Alan Wake

any longer.

“Aren’t you at least going to tell me why you got a bandage on your head? You get a lobotomy or something?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve been running around Hicksville looking for you for two days now,” said Barry. “I’ve got time.”

“I was in a car crash,” said Wake.

“You got checked out by a doctor?” said Barry. “A real doctor, not some local quack?”

“Stay on this road until we get to a gas station,” said Wake. “Stucky’s gas station. When you see it, pull in.”

“I don’t need gas,” said Barry.

“I hid a revolver and ammunition there early this morning,” said Wake.

Barry glanced over at him, then back at the road. “O-kay.” He shifted in his seat, the down parka rustling. “Some people would say, ‘Thanks for checking up on me, Barry. Thanks for flying out from New York because you haven’t been able to reach me for a week and you were worried about your friend.’ Not you, though, not my pal, Al. You just want to stop off and pick up a handgun. Nice. Very nice.”

“Thanks for coming, Barry.”

“You mean it?”

“I mean it.”

Barry hummed happily to himself, his round cheeks pink as a baby. A hard-driving, deal-making, lawyer- siccing baby. “You know, Al, it’s not a very good idea to shoot the kidnapper. Not until you get Alice back. Then there’s the whole legal issue—?”

“I’m not going to shoot the kidnapper. I’m going to pay him whatever he wants.”

“Then what do you need a gun for?” said Barry. “Guns make me nervous.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Great,” said Barry, checking the rearview mirror, “that kind of answer does wonders for my ulcer. You listen real hard, you can hear my bile ducts squirt. Really, just take a moment.” He glanced around at the evergreens that came almost to the edge of the road. “You think there’s enough trees here, Al? Enough pollen in the air? I got more allergies than the Bubble Boy.”

“Stucky’s gas station is about another mile,” said Wake.

“Thanks for the sympathy.” Barry sneezed. “You’re all heart.”

Wake stayed silent.

“You know who kidnapped Alice?” said Barry.

“No.” Wake rolled the window down, let the cool wind blow over his face.

“How much did the kidnapper want for her?”

“You want me to dicker, see if I can get a deal?” said Wake.

“Hey,” said Barry, voice cracking, “I’m not the enemy here, Al.”

“You’re right,” said Wake. “Sorry.” Stucky’s gas station was still closed. He pointed. “Pull in behind the building.”

Barry did as he was told. Wake hopped out, sidled over to a trash can overflowing with oil cans. He looked around, reached into the can and pulled out a large paper bag, then got back into the car. Barry drove off, leaving rubber on the pavement.

“I feel like we’re in a spy movie,” said Barry, sweat beading his upper lip.

“I’m sure the parka helps,” said Wake. “Not that you don’t look very chic in down. Mt. Everest chic.”

“I didn’t appreciate that Red Butterball crack the sheriff made, by the way.”

“Take the next turnoff. LAKE DRIVE,” said Wake.

“I thought we were going to Elderwood—”

“First I’m going to prove to you that I’m not crazy,” said Wake.

Barry glanced over at him but didn’t answer.

Wake told Barry everything on the drive to the lake. Told him about Bird Leg Cabin, the fight with Alice, and her disappearance. He told Barry about the Taken, and how they disappeared without a trace when he killed them. Wake even told him about the manuscript pages he had found, pulled them out of his jacket, and showed them to him. He had to tell somebody, and while Barry could be an asshole, Wake trusted him. Barry hadn’t said a word the whole time Wake talked, just kept his eyes on the winding road, wiping his nose once in a while.

Wake and Barry stood on an outcropping of rock bordering Cauldron Lake. “It was there,” said Wake, pointing at the water. “Bird Leg Cabin. Alice and I… we stayed there.”

“I believe you, Al.”

Wake jumped down onto the sand, started walking back and forth, head down.

“Al, come on, there’s no need for this!”

Wake bent over, got onto his knees, and started scooping sand away. Something caught his attention. He looked over the edge and scrambled down a short overgrown path to the remnants of an old bridge. “See? This… this was part of the bridge that led from the shore to the cabin.”

Barry followed him down and kicked at one of the worm-eaten posts. “Al…this thing hasn’t been a bridge for years.”

“It was… it was here, Barry. This is the last place I saw Alice.”

Barry patted him on the back. “We’re going to find her, Al.” He stepped back. “Let’s check into that cabin at the park and the both of us get some rest. Okay? Al? Okay?”

Wake nodded and trudged back to the car. He was utterly exhausted, drained of hope, filled with doubt. No wonder the sheriff had refused his demands this morning to take him to the site. She had known there was nothing there.

He stopped himself from that line of thought. No. Wake wasn’t crazy. He had been to Bird Leg Cabin. He had held Alice in his arms there. Had fired up the generator to turn on the lights. He had seen a lovers’ heart carved into the stump of a tree. He had been there. They had been there. Because if Wake was wrong about that… he was wrong about everything.

Tonight… tonight he would meet with the kidnapper. One way or the other, he’d get Alice back.

Wake closed his eyes as Barry drove and when he opened them again, he saw a bullet-holed road sign up ahead: ELDERWOOD VISITOR CENTER, 5 MILES.

“Turn off here.” Barry sneezed and made the turn. He glanced over at Wake.

“Don’t get mad at me, but I think we should fly to Seattle and have you seen by a neurologist.”

“I don’t need to see a neurologist.”

“You’ve been in a car wreck, Al. We should make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m not okay,” said Wake, “but I know what I saw. Look at me, Barry. Look at me.” He waited for Barry to turn his head. “What I told you was the truth. Every word of it. Do you believe me?”

“No.” Barry shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, though. Writers… you’re all nuts.” He blew his nose, driving with one hand on the wheel. “But I believe that you believe it, Al, that’s all that matters to me. Anything you want, anything you need, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks.”

“You want my advice though? My professional opinion?” said Barry. “I wouldn’t tell anybody else about these… Taken. You wouldn’t want to upset them.”

“And you wouldn’t want them to commit me.”

“Hard to type in a straitjacket,” said Barry. He must have seen Wake’s distraught expression. “Alice is going to be fine. She’s smart, you’re tough, and I can talk anybody into anything. We’ll get her back, don’t worry.” Barry smiled as he pulled into the Visitor Center parking lot. “Then we can discuss your next book. Those manuscript pages are a good start. I smell bestseller.”

They got out of the car and headed up the stone steps of the Visitor Center, a huge log structure with soaring ceilings and panoramic windows. Rose, the waitress from the diner, was coming out the double doors as