The Game at Carousel: A Horror Movie LitRPG

Book Five, Chapter 62: A Walk Down Memory Lane

With an abundance of caution, we decided not to go to the bowling alley immediately but rather to head back to the loft to do some research.

Now that we knew the name of the storyline—or at least were reasonably confident that we were on the money—we could do some digging. The only way to confirm that this was the right storyline, unfortunately, was to find the actual omen and see if the missing posters of Logan and Avery appeared on it when we were near it.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust the mini-quest we were on; it was that I didn’t need to trust when I could verify.

If we had the most recent copy of the Atlas, we would have all kinds of details about the bowling alley, even if it was missing a whole bunch of older stuff. But since we had the older version, Grace and her team weren’t around to map out how to navigate that area.

Luckily, we weren’t going to try bowling or hanging out indefinitely. We just needed to get in and get out, and I was confident that my scouting trope would be sufficient for that.

On the one occasion we had gone to the bowling alley before, I was able to anticipate most or all of the problems that Grace and her team had studied, even if I didn’t know how the individual mobile omens would behave.

Avoiding them would not be a problem, but we would certainly not be able to bowl a whole set.

As soon as we got back to the loft, we sat in the living room crisscross applesauce because we didn’t have enough chairs for everyone, so it was first-come, first-served.

Meanwhile, Kimberly whipped out her phone and dialed up her talent agent, Sal.

"Kimberly, sometimes it feels like you only call me when you need to ask about a role," Sal said as soon as he picked up.

"You try to tell me about a role every time I call anyway," she said.

"You got me there, sweetheart. What can I help you with?" he said.

"What can you tell me about the movie Stray Dawn: The Mark?" she asked.

"Huh, well, that one is a remake," Sal said. "Let me look through my stacks."

We listened as he shuffled through papers. I had to wonder if the NPC playing Sal was just fumbling through random sheets of paper or if he actually had information or scripts in front of him.

"Oh, here we go," Sal said. "That one was already made a few years ago. It was a moderate hit, but, you know, they do have a script floating around for Stray Dawn. I don’t know if it’s a reboot or a remake, or heck, this might actually be the original script. I can poke around if you’re interested."

Kimberly muted the phone and looked up at me. That was not a response we had gotten from Sal before. He would usually tell us about any story, even stories that we were grossly incompatible with.

"She’s the Detective advanced archetype," I said. "Stray Dawn: The Mark is probably a version of the movie that was altered by her advanced archetype, so we can’t run it."

Kimberly nodded. She unmuted the phone and said, "All right, tell me everything you know about Stray Dawn."

"I made some notes when I first read this script, and I have to say, this one will be a little bit of a challenge for you. It’s an older stylistic horror with some ancient curse involved. Honestly, if you ask me, it’s a bit of a clash. On the one hand, you have this angsty, emotional teen story that takes center stage, and on the other hand, you have a much older, more ancient backstory that I think doesn’t get the attention it deserves."

That was Sal for you—details without details.

"Do you know where it’s set?" Kimberly asked.

"Yeah, just something about a gothic mansion in southern Carousel, though I think most of the shots of Carousel Proper are from southeastern Carousel. I imagine they’ll try to make it look like those two places are close together, but I don’t know, whatever the case. There are no big city sites for this story. I know you’ll hate that."

"Can you tell me anything about my character?" Kimberly asked.

"A fish out of water who’s new to town and just trying to fit in. It’s that type of thing. It’s one of those frustrating stories that’s about finding yourself when all the audience actually wants to know about is the cool lore, the mystery, and the background characters."

"Anything else you can tell me?" Kimberly asked. "Anything about the difficulty or the plot?"

"I’ve forgotten the plot, and I didn’t make a note about it, but that was probably because it didn’t really have an effect on me. This is a coming-of-age sort of thing, probably not that complicated if you follow me. I will say there’s some brutal, bloody stuff in this that'll probably get cut out for TV," Sal said.

From what he was talking about, there was good news and bad news.

From the sound of it, the storyline was too challenging to get much concrete information using her talent agent trope. But on the other hand, it wasn’t going to be too far out of our league because he wasn’t exactly tight-lipped like he was when you asked him about a storyline that was just too strong.

"All right," Kimberly said. "I’ll give you a call later."

"Ciao," Sal said, and he hung up the phone.

"That doesn’t sound right," Andrew said. "It’s on the mountain near the Powerworks Pavilion. I don’t remember there being a gothic mansion up there, and if there were, surely that would be the location listed on Logan and Avery’s missing posters."

I had similar thoughts.

"It has to be," Antoine said. "It would be too much of a coincidence if we just happened to find a very similar werewolf in a storyline that’s completely unrelated. Plus, the Powerworks Pavilion is as southern as Carousel goes."

"There’s only one way to know for sure," I said. "We have to actually take the missing posters and get eyes on the omen. Until then, we’re just guessing. And let’s not forget that we don’t actually know how missing posters work. For all we know, the Powerworks Pavilion is just listed as their place of death because it’s the nearest major setting."

We talked for a bit about our plans, and most of us were in agreement.

In the morning, we were going to the bowling alley, but this time we weren’t bringing everyone. This wasn’t a relaxing time out or a shopping trip.

This was surveillance, and we needed to move quickly and be ready in case we encountered a problem.

As I sat at the kitchen table, continuing a fruitless search for any information about the bowling alley from our outdated version of the Atlas, Kimberly, Antoine, and Dina approached me.

“Can we talk?” Kimberly asked.

“I’ll have to check my schedule,” I said, but I smiled so they’d know I was really saying yes.

“What do you wanna talk about?” I asked.

“We need to discuss what happened today at Carousel Family Video,” Antoine said.

I was puzzled.

“Hasn’t that been what we’ve been talking about all day? I mean, we’ve been planning this trip to the bowling alley since before we even knew what storyline we were looking for.”

They looked at each other with a concerned gaze that made me uncomfortable.

“We’re talking about that poster,” Kimberly said. “Why were your parents on a poster? Those were your parents, right?”

“Oh, that,” I said. I thought for a moment, then replied, “Carousel’s just messing with me. It has been since the beginning—talking about my grandparents, just teasing me, that sort of thing.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Why would it put a picture of your parents—and you—on what looked like a storyline poster? That is what we’re asking,” Antoine said.

I shrugged. “Like I told you, it’s just teasing me. It’s trying to lure me back there, so I’ll fall for whatever trap it was the crybaby warned us about. Just Carousel being Carousel.”

The others didn’t seem so sure.

“Well, don’t you want to know what’s going on there?” Antoine pressed. “Why would Dina’s son’s ghost tell you to go downstairs, but the baby warns you there’s a danger if you walk in that direction?”

“I don’t know why,” I said. “We won’t know until we try it, and we agreed to put it off. If we don’t pull the thread, the sweater stays together.”

“Just because we’re putting off actually going there doesn’t mean we can’t discuss it,” Antoine replied. “Was that a real picture of your parents—and you—on the poster?”

I nodded.

“We took it on a trip to Six Flags, or some theme park, maybe a carnival—I don’t remember; I was too young. But it was in our house, the picture. I don’t know why Carousel put it on a poster, but probably just to mess with me, like I’ve been telling you over and over again.”

They paused, exchanging glances again, which was really starting to bother me. They were acting like I’d been diagnosed with some strange, deadly illness.

“I thought you were an orphan,” Kimberly said. “That’s what Anna said—that your parents died.”

I didn’t talk about that.

“So, if you know, why do you need to talk to me about it?” I asked.

“Because we’re concerned,” Antoine said. “How did Carousel know you’d be drawn to a poster with your parents on it?”

“Because it’s human nature,” I replied. “If it had been a poster of your brother, you’d have tried to read what it said.”

“Yeah,” Antoine said, “but my brother was literally in Carousel and died here. Your parents died over a decade before we even got here, didn’t they?”

“I’m telling you,” I said, standing up from my seat. “Carousel just likes to mess with me. That’s why it talks about my grandparents. That’s why it got Dina’s ghost son to try to lure me into a trap—actually, I’m not sure what was going on there, but the point is, it likes to mess with me. I mean, it gave me my old TV just a few days ago.”

“Your old TV?” Antoine asked. “That’s why Candyman is in there, isn’t it? I couldn’t figure out why or how you got a movie from our world.”

“Riley,” Kimberly said, “why wouldn’t you tell us that?”

“I did tell you that I had one just like that as a kid. I don’t know if it’s the same one,” I said. “I figured the details could wait until we decided to act on it.”

“If Carousel is starting something—or if God forbid, a Narrator is doing this—we need to know. We deserve to know. Didn’t you think of that?” Antoine asked, coming around the table to look directly at me.

I had considered it. After all, Dina’s little premonition about going downstairs had come to her right after Project Rewind was completed, which just so happened to be around the time Silas Dyrkon had tried to trick us.

So, presumably, it could have been a Narrator.

“Well, thank goodness we didn’t go down those stairs. And until we do, we’ll never know what’s going on,” I said. “I mean, does knowing about it change any—”

“How did your parents die?” Dina interrupted. “That poster—it had this off-color warping effect like it was supposed to be spooky or something, but it just looked like a family having a good time. So I’m asking—how did your parents die?”

I really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Murder. Robbery gone wrong, maybe,” I said. “They were just… killed. I never got answers. The case went unsolved.”

Of course, I was both telling the truth and lying. I didn’t know why they had been killed or who had done it. I knew it was brutal. It was hard enough on my grandparents and they only saw photos.

All I remembered was that I was watching a movie when it happened, and my grandparents didn’t let the police tell me anything more than I already knew. I never asked.

And I tried not to remember. For so long, it had worked so well.

Talking about my parents was one of my weak points. I was crying by then, and I could tell the others felt bad because they stopped acting angry or inquisitive. I think Kimberly even tried to hug me, but I just went to my room.

I didn’t know why Carousel was teasing me about my parents, and I really did not want to find out.

I had lived with the unanswered questions surrounding their deaths my whole life, but I didn’t want to learn those answers now.

Not here.

Not in Carousel.

Personally, I just wanted to bring myself, Antoine, Kimberly, Dina, and Bobby, but Andrew and Michael insisted on coming. While Lila would have liked to, she did not speak up, so she didn't get to go. Since we wanted to keep our group small, Bobby stayed home, and the rest of us hiked out to the bowling alley with nothing but the ghost of a memory of how to stay safe there.

Luckily, we didn't need to be as exacting as the bowlers were.

As we approached, everything was as I remembered it, including the woman talking to her reflection in the building's window.

We knew a few things we had to do, like not interacting with the mobile omens, locking the doors, and flipping the closed sign around when we wanted certain patrons not to enter the bowling alley.

Still, we did not remember the exact sequence or timing as Grace had determined it.

We also didn't plan on being there long enough for it to matter.

The bowling alley didn't actually have a name; it was just called a bowling alley. Whatever its name was had been ripped off the roof of the building. From what remained of the letters, my money was on Memory Lanes.

As I stared at it, I could still see the struts designed to hold a large sign up there. If I didn't know any better, that looked like some sort of indication of danger, but I couldn't say what danger it was referring to.

"Andrew, do you remember any of the safety precautions that the bowlers used to do?" Antoine asked as we approached the building.

"I regret to admit that I was not interested in the subject matter when Grace and the bowler showed us the alley. I came because it seemed impolite to turn down their offer," Andrew said.

That was similar to how I had treated the whole event. My only interest was in learning the concept of how to clear an area, not to learn the bowling alley specifically. Unsurprisingly, I barely remembered it.

"That being said, we're in, then we're out," Antoine said.

"I could probably go in alone," I said. "I mean, let's face it, without any scouting tropes, I'm not sure how useful the rest of you will be in there. No offense."

"We'll be really useful if you accidentally trigger an omen," Michael said. "Then you're going to need some muscle."

I didn’t say anything in response, but I would certainly say something if he ended up triggering something because he couldn’t see the omens or wasn’t even trying to look.

With that, Antoine led us across the street and into the building.

It looked like an ordinary bowling alley from back in the real world. I could hear the sound of pins crashing and balls rolling across the wood. People were laughing, and the child's birthday that had been there on our first trip to the bowling alley wasn't even happening, which was good because there was apparently a pretty risky mobile omen associated with it.

"What do you got, Radar?" Michael said, looking at me.

"Don’t call me that," I said. I really didn’t need a nickname, especially one that came with a job. "The bowling bag is an omen. Don’t touch it." I continued scanning around the room. "Something is unscrewing the bolts to that neon sign on the wall. It’s an omen—something tough, and there’s something invisible. Don’t go anywhere near it. It won’t activate unless the sign falls and hits you."

That day was not a dense one for omens at the bowling alley. Of course, the real danger of the alley is if you spent too much time there, because so many omens moved in and out. At any one time, there might not be that many, but throughout the day, many cycled through.

"There’s a trope item over in the glass prize box," Andrew observed.

I looked over and found it quite hilarious. The trope item was a container of string gum, like chewing gum, but in string form, and it had a trope called She Caught Her Own Killer that guaranteed there would be some piece of evidence linking the victim to the killer and the act of killing. It was a Scholar Sleuth trope.

"But how would that work?" Kimberly asked. "How does bubble gum link to the killer?"

That one had me scratching my head.

Any explanation that I could come up with sounded convoluted. I almost wanted to win the prize just so I could test it out to figure out what the heck a pack of chewing gum was going to do to help you solve a murder, even with a powerful trope like that attached.

Trope objects were very new, so deciding how the trope would apply wasn’t an exact science yet.

"Maybe the killer gets the bubble gum on their shoe?" Andrew said.

"Gumshoe," I said. "That has to be it. It's a pun."

Had I seen any movies where a killer was found out because they got the victim’s bubble gum stuck to the bottom of their shoe? I tried to remember. In fact, I had only seen one such instance on an episode of Monk.

As we were talking about it, somewhere in the arcade someone must have won something, because the lights started flashing and noises started dinging. But when I looked over there, no one was there.

I continued to search around the small food service area and along the lanes and checked every bowling ball. There were two different balls with tropes attached. One was Antoine’s Athlete trope, which allowed him to bring a sports implement into a storyline and gave it bonus damage in melee combat.

The other one was called Clutter Collateral, a Comedian Stooge trope that made it so that when the enemy crashed into a shelf or something with lots of objects on it, the objects would fall on them and cause extra damage. In this case, the object was a bowling ball.

I continued looking around and found additional omens here and there, including an omen that was nothing but a foul odor near one of the walls in the bowling alley by the bathroom.

Except the odor wasn’t from the bathroom. It was from something inside the wall. The Omen was triggered by breaking through the drywall. The storyline was called After Hours, as far as I could tell, and it was a really easy storyline.

"Guys, there’s nothing here," I said. "No omens anything like what we’re looking for—just all the normal bowling alley omens."

"Maybe we should check the back again," Andrew suggested.

"No," I said. "There’s a dangerous omen at the back door. We need to regroup outside because being in here is dangerous."

"We can’t just give up," Michael said. "You said that a lot of omens show up and travel around the bowling alley, so maybe we just need to stay here and wait it out."

"We can watch them enter the bowling alley from outside," I said. "We don’t have to wait in here where it’s dangerous."

"Why are we even saying that the omen is at the bowling alley?" Michael said. "If the riddle was about the bowlers, it was because they were in the movie. That doesn’t mean that the omen is at the bowling alley. Are we just wasting our time here? Do we even have any idea where the omen is?"

I understood his frustration but I was starting to get annoyed by it.

"The bowlers spent a lot of time here," Antoine said. "If they ran that storyline, I’d bet anything that the Omen is around here somewhere. It just makes sense."

That was our logic originally. We thought the bowling elements of the riddle that Madam Celia had given us might be a clue that the omen was at the bowling alley. But then it turned out that it was a clue that the bowlers themselves had been the last ones to run the werewolf storyline we were looking for.

Still, the bowlers were called that for a reason, and if that omen existed, it was likely nearby. We were out of clues. That had to be it.

"Let’s take a break," Antoine said.

"That sounds fair," Andrew agreed. "We can stake out the entrance and see what comes by."

He mainly was talking to Michael, whose patience was growing thin and who reacted to his own worry with irritation.