Dream Park

He glanced at his watch. A quarter to eleven, and time for any sane human being to get some sleep. Hell-why bother going all the way back to CMC? Why not just curl up in the office? He thumbed down the light and yawned until the hinges of his jaw hurt. Every muscle ached for sleep, but a singie image remained clear and sharp in his mind.

'Damn you, Acacia. Leave me alone.' Her face, that lovely dark-eyed face with the questioning mouth, had been haunting him all day, the most overwhelming reality of four days of fantasy.

He glanced at his watch again, and muttered, 'They're proba­bly all in by now...' then remembered the early-morning bull sessions of the Game and knew he was lying to himself.

Why fight it? He wanted to go. Tired and irritable and slogged

down in a cesspool of work, he still wanted a chance to say good-bye to an unforgettable group of maniacs.

And perhaps one particular lady maniac.

He swung his feet down from the desk and was moving towards the door almost as they hit the ground.

Alex took strange satisfaction in the debilitated condition of the other Garners. Chester's suite was spacious enough to accommo­date the extra couches. Those couches were draped with boneless-looking, bleary-eyed casualties. The suite looked like an emer­gency ward.

Only the Garners who had been killed out the day before seemed alive, and the empty beerskins scattered around the room gave even these good reason to look woozy. He caught a strong, sweet whiff of something that wasn't tobacco and ground his teeth, weighing duty against fatigue. No contest. Fatigue won.

He saw Acacia in the corner of the room and headed toward her without haste, letting his ears drink in snatches of talk.

A half-familiar voice, jarringly energetic. 'No, no, no. The

Haiavaha was there because you needed the anti-fire to fight the

Undead. You were supposed to ignore the airplane's egg entirely.

And why didn't you go back for more anti-fire?'

It was Richard Lopez, sharing a couch with his wife and- Chester Henderson! The Game Master seemed awake and alert. Mitsuko Lopez listened without comment, her attention shifting as if she watched a tennis match.

'-can't tell me that. You weren't standing in front of the damned thing,' Chester said without heat. He fished absently in a bowl of dried dip with a handful of corn chips, then popped them all into a mouth that had already started to speak again. 'Ooo ner thrying... You were trying to kill us off and you know it.'

Richard shook his head. 'Be your age. Where would I sell the Game that wiped out Lore Master Chester Henderson?'

'I'm too tired to giggle. You were going easy on us, hey, Lopez?'

'Oh... my youthful enthusiasm sometimes leads me to excesses. Mitsuko had to keep reminding me of the money we'd lose if I played too rough. Terrible woman. Always business be­fore pleasure.' He and his wife exchanged a quick kiss.

Chester saw Alex, and extended a hand. 'Hey, Griffin. Good Game, man. You're not half bad.'

A ghost spoke behind him, and Alex jumped. 'What happens to McWhirter, Griffin?' Gina! But she's dead.

'It's out of my hands,' he said, glad that it was true. He kept moving; he didn't want to talk about it.

Mary-em, dressed in light green slacks and blouse and looking quite undrowned, was another sight he found startling. She was deep into reminescence with Owen and Margie and a stranger, a boy in a wheelchair, when she spied Alex pressing through the crowd. 'Griffy!' she bawled. From some reserve of human strength she found the energy for what amounted to a flying tackle, setting him back on his heels.

'I was afraid that you wouldn't make it.'

Overcome with an absurdly strong wave of emotion for the chunky little woman, Griffin hugged her back fiercely. She stepped back and set her fists on her hips, measuring him. 'I may be off my mark, but I think you're gonna be one helluva Gamer.'

He raised both hands in protest. 'Oh, no. No more for me, thanks.'

She snorted derisively. 'Like hell.' Her grin faded to something softer. 'Come'ere, Griffy. There's somebody I want you to meet.'

Alex followed her to the Braddons, who greeted him with weary nods. Margie asked, 'Did you hear about the frogman, Alex?' He shook his head negative. 'Go on, tell him, Mary-em.'

The short woman laughed. 'Remember when I went under, Griffy?'

'Do I! Jesus. All I remember is, you went ‘glub' and disap­peared, and a cold hand clamped on my ankle and... wait a

minute. I felt a hand. At the time I just... just accepted it. Am I

nuts?'

'You aren't. That maniac Lopez actually had a guy in scuba gear under the water. He pulled me down and fed me air. I laughed so hard that I almost drowned.' She shared their laughter, then pulled Griffin over to the boy who sat in the wheelchair.

On closer estimate, Griffin revised his estimate of his age. He looked closer to thirty than seventeen. His unlined face and thin body carried the illusion with ease at any distance over a few feet.

'Griffy,' she said, and there was a tone in her voice, a gen­tleness and caring, that transformed her face into something lovely. 'Grifly, I'd like you to meet my brother Patrick. Patrick-?' Her voice was sweet, low, as if talldng to a beloved child. 'This is

a very important man. This is Alex Griffin, the chief of Security for all of Dream Park.'

Patrick reacted slowly, his head weaving in little circles as he raised it to say, 'H-hello, mis-mister Griffin.' He fought over the last syllable of Alex's name. He raised a frail hand for Alex to shake, the effort of keeping it in the air a heartbreaking thing to watch.

Alex took it in the gentlest of grips. 'I'm pleased to meet you, Patrick.'

'Y-you're a nize man, mi-mister Griffin. I saw you s-save muh my sister twice.' Patrick's eyes lost their dull sheen as they

glowed with the memory.

Alex crouched down. 'She was worth it, believe me.'

'Patrick watched the whole Game,' she said, beaming with ap­proval. 'He always watches.'

Griffin took a hunch. 'Did your brother ever Game himself?' Mary-em nodded, sensing that Alex understood. 'Until the ac­cident, yes. Now-' She touched his head fondly, and he rubbed it against her hand like an affection-starved kitten. 'Now he just watches his big sister. He can even understand most of what hap­pens.'

He looked from one of them to the other, the crippled man/child and the stunted warrior, and the hunch grew solid. 'How long have you been Gaming, Mary-em?'

She nodded. 'Right again, Griffy. You're definitely detective material.'

'That's a relief. Nice knowing you, Mary-Martha.' He nodded to Patrick, who watched his sister with worshipping eyes. Griffin softened his voice. 'And you too, Patrick.'

Mary-em grabbed Alex's arm and wrenched him down, planting a big wet kiss on his cheek. 'You ain't shed of me yet. We'll go crazy again, sometime.'

'Maybe so.' He picked his way across the room to Acacia, who sat with Gwen and Ollie. There was an empty space next to her that no one had filled, and Griffin could almost feel Tony's ab­sence. There were weary smiles in the group of three, and their voices were subdued.

Gwen and Ollie, for once, weren't touching. Somehow it didn't seem to matter. They sat very close to each other, and the affec­tion between them was virtually a tangible thing, making the corner a warm place to be.