Rabbits(38)

“Me too,” I said, “but it’s been over two weeks.” Sidney Farrow aside, I couldn’t remember going more than a couple of days without some kind of text message or phone call from Baron Corduroy.

“Should we maybe send him a towel?” Chloe suggested.

Baron knew Chloe and I used the towel meme in emergencies, so he would understand it was important.

“Let’s give him until the end of the day.”

“Sounds good,” Chloe said.

“What’s going on with the Magician?” He’d also told us he was going to look into what was happening with the game. That was close to three weeks ago.

“I don’t know,” Chloe said. “Ever since we discovered the WorGames connection on Scarpio’s phone, he’s been a bit…off.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve only seen him at the arcade once since then, and he wasn’t all that open to conversation. He just kind of wandered in muttering about a band called Toto, and then went upstairs and locked himself in his office.”

“Do you think he’s still trying to figure out what’s going on with the game?”

Chloe shrugged.

“Do you know if he ended up getting in touch with anyone at WorGames?”

“No idea. You sure got a lotta questions.”

“We need to sit down with the Magician as soon as possible.”

Chloe nodded. “Can you stop pacing? You’re making me nervous.”

“Sorry,” I said, and sat down on the couch.

Alan Scarpio had gone out of his way to tell me that something was wrong with the game—that if the next iteration started up before that something was fixed, we were well and truly fucked. Then he’d gotten a call from WorGames and vanished.

I kept picturing the look on his face while he was telling me that. He’d been smiling, speaking somewhat flippantly, but there was something behind his eyes.

Something I recognized.

Fear.

“I’ll try to pin him down,” Chloe said. “In the meantime, I think we should talk to your friend who freaked out when you mentioned Rabbits. It sounds like he might know something useful.”

“Maybe, but he made it pretty clear he wasn’t interested in talking about it.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t have me.”

I was pretty sure having Chloe tag along wouldn’t make the least bit of difference, but Russell Milligan clearly knew a lot about Rabbits, including something that had freaked him way the hell out.

“We could try,” I said, “but he’ll most likely tell us to fuck off.”

“Let’s go collect our ‘fuck off’ then.”



* * *



—

I got back in touch with Russell and he agreed to meet two hours later at a coffee shop a few blocks away from the University of Washington campus.

“Hey,” I said, sitting down across from him. “This is Chloe.”

Chloe sat down beside me and shook hands with Russell.

“Hey, Chloe. K tells me you’re looking for a UX designer?”

So, yeah, I’d kind of lied to Russell about why we wanted to meet.

“Not exactly,” Chloe said.

Russell’s face darkened a little as he realized what was happening.

“I told you to stay away from that thing,” he said as he stood up and started to leave.

“Alan Scarpio said something was wrong with the game and asked for my help,” I said. “I’m not sure what’s happening.”

Russell stopped walking and turned around.

Even though he’d clearly experienced something horrible related to the game, I could tell he was intrigued—excited, even—by the mention of Alan Scarpio. Then, just as quickly as that flash of excitement had appeared, it was gone.

He took a few steps back toward our table and lowered his voice. “What’s happening is stay away from the game if you want to stay alive.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about what’s going on? Anything at all?” Chloe asked.

“Just leave it alone. It’s nothing but trouble, I promise you.”

“Please,” I said. “It’s important.”

“You’re really not going to stop, are you?” he asked, resigned.

“I don’t think we can,” I said.

Russell looked at Chloe, then over at me.

“You could try the phone number.”

“What phone number?” I asked.

“Hazel’s phone number.”

“Hazel has a phone number?”

“Yeah, an 800 number. Like Bill Murray.”

“Bill Murray the actor?”

Russell sighed. “Bill Murray doesn’t have an agent or a manager, so the only way to get in touch with him if you want him in your movie is to track down his 800 number and leave a message.”

“You’re fucking with us,” I said.

“Nope,” he said. “That’s the rumor.”

I looked over at Chloe. She just shrugged.

“There was a Rabbits player in Bali who claimed they’d set up a meeting with Hazel using some kind of 800 number,” Russell continued. “Most people believe the number’s nothing but an unsubstantiated myth, but I heard it from a couple of sources I trust. The phone number is real.”