I. Turnstile

The black-haired boy sped from the school-yard, weaving through the trees toward the street. The sound of children's voices faded beneath the banging of fenders and chain-guard as his bike turned and climbed onto the sidewalk. It was too small for him. Billy glanced down at the rocket ship that was the bike's headlight and noticed for the first time that rust was beginning to pepper the lid. A block later he veered off the sidewalk, stood on the pedals as the front wheel dropped off the curb to the street, and leaned into a turn. Overhead, the trees formed a brown and orange canopy through which the late afternoon sun fired arrows of flame. Houses that seemed ancient to Billy showed their faces between high, thick hedges caught turning brown. Occasionally he passed narrow alleys leading to little shaded alcoves and service paths that passed unseen behind backyard fences, secret places he knew well from his many explorations.

The weather was pleasant today, but when fall came to Flecter's Well, it was usually sudden and short, vacating quickly to make room for winter. Billy had a good distance to ride, but it would be worth the effort for another encounter with his obsession before the cold fell.

The bicycle's clatter transposed itself to the rumble of large machinery as Billy steered with his imagination. Round a bend where the rows of houses ended, through an undeveloped subdivision he rode until a single wooded lot stood between him and his destination. Just above the trees, a white, curved framework shown brightly against the late afternoon sky. He hopped the curb and threaded his way through the undeveloped lot, following a rough path he had discovered years ago. Emerging from the copse, he brushed away strands of spiders' webs from his shirt, then skidded his bike slid to a stop amid wet leaves. Flipping the kick-stand down, he hopped off in a single motion. There before him was an amusement park.

It stood empty and still, but its sounds echoed loudly in his memory. Red letters on the side of the roller coaster's lift hill proclaimed it the Comet, and he could hear the rattle of the chain lift, the screams of the riders as an invisible train raced down the first drop. To the right of it were the kiddy rides, which he had finally outgrown, erupting with children's high-pitched squeals. On the left were larger rides - a Ferris Wheel, Caterpillar, Tilt-a-Whirl, and a tall Aeroplane Swing which traced a course parallel to the ground when it was at its fastest. Billy imagined the screams and laughter, and wondered if he'd ever muster the courage to ride.

It was the machinery that fascinated him. Whenever he came to the park, he stood as close as the railings would allow, staring into the works, carefully watching the operation of every visible part. At home he had built models of most every ride here with his Erector Set, attempting to make each one work just as its inspiration did. He spent hours playing with them, imagining what the real experience must be like.

The thing that brought Billy here on this particular afternoon, however, was curiosity over a novelty. During the last half of summer, an addition to the park began to take shape - a large metal building with a wood-frame front, sandwiched between the ball-toss booth and the shooting gallery. It had to be some sort of ride, but no one seemed to know anything about it. Work had continued since the park closed after Labor Day, and the outside was finally beginning to look finished. The front was elevated, a large porch with stairs at both ends leading up. On either side of the porch were pairs of large doors leading inside.

As he entertained private theories about it, Billy saw two men emerge from the alley beside the ride. One gestured toward the edge of the park, and nudged his companion. In a few moments, a freight delivery truck trundled up the midway and came to a stop when it reached them.

Billy lowered himself onto the carpet of leaves, oblivious of the wetness soaking into his jeans. As he watched, the workers opened the back doors of the truck, and with the driver's help began removing a set of metal letters. He decided they were designed to light up, because he could see electrical junction boxes on each one. The three men laid the letters out in their proper order, leaned them against the porch, and stood back to admire them. Billy read the completed sign aloud in a puzzled voice.

"Laugh In The Dark?"

***

The 1956 Bel-Air coupe slowed and pulled into the driveway, carefully avoiding the grass on either side of and between the twin concrete strips. It eased to a stop, and its headlights went dark. Gerald Mason opened the door slowly, picked up his satchel, and climbed out of the driver's seat. He looked tired. At the side of the white frame house, the porch light came on and the kitchen door opened. A slender hand pushed open the porch screen, and a woman's head peered out into the darkness.

Allison watched as her husband walked toward her. She could see something was wrong, and knew immediately what it was. He climbed the stairs to the kitchen, and she allowed him to pass by her through the door, silently waiting. Slowly, he placed his briefcase on the kitchen table, removed his hat, pulled out a chair, and sat.

"The plant is closing. The final decision was made today."

Allison sighed. "Gerry, I- "

"No. Nothing anyone can do." He leaned against the tabletop and looked into Allison's eyes, his finger tapping the side of his briefcase.

"For ten years you've been there... it's not right for them to..." She halted, her conviction failing.

"We've been over this. Let's not start again."

In silence, Allison turned to the stove and continued to prepare dinner. Her shoulders drooped, but her face was unreadable.

"Love," said Gerry, "it isn't the end of the line. It happens all the time. If I didn't feel confident I could find work, I'd be a lot worse off than I am."

Allison put down a spoon, and it dripped on the stovetop. Without thinking, she tore off a paper towel, wet it under the faucet and wiped up the spill.

"I know," said Allison, "it just takes a while. Bear with me." She tossed the towel in the trash, and smiled briefly. "My only worry is Billy..."

Suddenly, there was a clatter from the driveway, followed by a succession of familiar sounds. The boy bounded up the stairs, yanked open the screen door, and then stopped short when he saw his parents. Something was wrong, and he knew by looking at their faces that his tardiness was not the real problem.

"Dad?"

"The factory is closing, son." Gerry wasted no time on preface when speaking to Billy. He never had.

"Oh."

"We will probably have to leave Flecter's Well. It may take some time for me to find work elsewhere. In the meantime, there won't be much money to spare. I expect you to help around the house more. Do you understand? Your mother will be needing your help."

Billy felt great disappointment. He had ridden his bike far and wide around Flecter's Well and discovered all the hidden places where he could go to act out his quiet fantasies. The town was his entire world, and except for his grandfather's farm in Haguesville where he had spent short vacations, it was all he knew. He wanted to say something, but knew it would not do any good, so he just stood staring at the floor.

Gerry looked at the boy, who finally nodded numbly.

"Yes sir."

In silence, the family ate dinner. Billy finished, went upstairs to his room, fretted through his homework, and put away his books. Absently, he began playing with his toys, and part of him seemed completely asleep. Finally, there was a knock on the door, and his father opened it.

"Son," he said, moving to sit on the bed, "there is something I want to discuss with you."

Billy sat on the floor, the stage for his fantasy world. The serious look on his father's face caused the real world to pour into his play land, and the wooden floor seemed harder beneath him.

"Billy, when we move, I will expect you to begin associating more with your schoolmates. In all the time you've been in school, you have made only two, maybe three friends. You never go to any of your class parties, and you never play with the boys and girls in the neighborhood. It's not healthy for someone your age to hide in his room all the time. We'll get you in a good scout troop, and you'll learn."

Billy closed his eyes. He had heard this speech from his mother several times, but now the change was actually coming, and he resented it. Most of his schoolmates he considered silly or brutish, and the scouts he knew would have nothing to do with him. Billy stared down at his toys, for he considered these his best friends.

Gerry watched as his son sat in silence. In a while he left, closing the door quietly before he turned down the hall toward the master bedroom. He simply did not know how to deal with Billy when he withdrew like this, and he was in no mood for an incident.

It seemed cooler in the house, and Gerry pushed the thermostat higher as he passed it. He saw no point in allowing himself the luxury of brooding, so he sat on the side of the bed, picked up the classified ads, and read as the gas floor furnace thumped and popped.

Billy looked at the closed door for a few moments, then picked up a school tablet and pencil. He was determined to draw something, but all he could think to do was doodle. Eventually, an entire page was covered with wiggly lines and spirals, all tangled up together. With a sigh, he tossed the pad into the corner, crawled into bed, and pulled the covers over his head.

Allison carefully opened the door to Billy's room, looked in, shook her head, turned out the light, and closed the door again. She went to the bedroom, put her arms around Gerry, and the pair sat together for a long time in silence.

***

Billy eased his bike's front tire between two dull gray pipes of the rack, slid a lock through the spokes of the wheel, and clicked it shut. He realized he was late - the school yard was empty. Listlessly, he plodded toward the old school building, not caring what he would face as he passed the office. With effort, he climbed the stairs and slipped through the door. The principal stood waiting for him just inside.

"William Mason. I simply cannot believe you are late again," said Mrs. Burg, horn-rimmed glasses slid low on the bridge of her nose. "I don't suppose you have an excuse, do you?" Her stern, pale face was framed by a sharp arch of fiery red hair pulled back into a tight bun.

Billy merely shook his head. He could not meet the imposing woman's gaze, and looked toward the door. He wanted to run, to go somewhere he could be alone.

"You already know you will be suspended, and your parents will be very angry. This is the last time I will warn you."

"Yes mam." Billy dug in his pockets, fingering his change, keys and knife nervously.

"Don't you care about your life? Remember what we talked about last Tuesday? School is your work. Your father is responsible enough to be on time for his work. When I have to call your parents, it puts a burden on them. You must learn to be responsible, Billy." Mrs. Burg felt she was doing her best to be sensible, but the severe image she presented to Billy was anything but reassuring. "Go on to class now. Remember, this is the last warning I will give you."

"Yes mam," he repeated, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

In the two weeks since his father broke the news about his job, school had become an alien place for him. At home, life was uncomfortable. His entire little world would soon be lost, and everything seemed meaningless. He had indeed been late for school several times, and the inevitable family meetings with the principal only put more distance between him and his parents. One day, in acute ennui, he had turned away from school and driven to the fallow amusement park to watch the new ride being completed, for it was one of the few things that still held interest for him.

Class time dragged by until the noon bell rang. Billy wasn't hungry, and instead of heading for the lunchroom, he pushed open the hall doors and went out into the playground behind the school. Severe stone walls gave way to a concrete apron which was arranged for basketball and volleyball, painted with lines and circles.

He walked onto the hard field, treading the yellow court boundary as though it were a tightrope. His thoughts were miles away at the amusement park, wondering why anyone would want to "laugh in the dark." From behind him came the sound of footsteps, and he turned, his reverie broken.

"Billy... hold up!" The speaker was a golden-haired boy with a tan jacket. Beside him was another young student wearing a gray windbreaker, his hair cut so short that it was impossible to accurately determine the color.

"What, Chris?" Billy turned, his attention now back in the school-yard. He was annoyed at having been disturbed.

"Randy says you... you've been going to Farley Park to watch that new thing they're building." The boy next to Chris nodded in agreement, and seemed pleased that his friend was quoting him.

"I... yeah." Billy wanted them both to go away, but he hadn't expected this to come up. Curiosity prickled him, and he faced Randy square on. "What do you know about it?"

Randy just grinned, and Chris stepped close to Billy.

"Well, the thing is, we're going to have a good look. See, we've been watching it too. There's a back door on that thing. They don't even keep it locked," said Chris in a soft, conspiratorial voice. Randy nodded, still obviously pleased.

"How? You mean you're gonna go inside? Without asking?" Billy was now hooked, and his friend knew it.

Chris chuckled. "Yeah, why not?"

"We can all go. Together. Don'tcha wanna see inside it?" Randy seemed especially eager.

"It's gotta be dark in there..." Billy replied.

"Naah, they got lights inside. We seen... saw..."

"I know where the switch is!" Randy interrupted Chris and got a hard nudge for his trouble.

Billy felt odd. Here were two who seemed to know more than he did about his favorite subject. Jealousy needled him, but he couldn't resist becoming involved.

"Well, anyway," said Chris, "it'll be easy. We'll just go in, have a look, and leave. Everybody'll be green when we tell 'em we did it."

Randy smiled and nodded his agreement.

"So, when are you gonna do it?" Billy had already knew he had to go, but he wanted more information first. "I don't wanna get caught. I'm already in enough trouble." He looked down, hesitated for a moment, then kicked a pebble out to the center of the playing field. It skidded into the mid-court circle, about a foot away from the center.

"Friday, after school. They leave early on Friday - the men, I mean." Chris picked up a pebble, and placed it before his shoe. He knew the little ritual well: closest to center was the leader.

Randy just stood watching. He was younger, and knew he wasn't allowed to participate. Chris kicked the rock, and it spun and wobbled toward the circle, finally tapping Billy's stone and passing it. He grinned widely, clearly pleased with his luck. Billy merely shrugged.

"Okay. We'll meet at the bike rack. Friday." Chris stood erect, assuming the leadership he had won. "Randy, bring your flashlight. Billy, you bring one, too. Fresh batteries, guys. Remember."

School simply didn't exist for the rest of the afternoon. All Billy could think of was the expedition. Wasn't he the one who had spent so much time studying the park? Why hadn't he thought of sneaking around for a look at the back? Inspired by the desire to make up for his oversight, he realized that he might score a point with Chris by doing a little extra scouting on his way home. It was as good as done.

***

Billy's bike lay on its side in the leaves, which were dry now and scattering in the wind. It was quite cool, and the sun was lowering to the treetops. He stood at his observation post across from the park, viewing the reward of his effort. The front of the ride had changed since last he came. A wooden façade had been erected, not unlike the ones on buildings Billy had seen in westerns at the movies. It made the ride seem much bigger, and all over it were paintings of cartoon characters, bizarre monsters, and laughing faces. The sign was also up, attached to a metal frame atop the awning over the porch, its letters all tilted at different angles.

Once again, a truck was unloading in front of Laugh In The Dark. On a ramp set against the rear of the truck, small yellow cars were being wheeled down. These reminded Billy of the ones in the bumper-car ride, except that they lacked steering wheels. One at a time, a fork lift took them from the ground to the porch, where they were fitted onto a single rail track that entered the ride beneath the doors on either side. After all five cars were mounted, the worker pushed each of them into the building through the doors on the right. Billy decided that there wasn't any power connected to the track yet.

Suddenly, one of the men looked right at him and waved. Billy hesitated - he had foolishly thought himself invisible. Finally, he smiled weakly and waved back. A good spy would never have let himself be seen, but surely this would not hurt their chances on Friday. After the man returned to his work, Billy picked up his bike. He had all the news he needed, and he didn't see why he had to admit to Chris and Randy that he had been observed.

A cold wind was behind him all the way home. He shivered in his light jacket, and pumped harder. Five minutes later he arrived, bumping down the sidewalk, weaving around his father's car, and finally stowing his bike in the garage amid the gardening tools. After pulling down the overhead door, he walked to the kitchen stairs and found Allison standing there, looking down at him. The expression on her face was hard.

"Son," she said, "come inside and sit down. We have to settle this."

"Mother... I...."

The despondent boy climbed the stairs slowly. Without finishing his sentence, he walked into the kitchen and dropped into a chair next to the table.

"Billy, Mrs. Burg called this afternoon. Again. Why were you late for school? Where have you been this time?" She walked to the sink, filled a glass with water, and set it on the table before the boy. He took a sip and stared at the floor.

"I don't know." The words were barely audible.

"You... don't know." Allison breathed out the echo as a sigh. "Billy, you are a different boy than the one we knew before your father lost his job. What has happened to you? What aren't you telling us, son?"

Billy honestly didn't know. He had no mirror to hold up to himself. All he could think of was the park and the ride. His family had become a mere abstraction to him. As before, he remained silent.

"Don't you understand that we love you? Please show us some in return. Please."

Billy never had understood exactly what his parents meant by love. He had heard endless talk about it, and knew from watching movies that romance was supposed to involve love, but he was not sure he had ever really felt it. All he could guess was that it involved obligations, things one was expected to do. Her words made him feel uncomfortable, and when he got to a certain point in his thoughts, there was a closed door. He decided not to open it.

"Yes, I love you." His voice was flat.

"Don't force yourself, son." Allison looked hurt.

"Can I go to my room?"

She sighed again, but her tone became determined. "Most certainly not. You are going to listen to me right now. Since pleading does not work with you, punishment will. From now on, I will take you to school and pick you up afterward. You will be supervised while doing your homework, and there will be no play until all your schoolwork and chores are done. Believe me, I do not want to do this, but you give me no choice."

Billy winced. She had closed the route to his Friday objective neatly, the only thing that really concerned him.

"Now, you will march to your room, and get out your books, and study."

Allison was stern, and ushered her son along with a hand on his shoulder. He moved as stiffly as an automaton. In complete silence, he spent the evening with his books, his feelings hidden. When he had finished, he was sent to bed early. After the lights were turned out, he welcomed the dark...

***

With a crash, Billy tumbled out of bed amidst his toys, twisting a carefully built roller coaster model into a flattened, useless tangle. He screamed as the impact woke him, hands flailing and scattering toys in every direction. Several of them broke as they impacted the wall. Within a few seconds there were rapid footfalls in the hall.

The door burst open, and his father ran in, with Allison behind him. After picking Billy up from the littered floor, Gerry sat him back on the bed, watching as his breathing began to calm.

"Son, what happened? Did you have a bad dream?"

Billy was staring at the wall, eyes wide. He hadn't yet reacted to his parents' presence. Slowly, he came to his senses, and saw what had happened to his precious possessions.

"NO!" Billy shouted. "My toys! All my toys!"

Gerry and Allison just looked at him, and shook their heads. The boy stood up, cleared a place on the floor with his feet, and kneeled to gather up his broken things. There were tears in his eyes.

"Son, I believe you actually love things more than you love us." His father stood with his arms folded. "I feel sorry for you, but we have done all we can to help you. It's time you saw a doctor."

Billy's face went blank. He slumped, pulled his knees to his chest and withdrew. Allison and Gerry watched him for a few minutes, feeling totally helpless. In exasperation, they left him there until the time came for school.

His mother waited as he dressed, gathered his books for him, and brought him to school after dropping Gerry off at the plant. Billy offered no resistance to any directions she gave, but showed no signs of any connection to what was going on around him. When she let the boy out, he walked away without so much as a good-bye, climbed the front steps of the building, and disappeared inside.

As she watched him go, Allison's first thought made her cringe. A voice inside her whispered that it didn't care if Billy ever came home again. The pressure of dealing with the boy's erratic behavior was getting to her. It wasn't the first time her love for him had been severely tested, and it had not been easy to be constant.

"I love you, son," she whispered. Somehow, just being able to say it was enough to reassure her.

***

Billy sat under the tallest tree in the school-yard. The ancient oak's gnarled bark had done its best to resist the ravages of students' fingers, but it was clearly losing the war. Here and there were bald patches and weather-worn inscriptions carved with pocket knives. On the bare earth in the shadows, the silent boy chewed at his sandwich without tasting it, and ignored the other children who were engaged in noisy play elsewhere in the yard. Something bounced off his knee, hard. As he looked up, he saw Chris and Randy standing over him, their hands full of acorns.

"Well, tomorrow's Friday." Chris grinned, pitched an acorn toward the monkey bars, and it bounced off the top rung with a resonant ting.

Billy looked at him with a long face. "It's off. My mother punished me. I can't go." These were the first words he had spoken all day.

Randy tried to imitate Chris' feat, and missed entirely.

"Whaddaya mean? Punished? For what?" Chris dropped his acorns in a pile before Billy's crossed legs.

"Being late for school. Mrs. Burg called them again. I don't care, though." He bit off some sandwich, chewed slowly, then swallowed. "Mom won't let me out of the house."

"Heh.." Chris chuckled, "Run away from home. I wouldn't let my parents do that to me and get away with it." It was empty bragging, and he knew it.

"You could come to my house..." Randy started.

Billy frowned thoughtfully. He pushed himself to his feet, his hands behind him, inching up the bark of the tree.

"Chris, you have an old bike, right?"

"Uh, yeah..."

"Bring it with you on Friday. I'm going anyway."

"Well, good!" The idea of an added risk appealed to Chris, and he just grinned wider. "We'll leave out the back gate. No one will notice."

"There's something else, too," Billy added. As determination took hold, he remembered his spy mission. "I rode over there yesterday after school. They put a front on it, a big one. It's all painted up with weird faces, kinda laughing..."

Randy was listening, standing close beside Chris.

"...and they brought in these little yellow cars and put 'em on a track that goes in the doors. It's a ride, for sure. I guess it's supposed to make people laugh."

"Mm. Well, that settles it. We know what it is." Chris rubbed his chin. "Uh, Randy, tell Billy what you told me."

The younger boy felt the attention fasten on him, and he straightened up.

"Last night my mom and dad had company, some friend of theirs - and you know how you're s'posta be polite, and listen..."

Billy nodded impatiently.

"Well... he started talking about this big amusement park called Scarsvale, or something... and I raised my hand. I told him all about the building we been watching. He said that it's gonna be to scare people. I said, 'Why?' He says, 'because they enjoy it.' I told him I wouldn't enjoy that much. He kinda laughed, and I got confused. I asked him what was funny, and he said I should see the one at Scarsvale."

"What's it like?" Billy asked, afire with curiosity. "Did he say?"

"He said it was really big, and that every year it was a little different. When I asked him what was in it, he told me sometimes things jumped out of the dark at you. I asked him more, but all he did was grin, like he didn't want to say. Maybe he never really went on it." Randy looked over at Chris, uncertainty all over his face. "I'm not sure I wanna go with you guys. It scares me."

"You little coward," Chris chided him, "I figured that guy had you spooked. Look, there's three of us, and the thing isn't finished. Nobody'll be alone. All we're going to do is look inside for a minute. Besides, we'll have the lights on. You saw the light switch, remember? We'll all know what's in there, and everyone else'll have to ride it to find out."

"Okay," he said quietly. Randy shuffled his feet slowly on the dark soil, looking down as he did so. Despite his fear, he didn't want the dreaded label coward applied to him.

"I just don't figure," said Billy, "why they call it Laugh in the Dark."

"'Cause they want to fool people, silly," replied Chris.

"Sounds kinda mean, to me." Billy threw the unfinished sandwich in a trash barrel.

"You ever figure out grownups, you tell me about it," Chris said with a wry smile. "I guess they like to play jokes on people, too."

"Some joke," Billy replied.

***

Allison left Billy doing homework, crossed her fingers against the chance she was taking, and drove to the plant to pick up Gerry. Billy seemed to have recovered somewhat from his depression, and she was thankful for it. Still, there was definitely something wrong. Tomorrow she would have to call the doctor and arrange for a visit. This was no ordinary childhood malaise he was suffering from, and the single implication was precisely the last one she wished to face. She did not trust psychiatrists at all, and she was almost certain Billy's pediatrician would recommend that he be sent to one. There was something else on her mind as well - something that had been worrying her for years. She'd have to raise the subject with Gerry again tonight, and knew it would likely provoke an argument.

When she got home, she was relieved to find Billy in his room, still doing his homework. He didn't look up until addressed, and then merely answered her questions without elaboration. Allison was not happy with this distance between the two of them, but she knew no way to cross it.

Returning to the kitchen, she smiled at Gerry through the door to the dining room, where he sat silently at the dinner table, the newspaper open to the classified ads in front of him. He returned her smile naturally, as if nothing at all were wrong. Sensing an opportunity for the talk she wanted to have, Allison decided to seize it. She walked into the dining room and took a chair across from her husband.

"Gerry, I know we've discussed this before - more than once - and I know very well how you feel. But with all that has happened, I think it's time we... thought about telling him."

Her voice was quiet, and her husband took the cue. She could tell he was controlling himself with effort.

"Allison, it would do more harm than good right now... look how withdrawn he is. You think telling him that is going to make him cheer up? He'll end up hating both of us."

"I... don't know why I say it, other than I feel we ought to show him we can be totally honest with him. He already resents me. I guess he wants some kind of reassurance, but I can't give it to him, not in the way he wants. Why should it be so hard for a child to face a move to another city?"

"Love, you are his only contact while I am at work, his only source of affection at home. I'm not the best at fathering - I do the best I can - but he needs your love, especially. I know that when we married, you weren't so happy about having a child to care for all of a sudden. But Hon, Billy is part of your life with me. You knew that when I proposed."

"Gerry, yes, I know. It will never be the same with me as it might have been with her. It's almost like he knows the truth somehow without being told. How can you be so sure he doesn't remember her?"

"I know, trust me. Billy has no memories at all of the time before it happened. When I've made references to things that happened before the... before Sue died, he can't recall them," said Gerry, running his hand back across his head. "You know that, anyway."

"Well, maybe he realizes something is wrong now. What if he remembers before we tell him?"

Gerry put his hands on the table, palms down, and leaned forward. It was clear he had decided not to change his mind.

"Then, at that point, we'll just have to deal with it. For now, at least for tonight, we'll not discuss it further," he said, his voice revealing more frustration than authority.

Billy eased himself off the hall floor, careful not to make a sound. His socks glided silently over the hardwood as he returned to his room. The conversation had shocked him at first, but he quickly became numb again. He knew of no early memories, as his father had said, but he was determined to look for them now. He wanted to remember his mother badly - it was a powerful revelation to him that Allison was only his stepmother. He had no feelings at all for her, and now he knew why. So, his father and stepmother hadn't ever seen fit to tell him the truth. Tomorrow, he decided, he would get even with both of them.

The memories did not return that evening, but the dream did.

***

___

Allison awoke to Billy's scream, and as she turned to wake Gerry, she found him drenched in sweat, his hands gripping the sheets. When she reached over and shook him, it had no effect. She became frightened - this was too much for her after all she had experienced recently, and for a moment she was paralyzed in indecision. Finally, she heard Billy begin to weep, and she jumped out of bed, running toward his room.

By the time she opened the door, Billy had gathered up the covers and hidden beneath them. His things on the floor were in disarray, evidence that he had once again fallen out of bed. Allison approached slowly, calling his name. He continued weeping, and as she touched him to comfort him, he withdrew into a ball. Her heart sank, and she could bear it no longer. She, too, began to cry softly.

Meanwhile, Gerry awakened. The nightmare had been more vivid than ever before, and his fingers ached as he relaxed them. He dismissed the recurrent dream as he always had, refusing to think about it at all. When he realized that Allison was gone, he got out of bed and walked into the hall to find her. Billy's door was open, and when he went in, he found two figures on the bed, each wrapped in its own misery. Helplessly he stood in the doorway and watched, unable to say a word.

Presently, a teary-eyed Allison looked up at him, shook her head in disgust, and stamped her foot in frustration. She rose, pushed her way past him through the door, and walked slowly toward the kitchen. Gerry wiped his face with his hands and felt the cold sweat on his brow. He took a step toward Billy, faltered, caught himself, and swung around to sit on the bed. He pulled the covers down and lifted his son to a sitting position.

"Billy, what on earth is wrong?"

With a distorted face, the boy glared at him.

"You liar! You awful liar!" Billy blurted out. He had never before spoken to his father like this, but the feelings he had been hiding all night escaped past his weakened defenses.

"Son? What are you talking about? Please calm down and talk to me."

"No." sputtered Billy. "Go away. Just... go away." He began to cry again.

Now it was Gerry's turn to be pulled between two poles. He thought of Allison and the night before, and of his refusal to discuss things. Reluctantly, he stood, touched the resentful boy on the shoulder gently, and turned to the door. Behind him, his son pulled the covers over himself again, and sobbed quietly.

When he reached the kitchen, he found Allison sitting at the kitchen table, head buried in her hands.

"Love, I am sorry. Terribly sorry," he said, feeling totally inadequate. "We'll sit down tonight, the three of us, and get it all out in the open. This has gone on long enough, and it is my fault. I admit it."

She looked up, her face an echo of Billy's. Her eyes were blood red.

"I admit I was wrong," repeated Gerry. "Forgive me. Please, love." His face was forlorn, but his voice remained calm and quiet as ever. "Please?"

Allison stood, and threw her arms around him, sobbing bitterly and clutching at his back. They stood together holding one another, unable to express their emotions in words.

Billy had stopped crying, and his feelings once again shrank down inside him. He sent them away, much as his father had done when he had awakened. The boy went to the bathroom and stripped off his pajamas, climbed into the shower and let warm water wash over him, carrying off the last of the pain. He knew now what he was going to do after his expedition with Chris and Randy, and thinking of it caused him no regret. There wasn't a lot he would have to pack, either - it seemed that everything he valued was broken.

II. Doors

"It's a long way 'round back of the park, but we won't be seen. We can take the dirt road behind the lumber mill, follow the river up to Sawyer Highway, and go into the woods here..." Chris said, pointing to the references on his penciled map. He had gone to pains to make it look important and official. "...and we can walk our bikes to right here and leave 'em. I know a way to stay hidden until just before we get to the yard behind the Laugh."

In the dirt, Randy had drawn his own version of the map, and was busy elaborating it.

As he watched and listened, Billy leaned against his school satchel, which he had filled with an extra change of clothes, a flashlight, his toothbrush and a few other odds and ends. He had been careful not to let Allison see what he was doing as he packed it. The boy was not sure where he would be spending the night, but considered himself prepared for anything.

"You brought the bike?" Billy asked.

"Yep. It's over in the rack. Kinda rusty, but I oiled the chain last night. Tires look okay, too. It'll work good enough," replied Chris.

"We better leave quick, soon as the bell rings," said Randy, "or else Billy's mother might see us."

"She isn't my mother," Billy growled.

"What?"" The two were both surprised.

Billy tossed a large rock, and it bounced across the yard. "Yeah. I heard my parents talking last night. My real mother's name was Sue, and I don't remember her at all. I don't even know how she died."

"Gee... I'm sorry..." stammered Chris. "They never told you at all?"

"No, they didn't..." Billy paused for a moment, then became determined. "Well, I'm gonna remember somehow. I'm not gonna go back home tonight, though. I don't want to see either of them ever again." Billy picked up a twig and decisively drew an X in the center of Randy's sketch of the ride.

Randy stared at Billy's face, not knowing how to reply.

"I'll tell my mom you want to spend the night with me. I'll tell her your... stepmother said it's okay. My mom always believes me," Chris said proudly.

"You're lucky," said Billy, planting the twig like a spear with his fist in the center of the X.

The closing bell rang, and the school building began to empty. Joyous cries of weekend emancipation filled the air as children scattered to the four winds on wheel and on foot. Out in back, the three explorers steered their bikes to the street, then rode off as fast as they could manage in the direction of the lumber mill. Randy trailed behind, panting as he strove to keep pace with the two older boys. Overhead, the sky was gray, and clouds were massing from the east. Billy felt alternating gusts of warm and cold air whipping around him as he rode.

"I bet we're gonna get wet before this is over. I didn't think about raincoats," he said.

Chris looked over his shoulder and frowned.

"You ain't gonna worry about a little rain when we're going on an adventure, are you? If you're worried about wet clothes, I can have my mom dry yours when we get back. We got work to do, guys." Chris was watching the sky himself, and despite his words he picked up the pace.

It took them about half an hour to reach the river from the mill, and then the going got a good bit rougher. In the East, the boys could see a line of rain falling, probably on Cooperstown about ten miles away. By the time they had reached the highway, they were sore and exhausted. Billy rested against a tree while Chris wielded a wrench, making a few adjustments to the old bike Billy had been riding. The uneven dirt path had shaken the handlebars out of position and loosened the chain.

"It's not much farther," said Chris to a frowning Randy. "I promise. But we have to go this way. Can't allow ourselves to be seen, ya know. We'll be inside before the rain ever gets to us."

Randy nodded, but was unconvinced. He picked up his bike. Chris handed Billy his re-adjusted mount, and in a moment they were underway again. After about half a mile, Chris led the way into the trees where it was still clear enough to ride. When the undergrowth got thick, the three dismounted and locked up their bikes. The first of the big clouds hung overhead, blocking the afternoon sunlight.

"All right. We hafta be quiet from here on. Follow me, and I'll lead us right to the back door."

Chris was enjoying himself. He took his flashlight out, stuck it in his belt and reached into a pocket for his knife. Cutting the twigs off a limb from a dead tree, he made a walking stick for himself. Billy and Randy did their best to imitate him, with less satisfactory results. Progress was slow, but eventually the white silhouette of the Comet could be seen through the brush. After a bit of weaving along a twisted path, they could see the back wall of Laugh in the Dark. Off in the distance, thunder could now be heard distinctly from the direction of Cooperstown. Chris brought the party to a halt, and spoke in a whisper.

"Okay... we hafta sneak from here. We can hide in that crop of bushes over there until the men have gone. They always leave together in the same truck. Keep your eyes open and duck down if they come outside."

Despite their best efforts, they could not move through the underbrush in silence. This irritated Chris, but he realized that there was nothing he could do about it. In a tight group they crouched in the weeds, scratching themselves and brushing away the occasional insect from their clothes. Before long, the workers walked out of the back door in a group. Chris nudged both of his companions, and chuckled softly.

"Just like I planned it! When they drive off, we move. Quiet, now..."

***

Gordon stowed the cutting pliers and electrical tape in his tool belt. He was satisfied with the day's progress, but was a bit frustrated that the power company's electrician hadn't shown up to connect the three-phase lines to the track's breaker box. The situation was silly - he knew he could have easily done the work himself. Everything else worked, though, and thanks to the home-brew relay board he had built, it had been possible to test all the animated figures the team had installed. Behind him, Andy coiled up a length of cable that was part of the track circuit and stowed it next to the big junction box just inside the door. Mark, the tallest of the three, put a hand on Gordon's arm to get his attention.

"Gord, it looks like we may beat the rain home. Hey - you ain't really serious about those kids, are you?"

He laughed. "Well, maybe not. Still, they're out there watching us, just waiting. Remember how you were when you were a kid, though. You saw something unusual, and couldn't be satisfied until you had a gander at it up close. That black-headed kid's been here at least once a week since we started building this thing. If I hadn't seen the other two sneaking around out back in the woods last week, I'd 've never thought about it."

Andy stood up, gave the coil of wire a final kick to snug it against the wall, and joined the others.

"We're gonna lock up the door from now on. Heck, we been locking it ever since the statues came three days ago. I doubt if these kids even know how to break in," he said. "If they come trespassing on park property, it's a simple matter to call the county sheriff's department."

"That isn't what I have in mind, Andy," said Gordon. "Listen - when I was a kid, I got cured of bein' nosy for good when I sneaked into the lumber mill one night. The night watchman hid behind a stack of boards wearing a white drop cloth over his head and scared the living prunes out of me! He thought it was one heck of a good joke, and my father whomped the tar out of me when the sheriff brought me home. I never did anything like that again!"

Andy snickered. "Well, I had the same kinda thing happen to me in a furniture warehouse once. But it wasn't a guard in a sheet, it was a rat in a panic. And I ran all the way home - three whole miles. When my father saw the look on my face, he just didn't even ask questions. I guess he figured I'd had enough."

"Look, here's what we oughta do," said Gordon. "We drive off like we're leaving, park over behind the workshop and watch. Kids usually ain't too cautious, and if they're gonna do it, they won't waste any time trying. We leave the lock off, and when they go in, we close the door behind them and latch it. You get the idea. I can kill the lights from the main breaker box outside, and with a little luck I can even trigger off some of the mechanical stuff to put the fear of God into them." He rapped his knuckles against the door frame, still grinning.

"Heh! This'll be worth getting wet to watch!" said Mark, a twinkle in his eye.

***

As the truck drove off, Chris stood up. Using his walking stick to lift the bottom strand of the barbed wire fence, he motioned the others to climb under it. He followed with the assistance of Billy, and the three broke into a run toward the back door. Billy reached it first, and flattened himself against the wall with a thump. Randy was last to arrive, and he squatted between the older boys, panting for breath.

"All right... now. Randy, you hafta show me where the switch is, 'cause I never saw it. You better be right," said Chris, looking down at him.

"It's inside, on the right, on the wall next to the door. It's one of those boxes with a handle on the side, like you push up to turn it on."

"A Square-D switch," said Billy. "I know what those are. There's tube-shaped fuses inside."

"Right. Okay, let's get moving." Chris walked up three wooden steps, swung an unlocked hasp on the metal door aside, and then opened it easily on its new hinges. Inside, the ride building was dark as he had expected, and he could just barely make out some large, rectangular shapes farther in. He yanked the flashlight from his belt, switched it on, and swept beam over the floor revealing traces of sawdust and occasional drops of black paint. Cautiously, he stepped inside, and made a beckoning gesture over his shoulder. The boys followed him warily into the darkness.

The air smelled of paint, freshly cut wood, and metal. Chris moved to his right, and scanned the beam across the wall. The switch box was exactly where Randy had said it would be. Without hesitation, he lifted the handle, and a row of overhead light bulbs came on. Billy noticed that they were suspended from their power lines, as if someone had hung them quickly. Obviously, they were not meant to be seen by patrons.

Chris pointed. "The track - over there. Cars pass by here on their way through. And see that big box right by the track? I want a closer look."

Billy spoke up. "Chris, one of us ought to stay by the door in case somebody comes."

The storm was unmistakably close now. Billy watched as lightning illuminated the woods in blue-white brilliance, then counted the seconds until the thunder came. It was less than two miles away.

"I don't wanna be alone," said Randy, after the noise had subsided.

Chris exhaled, a bit frustrated that his troops were becoming overly cautious. "Guys, just close the door and come on. You've seen plenty thunderstorms, right? No big deal. We'll be fine. It'll only take a few minutes to walk the track, then we can leave and get under cover somewhere else."

Randy turned to walk back to the door, and as he did so, it slammed shut. Frozen in their tracks, the three boys heard someone outside latching it. Immediately, the lights went out. Chris was startled, and before he could recover, he dropped his flashlight. It went dark as it hit the floor and rolled. Billy fumbled for his, and when he pushed the switch, the beam was very dim. Before anyone could speak, a loud voice boomed from deep within the ride.

Randy screamed and ran, crashing headlong into a wall. Billy swept his flashlight around, managed to find the frightened boy, caught him, and held him still. "We'll get out! There's got to be a way..."

"They've locked us in! We been seen! Now they'll probably call the cops on us!" shouted Chris. "We gotta get out now!" He was scared of the dark, and didn't want to show it. Down on his hands and knees, he searched for his dropped flashlight and finally found it. When he shook it and tried the switch, he discovered to his dismay that the bulb had broken.

"Let's just stay here by the door. They aren't gonna call the cops - it's just a trick," Billy said. He was very upset as well, but he knew the ordeal could not last forever. He was surprised at how quickly Chris had lost his confidence.

Randy began to sniffle and whimper. "I wanna go home!

"I don't think they'd leave us... in here...." Chris stammered.

"Guys...we'll get out. Maybe the front doors are unlocked. Maybe we just have to get all the way through it..." Billy took the lead, shining his dim light on the floor in front of him, intending to find the track and follow it. He had only gone a few feet when the batteries in his flashlight failed altogether, leaving them in darkness again.

"Oh, great. Just great!" shouted Chris, sharp accusation in his tone. "I told you guys to bring fresh batteries, and Randy, you didn't even see fit to bring a flashlight! You idiots!"

"Look, Chris... we have the good batteries in your flashlight. Give them to me and I'll put them in this one."

The older boy began working nervously at the task. Just as he had accomplished it, an enormous clap of thunder boomed from outside. One battery went flying as he reached up to cover his ears.

"I... I dropped..." His voice was shaky.

Billy searched the floor desperately, but was unable to locate it.

"Chris! Come on - help me find it!"

There was no reply. Billy felt around and discovered his friend frozen in place, with Randy cowering beside him. Chris was shaking, and Billy could feel the cold sweat on his skin.

"Chris...take it easy! Let's just follow the walls. It's got to work," said Billy. Suddenly, the leadership had fallen to him, and he was surprised to find himself relatively calm.

With both boys clinging to his arms, Billy did his best to feel his way toward the track, intent on following it out. His toe struck it, and he turned carefully, guiding his friends. From the distance, he heard a familiar sound - the click, whir and muted rattle of an air compressor, just like the one at a filling station. Randy was shaking badly, and Billy put an arm around him.

"Let's just keep going..."

Immediately, a spotlight illuminated a large wooden chest. The boys stopped in their tracks, eyes wide. With a hiss of air, the lid flew open and a tall skeleton jumped up out of it, accompanied by wicked laughter.

Screams erupted, and three boys ran in three directions. Billy covered his ears and closed his eyes tightly while he bolted away from the frightening scene. As the others ran, Billy could not help but hear their cries echo as they were accosted by things he refused to imagine. In the darkness, he collided with something...

___

Gordon was laughing so hard he had doubled over, hands on his knees. Behind him, Mark and Andy were in a similar state as the racket inside filtered its way to their ears. The plan had worked spectacularly, and they had no desire to end the fun just yet. Above, more thunder exploded, adding to the chaos inside.

At last, rain begin to fall, and it quickly became a downpour. Gordon realized that it was probably time to call the whole thing off.

"Let's let 'em out, guys. Go unlock the door - it's getting nasty out here." He had stopped laughing now.

The two men ran off toward the back of the ride. As they did so, they felt a tingle on their skin, and knew what it meant. A deafening explosion broke the air as they flattened themselves to the ground. Above and to the west of the ride, lighting struck the lift hill of the Comet. Timbers cracked like straw, and the wooden tower fed an inferno. The men got to their feet and sped toward the disaster, the boys inside the new ride momentarily forgotten. The storm lashed the air again, and struck a tree, splitting it down the center...

___

Billy felt himself being pushed back by what he had hit. He stumbled, recovered, uncovered his ears, opened his eyes, and found himself staring up straight into the face of a tall ghost, arms outstretched. A chilling moan came from behind it, and froze him in sheer terror. He fainted...

___

The workshop was still cluttered and messy from the construction, and none of the workmen had bothered to finish cleaning it up. As Mark and Andy searched frantically for fire extinguishers, Gordon snatched the receiver off the wall phone. He discovered to his chagrin that there was no dial tone, gave up in resignation, and joined the others in their search. At last, they located three, one of which seemed to be only half charged.

They made haste out the door and broke into a run. Across the midway, the Comet was already too far gone to be helped by extinguishers. All they could hope to do was contain the fire as it tried to spread to other rides. Reaching the loading platform, they circled to the motor house where pieces of flaming timber were already falling on the roof. Mark loosed his extinguisher on the burning fragments as he kicked them away from the oily environment of the machinery.

From behind them, there was a another great flash of intense blue-white light, and another explosion - this time, the impact point was square in the center of Laugh In The Dark. The resultant shock wave toppled all three men, and as they lay on the ground, more of the Comet was knocked loose to fall on the far side of the track. Weakened by the blast, the entire top of the lift hill shuddered, collapsed and littered down on the motor house, smashing its roof to pieces and collapsing the walls. The deluge began to extinguish the scattered kindling, but by that time the three workers lay completely still, buried beneath smoking debris.

Inside the ride building, the boys lay on the floor in the separate places to which they had run, knocked out by the concussion alone. The ride was now inert, its power supply another victim of the storm. Smashed wooden partitions beneath the hole where the bolt had struck the roof were beginning to burn, and smoke billowed everywhere.

In the distance, the familiar sirens of the fire department wailed - but not a soul at Farley Park heard them.

***

In a chair beside the hospital bed, Allison slept. She had been up for two days and a night, and was very weak. The nurse had her back to him and did not see Billy stir, but she heard his breathing deepen. When she turned around, his eyes opened and stared up at her, blinking in the light that poured down from above. The sight startled her so that she didn't even address him. Quickly, she ran out into the hall toward the nurses' station. The boy had been in a coma since he was found, and had not been expected to live.

"Justine, call the intern on duty! Our burn victim in 212-A is awake!"

There was a bustle of activity, and the nurse walked back into the room. Allison had been awakened by the noise, and was staring wide eyed at her stepson.

"Billy! Thank God!" The relief in her voice was enormous. She knew she could not hug him, bandaged as he was, but she took his one unburned hand, the one she had held for so many hours during the ordeal, and gripped it tightly.

Billy tried to move, and felt the pain from far away, through a haze of medication. He turned his head and looked at his hand, thinking the apparition still held it. He saw Allison through a blur, and then noticed his arm, which was covered with gauze.

"Am I...alive?" he asked in a harsh voice.

"Yes, dear heart, oh, yes!" Allison had never sounded so sincere. Billy closed his eyes, and her hand gripped tighter, adding meaning to the words. "I must call your father! I will be right back - I won't leave you!" There were tears on her face that Billy couldn't see, but he heard them in her voice.

She released his hand, and he sighed. He realized where he was, and what had occurred. Thankfully, the pain could not reach him, and he allowed himself to sleep. When he relaxed, the expression on his face was peaceful.

III. Encounters

A month later, the family passed the burned ruins in Farley Park on their way out of town. Half of the Comet was destroyed, despite all the rain that had fallen that evening. Laugh In The Dark was blackened, the front of it streaked by dark smoke.

A week after the fire, the local paper had run a full-page special on the disaster, detailing what had happened. It questioned whether the Farley family had been properly insured against the huge loss, and raised the possibility of the park being taken over by a new owner, or perhaps closing forever. The writer had also interviewed the families of the human casualties: Mark Simmons and Andy Gardener had been killed by falling timber and third degree burns. Gordon Mansfield suffered a broken leg and many lacerations, having just barely survived. Chris Stuart and Randy Mulligan remained in comas, but it revealed that Billy Mason had been released from care.

The reporter had discovered that the three boys had been found locked in the ride building, and she probed a bit further. Gordon revealed his part in the prank, and made a statement in the article explaining his actions, but he made it clear that he took full responsibility. Charges were withheld pending the outcome of the boys' hospitalization, and it was unclear just what legal action the families might take when they had recovered from the shock.

As he watched out the car window, Billy remembered the afternoon the reporter had visited him at home and asked what he had been doing in the ride. He answered truthfully that he had simply been curious. He explained that he had not seen who had actually locked them in, and listed all the factual details he could remember.

He told no one, however, about the kindly specter who was now inhabiting his dreams, his new secret friend. Three nights after the fire, Billy had returned to the dark valley park...

Other dreams followed. Every night, Billy saw a bit more of the great abandoned amusement park, his tour resuming where it had left off previously. He never knew that so many parks had disappeared, or had ever existed at all. Fascinated by what he saw, he didn't think to ask questions about anything but the rides and shows they passed as they wove their way through the dark avenues. The ghostly man was always kind and patient, waiting while Billy wandered closer for a careful look at the great old machines. In the dream that came the night before the family left, something happened that left Billy intensely curious...

"Billy, I must go now... I'll be back, I promise..." This time, he began to fade.

***

The family was half-way to Martinsville. Gerry had found a new house at their destination, but due to the closing of the largest industrial facility in Flecter's Well, selling the old house would prove difficult. Gerry remained typically optimistic, and Allison took his resolution on faith.

Billy looked across the back of the front seat at his stepmother, and smiled. His relationship with her had transformed since his stay in the hospital. She turned and rubbed the top of his head, returning the smile. What happened to his two friends had upset him badly, but Allison listened to him, and helped him face it. The kindness his parents had shown after what he had done amazed him, but the thing that had amazed him most was how Allison defended him when she met with the parents of his two stricken friends.

He had listened from his room as they accused him of being behind the mischief that led to disaster, and to his stepmother's reply as she pointed out that the lightning and the workers had a lot more to do with the outcome than her stepson possibly could have. She had taken Billy at his word that Chris had suggested the expedition, and stood her ground. Eventually, he came to peep around the door frame as Allison carefully turned her defense to sympathy with a deftness even he could sense; and by the end of the intense meeting, the distressed parents had become friends with her. They left with embraces, promising to keep in touch regarding the condition of their sons.

For the first time, Billy felt the phrase I love you rise automatically to his lips as he had hugged her. He finally understood what it meant.

As they drove through low, rolling hills covered with trees, here and there houses began to appear, set back off the road in the deep shade. A sign announced they had entered the city limits of Martinsville. Allison had a map out, following it with care, although they had already been to inspect their new home and mostly remembered the way.

After a few more miles and many turns, Gerry pulled into a long driveway. The house before them was modest, but amid the tall trees it looked very inviting. Billy already approved of it, and could smell a chance for exploration in the air. In the afternoon, a truck arrived with the furniture, and unpacking began as soon as the movers finished their work.

That evening, as Billy busied himself arranging his room, his parents wandered in, smiling. His burns were still red and sore, but he looked happy. It seemed ironic that it had taken such a tragedy to bring them closer together, but there was no desire on either of their parts to analyze the best thing: Billy seemed well in spirit.

"Mom! Dad! How do you like my room?" The grin was wide, and the voice was hoarse but enthusiastic.

"It appears you're all moved in, son," replied his father, ever more lighthearted than Billy could remember him being in the past. "I do believe you're a neater housekeeper than I ever was."

"I second that," said Allison, grinning at her husband.

Gerry looked around the room at the carefully arranged toys, some of them repaired with his help, and smiled. The change was more than he could have asked for, and there seemed no reason to push any action on his son at present. He resolved to wait and see how the boy took to his new school environment, and counsel him slowly as it seemed necessary. The most important thing, he decided, was to listen to his son; and this meant they would need to spend more time together. With relief, Gerry realized that Billy was no longer a wedge straining his marriage, but was producing a stronger bond between Allison and himself. Hearing Billy use the word mom when addressing her made his evening.

The three of them sat in Billy's room and talked for a while before bed. The discussion ran from his father's new job to the distance he'd be riding to school every day. Allison became sleepy, and excused herself, kissing Billy goodnight. Gerry remained behind.

"Son, you don't know how glad we are that you are still with us," he said. It would have been a cold world without you."

Billy smiled, and looked down. He felt inadequate to answer such a statement, for he had never heard his father talk like that in the past.

"I guess I owe you an explanation of how your mother died. Would you like to hear it?"

Billy's became serious. "I'd like to know... a little bit about her. I feel like I never knew her at all. I still don't remember anything. Why didn't you ever tell me?"

Gerry pushed his hair back, and closed his eyes briefly, as if gathering his courage.

"I was afraid you'd hate me for bringing back painful memories," he replied slowly, "because I thought you'd suddenly remember the accident, the whole scene. You see, she died in a car wreck, and you nearly died with her. I guess I wanted to forget it as fast as I could, and since you didn't remember anything, I never spoke of it." He knelt down and hugged his son. "I'll stop if this hurts to hear. Just let me know."

"It's okay." Billy nodded, and waited.

"Susan was a wonderful woman, Billy. I was so busy making ends meet that she raised you practically by herself for your first three years. You seemed to love her so much..."

Now Billy had his eyes shut, trying to remember.

"Susan was a little shorter than Allison, and had beautiful long hair the color of yours. She was really very pretty." Gerry paused, controlling his emotions. "Well, about how it happened - one night on the way home from a family outing, we were driving down a long, deserted highway, and a big truck pulled out from a crossing. The driver made a bad turn, and ended up in the wrong lane. I tried to miss him, but couldn't, and he hit us from the side..." He cleared his throat, and continued, "...you and I were thrown out when our doors flew open, but Susan was trapped inside. I was... unable to rescue her, and the car burned. I'm sorry, son, I really am."

"I still don't remember at all, dad. I'm sorry, too. Thanks for telling me." Billy looked into his father's eyes as he spoke.

"I should also tell you that I met Allison shortly after the wreck. You spent a lot of time with sitters, and you probably remember the lie I told you - that your mother had been away for a long time, but was coming back home sometime soon. Well, Allison and I married quietly, because I realized you needed a new mother as soon as possible. I knew something was not right, though, when you didn't react to her very well. It was my fault for putting it all off, and thinking the past would just go away."

Billy embraced his father again. "She's the only mom I know."

Gerry nodded. "Thank you for being so nice to her. You don't know how much it means to both of us."

"Dad," said Billy, "do you miss Susan a lot?"

"Yes. Sometimes it really hurts."

Billy climbed from the floor to his bed, all the while considering something. As he pulled his covers down and slid under them, he looked at Gerry again.

"There's something I should tell you, too. It's gonna sound strange, and I thought maybe I'd keep it a secret, but since you told me... you know..."

"You can tell me anything you'd like, son. I won't be upset."

"Well, the night I was trapped in that ride, somebody rescued me, somehow. I was lying there, and then I opened my eyes and saw this... man, kinda like a ghost. He took my hand and led me to the door, and I walked through, and then I was there in the hospital."

Gerry smiled. "You were dreaming, son. You were unconscious for nearly two days. Didn't we tell you?"

"Yes... but there's more. See, before it all happened, I started dreaming of this strange place - it's all dark and deserted, and there's all these old, abandoned rides, down in this big valley..."

Gerry nodded and listened, still smiling.

"...and ever since the fire, I've been seeing this man in my dreams. He takes care of all the rides, but hasn't got time to fix them. Well, last night he asked me all of a sudden if we were moving somewhere!"

His father sat next to him and put his arm around him.

"Did he, now? And did you tell him?"

"Yeah. But then, he said that something was odd, and he didn't know what it was. Before, I always woke up and left him waiting for me there, but this time he disappeared first. He said he'd be back, though... maybe I'll see him again tonight."

"Well, sometimes things in our dreams come from things we see all around us - I know how much you love amusement rides. The important question is: are these dreams upsetting you?"

"No, not really. They're fun. But I never had lots of dreams in the same place before. And I never talked to anybody in a dream like that, either. He's really friendly, too."

"Like Casper, but a lot older?" His father winked.

"Yeah, I guess." Billy seemed to appreciate the humor, but could not communicate to his father how important this new relationship had become to him. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you."

Gerry stood. "Son, you sleep well, and if you see this ghost again, tell him your father said hi."

"I will! Thanks, dad. I love you."

"Goodnight, son - we both love you very much!" Gerry closed the door and turned out the light, leaving a peaceful Billy alone to rest.

***

"Yes. Well, when I had to leave, it is because I woke up. You see, we're both dreaming. Not only that, but we are now living in the same town. When you said 'Martinsville,' that was what made me remember I was dreaming. As for why I knew about you, and how I got to you in that ride, I'm still not sure. I promise you I am going to find out."

"Dark rides," said specter John, knowingly. We've passed a few here, but I knew the subject might bother you, and I have avoided pointing them out on our little tour. To answer your question: you have doubtless heard the phrase Tunnel of Love? Well, that is how it all started, just boats for lovers that sailed through a dark tunnel. Then some enterprising soul added scenes to set the mood, and it seemed that if one presented the customers with something a bit... well, unsettling, it actually improved business. Personally, I believe that most of those who ride actually enjoy being scared in the dark, although I don't see many people riding alone these days... "

IV. Ghosts

The new school was pleasant enough, surrounded by woods much as Billy's new home was. Most of the children were friendly, and by the end of his first day, he had indeed heard all about John's ride. It turned out to be the subject of a controversy.

There was a mystery surrounding the whole story - it seemed that no two patrons had the same experience on the ride. What was more, a single individual seldom had the same experience on two consecutive rides. When several friends had compared notes, they knew something odd was going on. Soon afterward, so did the local newspaper.

A few riders had been badly frightened, and one fainted in a ride car. The operator, Mr. John Travis, had refused to comment on how he had done it, and a furor was rising among a small but vocal group of people in the community. The curious had been coming in droves, however, and the park was making a great deal of money on the mysterious attraction by the end of the season.

As Billy rode home, he realized that the dreams he shared with John Travis must be involved in this somehow, and he was anxious to discuss the matter with his friend. In the meantime, he decided he would explore his new neighborhood when he had completed his afternoon studies.

He found it hard to keep his mind on his work, and kept glancing out the window as if John might walk up to it and find him. The more he thought about the situation, the more it excited him. When at long last he had finished, he went to the kitchen, put down his re-packed books, and found Allison sorting out groceries on the table.

"Hello, son! Out for an adventure?" She stopped and embraced him.

"Yes, mom... I think I'm going to go and explore for a while. I'll be back in time for dinner."

"You have a couple of hours yet. That should be plenty of time." She nodded. "If you go into the woods, please be careful, okay? You're still healing, and I don't want you hurting yourself again."

"I will, mom. Thanks!"

The boy bounded out the back door full of energy, heading straight for the trees. They were spaced well apart, and there was not much undergrowth, but he slowed down as he entered. Billy zippered his jacket against the cool air, and put his hands in the pockets over his stomach to protect them. Kicking his way through fallen leaves was quite pleasant, and he kept thinking about the ride as he wandered. After a while he began to see light where the woods gave way, and he quickened his step.

The ground fell away just as the trees ended, and he pulled himself up short. Below him was a huge amusement park, so much like the scene in the dream that it took him totally by surprise. He had found Scarsvale Park, and it was virtually in his back yard. Not a soul was in sight; it was obviously closed up for the winter. His gaze swept down, and there, just below where he stood was a large black building: It had to be John's ride. Immediately, he recalled the mysterious dark structure he had seen while standing on the ledge in his second dream. Torn between curiosity and responsibility, Billy wondered if it would be worth the risk to scramble down the hillside for a closer look. What he saw next decided the matter for him. A door opened on the back of the building, and out stepped John Travis - Billy recognized him immediately.

"Mr. Travis!" he called down the slope. The distant figure looked up and saw him.

"Billy Mason?" It was very faint, but the boy heard him. "Is that you? What an incredible coincidence!"

"Yes! It's me. I need to talk to you!" He scrambled over the edge, and eased himself down, feet first.

"Be careful. I believe the rocks are a bit unreliable..."

"I'll be okay. Just wait! I can't believe I found you!"

It took him some time to climb down while protecting his burned hand, and after nearly falling several times, he arrived at the bottom safely. Billy brushed his jeans off, and walked down a narrow service path by the fence toward his friend, who was standing at a small gate.

"I find this amazing," said Mr. Travis. "It's not every day you meet someone for the first time whom you already know." The grin on his face was very familiar.

Billy just stood staring at him, almost in awe, until he put out his hand and the boy took it in greeting.

"Well, now you see what the shouting is all about. It looks rather ordinary on the outside, I'm afraid. I gather you heard all about it at school, just as I said?"

"Yes... I thought about it a lot today. All this has something to do with the dream, doesn't it?"

Mr. Travis nodded. "Believe me, I know it does now. I haven't had enough time to tell you everything I know yet, but I will. To begin with, this ride exists both in dream and in fact. You must have seen it from the cliff-top in the dream when I first saw you." Billy nodded, and he continued. "I am still sorting all of this out, and I can tell you that I am just as confounded by it as you are. I should tell you that I didn't always remember what I was doing in my dreams - before we met, that is."

"I hadn't thought about that," said Billy. "This is all so weird."

"Singularly strange, yes. All that you heard about people having different experiences inside my ride - there's a reason for it. You see, I have always made little changes to my attraction every season, to keep it fresh, to keep customers coming back. But just before this past season, it seems that some of my work got done in the dream. I would wake up, come to work, and find impossible modifications made to the machinery. I thought I must be losing my mind, and then you came along."

"It's going to be hard to keep this a secret, Mr. Travis."

"Remember what I said. You did promise, remember?"

"Yes. I meant it. I'm not a Scout, but on my honor."

"Good. Would you like to have a look at the machinery?"

"Gosh... uh, I have to be home for dinner... My house is up there, just a walk through the woods... "

Mr. Travis smiled. "So you do. There will be another time." He realized that Billy was still wary of his ride. "I'll probably see you tonight, anyway."

"That's right... I almost forgot!" Billy grinned. "Tonight. We gotta talk about this!"

"We will, I assure you."

Billy waved good-bye as he clambered up the hill.

***

The three sat in the living room, relaxing after dinner. Gerry leafed through the newspaper while Billy played with his construction set on the floor. The boy had ceased confining his imagination to his room, and Allison, who sat reading a copy of New Homes Magazine, couldn't have been happier.

"What are you building, son?" she asked, looking up.

Billy set down his tools. He had been randomly assembling pieces into nondescript widgets, but as yet nothing recognizable had taken shape.

"I can't seem to think of anything to build." He shrugged. "I guess you can't do everything you want to with toy parts."

She grinned. "Well, it won't be long before you'll be helping Gerry around the house. There will be real tools to use, and you can help us fix the place up. We're planning to open up the wall to the empty room next to yours and give you a bigger place to play, and you can help us."

Gerry smiled as he read. Billy brightened and stood up.

"Wow, mom! Thanks!" He was already imagining what having so much extra space would allow him to do. "I guess I won't need these so much now," he added, looking at the toy set on the floor.

After Billy had gathered his parts into their carton, Gerry suddenly began to read aloud from an article in the paper.

"Mm. Listen to this: 'Today, two members of the Martinsville Chamber of Commerce officially approached the owners of Scarsvale Amusement Park, Mr. Adrian Tydwell, and officially requested that their attraction, the 'Dark Ride' be modified in such a way as to reduce the "terror" experienced by patrons. Private sources revealed that if Tydwell refused the request, the city would send inspectors to examine the ride, at the request of the city Department of Health, in order to prove that the attraction is safe and fit for public consumption.

"'Insiders in the Chamber of Commerce refused comment, with the exception of one anonymous member, who reported that pressure from religious and social groups had prompted the action. The source revealed that there was a good deal of opposition to the move among members who felt that the attraction was bringing extra business to Martinsville, but the majority voted to follow the "wave of public opinion," and approach Tydwell, who has been given a week to make a statement of intent.'

"Well, I'll be... Seems we have a little controversy brewing. Looks like this has been on the burner for some time now... yes," he commented, still reading. "Took nearly all summer, it says here. I'd love to see the thing that caused all this ruckus."

Billy had his mouth open, all ready to blurt out the news of his discovery, but he silenced himself. It wouldn't be easy to keep other things secret once he had admitted finding the park.

"That place must be closed now, anyway, dad. School is open."

"I know. We'll have to wait until next summer, won't we? I know how much you like rides - I bet if you ask around, you can find out all about it for me. I'd guess this has you curious, eh?" Gerry smiled.

"Um, sure. It does. But I bet it's just some scary stuffed monster in there that did it."

"It takes more than a stuffed monster to make people act like this," his father replied.

"I guess so..." said Billy, finding it very difficult to hedge, "...but it's all just machines, isn't it?"

"Probably. But they're doing amazing things with machinery these days. I read something last week about how Walt Disney is making robots now." Gerry winked at Billy.

"Really?" said Billy, relieved by the change of subject.

"Yep. I bet you didn't know that. It's going to be just like looking at another person, they say. Heh... I could get scared looking at a copy of myself, I guess. I think I might see a few things I wouldn't care for."

"Uh, me too." Billy imagined the prospect vividly, and remembered the mirror-like pool from Dreamland Park. What would he see if he looked down into it at himself? He brushed the notion away immediately.

Gerry stood. "Well, folks, I'm tired. I'm heading for bed." He tossed the paper into the chair, and Allison went to his side.

"Well, that makes it unanimous. Let's all get some good sleep. I'm sorry it's so early, son," said his stepmother.

"That's okay," said Billy, almost cheerfully.

"Well, now," said Gerry, "that's a first - my son turning in early without complaint! I couldn't ask for more cooperation than that... Oh, by the way, son - did you see your ghost friend again last night?"

"Uh... well, not last night." Billy was so cautious about his secret that the lie escaped quickly.

"Ghost?" asked Allison, somewhat amused. "What ghost?"

"Our son has a new imaginary friend in his dreams," said Gerry to his wife, with a wink. He turned back to Billy. "Well, remember - just say hello for me when you do."

"Sure, dad." The boy forced a smile.

***

"So many of them - it's hard to believe. Look... all of these first ones are Laugh in the Dark!"

__

__

"I'm not sure they will. If they don't, it probably isn't time to tell them. One of my vague feelings again, alas. However, we do need to be concerned with what brought them here. That corpse was no accidental guest."

V. Grave

When he awoke, John Travis showered and dressed quickly. Last night's memories were vivid in every detail, unclouded by any mist of disbelief. His 1948 Ford pickup swung out of the driveway and moved off toward the edge of town, gaining speed as it went. After breezing through several stop signs with crossed fingers, he reached the Lumber Belt Road intersection, and swung a hard right turn. Gravel flew and the rear tires skidded in a fishtail, searching for traction. There was sweat on his brow now, despite the cool weather; something was haunting him, and the implications of it stung him. Just ahead, a side road appeared, leading out of town. He turned into the forest with another shower of gravel, and flew down the dirt trail, lurching and bouncing, until he reached a clearing on the right. The truck skidded to a stop, and Mr. Travis jumped out of the cab, leaving the engine running.

He stood in front of the same graveyard that had arrived in the dream. Nothing seemed odd about it - no coffin stood over an open grave, but the site of the night encounter was unmistakably there. He walked into the cemetery, slowly and deliberately circling the plot. Remembering the scene with Scrooge from Dickens, he finally approached the headstone that marked the grave and knelt before it. Painfully, he read the inscription aloud:

"Susan Gayle Mason"

As if weights had fallen on his shoulders, he collapsed face down on the grave and sobbed.

***

Billy's parents had remembered nothing. When he found them in the kitchen chatting over coffee, they made no reference to any dream, and behaved in their usual cheerful manner. Was it because he and Mr. Travis had both imagined them being there? His stepmother's hand had felt warm, though - wasn't that a sign she was real? Was John simply imagining the cemetery in the dream? He wasn't sure at all.

As Allison fixed his breakfast, he behaved as nonchalantly as his memories would permit. On his way to school, he pondered the whole affair, and realized with frustration that he had not thought to propose a rendezvous with Mr. Travis for the afternoon. He knew that his parents would be back in the dream again, probably tonight, and he didn't feel ready for it at all. He wanted his friend's advice.

After school, he sped to a filling station and begged a map from the attendant, explaining that he was new in town. Map in hand, he went to the pay phone and thumbed through the local directory, looking for the name Travis. In a few moments, he had the address: 4667 Old Border Drive. With the help of the map, he located it.

The ride took him half an hour, and after several wrong turns, he arrived at his friend's home. The place was well-kept and clean, the lawn freshly mowed. A large garage was wide open in the back, and John stood at a workbench, tinkering with something. Billy rode up to the driveway gate and dismounted.

"Mr. Travis! I need to talk to you!"

His friend turned, put a finger to his lips, and walked swiftly down the drive to let the excited boy in.

"I thought you might find me. You are clever enough," he said quietly. "I had intended to schedule a meeting, but forgot, alas. Let's go inside and talk."

John Travis was pleasant but more sober than Billy remembered him in the dreams. Something was affecting his demeanor, and the boy could sense it. They entered by the back door, and walked down a hall to the living room. On the dark wood-paneled walls were several pictures of his ride, all taken in different years of its operation. One incarnation even bore the familiar Laugh In The Dark title over its porch. Billy was momentarily fascinated by these, but his friend patted his shoulder, and led him to a chair.

"Billy," he said, his voice soft, "I believe I now know something about what has brought us together." He scratched his head, and then drew his hand down over his face, momentarily covering his eyes. "The corpse in the dream - it was your mother, Susan."

"My mother? But why would she strangle him like that? He loved her very much."

"I am sure he did, my boy. But there is something else, and I can't explain it just now. I had better save that for tonight, when your parents come to us again."

"Susan," said Billy, caught in a realization. "I don't remember telling you her name."

"You didn't. It was on a headstone in the very graveyard we saw last night. I went there this morning, you see."

"Oh." The boy looked briefly at the floor, and then met his eyes directly. "Why is she buried here, and not in Flecter's Well?"

"I am not sure," said Mr. Travis, "but she grew up here..."

"You knew her?" Billy asked, suddenly on the edge of his chair.

The ride operator realized that he had let it slip too soon.

"Yes - I will tell you this in advance. Susan Gayle - her maiden name - was a regular patron of the park and my ride, so I knew her on a first name basis, as I do many of my best customers. A lovely girl she was, with long, dark hair and deep brown eyes. She... disappeared one season and never returned, though. I heard nothing about her marriage to your father."

Billy pursed his lips, actively thinking.

"Well, maybe... no, she's dead, though. We're not really ghosts in the dream... but what is she?"

"That," said the operator, with determination in his voice, "is what we shall attempt to discover tonight. I will need your help, however."

"What do you want me to do?" asked the boy.

***

"It's so strange," said Gerry, after sipping from a cup of hot cocoa. "I got this odd urge to drive by Sue's grave this morning on my way to work."

"You never told me where she was buried, Gerry," said Allison. "I have always wondered why you avoided going back to see the plot. Why today?"

"No reason I can think of - I just did it. She's in a two-bit cemetery that her parents insisted on using. I was furious, but couldn't do a thing." He rolled his eyes upward. "I guess before now, I just didn't want to see the wretched place again."

"Where is it?"

"On the outskirts of town, out off the lumber loop. Shoot, when I drove up to it there was some old guy out there looking around for a grave to visit, and I didn't have the heart to disturb him - the place is so small. I just drove by and came back in about ten minutes, found him gone, and went on in. Her headstone is a miserable little thing."

"If you'd like to have a more attractive one carved, love..."

"No, I'd better let it go. No use keeping the past alive."

"Gerry, it'd be mostly for you." She put her arm around him where he sat. "Something tells me this really bothers you. Perhaps you'd feel better if you took some action."

"Love, please..."

"Okay. I'll let it drop." Allison smiled. "It's not worth a fuss."

Gerry stood and kissed her just as Billy walked in.

"Son! Where have you been?" asked Allison.

"Ah... at a friend's. A kid from school wanted to show me his... his train set."

"And why didn't you call?"

"Because I forgot. I'm sorry, mom. I won't do it again, I promise."

Gerry looked at him. "What's your friend's name?"

"Uh, John..." Billy fumbled, "John Smith."

Gerry laughed. "There's actually a kid named John Smith?"

Billy forced a grin. "Well, yes..."

"Billy, where were you, really?" Allison looked sober. "Please don't lie. There's no need to. Were you off exploring in the woods again? I found out that there's an amusement park back there built in a big gravel quarry. I know you've been to look, and I'm surprised you didn't tell me all about it, as much as you love those places."

"Well, mom... I wasn't there. I promise."

"Where were you?" Allison persisted.

"Like I said, at a friend's."

"Named John Smith."

"No... yes."

"Why are you afraid to tell me his name?"

Billy felt the truth edging out of him, almost as if by force.

"It's... John Travis. He's a grownup. He... he operates a ride in the park - the one that the big fuss is over. We were talking about it..."

Gerry's mouth opened slightly, and for a moment, he seemed dizzy. When he managed to knock over his cup of cocoa, Allison and Billy turned to look at him. He began to slump forward slowly, and ended up with his head resting on the table as if asleep. Allison shook him gently.

"Gerry? What's wrong?"

"Hunh?" He sat up, and rubbed his eyes. "What happened just now?"

"Nothing... we were just talking to Billy."

"I don't even remember.... wait.... Billy, you said something about... John. John who?"

"Uh, Travis."

Gerry pinched his forehead, frowned, and fell silent.

"Gerry, what is it?" Allison looked concerned.

"Something I had... forgotten. Not really important." He looked up at his son. "Billy, that man is going to have more than he can deal with, soon. I want you to stop bothering him with questions. I want you home after school." The tone of his voice was firm, and his eyes were narrow.

"Yes, dad." Billy knew something was wrong. His father had never looked at him that way before.

The family finished supper in silence, and soon prepared for bed. Billy realized his one advantage was that his parents had not connected his ghostly friend with John Travis. His one concern was whether or not he'd be able to get to sleep quickly enough to beat them to the cemetery...

VI. Shadows

"I didn't abandon anyone, Susan. You never came back."

"He is a murderer," she said, growling the words. "He deserves to die. Hasn't my... hasn't Billy told you that yet?" As she spoke, she began to age noticeably.

***

Gerry's car pulled into the parking lot beside a large metal and brick building. The sign in front was spartan, and in hand-painted letters it read Overland Excavation and Construction Co. Behind the building, large power shovels, graders, and other heavy equipment sat waiting for work. He got out, locked his door, walked slowly toward the employee entrance on the side, and went in. The whole place was basic and functional - drably painted walls with black stenciled signs, gray metal filing cabinets and desks, and racks full of brown clipboards comprised the decor. His office door was only a few feet down the hall on the left, and below his name upon the door was his title: Manager, Excavations.

The only thing this job had in common with his former one in Flecter's Well was management, but Gerry had proved in his first week that he knew how to adapt to new situations quickly, and his superiors had been pleased. With the new position had come the responsibility brought on by a federal highway contract, and he was still in the process of organizing his staff for the initial work of clearing the right-of-way.

His desk was piled with reports and folders, and in the midst of it all he made enough space to set the morning paper, which was folded open to an article he had intended to finish reading. Last night had been restless, but he couldn't remember waking up, or being unable to sleep. So tired, he thought... he rubbed his eyes, and things remained blurred. He found himself lowering his head to the desktop, just to rest for a moment...

"Mr. Mason, are you all right? Didn't you sleep well?"

He woke with a start, to find his secretary standing over him. By the clock, he could tell that over half an hour had passed. She saw him blush with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Meredith - I'm just not in top form today. Don't tell anyone, okay?"

She winked. "Just this once."

"Thanks."

As she turned to go, she noticed that there was an article torn out of the paper in front of him, and remembered which one it was from reading it at home. She considered asking him what he thought of the Dark Ride controversy, but in view of his situation, she left the office quietly and went back to her work.

Gerry was finally wide awake. He swept the newspaper off his desk and into the trash without a glance, and began his work.

***

Allison sipped hot tea and stared at the top of the kitchen table. Billy had left for school over an hour before, and the house was quiet. Something was bothering her, and she didn't quite know what it was. Her stepson seemed quieter than he had been, and he was showing some of his old behavior from before the disaster: wandering off after school and keeping secrets from her. Gerry, too, was somehow different. Breakfast had gone normally, but she had sensed a tense atmosphere that made her uncomfortable.

She went to the back window, looked out at the trees behind the house, and finally, it struck her: The big amusement park... and that man, Mr. Travis... Slowly, she remembered the dream scene which she had repressed, and felt a slight chill. Why had she dreamed about Gerry being strangled by a hideous monster? With that, she remembered the oddest part: her son standing next to the mature man, who had introduced himself as...

She found the phone book, opened it on the table, and looked up the name. A minute later, she dialed the number.

***

John Travis was busying himself in order to clear his head. All morning he had been considering how to proceed after last night's encounter with Susan's ghost. Before him, on his workbench, lay a completed set of two stout steel bars which he intended to install on the front doors of his ride against the chance that someone might try to break into it out of curiosity, or perhaps even in hostility. He heard the phone ring in the house, and walked quickly to the back door to answer it. When he picked up the receiver and said hello, there was a vaguely familiar voice on the other end.

"John Travis?"

"This is he."

"I have a son named Billy Mason. Was he by any chance at your house yesterday afternoon."

"Why, yes, he was. I am sorry I didn't have him call you. My fault, I fear. I knew he was on the way home from school..."

"May I ask how you met him?"

"All the children in this community know my name by now, what with all the articles in the paper. I am sure he just looked up my address and came over. He is crazy about amusement parks - you must know that. Why? Is something wrong?"

"Well, something... yes, something is wrong. It's going to sound awfully strange. I had this dream..." She stopped, as if embarrassed to tell the story.

He caught himself nodding. "And in it, we met."

There was dead silence on the other end of the line.

"Mrs. Mason, may I come over there and talk to you? I believe I can explain."

"This is... impossible... I - " She fumbled for words, and failed.

"Please, either let me come there, or I will meet you wherever you want."

"You can come here, I suppose... I feel... terribly scared."

"Don't be, please. I am quite harmless, I assure you, and I believe I can help."

She gave him the same address Billy had given. After locking up his workshop, Mr. Travis went immediately to his truck, carrying the door-bars he had made. He dropped them into the pickup bed, and sped off toward her house.

***

Billy found John's home locked up, and the owner was nowhere in sight. He had wanted to talk to his friend again, to make plans, but he could not afford to wait and be late again. He knew he was disobeying his father, but under the circumstances, he felt it was necessary to disregard the instructions Gerry had given him. In resignation, he hopped on his bike and threaded his way through the streets that led home.

As he turned the corner to his block, there in front of his house was a familiar sight: Mr. Travis' old black pickup truck. In an instant, he guessed what must have happened. He turned up the driveway, left his bike by the door, and went inside to find John and Allison in the living room, in the midst of an intense conversation.

"Mom!"

"Hello, Billy," said John, calmly. "Your mother remembered what happened two nights ago, and she called me this afternoon, not knowing what else to do. I believe we can make some progress now."

Billy glanced at Allison, who looked a bit pale. "You told her everything, Mr. Travis?"

He nodded. "Sit down, Billy, so we can talk. I will need your help again tonight, and we must make new plans."

"Son, this is incredible. I'm not sure I can deal with this dream land of yours, but from what your friend tells me, there seems little choice," said Allison.

"We believe your father is in pain and may not know the reason why. We also believe that Susan's ghost - or whatever it really is - is to blame. She may be keeping both of your parents out of the dream intentionally, and our aim will be to force her to yield and let them back in; tonight, if possible."

Allison got up, came over to sit with her stepson, and hugged him tightly.

"I'll do whatever I can to help, mom. I love you and dad both."

Mr. Travis leaned forward, smiling. "You have an excellent son, Mrs. Mason. I am proud to be his friend."

She looked back at the ride operator, and there were tears in her eyes.

"I know," she whispered.

***

After Mr. Travis had left, Allison and Billy were sitting at the kitchen table, talking softly. He had explained to them that he was going to the park to bar the doors to his ride before returning home, but had asked that he be called if any problems arose. When they heard sounds from the driveway, they exchanged meaningful glances.

"Remember, there is nothing wrong. If your father begins to act strange and asks pointed questions, we know nothing, and nothing at all happened this afternoon," said Allison quietly. "It won't be easy, but let's try to act cheerful."

Billy nodded and smiled. "I've been doing it for several days, remember? It will work, mom."

Out of respect for his self-confidence, Allison refrained from telling him that she had noticed his act immediately.

The front door opened, followed by the sound of footsteps on the floor; but as they listened, they realized that there were now two people in the living room.

"Allison... Billy... I'm home. Come on out - I have someone with me that I want you both to meet." Something about his voice was different, and Allison could not pin it down. He had never brought anyone home without calling ahead to warn her, and she became cautious immediately.

She appeared in the living room door smiling, with her stepson by her side.

"Hello, love! Who is your friend?"

Standing next to her husband was a portly man in a suit, who looked pleasant enough. He bowed slightly as Gerry introduced him.

"This is Mr. Ramone. I, ah, had the good luck of running across him at lunch and we struck up a conversation. I thought you should hear what he has to say. I didn't think you'd believe me if I told you myself." Gerry seemed intense, and he spoke slowly, as if with effort.

"Mrs. Mason," said Mr. Ramone, "and Billy. Gerry spoke very well of you both, and I can see he was right."

"Thank you," said Allison, pleasantly.

"Let's all sit down for a while, and I will tell you what I told your husband," he said.

When they had all found seats, Mr. Ramone turned to Billy, who had already guessed where this might be leading.

"Your father tells me you have met John Travis."

Billy nodded slowly.

"Well, my boy, there are some things you should know about this man." He turned to face Allison. "First of all, I should tell you that I represent an organized group, the Concerned Citizens of Martinsville. We keep a watchful eye on community affairs, looking for signs of corruption in public officials and industry. We have evidence that something is truly rotten at Scarsvale Amusement Park, and we know that the source is the 'Dark Ride,' the construction of which was supervised by this Mr. Travis. My information is based, not on hearsay, but upon reports of several of our members who rode it specifically to find out. There are some things the paper hasn't revealed - typical of the Times, actually," he added with disdain, "and I thought you should know about them before you become further involved with this man. You see, we looked into his past as well."

Billy squirmed slightly in his seat, and glanced meaningfully at Allison as their guest continued.

"First of all, our investigators saw things in that ride that were personal to them. Very personal, and horrible. I shall give you a sample: One mother saw her child in there, mutilated and bleeding, just