Chapter 2: The Redgrave Event
Thirteen minutes remained before the midnight event, and the weather had turned threatening. The Victorian lamppost across from the arcade flickered as lightning strobed across the sky and the rain-slicked streets. Many animals took shelter from thick droplets of rain, glistening like pixels under the streetlights. Among the lights hung the newly installed ARCADIA VIDEOGAMES sign. Its vibrant glow of neon reds and blues cast a striking contrast against the freshly refurbished brick facade of Herbie’s Funtastic Pizzamore.
Brock sheltered under the covered walkway just beneath the arcade sign. He sat on the walkway outside Arcadia’s enormous spectator window. Inside, the arcade was dark except for the ambient glow of its game machine screens. One screen, belonging to the machine, Proteus, had an ominous and sporadic glitch. Brock took no interest in the strange flashes—he assumed they were caused by the lightning. He sat oblivious on a discarded pizza box, lost in his own world and the smell of wet pavement. But he wasn’t alone. Fellow scavengers of rats and pigeons joined him in shelter, eyeing the pizza slice in his hand.
“Thanks for your company, my friends––tonight especially, the anniversary of my wife and kids’ deaths,” Brock said in a quivering voice.
He sighed, leaning against the cold brick ledge beneath the arcade’s looming spectator window. Brock glanced down at his eager audience, broke up the crust into tiny pieces, and threw some to the pigeons, and the cheese morsels to the rats. The pigeons cooed as they pecked, and the rats squeaked and nibbled.
Brock bowed his head and continued, “Maybe that foul kid was right; why do I even bother living?”
He tossed a piece of pepperoni to a bulgy-eyed rat that screeched out its gratitude for the food.
“It’s my fault my family died…” Brock continued, “The priest said God could forgive me, but I have to forgive myself.”
He sighed again. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
He rambled his remorse to the animals, but their eyes were fixed on the next delicious bit of food.
“I could save a whole battalion, but not my family,” He continued pulling small pieces off the pizza and tossing them down to his eager audience. “I know it’s a sin to take your own life––but maybe God could forgive me just this once.” Brock bowed his head solemnly. He sighed and was about to mutter something—then his animal friends scattered.
The ground rumbled and then jolted.
The large window behind Brock made a loud rattle and then…
CRAAASH!
A deafening security alarm rang out. Shattered glass was all over Brock’s head, shoulders, and everywhere nearby. Disoriented, he looked around, trying to make sense of the moment. While he caught his breath, he brushed off the glass and hobbled to his feet.
Brock panicked, shrieking as he turned to see the broken spectator window looking back at him with a monstrous, shard-filled grin.
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “My mind’s playing tricks on me,” Brock mumbled. “But what the hell caused the window to break like that?”
He focused past the shards of the window frame and gazed into the arcade. This time, he saw strobes of light surrounded by a luminescent swirl of turquoise. Then, all at once, the light twisted, merging into something—something that rushed straight at him.
Brock jumped back and shuddered in disbelief—only to be barraged by a small herd of strange animals fleeing out the shattered window. He struggled to stay on his feet amid the bombarding escape.
After the jarring event subsided, he turned to watch the animals running out into the night and tried to make sense of what he had just seen. He thought about the odd characteristics of the creatures. Although most were about the size of small birds and cats, some had four wings, others had three legs, and a few were even glowing. Then he muttered to himself, “B-but… animals like that don’t exist! Do they?” He stood and pondered in bewilderment.
Brock might have thought this was all a dream, but the screeching security alarm was sobering enough. He dared to look into the strange room again, and the Proteus game machine began to tremble as its screen erratically flickered. Brock’s eyes widened when he saw the machine monitor strobe segments of its video game sequence. The bright screen glitched wildly, flashing a reversed countdown—then, in a sudden final burst, GAME OVER appeared. Then a skull and crossbones image strobed, pixelated graphics fizzled across the screen.
A halo of energy churned before the Proteus coin door. Then, from the swirling portal, a man-creature in a red tunic crawled into the arcade. The humanoid moved with an appearance of distress as it maneuvered around the game floor. Then the sound of a digitized roar filled the room, and an enormous slime-covered tentacle shot out of the whirl of light, ensnaring the being’s waist. Not even the blaring security alarm could break Brock’s concentration—he could only stare and marvel at the terrifying sights.
The alien man struggled to get free, brandishing his illuminated fist at the serpentine appendage. As the off-worlder gasped for breath, his fist grew brighter. The base of the large tendril lit up, was severed from its source, and fell to the floor, where it writhed.
The sinuous tentacle discharged a blinding energy, launching the humanoid to the ground. The tentacle vaporized, the security alarm was silenced, and the room was darkened except for the faint glow of the humanoid that trembled and staggered about. His shaking intensified, hands emitted bursts of energy. Ten marble-sized chunks ejected from the being’s hands. They glowed molten red, rolling across the floor and sparking with each bounce. Soon after, their radiance faded into the darkness, lost and scattered around the showroom.
The humanoid disintegrated into a mist of illuminated particles. Then the otherworldly dust spun into an ethereal orb with eyes and a semblance of a face inside. Brock’s toes tingled from lack of circulation—he shifted his stance, disturbing the broken glass around his feet. The shards scraped upon each other, creating an eerie shing as they cascaded down, splintering like a chorus of tiny, jagged chimes clinking and crashing together. Brock’s eyes widened as he looked down, gasping, knowing the being must have heard his blunder. He looked up as the spectral face in the arcade locked its piercing gaze upon him. Brock was in a frozen state of bewilderment until…
CRASH!
Brock jumped to his senses at the sound of a long glass blade that dislodged and fell from the upper window frame. He looked down next to his foot, where the glass had just shattered, and a wave of fear took hold of him. He realized he hadn’t felt this kind of fear since running the beaches of Normandy in the Second World War. Brock’s limbic system urged him to run. He frantically looked around for a path to safety and prayed his legs wouldn’t fail him. Then he gave a final glance back at the room of chaos and saw there was no orb or any other unnatural things. Brock was alone. Safe. He breathed a sigh of relief, but as he looked around the disheveled room again, he knew it would be best to promptly leave.
Brock’s mind raced with thoughts: Who’s gonna believe me? God, I hope nobody blames me… His footsteps quickened as he rushed to escape, glancing over his shoulder. But when he turned back—he was face to face with the orb!
Its illuminated gaze fixed onto Brock’s eyes with a sight that was almost blinding. He stood almost motionless, trembling, as he kissed his rosary and whispered, “Jesus help me…” A blazing light filled the walkway. The radiance dimmed, and all was quiet again—including the storm. But Brock and the ethereal being were nowhere to be seen.
Moments later, another flash of light burst in front of the Proteus game—a small tremor followed, then a whirling light. Sparks of fairy creatures raced through the bright portal, trilling around the arcade like a flurry of stardust dolls. Then, with the laughter of children, they darted out of the broken window way, glowing into the night like fireflies that flickered on and off in the distance.
Only one straggler remained behind and watched the others glowing into the night. The lone fairy admired the reflection of her radiant beauty in one of the standing plates of glass. She smiled and pushed the large shard over, giggling as it broke on the floor. Then, she too raced off to join her companions.
The portal light flickered, fading slowly, until the arcade was swallowed by darkness.
Twelve gaming machines stood like a Stonehenge—enshrouded and solemn.
In the center of it all was Proteus, facing the sky as if it were staring out into the remote starlight. Was it plotting something dark and sinister with the other machines? Regardless, something big was about to unravel. Someone or something was behind it all.
Sheriff Raynor pulled up to the front of the arcade.
Kessler stood at the front window, inspecting the damage, then waved the sheriff over.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” the sheriff said, holding his flashlight as he joined the man.
“Yeah…” Kessler groaned, standing with his mouth open. He peered into the showroom where the sheriff spotlit the room. “Thank the gods my machines are intact! I’ll have to run diagnostics, though.”
The sheriff glanced at the wiry man with long, unkempt hair and shook his head. “Did you say, thank the—gods?” He turned to the side and grumbled, “These damned hippies.”
Kessler gave no reaction to the sheriff’s comment, and instead asked, “What do you think, Sheriff? Vandalism? Break-in?”
“Hard to say at this point. Either would explain why your place is in such disarray. Only, it looks more like someone broke out rather than in. Look at how the glass shattered outward onto the sidewalk. We’ll take a look around the back and see if the break-in was there. I’ll need you to check to see if anything was stolen and give me a list.”
Kessler nodded.
“Made any enemies lately?”
“Not that I’m aware of.” Kessler frowned. “Although there are those that aren’t happy I’ve set up shop here.”
“Sounds like a yes to me. But it could be something else. Y’know, that kid working for you—he’s got a bit of a shady side. I’ve busted him a few times.”
“Not a chance, he’s a good kid.” Kessler defended.
“If you say so,” the sheriff replied with a sarcastic laugh. “Well, let’s get on with it. Open your door; I’m not climbing over this mess and risking castrating myself.” Sheriff Raynor pointed his flashlight down at the brick-lined ledge. The beam caught the glistening edges of jagged glass piercing outward from the window frame—sharp, eager to gouge.
Kessler got out his keys and opened the door. “Strange…” he said, pausing as he struggled with the light switch. “…the lights aren’t working. Maybe a circuit was blown; that would explain why the alarm cut off. I’ll check the breaker in the back.” He activated a bright lime light that sprang from his watch.
“Wha—the hell? What kind of strange hocus pocus watch is that?”
“It’s technical,” Kessler replied nonchalantly and walked off.
“Never seen anything like that doohickey ya got there.”
“That’s because I made it…” Kessler mumbled as he made his way to the door behind the cash wrap counter. “…sure comes in handy for us hippies—in the dark.”
****
The heat of the morning gave way to a humid noon.
Danny, having just finished his deliveries, freshened up in the men’s bathroom at Herbie’s. Afterward, he joined Blake, Miguel, George, and Aaron, who were cheerfully gathered at a dining table, devouring a pepperoni pizza and sharing a pitcher of Coca-Cola.
The dim restaurant lit up momentarily when the front door opened, flooding the room with the brightness of the day. The sun danced on Karen’s feathered hair as she strutted in with her friend, Selene.
Karen was a modern-day Helen of Troy—the unattainable woman, leaving longing in her wake with her curvaceous sway and devious smile.
Selene, on the other hand, carried a quiet demeanor and a subtle presence—often rendering her invisible to those around her. The contrast was clear, down to the smallest details: Karen flaunted a designer purse, while Selene toted a novelty backpack.
“Oh, check it out, guys!” Aaron exclaimed, eyes alight with excitement. “The Siren just arrived.”
“Don’t call Karen that.” Blake scowled at Aaron, pulled out a silver pocket flask, took a sip, then casually waved Karen over.
George and Aaron sniggered until Blake slapped his hand on the table, silencing them with a half-glare.
Karen paraded over, her long legs strutting, high-cut jean shorts swaying, as she approached the lively table of rowdy boys. Selene trailed just behind her, all the while in Karen’s shadow.
“Guys, you know Selene,” Karen said, stepping to the side so that Selene, much shorter, could be seen.
Danny’s eyes widened as he beamed with a warm smile.
Aaron jumped up, his twisted grin aimed at Selene—but Karen met his gaze, with a knowing smile. She directed Selene to take the seat next to Aaron. Selene obeyed, though her expression soured.
Both Aaron and Danny fixed their eyes on Selene.
For Danny, she wasn’t a Karen head-turner, but something about Selene resonated with him—a timeless and eclectic beauty. Her soft features, sun-kissed complexion, and bangs framed her face, reminiscent of ancient Egyptian elegance. Danny found himself mesmerized and kept smiling.
Selene took notice and smiled back, blushing, before averting her eyes.
Aaron fidgeted with the spark wheel of his lighter, glancing at Selene before shifting his glare to Danny.
“Mmm, good—you already got the pizza on the table,” Karen said. “I’m starving––get some more, will ya?” She pressed her prominent chest against Blake and smiled, running her fingers through the bristles of his hair. “Oh, by the way—I got the chess club to do our homework again.”
Blake burst into laughter, nearly tipping off the thick hardwood bench. “Well, I suppose you saved me a trip. I was gonna rough them up a bit, but I guess it was nice for them that you did it your way.”
“Siii-ren!” Miguel coughed out the name in mocking syllables.
“Put a lid on it, Moose,” Blake said with a half-smile, side-eyeing Miguel, who made a sheepish grin. Blake shook his head, smirking as he passed Miguel his flask.
Miguel took a swig, jarring the table as he slid the flask back.
“Easy, Miguel—you trying to start an earthquake? You almost knocked over my soda,” George cried.
“Hey, speaking of… did you guys feel the earthquake last night?” Danny asked.
“Yeah, I felt two of them, Wiz!” George chimed in. “Pretty intense…” “Hey, Wizard!” Aaron cut in. “I heard someone beat your high score on your pinball game!”
Danny shot Aaron a glance, then rolled his eyes.
“Anyone got a quarter?” Selene asked. “I wanna put a song on the jukebox.”
“I got one!” Aaron said eagerly, fishing through his pockets with determination.
“Don’t worry about it,” Danny said. “I know a trick where you can play as many songs as you like with no quarters.” He stood up, motioning for Selene to join him.
Aaron slumped down on the table, watching as the two walked off.
Selene followed closely, eyes gleaming with excitement.
Danny crouched by the jukebox, jimmied open the coin door, then flicked the wired coin trigger twice. He straightened up with a triumphant grin and closed the machine back up. “Go ahead—pick some songs you like.”
“Thanks,” Selene replied, smiling as she selected Strange Magic by ELO and Magic by Pilot.
“Hmmm,” Danny mused. “You really have a thing for magic, huh?”
“Yeah, you could say that,” Selene replied with a flicker in her eyes.
Danny froze, bewitched by Selene’s dark brown eyes.
“Something wrong?” she asked. “You looked like you were about to say something and then you didn’t.”
“It’s just—I mean––you just…”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Danny tried to answer, but his attention was fixated on Selene—immersed in the way the jukebox light reflected in her eyes.
“You’re not about to get creepy on me, are you?” Selene smirked, shaking her head.
“Nah, I just––what I meant to say is, I really dig those songs,” Danny muttered, averting his eyes. “I just got the eight-track album of Pilot.”
“Yeah, I need to get it, too,” Selene said.
“Hey, Wiz! We still gonna see Jaws tonight, right?” Blake called out from the table.
“Uh, yeah––I guess!” Danny shouted back, then sighed. “Geez, we’ve only seen the thing about three times so far. Have you seen it?” he asked, turning back to Selene.
“I saw it once––and once was enough,” Selene replied.
Danny shrugged. “To each their own.”
“I suppose so. Why do they call you Wizard?”
“It’s because I love playing pinball, especially the one called Wizard!”
“Oh, like that movie, Tommy—The Pinball Wizard!” Selene said, her smile brightening.
“Yeah,” Danny confirmed, grinning back at her. “By the way, I like your sense of style,” he added, gesturing toward her pendant. “I thought it was a crucifix at first, but it’s an ankh—like that Isis TV show. Pretty far out.”
“This thing?” Selene asked, touching her necklace and tracing her fingertips down to the pendant.
Danny leaned in, narrowing his eyes at the pendant. “Is that a scarab in the center? What’s it made of?”
“It is. The ankh is Egyptian gold, and the scarab is onyx. It’s––an amulet, actually.”
“Don’t those protect against evil or something?” Danny asked.
“It’s supposed to. My grandmother insists I wear it––always. It’s an old family heirloom. Oh, and I have a Secrets of Isis backpack, too!” Selene turned around, showing him the backpack with the printed Isis logo and pictures. “I guess you could say I’m a fan,” she giggled. “I’m actually part Egyptian––and Mexican––and a mix of other things.”
Danny grinned. “Wow, sounds exotic.”
“I guess. So, are you a fan of the Isis show, too?” Selene asked.
“I’ve seen a few episodes. She’s pretty foxy. So, does your amulet give you magic powers, too?” Danny teased.
“Maybe,” Selene replied with a smile.
Danny flashed a mischievous grin. “Yeah, I’ll bet it does. You’ve certainly enchanted me.” He winked.
“Oh, aren’t you clever,” she chuckled.
“I know, I know––cheesy, but it sure got you to blush,” Danny teased, his grin widening.
Selene shook her head with exaggerated innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Danny laughed. “You know, I thought amulets were big and round.”
“You might be thinking of a medallion.”
“I guess, but yours looks more like a pendant.”
Selene raised her brows. “That’s because it is.”
“But I thought you said it was an amulet.”
“Well, amulets can actually be either pendants or medallions, as long as they’re used as magical protection for the person who wears them.”
Danny smirked. “I think you made that up.”
“I think you should stick to pinball, Wizard.” Selene quipped, giving him a light pat on the shoulder before turning to walk away.
“Hey, wait—you should join us tonight!” Danny called after her. “Come with us to the movies, and then we’ll figure something out for later.” He hesitated, remembering he didn’t have a car to pick her up. Then, thoughts of how she might complicate his life crept in, along with his therapist’s advice to avoid dating for a while to gain better perspective.
Selene turned back to face Danny with twinkling eyes. “That your way of asking me on a date, Mr. Wizard?”
Danny grinned. “Who, me? Nah, I’m kinda too busy for dating right now—but you should really come. And if you do…” His grin deepened. “I can’t promise I won’t try to kiss you at some point.” I can still flirt, he thought. Even my shrink couldn’t argue with that.
“Yeah, well, Wiz––I only kiss guys that can ask me out on proper dates. If they’re lucky.” Selene turned up her nose with a laugh and walked away.
Danny’s grin widened. “Ssssassy,” he said, grimacing as he watched her scamper off, her curvy hips swaying in those deviously tight bellbottoms.
Selene returned to the table, sat down with the others, then looked up at Danny, smirked, and shook her head.
Danny continued smiling at Selene—until the front door swung open. His expression curdled into dread as the sheriff strode in. The room seemed to shrink with the commanding rustle of his starched uniform.
Danny listened to each hard-soled step—each one sounding off like a countdown to doomsday.
Without breaking stride, the sheriff grabbed his son by the collar, spinning him around with a ruthless motion. “C’mere, boy,” His coarse voice was low, invading Blake’s personal space. “Did you or your pissant friends vandalize that new arcade next door?”
Blake flinched. “N-no!” The word barely escaped his lips.
“What’s that, boy?” The sheriff barked, eyes raking over Blake. “Straighten up when you speak to me!” His glare bored into his son, sharp and unrelenting.
Blake snapped to attention—shoulders stiff, eyes flickering but locked straight ahead—as he sounded off, “No, sir!” in a well-practiced response.
Danny watched the achingly familiar scene from the safety of the jukebox. He had seen this awkward spectacle too many times before. Blake’s voice, though steady, betrayed something deeper—the childhood bed-wetting boy Danny grew up with, broken and molded under the sheriff’s tyranny.
“You sure, boy?”
“Sir! Yes, sir!”
“What about the gnomes? My station got flooded with reports of someone stealing people’s garden gnomes. Know anything about that?”
“No, sir!”
“You had better be sure, boy. Last night I warned you about getting into any ruckus again,” the sheriff said as he clicked his tongue against his gold tooth and adjusted his belt.
Tension spread like a thick blanket, smothering the kids in silence as the sheriff strolled around the table, hands on his hips, gaze sweeping over their faces.
George clenched his teeth, eyes forward, sneaking the occasional glance at the sheriff.
Aaron’s shoulders stiffened, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress pants beneath the table.
Karen and Selene exchanged uncertain glances.
Miguel held his breath as the sheriff paused behind him, his gaze shifting to Blake—who remained frozen where his father had left him.
Danny lingered by the jukebox, watching from a deliberate distance. He shook his head—Leave it to the big mighty Sheriff Raynor, acting like stolen garden gnomes is a federal crime. He fought the urge to smirk, watching, curious to see what drama might unfold next.
On some level, Danny must have realized the familiar, ironic twist he was experiencing: yet another mutilation of the human spirit, brought on by the very parent meant to nurture and guide their child.
The silence broke when Miguel spoke up. “Sir, we never—”
“I don’t recall asking you a damned thing, Moosey!” Sheriff Raynor barked, looming over Miguel, jabbing his thick finger against Miguel’s broad chest. “Anyhow, as I was saying…” He turned to Blake, invading his space. “…if I find out otherwise…” his narrowed eyes locked onto Blake. “…you better believe you’ll regret it.” He pursed his lips, smacked them together, then swiped a slice of pizza off Aaron’s plate. Clomping away, he wore a look of satisfaction. “Have a nice day, boys and girls. Keep your noses clean,” he said, tipping his hat without looking back.
The sheriff’s Old Spice aftershave lingered like a promise that he was never far away if they ever got out of line.
Aaron stared at his empty plate, then slouched down on the bench with a frown.
“Geez, does he bathe in that stuff?” George mocked.
Aaron perked up, laughing. “It’s so strong, it’s melting my sinuses!” He waved a hand in front of his face, exaggerating the effect.
Miguel pinched his nose and turned to Blake. “What’d he do if you did vandalize that shop—lock you up?”
Blake smirked, shaking his head. “Shiiiiit, Moosey, he’d just knock me around as usual.” His eyes flicked around the table. “Soooooo, which one of you guys took the garden gnomes?” He cackled.
The boys exchanged looks, shrugging their shoulders, grunting, and snorting—until George erupted with his surprisingly high-pitched laugh. That was all it took. The group lost it, bursting into a howl of laughter.
Even Karen and Selene joined in, their giggles bubbling up as the tension finally eased. But Danny just rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, “Gnome theft… that’s gotta be a record for sheer ridiculousness.”
The laughter faded.
“Hey Blake, what’s that place your pops was talkin about?” George asked.
“My pops said it’s the arcade next door, Ox! Keep up with the conversation or keep your mouth shut,” Blake taunted.
George’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at Blake. “Don’t call me that.”
“Or what? Ox!”
George glared, clenching his trembling fists.
Miguel stepped in, resting a calming hand on George’s shoulder. “C’mon, man, let’s go play some pool.”
“Pool’s boring,” Blake scoffed. “C’mon, Wiz, show ’em how it’s done at a real game.” Blake glanced around for Danny, only to see him at the Circus pinball machine with Selene. Nearby, Aaron was hunched over the Wizard! machine.
“Ya think you’re the only one that knows how to play the Wizard! game?” Aaron called out, crinkling his nose and wagging his tongue at Danny. “Bet you’re mad I got on your game first! I’ll show ya—if you’re the Pinball Wizard, I’m the Pinball King!” He rattled the flippers on the Wizard! machine just enough to keep the ball in play. The colorful glow of the backboard flashed wildly across his determined face. “I’m gonna beat the high score. Watch me!”
Danny ignored Aaron, keeping his attention on Selene. “How long have you known Karen?” he asked, his voice cutting through the rings and rattles of the game.
“Since the beginning of the semester,” she replied. “I didn’t really know anyone—I had just moved here from Highland and…”
“We had English class together!” Karen called out, sashaying over with a playful grin. She laughed as she cut in. “The teacher was talking about phallic symbols of buildings and skyscrapers. I had no idea what that was—apparently, Selene is an expert.”
“I-it’s just a literary thing! I’m not the expert, Karen.” Selene’s cheeks flushed as she glanced down, trying to deflect Karen’s teasing laughter.
“True.” Karen smirked.
Blake grinned. “Yeah, well, if you want to see a perfect example of phallic buildings, check out the old city hall building in Los Angeles. It’s the whole set, I tell ya—the beans and the frank.”
Selene rolled her eyes, her attention drifting back to Danny. “I don’t think I saw you much last semester.”
“Y-yeah.” Danny’s face fell, his gaze dropping to the floor.
Aaron grumbled under his breath, nudging Karen, who stood beside him.
“Okay, okay.” Karen nodded, flashing a sly grin.
Karen marched over to Selene. “Hey, let’s watch Aaron play pinball.”
Selene turned away from Karen, her focus lingering on Danny. Karen grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer and leaning into her ear. Danny’s curiosity was piqued, his eyes following the exchange.
There was a beauty in the contrast between Karen’s bleached, feathered hair and Selene’s sleek noir bob, their profiles briefly mingling in the game room’s neon haze.
“Look,” Karen whispered, her voice low but firm, “I invited you along because Aaron wanted to meet you—and now you’re off flirting with Danny. Aaron’s been teaching me self-defense for free—it’s a lifesaver when creeps like Blake get too handsy. He asked me to introduce you two as a favor, so I need you to do this for me.”
“Okay, fine, I’m sorry,” Selene replied with defeat.
Danny’s brow furrowed as he watched Selene turn away, walking toward Aaron.
Aaron gave a nod to Karen, who paraded herself around the game room with exaggerated flair.
Selene sighed, loafing beside Aaron—her posture shrinking as she watched, uninterested.
Aaron remained focused on his game. “Hang tight, tootsie—Bruce’ll be with you in a sec.”
Selene sighed again, rolling her eyes. “Bruce?” she asked, peering at Aaron.
“That’s what they call me—cuz I kick ass like Bruce Lee!” Aaron replied with a smug grin before turning his attention back to the pinball machine. His fingers worked the flipper buttons furiously, the colorful lights from the backboard flashing across his forehead. “I’m a black belt in karate!” he declared, squawking loudly before chopping the air with exaggerated flair.
Blake’s laughter rang out as he came up behind Aaron, his footsteps drowned out by the clanging pinball. “You’re not as good as you like to think,” Blake teased, slapping Aaron square on the back.
“What the hell, man?” Aaron snapped, his face flushing red. “You made me lose my ball!”
“It’s not your game anyhow,” said Blake. “It’s Wizard’s—sez so on the machine. Can’tcha read? So, take a hike and let him play.”
“It’s a multiplayer game; we can all play,” Danny said, stepping over to the Wizard! machine. His words were polite, but real truth was, he just wanted Aaron gone and get the game to himself.
Selene straightened up and smiled as Danny joined her.
Aaron glanced at her reaction, frowning as he raised his voice at Danny. “Just go back where you were! Why you always gotta hog this game? You can play on one of the others.”
Danny shrugged. “Not trying to hog the game, but Circus is buggy, and the other one’s out of order.”
Aaron grumbled. “Yeah, I’m sure this has nothing to do with your high score.”
Selene turned her attention to Aaron, her eyes narrowing as she studied him closely. “Are you wearing eyeliner?” she asked.
“So he is!” Blake laughed, grabbing Aaron by the shoulders and peering at his face. “And your mole—it’s fake! It’s smudged on your cheek!” He reached out and smeared the mole mark further.
Aaron slammed his hands on the sides of the machine, shouting, “It hides my freckles, okay?” He shoved Blake’s hands off, freeing himself from the torment, and stormed off. His steps heavy and hurried as he vanished into the restroom, slamming the door behind him.
Blake shrugged, turning to Selene. “Guess he’s off to redo his make-up.” He smirked. “He’s a bit strange—we pretty much only let him hang out with us cuz his daddy is rich and pays for everything. Plus, he’s good for a laugh… when he’s not being dramatic.” Blake shook his head and turned back toward the Wizard! game, grinning as Danny stepped up to play.
Danny leaned closer to Selene and whispered, “He’s sensitive about his cosmetics and dyed hair.” He chuckled softly.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Blake added, nodding in agreement.
“Well… if no one else wants to play…” Danny said, slipping a quarter into Wizard! and starting his game.
“Fake eyeliner and a mole? That’s supposed to hide his nasty freckles? That boy is a couple sandwiches short of a picnic.” Blake quipped, then turned to the rest of the group at the pool tables. “Miguel, what the hell? We’re going dry here! Get us another round of soda, wouldja? On Aaron’s tab!”
Miguel nodded and walked to the counter to place the order.
Aaron reappeared from the restroom, his face refreshed, joining George, Miguel, and Karen at the pool table.
Meanwhile, Blake and Selene stayed by the Wizard! game, watching as Danny racked up the scoreboard. Blake hooted as Danny scored, while Selene clapped, her smile growing as the rings and dings lit up the colorful playfield.
Danny’s eyes narrowed, fingers tapping with precise movements.
Blake leaned closer to Selene and gestured toward the machine with excitement. “Ah, look at him go—he’s really getting into the zone now,” he praised. Then he turned toward Aaron and waved him over. “Hey, Aaron! Come see a real master at work!”
Aaron smirked, leaning against the pool table with his arms crossed. “Watch out, Danny—don’t tilt!”
“Tilt?” Selene inquired, raising her eyebrows.
“It’s a feature in pinball machines—stops people from cheating or messing with the game. If you shake the table too much—it’ll trip its sensor thingy. Then boom—you lose!” Blake explained, then gave a mischievous grin. “Danny, give our lil’ friend Selene a proper tilt demonstration!
“Yeah, right. You ain’t gonna see me tilt!” Danny scoffed. “But I can show you all the sweet spots, like so…” Danny gave the machine’s lockdown bar a firm nudge with his hip, sending the ball soaring through a line of bumpers. The board lit up with a chain of loud dings. “See that? That’s the sweet spot,” he said with a smug tone, his eyes still fixed on the game.
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too cocky, champ,” Blake said. “That high score’s still staring you down.”
From the pool room, Aaron’s voice rang out again. “You’ll never beat that score, game hog!”
“Put a lid on it, Aaron! If you’re that bored over there, go powder your nose again,” Danny shouted while flicking the flippers and shaking the sides with precision. The ball careened into a glowing bumper, a triumphant ding-ding-ding sounding as his score climbed higher.
Selene hid a grin behind her hand. “Is he always this intense?” she whispered to Blake.
“Pretty much,” Blake replied with a grin. “But you gotta admit, he’s got skills.”
Selene watched Danny pivot his foot and shift his body weight to the left, gripping the sides of the machine as he jiggled it. The ball rolled over into a cluster of thumpers, ricocheting wildly.
The scoreboard lit up, flickering with the chimes of music.
“I didn’t realize there was so much strategy in playing pinball.” Selene smiled, eyes lighting up with fascination.
“Oh, it’s an art form,” Blake teased. “Danny here is a Leonardo da Vinci of pinball… when he isn’t blaming earthquakes for losing.” He burst into laughter, reaching over and giving the game table a playful jolt.
The game let out a cautioning buzz.
“Watchit, man!” Danny snapped at Blake.
“Be careful!” Selene cried, pointing at the ball rolling toward the outhole.
Danny’s primal reflexes flicked the flipper—barely saving it.
“Right on! I thought you were going to gutter for sure!” Blake said.
Danny scoffed, shaking his head, his focus unwavering. The ball teetered dangerously near the outlane. He gave the table a measured impact nudge and a series of wiggles—catching it at the last second in the cradle of his flipper. The machine’s lights flashed another tilt warning as he sent the ball zinging across the table.
Selene’s eyes widened. “Tilt, tilt!” she gasped.
“Nope, justa warning,” Danny muttered under his breath, giving the machine another carefully calculated bump that sent the ball ricocheting to safety.
Selene gasped, hands flying, clutching her chest. “That was close.”
Danny glanced Selene’s way, a confident glint in his eyes. “Close calls are where legends are made.”
Blake began to howl with laughter. “Oh, please! Whatta load of cheese. By the way—you don’t have any more tilt warnings left. Better let the tilt sensor settle before you rattle it again.”
“Oh, ya think?” Danny glared. “I woulda had one left if it weren’t for that stunt you pulled.” Danny’s frown melted into a grin as he shifted his stance for another go. “You’re lucky I got this, Blake,” he added, then sent the ball up the side ramp of the playfield. The music roared, and Danny lit up with a gleaming smile. “And I told you, I don’t tilt—I finesse.”
The group continued on, and after a while, Blake glanced at Danny’s score and jumped, shouting, “Hey, you got it! 86,524—you beat the high score!”
“Yeah, I was almost there last night when that stupid earthquake hit!” Danny grumbled again.
“You’re so moody,” Selene chuckled. “Are you the kind of person who’s never satisfied?”
“Whatever,” Danny smirked, shaking his head.
As the two continued talking, Miguel and George began wrestling. “Admit it! My arms are bigger!” cried Miguel as he put George in a headlock. They grappled from the pool table to the pinball machines, stumbling into Danny, who caught himself on the frame of the machine.
BUZZT!
Danny blinked, stunned, struggling to process what just happened. Once again, he watched the chrome spin on a dead playing field, listening helplessly to the hollow sound of the rolling ball of doom disappear into a final thud of demise.
Danny hung his head, gripping the frame of the machine. “What the hell, guys?” His sigh dragged out long and heavy.
“Great going, you lunatics!” Blake said, erupting in laughter as he turned to Aaron and the others. Then he turned to Selene. “Well? You wanted to know what a tilt is? That was it.”
She looked at Danny with sympathetic eyes, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Cheer up, you still got the high score.”
“I wanted to knock it out of the park, though…” Danny replied. “Y’know—make it impossible for anyone to beat my score again. To really leave a lasting legacy, ya dig?” He shrugged, smirking at Selene. “But, yeah…” he said. The word legacy jolted through Danny, his attention landing on the photo of his grandfather. He began thinking about the hidden door his uncle spoke of, compelling him to examine it. He approached the wall behind the pinball machine, feeling its coarse texture, searching for its hidden latch.
“What are you doing?” asked Selene.
He was about to respond when a glaring light flashed off the glass of the pinball scoreboard, catching his eye. The reflective light intensified—Danny lifted a hand, shielding his eyes as the front door creaked all the way open. He turned around and saw sunlight flood the dim room and a stranger silhouetted in the doorway.
Danny watched with curiosity as a slender kid strode in, the distinct swoosh of corduroy bell bottoms accompanying his steps. With dark, far-set eyes and a chiseled face, the young man resembled a falcon—sharp, poised, and predatory as he surveyed the room. Danny had never seen him before, even though they were around the same age. The stranger carried an air of mystery—reinforced by his leather vest, long black hair, and indigenous jewelry. As the unexpected visitor made his way through the establishment, there was a confident swagger in his wiry gait, and he moved with purpose and calculation.
“Get a load of this hippy native dude! Check out his eagle tattoo on his chest,” Aaron said, as the others took notice. “Who does this clown think he is?”
“Whatever,” Blake muttered, rolling his eyes.
The young stranger sauntered over to the game room. “Looks like you guys got some action going on over here.”
“Nah, I just beat the high score on the Wizard! game,” said Danny with a grin.
“You beat my high score?” the kid replied as he sized up Danny and the others.
Danny raised his eyebrows. “You’re—Jessie?” He gave a sideways glance at the mystery guy.
“Yup. Some call me Freebird,” Jessie said, patting Danny on the shoulder with an assertive grin. “Well—congratulations on beating my high score.”
“Thanks,” Danny smirked. “So, Freebird… guess your name explains the eagle across your chest,” he commented. “Cool tattoo, by the way.”
Jessie nodded with a stale grin.
“What now?” Blake said to Jessie, “You wanna challenge him or something?”
“Actually, I would,” Jessie replied, “but not at pinball. I got twenty bucks that says I can beat him or anyone here at video games.”
“There’s no video games here,” replied Blake.
“Plenty next door,” Jessie responded.
“Wasn’t that place busted up or something?” George asked.
“Just the front window,” Jessie replied. “The machines work fine—if you’ve got enough cash and courage to play me.”
“We’re not interested,” Blake demanded. “Go hustle somewheres else.”
“C’mon—I dare ya! Twenty bucks…” Jessie said with a grin, “unless you’re chicken.”
“Chicken?” Blake blurted. “How ’bout I just kick your hippy butt back to the other side of the lake?”
“Didn’t come to fight,” Jessie said. “Just wanted to find some friendly competition, is all. Someone who is good enough to challenge me at a game.”
“Take a hike, chump! Go back to your reservation where you belong. We’re not playing your video games,” Miguel chimed in.
“Ease up, guys,” Danny said. “No need to insult the man. I’ll take his dare. What can it hurt? We got time to kill till Jaws starts anyway.” Danny stepped toward Jessie, extending his hand.
Jessie met him halfway, and the two shook hands.
“I’m Danny. This is Selene, Miguel, George, Aaron, and Karen. The drunkish one is Blake.”
Jessie nodded his head, flashing a bright smile.
Danny returned the smile, but looking closer, he noticed several scars on Jessie’s face. Maybe he was in a bad accident—a car wreck, he thought. “So, you’re the Jessie I’ve heard so much about,” he said, trying to keep eye contact. “Tell me something: why are you so intent on us going with you to play video games?”
“A bunch of reasons, man; I’m looking for someone who can give me a good challenge in a game—and no offense, but I’m kinda over pinball and stuff. Plus, the new arcade place is awesome! I mean, it’s a whole room filled with the coolest video games never before seen,” Jessie replied, his eyes flashing with excitement.
“How do you know nobody’s seen them?” asked Danny. “I’ve seen plenty of video games before.”
“Not like these! These are one-of-a-kind beta games!”
“Far-out, man…” Danny drawled, unimpressed. “Look, my father is in sales; I know a pitch when I hear it.”
“Ok, I’ll be honest,” Jessie said, “I work there. Part of my job is to try and wrangle people in. Get the games some exposure. But the place really is awesome.”
“I don’t know; I heard that place is haunted or something,” Danny said, with a nervous laugh.
“Yeah, and what’s a beta?” Miguel asked.
“Well,” replied Jessie, “I can’t say I’ve seen any ghosts there. But as for what a beta is—the easiest way to explain it is that before video games go into circulation, they’re released to a test group as beta versions. It’s so the developer can get an idea of how people will react and interact with the games, allowing programmers and designers to work out all the kinks before mass-producing. Or in this case, an independent developer can use that information to fine-tune their video games and then pitch them to the big gaming companies.”
“The guy that owns the arcade makes the games?” asked George.
“We’re lucky to live in a town where probably the greatest video game makers that ever was, decided to set up shop!”
“Okay, man,” Danny affirmed. “I caught your drift. I don’t really care for video games, but you make a good pitch,” Danny continued, grinning as he firmly smacked Jessie on his shoulder. “Like I said, I’ll play you in one of your games—but not for money. You’ve got too much experience over me on those machines, and my daddy didn’t raise a fool.”
The group made ready to go next door to the arcade.
Danny turned to Selene. “Are you coming with us?”
“I guess,” she replied. “It’s kinda hot for jeans. I’ve got something lighter in my backpack––I’ll just change and meet you guys over there.”
“Okay, see you,” he grinned.
As the group made their way into the arcade, Danny lagged behind, lacking the eagerness to step inside. Maybe it was the stories he had heard—how the place belonged to an evil sorceress and was now haunted. He wondered, If I ignore the warnings, is it hubris—the pride before the fall, like in those Greek tragedies they taught in school?
Danny looked up at the bright neon sign of Arcadia, then stared at the ornate red entrance door. Maybe I’m just letting my imagination get the better of me. After all, Arcadia meant utopia—not tragedy. Plus, it’s under new management, he thought.
Then he looked over to the plywood boards—a makeshift fix for the storefront. That can’t be a good sign, he pondered, his anxiety taking root as he fixated on the large patched-up window and his uncle’s warnings about the place being cursed.
A creeping unease settled over him.
Danny began to feel it—that familiar sensation, like he was about to get himself into trouble. Yet again.
His courage started to erode.
What would the others think if I don’t go through with this?
What would Selene think?
Danny struggled in his inner conflict—until a familiar song reverberated through the door before him. “Is that—Come and Get Your Love?”
Danny smiled. “It is! It’s the Redbone band!” he said, letting the music settle his nerves. He consoled himself, “Well, a place that plays good music can’t be all that bad,” he murmured. “Besides, if I don’t go in now, everyone will think I chickened out. Sorry, Uncle—I have to…”
He drew a breath, steadied himself, and pushed open the door.
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