by Rachel Ford
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 must 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.
Nance loved it, though. They were seated near the front, and she nudged him when the panel turned to Star Trek. One of the presenters gestured at them and said, “We’ve got some Trekkies right up front here. Which is fitting, since Trek has always been on the forefront of bringing the conversation of ethics out of textbooks and academy halls into people’s living rooms.”
“Did you see that?” she gushed after the program wrapped up and they milled out of the room. “Eugene Miller noticed our cosplay.”
The taxman didn’t know Eugene Miller from Adam, and told her as much.
“Babe.” She was flabbergasted. “He’s the director of half the MDC universe movies. Not least of all, Fire Fell.”
“Oh,” he declared. “Well, that’s it. We’ve peaked. It can’t get better than that. We might as well go home.”
The next program was a little more interesting to Alfred, but not much. It was about the predictive history of sci-fi, and it detailed how science fiction had envisioned everything from space travel to automatic doors before they were a reality. Here, again, Star Trek was mentioned frequently, and though this time they didn’t receive any callouts from the stage, Nancy grinned with each mention.
The third session on their agenda did make him smile, though, and he realized she’d chosen it specifically with him in mind. It was entitled “UFOs and Science Fiction: how the mythos influences fiction, and fiction influences the mythos.” This time, when it got to Star Trek and Spock, he nudged her.
He did thoroughly enjoy that one, and even – though he’d never dare tell Nancy, for fear of how much she’d read into it – felt a mild curiosity about some of the shows and episodes mentioned.
“Alright,” she said as they exited the conference room, “should we get lunch?”
He was starting to get hungry, and so he nodded.
“Let’s try somewhere else, though,” she suggested. “Not super crazy about the café food.”
“Or service,” he grumbled.
She laughed. “I scoped out a few places this morning. Here.” She pulled out her phone. “Let me know what you…oh, looks like we got some comments on our costumes.” She grinned, reading through them, and then handed the phone to Alfred.
Some was an understatement. Nancy’s online profile was, he realized, significantly more developed than his own. The picture had only been up for a few hours, and already it had over seventy reactions and fifty-some comments. The responses were mostly along the lines of “looking good” and “nice job.” Now and then he’d recognize a name as belonging to one of their coworkers. He didn’t quite understand interacting with coworkers on social media. It seemed to him that coworkers were inescapable as it was, for the majority of one’s life; unless they were a genuine friend, why would anyone extend the acquaintance beyond its already extensive limits?
He was about half way through the list of comments when he gaped. “You’re friends with Caspersen?” he wondered, aghast.
“Of course.”
“That means she saw me in this outfit.”
It was an obvious statement, since the director had left a comment on Nancy’s profile that read, “You both look like you stepped straight off set. Nice job!”
Nance laughed. “Of course. But you look amazing.”
He groaned. “I’m not even worried about how I look. Just, if she sees me in costume here, she’s going to expect me to wear one to the Halloween party this year.”
“Oh no. Not that,” she teased.
He was about to hand back the phone when another post caught his eye. It was accompanied by a profile picture of a brown-eyed man, smiling awkwardly in brightly colored superhero getup. It was from Randy Barret, and it read, “Great job! Me and Dave are here too. You guys staying at the convention center?”
Alfred felt his heart sink when he saw that Nance had replied, “Awesome! We are. All the way up on floor twelve lol. What about you guys?”
“We didn’t get reservations in time. We’re about two blocks down, at The Rivers. Haven’t talked to you in ages. We should do a couple’s dinner one of these nights, if you guys aren’t booked.”
“We should! (And we’re not, we’ve been winging it as far as meals go).”
The taxman cleared his throat as he finished the exchange. “You’re…uh…friends with Randy Barret?”
“Yeah. You know him?”
“A little.”
Nancy nodded. “When I worked at the central office, before my promotion, we talked a lot.”
Sugar cookies. So not only did their assassin know where they were staying and on what floor, he also knew Nance personally. Alfred remembered Josh’s words from the previous night, that they had to bring her up to speed on what was going on; and for half a second, he wondered if he shouldn’t just tell her everything, right there and then.
But she was smiling and happy, and the idea of spoiling that happiness – much less, owning up to keeping her in the dark – made him hesitate.
“Anyway,” she was saying, “here’s the list of restaurants around here that look good. Anything stand out to you?”
He took the phone again, scrolling absently through the list she’d proffered. He barely saw the options, though. His mind was still on Randy Barret. The assassin knew where they were staying now, but the reverse was also true: Alfred knew where he was staying. He also knew that Barret was dressed in some kind of superhero costume. That was all information he needed to get to Josh, as soon as possible. But, of course, he couldn’t openly text the marine without risking Nancy overseeing it.
“The Greek place looks good.”
She nodded. “Alright. Georgiou’s it is, then.”
Chapter Sixteen
Georgiou�
��s was quite crowded when they arrived. Alfred grabbed a table in the back – one of the few still open – while Nancy ordered. It was his first opportunity away from her side, and he wasted no time relaying his newfound intel to Josh, along with Barret’s latest, in-costume profile picture.
“He’s dressed as Swell Dude. Great. There’s only a million other Swell Dudes at MarvelousCon.”
“But we know where he’s staying now, too.”
“Yeah. Still doesn’t help us track him during the day, though.”
That was a fair point. “I’ll keep my eyes open for him too.”
Josh didn’t say anything more, and Alfred put the phone away as he saw Nancy heading in his direction. “Food’ll be out in twenty minutes or so,” she said.
He nodded. “Alright, Commander, where are we headed after this?”
“Well, there’s a panel I want to get to at two, about Marvelous Comics. But I had left a block open for pretty much whatever: exhibits, tabletop gaming stations, whatever we felt like.”
“Oh. Well, what do you want to do?”
“Well, I have to head back to the exhibits.”
“Why?”
“I forgot something last night.”
“Oh.”
“You should probably check out the gaming stations.”
He frowned. “Gaming stations? Why not go with you?”
She grinned. “Because you can’t see what I buy. Not yet.”
His frown, though, deepened. “I don’t want to split up. How will I find you again, in these crowds?” That, of course, wasn’t his real concern. His real concern was that someone else – Randy Barret – would find her while he was stuck at a tabletop gaming station.
Nancy laughed, until she saw that his angst was real. “Babe, I’m just going to the exhibit hall. And we can always call, or text, if we’re having trouble finding each other.”
“I know…I just…” He fidgeted, his mind racing. He couldn’t tell her the truth – he’d already decided that was out – but he didn’t have a good reason either.
