The Everything Box

  She pointed to herself, then him. “Me agent. You flight risk. Now climb.”

  Coop looked into the void. There was a ladder inside. He stepped onto the top rung and lowered himself down. His shoulders barely fit through the gap in the sidewalk, but he kept going. Overhead, the lights went out as Giselle pulled the star closed.

  “You want to pick up the pace, Grandpa?”

  “I’m remembering how much I enjoy your company,” he grumbled.

  “Me, too.”

  Coop couldn’t see where he was going, but after only a minute or so of climbing he was on solid ground again.

  Giselle climbed down and stood next to him. “What do you think so far?” she said.

  “If this is Candy Land, I’m a little underwhelmed.”

  “Oh yeah?” She walked to the wall and opened a door. “Try this on for size.” He went through and she followed him.

  Coop stood there for a minute. He started to say something, but all he could think of was “Huh” or “Are those bats?” They were in a wide, bright, open space, like a mall lobby. But this one made no damned sense. It rose up ten stories or more, but he and Giselle hadn’t climbed down more than twenty feet. Really, they should be knee-deep in half-eaten vegan tofu wraps and empty sunscreen bottles in the L.A. sewer system. Instead, they were in what looked like a cross between a Vegas hotel and a haunted house in an old B horror movie. Sure, the place had gleaming escalators, bars, and restaurants, but Coop spied shadowy things moving inside several cobwebbed storefronts. There was a marble fountain in the center of the lobby, and the tourists hanging around it snapping pictures had greenish skin and gills. There were even bats, which flew in slow circles around the ceiling while mooks and succubi bought designer shoes at upscale boutiques with names like Cannibal Clique and Velvet Sarcophagus.

  “Well? What do you think?” said Giselle.

  “I bet this is what you see when you’re alone with your little vibrating friend late at night.”

  She laughed and pulled him over to a backlit map of the place near the biggest escalator.

  “There are thirteen floors. Light ones like this, but dark ones, too. And wet ones, steamy ones, dry ones, see? Floors for whatever you want or whatever you are.”

  “I get it. Disneyland for things that go bump in the night.”

  “Welcome to Jinx Town.”

  “Thanks. Don’t bother with a welcome basket. I have a feeling what they call summer sausage down here isn’t something I want to try.”

  She frowned. “Be good.”

  “I am. So, what do we do now? I think there’s a bar over there.”

  “We’re not going to that one. We’re going upstairs to the highest of the dark floors. According to the clever boots at the DOPS, that’s where Babylon likes to hang out.”

  When Giselle tried to pull Coop to the escalator, he stayed put. “What’s wrong?” she said.

  “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what’s on the dark floors?”

  She shrugged. “Oh, you know. Vampires. Werewolves. Other critters I don’t know the names for. But you know, anything that likes the dark or night.”

  Coop nodded. “Of course,” he said. “You know, I’ve only hung around with vampires back in stir, and they weren’t very nice.”

  Giselle pulled him to the escalator. “How nice is anyone in prison? I mean, they’re in there for a reason, right?”

  “Sure. We all were. But I didn’t bite people.”

  “Relax. Everyone is on their best behavior here. That’s the first rule of Jinx Town: be good, or at least pretend to be.”

  “Sounds like jail. I suppose I can live with that.”

  “You better.”

  “Just remember that if something tries to eat me or drink my blood, I’m dragging you down with me.”

  “A gentleman to the end.”

  They got off one escalator and started up the next. “I can work on the gentleman part,” said Coop. “It’s that end stuff that worries me.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll fling myself on top of you for protection.”

  “Now you’re just asking me to get in trouble.”

  Giselle laughed, and Coop liked the sound of it and hated that he liked it. But then he remembered that she was essentially his prison guard and that took some of the fun out of it.

  But her laugh still sounded nice.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  THE NEXT COUPLE OF FLOORS THEY PASSED WERE A lot like the lobby: stores both light and dark. Benches occupied by people (or at least people-ish) things. The occasional ghost drifted by carrying transparent shopping bags. Coop saw a group of bird ladies like the one at the DOPS. A few mooks window-shopping. And at least a dozen different species of human and inhuman creatures strolling by, just like the crowds at the Beverly Center. He didn’t even know what to call some of the creatures and felt a little stupid for it. If Giselle was right and he was part of this spectral world, he’d missed a lot of it. On the other hand, what did he care if there was a spook parade going on under his feet? He was a thief. A working stiff. Knowing about all these snaky, winged, and bug-eyed things sipping coffee and eating ice cream cones wasn’t going to make his job any easier.

  “What do you think?” said Giselle as they walked to the next escalator. “Am I blowing your mind yet?”

  They got on and he said, “Consider it blown. I see what Nick was talking about when he called the place—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “I won’t. Honestly, I don’t know what to think, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut for the time being.”

  “That’s a perfectly reasonable response.”

  “Good. And I’m not feeling like a secret agent yet, either. Your bosses know that DOPS spells ‘dopes,’ right?”

  “Yeah, and they’re pretty sensitive about it. Management tried changing the name a few times, but the science wing of the DOPS is pretty stuck on it. Can’t say I blame them. I mean, no one even knows how the Stalin cyborgs work yet.”

  “You have commie cyborgs?”

  Giselle held her hand up over her head. “Yeah, big bastards. They’ve been around since the forties. Laser eyes. Bushy mustaches. They look just like Uncle Joe, only bigger. Like tractors with legs.”

  Coop craned his head around. “Are there any robots down here?”

  “Cyborgs.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “Cyborgs are cooler.”

  “Thanks for clearing it up.”

  “The only metal men I’ve seen down here were some knights. I think they’re old Templars. They busk over by the tapas place and bum cigarettes off people.”

  “You know, I could wait in the car while you do your sleuthing. I promise not to run away and only listen to NPR on the radio.”

  Giselle shook her head. “No way. This is part of your job and your education. You’re part of Peculiar Science now. Get used to it.”

  “I’m going to need a few drinks before that happens.”

  “We’ll get you a Roy Rogers when we find Babylon’s bar.”

  The next floor was one of the wet levels Giselle had talked about. Mist drifted down from the top of the escalator. As Coop stepped off, he was lost in a warm fog. Giselle reached back and took his hand, pulling him along. That felt funny, her hand in his. He couldn’t see much of the floor, but what he saw didn’t make any more sense than the lobby. It looked liked they were on the edge of an enormous swamp. There were some goblins that reminded him of Rodney. People with tentacles for arms, and some of the gill people he’d seen downstairs. Distant fires. Blue will-o’-the wisps glided back and forth through the mist. Off to the side, Coop was sure he could see a frozen yogurt stand.

  The next floor up was one of the dry floors. Coop had to shield his eyes from the bright sunlike orb at the top of the white rotunda. The one thing he could see that made sense was a Sunglass Hut nearby. The rest of the floor looked like Death Valley. Enormous serpent-things slithered through the sand. Robed people wander
ed over the dunes with bags from shoe shops and toy stores.

  When they reached the next floor—a regular one like the lobby—Coop was still a little sun dazzled. While Giselle showed Babylon’s picture to a couple of horned mall cops, he looked around. He hadn’t felt quite so lost since his arrest.

  Seeing another bar, he peeked inside. People inside stared at him with milky eyes. Coop had been in a lot of bars over the years. Some were open and friendly. The people in most bars couldn’t give a shit whether you came in or not. But there were others that you knew not to go into the minute you stuck your head in. It wasn’t that they were hostile. It was more like someone had sprayed people repellent around the door. At least your kind of people. Going inside could result in a systematic kicking of your ass. That’s the feeling Coop got from this place. And all he’d done was look in the window.

  He jumped a little when Giselle tapped him on the shoulder.

  “What’s your problem, Mr. Chicken?” she said.

  “What’s up with this crowd? They look like they want to snack on my skull.”

  Giselle looked past him and pulled Coop back to the escalator. “It’s a mook bar. They’re touchy about the living wandering in and eating their peanuts.”

  “Your boss, Salzman, seems like a charming corpse. What’s his story?”

  Giselle shrugged. “He’s not so bad. Just ambitious. There are a million guys like him at the DOPS.”

  “I get a bad feeling if you were a dick when you were alive, being dead isn’t going to fix it.”

  “You got that right.” Giselle stepped off the escalator. “The DOPS loves mooks. They work hard and don’t complain.”

  Coop leaned on the escalator railing, trying to get over the onslaught of weirdness. “Of course they don’t complain. Where else are they going to go? I don’t think they let dead people run Dairy Queens.”

  Giselle gave him a look. “You’d be surprised how many fast-food joints are run by the undead. Personally, I think a lot of mooks like the DOPS because they hope someone is going to figure out a way to make them alive again.”

  “And they can all be real boys. Just like Pinocchio.”

  “What did I tell you?”

  “Be nice.”

  “Or pretend to be.”

  “Pretend it is.”

  Coop could see the moon from the top of the next escalator. Or something that looked a lot like it. The dark floor where they stepped off was icy. Coop blew into his hands. He looked around and saw a cart giving out free samples of drinks. He wandered over hoping it was some kind of supernatural whiskey.

  “Would you like to try something today, sir?” said the pretty vampire in charge of the cart. Her name tag said KRISTEN.

  “Hi, Kristen. What do you have that’s got a kick? And warm. But mostly a kick.”

  She poured something from a brown bottle into a small paper cup. She handed it to Coop and smiled. Then her smile turned into a frown and she took it back. “Wait. You’re like alive and stuff, aren’t you?” she said in the kind of hard-core Valley Girl accent he hadn’t heard in twenty years.

  “Yeah, currently alive. And I’d like to stay that way,” he said.

  She shook her head and set the cup on the cart. “Then this is definitely not for you.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  She poured something from another bottle and passed it to him. “Try this,” she said in a way that kick-started Coop’s reptile brain. It wasn’t even a fight-or-flight choice. His brain went straight into flee mode. But he stayed put. Jinx Town had fucked with him enough. Without thinking any more about it, he took the cup and gulped the drink down. A flush passed through his body and his brain thanked him immediately. Coop’s heart jumped a little and he instantly felt warmer. Suddenly, he was inspired to do math, take a nap, and maybe learn to tap-dance. Everything was fascinating, him most of all.

  Giselle came running over. “What are you doing? Do you know what that stuff is?”

  Kristen smiled at Giselle. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to waste good blood on tourists. He just had some Vin Mariani.”

  Coop held out his cup to Giselle. “You really need to try this. It’s like driving the Indy Five Hundred in a bathtub full of warm Jell-O.”

  “I bet it is,” said Giselle. “Vin Mariani is wine and cocaine. You’re lucky it isn’t drug-test season at work.”

  “Fuck the DOPS. Fuck this whole day. This is why I came to Jinx Town.”

  “No. Staying out of jail is why you’re here. And let’s keep you out, shall we? Come on. We have work to do.”

  Coop held up a finger. “One second.” He looked at Kristen and pulled out his cash. “I’ll take a case of the stuff.”

  “No, you won’t,” said Giselle.

  “You’re right. I can’t carry a case. Just one bottle.”

  “Goddammit, Coop.”

  Kristen took some of his money and handed him an unopened bottle. She leaned forward and said in a stage whisper, “Your mom is pissed.”

  Coop put a finger to his lips. “Shh.”

  Giselle took his arm and pulled him away from the stand. Coop tucked the bottle under his arm and went with her.

  “You need to take this situation seriously,” she said.

  “I am taking it seriously.”

  “More seriously.”

  “Listen. I’ve wanted out of Narnia since we walked in. This stuff made me feel like I could stay. Plus I’m kind of high. That’s what I call a win-win.”

  Giselle nodded at the bottle. “You just bought a fifth of who the hell knows what from a trampy vampire. Did it ever occur to you that she might want to poison you or maybe make you her slave?”

  Coop frowned. “Kristen wouldn’t do that. She’s a nice girl. And I’m sure it’s against company policy.”

  “Plus, you’re all coked up. You’re no use to me now questioning people.”

  “Trust me, I was no use before. At least now I don’t want to run screaming back to the car.”

  “Fine,” said Giselle. “We’re going into that bar over there. I’m going to show Babylon’s photo around and you’re going to be good and not bother the nice people, all right?”

  Coop squinted at the sign over the door. “Týden Divu. I can’t even pronounce that. Is it a vampire bar? Because if it is, I’m going to need more Vin.”

  Giselle shook her head. “Don’t worry. It’s an everybody bar. Just keep your mouth shut. And no more drinking.”

  “Got it.”

  “Let’s go.” When she turned, he opened the bottle, took a swig, and followed her.

  Coop had to give Jinx Town credit for one thing. None of the bars had doormen checking IDs. I guess if you get this far, not only can you drink, you deserve a drink. Coop thought about taking another nip, but he’d promised Giselle and already felt a little guilty about the first one. He didn’t like having her mad at him, and he was getting irritated at himself for giving a damn. This is just a job, he reminded himself. I’m the con and she’s the guard. Period. He went into the bar with her, trying to be neutral but still feeling too buzzed to be sure he was doing it right.

  Giselle headed off to talk to the bar patrons. The moment she was away from him Coop saw her face light up in a million-dollar smile. He remembered that smile when it had been aimed at him. But that was a long time ago. He walked around the tables and found himself in a gaming area. Roulette on the far side of the room. Craps on the other. Blackjack in the middle. Coop always liked the idea of craps, but the odds were way too much on the house’s side. Same thing with roulette. He’d played some blackjack in prison, which he remembered being barely more exciting than picking paint chips off his cell wall. And there was no way he could sit still for a dealer in his current speed-demon state. Between the big games were rows and rows of slot machines. He gazed at the blinking lights and listened to the bells and electronic pings, a siren song to drunks throughout history. Coop set down the bottle, sat at a vacant machine, and felt around f
or his money.

  He fed a twenty into the slot and pulled the machine’s lever, which was shaped like a curved tentacle. Coop got two skulls and a human heart. On his next pull he got an ouroboros, a pentagram, and what looked sort of like a ham sandwich with hooves. Then he got two bats and an Easter Island head. It was coming back to him why he wasn’t a gambler. He didn’t like throwing money away and he didn’t like being bored. Losing was boring and winning was too stressful. The lights on the machines were getting too bright and the noises too loud. He looked around for Giselle and saw her chatting up a group of well-dressed werewolves. He liked their suits and in another life might have asked them where they bought them, but the jolt of energy and abandon from the cocaine was wearing off, replaced with the same dull dread he’d felt earlier. Rather than attract attention to himself, he slipped another twenty into the slot machine. The spinners whirred for what seemed a long time and finally settled on three eyes. All three blinked at him and a siren went off. Coop leapt back from the machine as diamonds and sapphires cascaded from the payout slot onto the floor. A human, scaly, spiny, and furry crowd gathered around him. A few gawkers applauded as he knelt to scoop up his winnings. Giselle pushed her way through the crowd and stood over him.

  “I can’t leave you alone for two minutes,” she said in an annoyed tone.

  Coop shoved the last of his winnings into his pockets and got up. “I was doing what you told me. I was being quiet and not bothering anyone. All the noise was just dumb luck.”

  Giselle shook her head. “Forget it. We’re too conspicuous now. And I wasn’t getting anywhere anyway. If anyone here knows Babylon, they’re not talking.”

  “Great. Let’s go. I get a feeling we’re looking a lot tastier to some of this crowd.”

  Giselle put a hand on his elbow. “Relax. You’re home. No one here is going to bother you.”

  They made it as far as the bar before someone pointed a gun at them.

  “You were saying,” Coop muttered to Giselle.

  To Coop the gunman looked human, but he wasn’t willing to bet his Vin Mariani on it. The guy wore a sharkskin suit and his tie hung loose, like he hoped Frank Sinatra’s ghost would stroll by and invite him out for steaks and hookers. They guy pressed the barrel of the gun into Giselle’s chest. Coop recognized the unusual gold model.