by Rachel Ford
“It is?”
Nance shot him a bemused look. “Yeah.”
“Oh.” Alfred didn’t get it, but, then, he didn’t pay much attention either to politics or comics. “Okay.”
“Anyway, it went viral, and Kate Dallas – you know, the entrepreneur behind LifeZones – saw it. She liked it so much she put millions into starting an actual company that could compete with the big-name comic houses.”
LifeZones was a social media app that Nancy used – and that, as a consequence of her use, Alfred now also used. “Well that was a good investment.”
“Hell yeah. MDC is worth a lot more than LifeZones now.”
Alfred shook his head. “People really like their comics, I guess,” he said. “But I don’t know…give me a chess tournament any day.”
“Oh babe,” Nancy laughed. “You’re crazy.”
He grinned. “Says the woman whose idea of a vacation is wearing a disguise and traipsing through a warehouse full of people also in disguise…”
Chapter Thirteen
The check in line was long, but the hotel was well-staffed, and they got the keys to their room relatively quickly. Nancy was grinning from ear to ear as they walked through the superhero themed lobby, plastered with its “Welcome MarvelousCon!” banners.
They reached their room when Alfred got a text. It was from Josh. “I have to get checked in to my room. It’s about twenty minutes away. You going to be alright for an hour?” Since Josh’s attendance was very last minute, by time he’d gone to reserve a room, nothing in the area was open. Though he wasn’t very impressed with the quality of the establishment he found, he’d been lucky to find anything in a nearby suburb. “I’ll be lucky not to wind up feeding bedbugs, too,” he’d complained to Alfred.
The taxman frowned at the question, though, replying, “Of course.” Josh seemed to believe him incapable of protecting Nancy in any circumstance, and he chafed at the idea. It was one thing to acknowledge that he couldn’t be of assistance when he was out of sight, but another for the marine to assume that he was useless in person as well.
“Alright. Keep your eyes open. Especially as the crowd grows.”
Alfred rolled his eyes and slipped the phone into his pocket.
“What was that?” Nancy wondered.
“Oh. Uh, nothing. Just…checking my work email. Got a dumb question.”
She laughed. “Well, we agreed no work, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.”
“Good. We’re here to have fun.”
You’re here to have fun, babe. I’m here to keep you safe. Aloud, though, he said, “Yes ma’am.”
She grinned and kissed him. “Come on,” she said. “Put the suitcase down and let’s head downstairs. We can check out the exhibits, get some food, and then maybe catch Fire Fell.”
Alfred wrinkled his nose. “Do we have to?”
“What? Eat?”
“No. See Fire Fell.”
“You’ve never seen it with me,” she said, nudging him playfully. “So yes. And anyway, they’re going to be showing exclusive footage of part two.”
“Well, we don’t want to miss that.”
“No,” she laughed, “we don’t.”
“Alright,” he wrapped his arm around her. “Let’s get this over with then.”
They headed downstairs. The lobby was filling even more rapidly than before. “This is awesome,” Nance declared. “Look at all these cosplayers already!”
She’d – mercifully – decided they wouldn’t don their cosplay until Thursday. Despite Wednesday’s sessions only filling a third of a day, there were many who had jumped right in, though. Alfred saw aliens and goblins, elves and superheroes, and occasionally creatures that defied any description.
“We should get food now,” he suggested. “Look at those lines.”
She nodded. “Good call.”
It took well over an hour to get a burger and fries, but Nance didn’t seem to mind. She was people watching, and oohing and ahhing over the various cosplayers. Alfred tried to see the appeal – he really did – but it was lost on him.
Still, her enjoyment was a pleasure to behold, and in a while, he started to share it vicariously; and it grew, until, when their meal had wrapped up, he was having a genuinely good time.
“We’ve got about an hour and a half before we need to get seats,” she said. “Let’s go check out the exhibits and vendors. Anyway, I’ve got to get stuff to bring back for the team. We can get that done now.”
“Alright.”
The exhibitors were spread all over the convention center, with some occupying hallways and some packed like sardines into a massive ballroom. Some of the exhibits did interest him. There was one seller who had a table full of replicas of medieval and ancient strategy games. Alfred lingered here for awhile, engaging the vendor in a discussion of chess and mill and Hnefatafl. In the end, the Viking game won, and – the proud new owner of an authentic replica Hnefatafl set – he followed Nancy to other booths.
She wasn’t sure what she was going to get her team. “But I promised I’d pick up something,” she said.
“I don’t know about the rest of them. But you should get Jeff a bag of coal,” the taxman suggested.
She laughed. “No, I’ve got to get everyone something nice. But I want it to be similar, so nobody complains. Which means I have to find one type of thing that everyone will like.”
“Well, it’s the nerd bunker,” he said. “I mean, any of this stuff will do.”
She hugged him. “You know, you’re lucky you’re so cute, Mr. Favero. Because that sense of humor leaves a lot to be desired.”
He grinned. “Well, I try, Nance.”
His phone dinged as they continued to walk, and he frowned. It was probably Josh, but he didn’t dare check it at the moment. “Hey,” he said, pointing to a vendor with tables full of bobbleheads, “what about those?” There seemed to be little plastic figurines of just about every fandom he’d seen represented.
She glanced in the direction he’d indicated and considered. “That might work.”
They headed over, and Alfred drew back to glance at his message while Nancy perused the figurines. It was the marine. “Just heading back now. It’s nuts here. People trying to get cheap rooms for MC. They lost my reservation, and I spent half an hour arguing with the dumbass manager.”
“That stinks. Sorry dude.”
“It’s done anyway. Everything going well?”
He glanced up at Nancy, at the serious way in which she was considering two caped figures, their oversized heads dancing as she moved them. He smiled. “Yes.”
Josh sent a thumb’s up, and Alfred slipped the phone back into his pocket. Nancy, meanwhile, made her selections, and they moved on. “That was good thinking,” she confided. “I found something for everyone on the team. Even Alice, and she hates most of this stuff. But they had an I Love Lucy bobblehead. She’s got a big collection of I Love Lucy stuff.”
“Excellent.”
“Thanks, babe.”
“Of course.”
They walked on, stopping now and again at a seller, but keeping mostly to the exhibits. Before he knew it, the hour and a half were up. “Well,” she said, “we better go get seats.”
“Alright,” he nodded.
The film was scheduled to play in ballroom eight, which was on the opposite end of the convention center, so they began to retrace their steps. They’d reached the lobby, though, when Alfred stopped short, his heart leaping to his mouth.
There, in the vestibule across from him, was Alfred Favero – not a reflection in the glass, but a real, flesh and blood copy of himself. Fudge muffins. He’d been so wrapped up in the convention that he had barely given the case a passing thought. Now, though, seeing another future version of himself brought it all back with a vengeance. It meant that he’d done something – he didn’t know what – to upset the timeline.
This new Alfred Favero was shaking his head at him, gesturing in
the direction they were headed. Meanwhile, Nancy turned around. “Babe?”
“Huh?”
She glanced around, as his future self stepped behind a giant fern. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Oh, nothing. Nothing, babe. Just…” His mind raced, but he was drawing blanks. So he stepped forward and kissed her.
She blinked in surprise but smiled too. “Wow. What’s that for?”
He saw, over her shoulder, future him watching. “It’s just…it occurred to me, this is our first real trip together. I mean, not a day trip, not for work: just you and me, on vacation.”
Her smile broadened. “You’re right. It is.”
Future Alfred, meanwhile, tapped his wrist, as if he was tapping an invisible watch thereon.
“I don’t really want to see Fire Fell, babe.”
“Oh.” She was nonplussed by that. “Okay. Well, I mean, we don’t have to.”
No sooner had she said that than did future Alfred disappear. He fought the urge to yelp at the sight of himself dematerializing in front of his own eyes.
Her voice helped keep him focused. “What would you rather do?”
“I’d much rather head upstairs with you-”
“Oh.” Her expression brightened.
She seemed sold on the idea more quickly than he’d anticipated, but still he finished, “And play Hnefatafl.”
“Hnefatafl?” She surveyed him with upraised eyebrows.
“Yeah. What did you…” He felt his cheeks redden as he comprehended. Sometimes, he was amazed by his own stupidity. “Oh. Well, uh, that works better, actually.”
Nancy laughed and kissed him a second time. “Hnefatafl and chill it is, then.”
Chapter Fourteen
Alfred waited until Nancy was asleep before texting Josh. “There was another me in the lobby tonight.”
The phone buzzed with an incoming call, but the taxman declined it, texting, “Can’t wake Nancy.”
“What happened?”
“We were going to see a movie, in ballroom eight. He warned me away. Then he disappeared.”
“So not going to the movie meant the timeline shifted…so he never existed…ergo, our killer was in ballroom eight.”
“Or would have intercepted us on the way. Or back.” The possibilities, it seemed to Alfred, were limitless. All he knew for sure was that going to the movie meant setting in motion events that led to Nancy’s death, and disappearing upstairs behind a bolted door meant she survived.
“Dammit. There’s too many variables. And too many people. How are we going to figure out who the killer is in crowds like this?”
“I don’t know.”
“What about that suspect you said you had? Did you turn up anything on him?”
Alfred frowned. He hadn’t really pursued that further – he’d been too busy trying to extrapolate something from the data – but it was a good point. “His name’s Randy Barret. One second, I’ll send you a picture.” He hadn’t saved Barret’s work photo, but he figured he’d be able to find him on social media. Just about everyone had a profile on social media these days. Heck, thanks to Nancy’s urging, even he had a couple of his own.
Sure enough, a quick search pulled up Randy’s awkward smile. He saved the image to his phone, and then went to close the application.
But he froze. There at the top of his page, the last status update on Randy’s profile read, “Randy Barret has checked in at MarvelousCon.”
Fudge muffins. Alfred fished through his bag and pulled out the earbuds Nancy had packed him. Then, quiet as a mouse, he slipped into the bathroom, shut the door, and called Josh.
“I thought you said you couldn’t talk?” the marine asked on picking up. “You didn’t leave Nancy in the room by herself, did you?”
He ignored the question. “It’s him, Josh. It’s got to be.”
“Who? Barret?”
“Yeah. He’s here. At MarvelousCon.”
“Shit. How do you know?”
“It’s on his page. He checked in, about six hours ago.”
“Right after you and Nance got there.”
“Exactly.”
“Alright. Okay, this is good news. This means we’ve got our guy.”
“But how are we going to stop him? How are we even going to find him? There’s thousands of people here.”
“I don’t know. Not yet. But you seem pretty persistent about letting us know when we fuck something up. So we’ve got to assume you – future you – is going to keep doing that. Which means we have a good chance at stopping him.”
Alfred nodded into the darkness. “Alright. That still doesn’t help us find him, though.”
“No. I’m pulling up his picture now. I’ll at least know who to look for.”
“He may be in costume.”
“Dammit. That’s right.”
“He could be wearing anything. Any kind of mask, face paint – a whole body suit, for all we know.”
Josh swore on the other end. “We gotta tell Nance about this, Alfred. It’s gone too far.”
“No,” the taxman said. “How’s that going to make it any easier to catch this guy? It’ll just ruin her time.”
“So will getting shot.”
“We’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“Jesus, Alfred. I hope you know what the hell you’re doing.”
So do I. Aloud, he said, “Trust me.”
The marine scoffed, but said, “God knows why, but Nancy does. So – for now – I will too. But we better find this guy, sooner rather than later.”
Nancy woke oblivious to their danger, and nothing but eager for the day ahead. “Alright,” she said, “let’s start with you.”
“Why me?”
“Because I don’t want to apply makeup when I’m in costume.”
“I could skip the costume altogether,” he ventured. But she just laughed. “It was worth a try.”
“Come on, funny guy. Get over here. We’ll do your skin tone first, then you can get the uniform shirt on. Then we’ll do the details.”
Slowly but surely, he watched her work her magic on him a second time. His ears transformed, his eyebrows vanished then reappeared at a strange angle, and – finally – a Spock wig replaced his own hair.
When she was finished, she looked him up and down and smiled. “You look awesome.”
Then, she started working on her spots. This was at least as fascinating to watch for the taxman. She painted on spots that ran down the sides of her face and neck. “Can you help me?”
“Sure. What do I need to do?”
“I need the spots to reach beneath the uniform. So there’s not a visible cutoff line.”
His contributions to her body art were decidedly less impressive, but she kissed him for his efforts. “Thanks, babe. I hate having a cut off like that.”
Now she slipped on her own uniform. Unlike his two pieces, hers was a jumpsuit with blocky blue-green shoulders and a black body.
“I have to admit,” he said, “you look pretty damned hot.”
She grinned. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
She spent a few more minutes fussing over details like their badges and accessories; but when she was done, she said, “Alright. Pictures, and then we’re ready.”
He posed awkwardly beside her for a selfie, until she frowned into the camera. “You look like you’re about to have a tooth pulled.”
“I look,” he said, “like someone’s put me in a costume and painted my face green.”
Still, her comment made him smile, and she snapped a few pictures before it vanished. One of them at least seemed to meet her approval, because she nodded. “Perfect. Profile updated. Now we can go.”
Go they did, and Alfred felt his palms start to sweat as they did so. Last night, they’d narrowly avoided Barret. Who knew what today held? He only hoped that Josh was on his A-game this morning.
Nance, of course, was oblivious to his inner thoughts. She glanced up at him, and mus
t have seen something of his discomfort, though, because she wrapped an arm around him. “Come on, babe. Give it a shot.”
“What?”
She glanced around them. “Being out here in your cosplay.”
“Oh.”
“If you really hate it, I did pack extra clothes for the weekend.”
“You did?”
She smiled at him. “Of course. Sometimes you make your mind up about things before you tried them.”
“I do?” Her smile morphed into a skeptical one, and he laughed. “Alright. Maybe sometimes.”
“But I want you to enjoy yourself. So if you hate it, we’ll change. But try to have fun before we do. Please?”
He squeezed her. “Don’t worry, babe. It’s not the costume.”
“What then?”
He sighed, spreading his free hand around them in a wide arc to convey the vastness of the setting. “That’s a lot of people.” This was largely true. He didn’t care for crowds in general, and this particular crowd potentially hid a killer.
She laughed. “Well, I’ll do my best to keep you safe, Mr. Favero.”
“Thanks, Captain.”
“Lieutenant Commander.”
“Whatever.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Good thing we got up early,” Nancy said. It was said in a cheerful way that, from anyone else, probably would have irritated Alfred no end. They were just finishing a mediocre breakfast that cost way more than it was worth, and took almost an hour to arrive.
But when Nancy said it, he smiled. “Definitely.”
“Come on. Let’s go get seats for the program.”
The first thing on their agenda for the day was a panel on “Progress and the ethics of sci-fi.” The discussion delved into the way various science fiction books and television programs handled hard ethical questions, particularly questions of the era. If not for keeping an eye out on the costumed figures around them, wondering which if any might be the assassin, Alfred probably would have snoozed through the program. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the sentiment, of course. But he spent an hour listening to people reference books and episodes he’d rarely heard of, much less was familiar with.
