort the longer we were here.

“Bobby’s a veterinarian,” Janet said, “He has three clinics and one horse rehab center. I insisted. I love horses. I wouldn’t take no for an answer. He’s a great doctor.”

She cuddled up against Bobby.

The group went even quieter, if that was possible. Because Bobby wasn’t actually a veterinarian, he worked in IT. Bobby did have a background trope that made him a veterinarian for the purposes of a storyline, or, of course, for the purposes of instructing NPCs on how to treat him.

“You know what we need?” Janet asked. “Margaritas. Who wants one?”

She got up and headed toward the bar, which was freshly stocked from our trip to Eternal Savers Club.

Most people were silent, trying to look at the ground or otherwise looking at Bobby.

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“I’ll take one,” Isaac said. Then he looked sheepishly at us and said, “What? We might as well get something out of this whole thing.”

Due to the recent influx of players into Kimberly’s loft and the attached apartments, sleeping arrangements had been changed, and for the first time, I had roommates.

My room also doubled as a storage area for some of the various toiletries and other goods we had acquired from our shopping trip, not that I could complain. They were a sign of abundance.

I was sleeping in my Murphy bed, hanging from the brick wall, and staring down at the pallets that had been made for Camden and Isaac. Again, I really couldn’t complain; at least I had a proper mattress. They just had a bunch of blankets and padding.

Still, I found myself unable to sleep. I rolled over onto my stomach and stared out the window at the lights of Carousel at night. I was stuck with my normal decision: do I try to get sleep by unequipping my hysteric trope I Don’t Like It Here, or do I keep that trope equipped just in case and use my instant sleeping trope Out Like a Light?

Which was better in the long term, I had no idea. But it didn’t end up mattering.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Someone was at the front door. Or something.

I was up and on my feet in a split second, running out of the room in nothing but my pajama bottoms that Kimberly had looted for me. I got up so fast that my bed retreated into the wall with a crash. Its springs were extra powerful and operated on a hair trigger to make them a little scarier.

Isaac was right on my tail as I was out of the room and down the hall, and as I turned the corner to see the front door, panic set in because it turned out I wasn’t the first person to get there.

Janet was.

“No!” I screamed, but she ignored me.

Instead, she looked through the peephole on the door and then started reaching for the lock.