It wasn’t until I started the car that I realized I was low on gas. I opened the trunk to get the gas can. While most people wouldn’t keep a 5-gallon thing of gasoline in their car, I was not most people. I was very, very unlucky. That’s why I also had cables, a car battery, a spare tire, and a shovel in the trunk, duct tape, a flashlight, an umbrella, and bottled water in the backseat, a general survival guide saved on my phone, and a first aid kit and roadmaps in the glovebox. And I always kept a pocketknife on me, the kind with a mini screwdriver and a bottle opener.
Life always found a way to kick me in the dick when I least expected it. So now I always expected it and always prepared for it. Em called it my “little luck bug,” which was her cute way of saying that if things were left up to chance, my chances were zero. I tried not to think about it when I was with her, because she hated when I “got all mushy,” but meeting Em was the best thing to have ever happened to me. I felt like my life had finally taken a turn for the better since we'd spent more time together. Minus the giant goatman that fractured four of my ribs, of course, but that wasn’t something that normally happened to me even on a bad day.
“Good morning, Mr. Deacon.”
My smile faded as I looked up to see Ms. Thornton standing on the curb, bundled up in her usual brown bathrobe and slippers. I gave her a polite wave.
“You are going out awfully early. Running errands?”
“I’m going in for work.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“Today, as in Saturday?” She looked concerned.
“Yes.”
“Is something the matter?”
“No,” I said, even though I was grinning again like an idiot. “I feel like I just had this conversation with my girlfriend.”
“Oh, that’s right. She came in with you yesterday.” Ms. Thornton crossed her arms tightly over her robe. “She stayed over last night?”
“Yes…” I said and hurried to add gas to my tank.
Ms. Thornton tucked her robe in even tighter around her waist and smiled at me. “What was her name again?”
“Em.”
“Is that short for Emma, or Emily?”
“I’m not sure.” I knew it was short for “Emelina,” but I wasn’t about to give my girlfriend’s personal info to my landlady.
“And her surname?”
I shrugged. “No idea.” This was the truth.
“Oh.” Ms. Thornton’s smile tightened. “That is unusual.”
“Okay.” I put the empty can in the trunk and slammed it closed.
Ms. Thornton shuffled after me as I walked away. “Is that all? You don’t think it’s unusual that you don’t know your girlfriend’s full name?”
“Nope.” I got in my car. Ms. Thornton knocked on the window. Her mouth puckered like she’d sucked off a lemon, and I wished she’d go do that instead of bothering me. I considered ignoring her and just driving away. But she was my landlady, and the rent was cheap, so I rolled down the window.
“Mr. Deacon, I hope you don’t mind my inquiries. I only ask that you be wary of those that you associate with.”
“Thanks for the concern.” I tried to roll up the window.
She poked her face into the car and lowered her voice. “You don’t know how many of them would pass for human, if given the chance.”
“Em is human.” I started the engine. The landlady yanked her head out of my car as I rolled the window shut. Her smile looked more like a scowl now, and I struggled not to flip her off as I drove away.
Obviously, her words didn’t faze me. I knew Em was human. I'd never seen her papers, she didn't normally carry them with her, but even without seeing the proof, I knew Em was human. I felt it. She was born blessed, a woman with a 6-foot-long tail instead of legs. She was beautiful, and I loved her. I also knew that if Em was with me right now, she’d give me hell for how mushy my thoughts were.
So, it was good sometimes to be alone on these long drives. It gave me space and time to think. And right now, I had to focus on how I was going to get to work.
A storm had passed through last week and there'd been hail. I didn't hear it because I was put on some strong painkillers and slept through most of it. Although the ice had melted, most of the back roads were still flooded. I could take the highway eastbound, but I’d eventually have to turn north onto more rural roads to reach my place of work. Either way, I wasn’t looking forward to driving through mud in this old sedan. It was a piece of crap. I spent more time than I cared to admit duct taping things together and hoping the car wouldn’t fall apart while I was driving.
I stopped at an intersection. The cloudy sky added a tinge of gray to everything. I stared at the road ahead, still streaked with mud in places, and the fields of soybeans wilting in dirty rainwater ponds. This whole county was a piece of crap.
I’d moved to Dallas when I was eighteen and Iived here ever since. Not Dallas, Texas, I meant Dallas County, Missouri. And unlike the far more famous city, this county was built in the middle of nowhere. I could drive for miles and see nothing but fields, farms, and cows. There were more motels than houses here; it was a glorified pitstop.
The nearest city, Springfield, was 30 miles out from where I lived. Of course, I meant Springfield, Missouri, not the capital of Illinois. One thing I learned while living in Missouri: Whatever we had in this shitty state, a better version of it existed somewhere else. I wondered if this meant a better version of me also existed somewhere else, since I was definitely the shitty version of me. Not that I’d ever get the chance to meet better-me, since he probably lived somewhere cool, like Las Vegas or Dubai. Better-me wouldn’t be caught dead in rural Missouri.
No one wanted to live here. Hell, I didn’t even want to live here. I lived here because I worked here, and I worked here because Hans was the kind of boss who overlooked things like a criminal record or lack of a GED in order to hire people that could keep their mouths shut and work for minimum wage. Even Missouri’s biggest cities, Kansas City and St. Louis, were built along the state lines, as if the greatest thing about Missouri was its border, where it ended, and where better states began.
The only thing this state had was baseball. But that ended six years ago when the Cardinals dropped all the blessed players on their team in an effort to keep the game “fair.” They hadn’t won a single game since. Diehard fans were split on the matter: Some said more teams should be taking a stand against the exploitation of blessings in sports; most fans were just pissed that the Cardinals hadn’t won a single game since ‘45. I didn’t care either way; I didn’t watch baseball.
The car behind me blared its horn, reminding me that I was still stopped at the intersection. You could have gone around, asshole. I glanced at the rearview mirror. It was a cop.
I slammed on the gas. My car lurched forward. Shit. I slowed down. No matter what I'd done as a kid, I was just a normal, law-abiding adult now. There was no reason I should be flinching at the sight of a cop. I was wearing my seatbelt and driving a solid five miles under the speed limit. I nodded to myself. There's no issues now, officer. Everything's in perfect order. Another honk told me I was wrong. Then the police lights came on. Shit.
I pulled onto the side of the road. The cop parked behind me and walked up to my window.
“Hi officer.” I put on my best I-have-a-clean-record smile and handed over my ID. “What seems to be the problem?”
“Son.” He handed my ID back to me without a glance. “You realize the taillight of your car’s busted?”
“Oh no, really?” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Which one?”
He frowned. “Both.”
“You know what, officer? I didn’t even notice.” Another lie. I noticed the taillights stopped working a month ago, but it wasn't a problem that could be solved with duct tape, so I ignored it.
“When’s the last time you had your car looked over?”
“A couple years ago? Maybe? It’s been a while.”
“That’s no good.” He tapped a knuckle against my car door. “You should take it in for maintenance more often. ‘Specially an old car like this.”
I nodded. “I will as soon as I can, officer.” If I could afford to, I would. But I couldn’t, so I wouldn’t.
The officer continued, “Or you could take it in to a dealership.”
I smiled and nodded again. “That’s a great idea!” Maybe I can trade it in for a stick of gum.
“Alright. Take care and stick to the main roads. Some areas along the riverside are still flooded.” The officer tipped his hat at me, something which I thought only happened in movies, and walked back to his car. I waited until he’d driven away before I pulled back onto the road.
I glanced at my phone. 8:55AM. I was supposed to be in at 9.
It was a quarter past 9 when the billboard finally came into view. In faded green paint, it read: House of Hans—Mystical, Magical Fun! Next Exit. The bottom half of the sign was an equally faded picture of a bikini-clad woman wrestling with a purple dragon. I cringed every time I saw the sign, and I couldn’t tell whether it was because the sign itself was cringy or because I worked there.
Eventually, the warehouse and hangar came into view. The warehouse was used for storage and office space, while the actual escape room was built inside the remodeled aircraft hangar. The interior of the dome-shaped hangar was sectioned into four circular rooms built one within another, like nesting dolls. In the center of the smallest room was a manmade maze. The four circular rooms, referred to as quadrants, were sectioned off into smaller rooms and passageways which were interconnected and coordinated with a different theme depending on the season. Since it was Spring, all quadrants were medieval and forest themed. Employees either dressed as peasants or elves.
But the stone maze, known as the labyrinth, never changed to fit the with the quadrants around it. If anyone asked why the labyrinth never changed, Hans would shrug and say, “A labyrinth is just a labyrinth in a labyrinth in a labyrinth in a labyrinth in a labyrinth…” At which point, I would shrug and go back to mopping up piss and puke from the last party that accidentally skipped the side quest for the restroom key.
Plenty of new hires were fired for asking too many questions about the escape room, how it worked or why it worked. Why the hangar seemed far more spacious on the inside than the outside. Why a party could wander for hours without finding an exit until they put the final token in their quest bag. I got to keep my job in the labyrinth because I kept my mouth shut and questioned nothing. Lucky me.
The parking lot was empty except for a handful of black vans and a neon orange Mustang. I parked on the side of the road as far away from the other cars as I could. As expected, the entrance to the hangar was taped off. There was no one standing outside or by the corral of black vans. They were unmarked vehicles with tinted windows. I was either paranoid, or those were cop cars. I walked a wide path around the parking lot to get to the main office.
Even from a distance, I could see the lights in the main office were off. From what I'd seen on the local news, the escape room was shut down during the capture of the unblessed, and the investigation of the unblessed's appearance was ongoing. I hadn’t stepped inside the hangar since the attack, but I heard from Angie that the labyrinth was wrecked, reduced to rubble, and the unblessed had left a massive crater in the wall of the first quadrant. I don’t know how the paramedics found me in the collapsed armory with only a few fractured bones, but I guess goats, even monster goats, are vegetarians.
I squinted and put my face against the glass door. It was still cloudy outside, so the unlit office was even dimmer than usual. It didn’t seem like anyone was inside. “I guess the place is still closed.” I was blatantly ignoring the fact that I’d seen Hans’ car in the parking lot, but maybe he’d forgotten that he called me in today. Maybe he was in the hangar, dealing with the police.
“I guess I can leave.” I walked away with a smile.
The intercom beside the door buzzed.
I kept my head down and walked faster.
The intercom buzzed again. A voice crackled through the speaker. “Get in here, idiot. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”
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