Alexander Plansky - Arcadia

“What? How?”

“Some dipshit left their password on a post-it note attached to the computer, underneath the desk. I got into the registry of everyone who’d visited Arcadia since it opened. And guess what? Barely anyone has. There are many days when they have no visitors at all. But that’s not the strangest part. I looked up the names of everyone listed in that Atlantic article, the gamers who went nuts and killed people. Every single one of them had gone there about a week before they died. Even Charlie’s name was there.”

She put a hand to her head. “Oh my god.”

“I know it sounds–”

“Ridiculous? Because it is, Des. You had a fucking dream!”

He gave a sharp exhalation of breath and lowered his head. Of course she wasn’t going to believe him, he sounded batshit insane. And without the flashdrive, he had no proof. That’s why they hadn’t killed him, they knew nobody would believe him. And the fewer people who died related to Arcadia, the less suspicious it seemed.

Lewis looked back up at her. Jenna’s facial expression was a mixture of sadness, disappointment, and distress. “I think you need help.”

“What I need is someone who’ll believe me about this.”

“No, you need a fucking therapist.”

“Jenna, please…”

“There’s nothing wrong with therapy. I’ve done it for many years, and it really helped me get in control of my borderline. You’re probably developing some form of PTSD from Charlie trying to kill you, which is perfectly understandable.”

Lewis looked off at the window. The stream of light from in-between the curtains illuminated tiny specks of dust drifting through the air. He tried hard to think about that vague image in his mind, which slowly became clearer.

Lab coat. He’d seen someone with a lab coat, the technician. Was that a memory or just a dream? There had been other people there too, looking down at him. Were they checking if they’d given him a concussion before taking him back to the hotel?

“Jenna, it wasn’t a dream. I really, really wish it had been. But that’s just what they want you to think.”

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ, you sound like Agent Mulder from the X-Files .”

“And he always wound up being right, didn’t he?”

“No, sometimes Scully was correct. Mulder would come up with some outlandish theory, she’d offer a more logical explanation, and then the truth would often be somewhere in between.”

“But in all the episodes dealing with the main conspiracy, Mulder was on the money.”

“Des, it was just a TV show. Entertainment is not the same thing as reality.”

“No, but the truth can be stranger than fiction.”

Jenna nodded. “It can be, but that doesn’t mean that a virtual reality theme park is the front organization for a government test project. I mean, do you not recognize how ludicrous that sounds?”

He did admit it sounded crazy. “But I was there last night. If it was a legitimate place, I’d be in a Lincoln County jail cell for breaking and entering. But if they’d done that, I would have told the police about the kidnapping. So they had two choices: kill me, or bring me back here and leave everything the way it was so that you or anyone else would just think I’d had a bad dream. Hell, they might’ve even wanted me to think that.”

“And why didn’t they kill you?”

“Too many deaths, too soon. Looks suspicious, draws too much attention to them. They must know the Feds are onto them.”

“Oh, so now the FBI is part of this whole thing?”

“An FBI agent asked me questions while I was at the Pasadena station. She said all the recent gamer deaths were suspicious and shared similar details, but she couldn’t go into specifics. And no, that was not a dream. See, I have her card here.” He walked over to his wallet on the nightstand, withdrew it, and handed it to Jenna.

She looked it over and sighed, then handed it back to him. “Alright, is there any way you can prove to me what you saw last night wasn’t in your head?”

He thought for a moment. “I just might.”

After they’d gotten dressed, he led her to the parking garage. When they reached the space where they’d left the car yesterday after getting back from their morning trip to Arcadia, Lewis was surprised to see the rented Toyota Corolla sitting there.

“Okay, so what’s the deal here?”

“I don’t get it,” he said. “This is exactly where we parked it.”

Jenna sighed. “What’s suspicious about that?”

“Well, it means they must’ve been surveilling us pretty closely if they knew the exact spot where we’d put the car.”

“Or it means it hasn’t left the spot since I put it there yesterday.”

Lewis walked around the whole car. Something was off about it, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was as if the parking job was too perfect, too symmetrical. He was certain Jenna hadn’t parked it exactly that way yesterday.

“Look,” she said, putting a hand to her head. “It was a dream. And that’s a good thing! It means there was no murder, no kidnapping, no conspiracy. You know what? Let’s go get some drinks at the bar, or just hang out around the hotel. It’s our last day in Vegas, we can just have a nice relaxing day and then maybe do something fun in the evening if you feel up to it. Okay?”

Still staring at the tires, he nodded. “Okay.”

They sat by the pool on lounge chairs, soaking up the sun. Neither of them had wanted to go swimming, but it was a beautiful day outside so they’d agreed to sit here for a little while, and then decide what they wanted to do. Lewis adjusted his sunglasses and rubbed his forehead, which still felt sore. Of course, there was no point mentioning that. There was no visible bruising or swelling so it wouldn’t support his case.

He’d found himself in one of the few circumstances where the rational explanation couldn’t be the correct one, and no one would believe him unless he found concrete evidence to support that fact.

Not that there was anything he could do about that at this point. They’d played him well, Zhao and the others. They still had secrets, but he’d have to be content knowing that at least he’d been right about the link between Arcadia and the gamers. Maybe he could tip off the FBI about that, set them on the right trail. The registry wouldn’t be proof of anything, but he knew investigators rarely believed in coincidence.

Jenna sat up. “Hey, I left my phone in the room. I’ll be right back, but can you order us some drinks?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said. He watched her get up and go, then as soon as she was out of earshot, he pulled out his own phone and dialed Ricky.

“Hey,” his friend said, answering. “So, how’s the big plan going, detective?”

“Not well,” Lewis replied. He filled him in on recent events.

Ricky paused for a moment. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“I’d bet my life on it.”

He sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, man. I really don’t. This shit’s crazy.”

“They’ve kidnapped someone, Ricky. They’re holding a person hostage.”

“Then go to the police.”

“I would if I still had the list, but they took the damn flashdrive,” Lewis said.

“Look, barely anything interesting happens in Lincoln County, Nevada. If you tell them a VR theme park has taken a hostage, they’ll probably be curious enough to swing by and check it out.”