Pine-scented incense filled his nose while Dor relaxed in the master bedroom. He’d been awake for three hours now, but couldn’t bring himself to crawl out of bed. Yesterday, he didn’t go home. The bedroom door was shut and despite it being close to noon, Dad didn’t bother him. Occasionally, Dor felt the camper rock as Dad trudged around inside. Dishes clattered every now and again, sounded like Dad was cleaning the kitchen.

Instead of facing the day, Dor wrapped up tight in the freshly laundered comforter and listened to Antiques Roadshow on the television in the living room.

‘—through dirtied glass, a splendid nineteenth-century monocle.’

'Incredible.'

This morning, all Dor did was cuddle up under the blanket, spooning Sargent Berry all the while. It could stay like this. I could live here with Dad. We could hang out all day and shoot the shit. Maybe I could talk him into getting internet? No doubt he’d love noob leveling as much as I do. I’d teach him the game and he wouldn’t have to worry about Hoshlinger’s and chopping meat. We could hang out and chill all day every day.

As comfortable as he was, he knew this relief was fragile. While talking himself through his dream-life, Dor finally untangled himself from the comforter and wobbled out of bed. A bout of the spins hit him as blood rushed to his head. This was both just as normal for him as it wasn’t normal in the first place. Coping with the spins were a part of his routine now, but needing to cope in the first place wasn’t normal. He knew that much.

Pulling on his faded Levi’s and dirty Hane’s Tee, he opened the bedroom door and embraced the day, flask in hand. Dad was in the kitchen, arms deep in scrub-bubbles as he did his pile of dishes. He didn’t say good morning. Heck, he didn’t even wipe the suds off his hands; he just held his hand up in the air with a glean in his eye. Dor slapped Dad a high five as he always used to do. Up high, too sly. Down low, too slow. In the middle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle. That was their secret handshake.

Dor trudged over to the futon and plopped down on his old man’s bedding. He unscrewed Sargent Berry and took a big swig. Dad didn’t ask any questions and Dor was glad for it. Then, realizing there was no music running, Dor hopped up and reached over to the bargain Sony stereo. He really didn’t want to bother me this morning.

“Foghat or Steely Dan?” Dor asked.

“I’m thinking them Doobie Brothers go better with dishes,” Dad replied. “Put on The Cap’n and Me…real easy listening jams.”

Dor put it on, and quickly realized why Dad wanted this album. Dad had a habit of talking through his tunes, and the first song up was ‘Natural Thing’. We all gotta be loved, huh? For some reason, a pang of guilt twinged his gut and he thought of that monster he’d abandoned last night. Fuck that, demons don’t have feelings. That guilt quickly turned to dread when he thought of what he still needed to do. She’s gonna be hungry.

For a brief second, he had half a mind to ask his old man to tag along, meet the monster. Dor didn’t know whether his dad believed him or not, but he didn’t care either way. Dad wouldn’t treat him any different one way or the other.

“Best hop on over and holler at Ronnie,” Dad said, wiping his hand on a dishrag. “He was asking after ya. Don’t think none of his boys are around, but Ronnie’s there.”

Dor lit a menthol light and Dad walked in, carrying a big glass of water. He set it down in front of Dor and eased into the recliner, rocking the chair on its heels as he always did. And like that, those two sat in the camper and bullshitted just like old times. Dad talked about the glory days, and Dor explained about Valrere Online, hoping to sew a seed in the back of his old man’s mind. Never hurts to plan for the dream-life.

Eventually, the clock rolled around to mid-afternoon and Dor reluctantly stood to leave. Dad gave him another hug and didn’t even ask if he’d be back; his dad would carry on the same either way, sleeping in the living space and leaving his room to Dor, and Dor knew nothing he could say would change his dad’s mind. Before he left, the old man stuck a fat CD case in Dor’s pocket, ‘Lou Reed. The Sire Years: Complete Albums Box.’

“You’re lookin' good, son,” Dad said.

“You too, Dad,” Dor replied.

Then he walked out and left his dad all alone in the camper to finish his dishes. That part really hurt. He rubbed his temples as he climbed into his car. What the fuck is wrong with me? Here lately, it seemed like all his emotions were cranked up to twelve. He’d always kept them bottled inside, but here lately, they’d been boiling under a sea of whiskey, raging just below the surface.

The only way to fix it was to find Lulu. Gotta feed that monster.

He peeled out of there and was halfway home before he realized he’d forgotten to stop in and see Uncle Ron. Fuck. Maybe I can send him an e-mail? I gotta feed that monster first. That’s above all else.

No hooligans got in his way on the trip home, and he turned off 31st Street and into the long alleyway leading back to his home, the only home he’d allow himself to have until Lulu was found, that seedy Chinese restaurant with a monster upstairs. But on the return trip, he really took his time babying the worn suspension of his Trans-Am through the craters in the alley.

He’d been down that narrow road so many times before, he knew every pothole in the alley by heart and he feathered the brake by muscle memory as his tires eased through the tire-swallowing potholes and out the other side. Despite his forced dedication to the task at hand, he was in no hurry to return. Whatever it is, it’ll still be there in a minute, right Dad?

Out of habit, he killed the engine and rolled to a stop, but he didn’t get out. He took a minute to stare at Lulu’s pink curtain hanging over the window upstairs and downed the last drabs out of his flask. Despite those preparations, his still sweat dread at the thought of going inside, yet he forced himself to do just that.

As he stepped into the restaurant’s dining room converted office space, red lighting and the whirl of cooling fans were the only ambiances. In the far corner, a precarious tower of dining tables perched against the wall, nearly all of them save for five. Those five were scattered around a loosely tiled room with a beast of a computer whirling below each table and a flashing computer monitor on top.

Only the clickity-clack of his guild-mates' keystrokes were missing from that nostalgic ambiance.

As he edged into the room, he relaxed just a little. That scene was just as unchanged as he’d left it yesterday to visit the old man. Every monitor except his played the cut-scene of death on an endless loop. The ‘Valere Online’ logo mixed artistically with a big guy wielding a sword as he slew a horde of monsters. A barbarian, maybe? Never did figure out what those monsters are.

This was nearly the exact scene he walked into after getting out of jail, right before his drunken chat with that intruder. All the monitors played the cut-scene and a pile of clothes slumped across each chair. That was the tell-tale sign every disappearance in the city had in common. The monster wasn’t his only lead. He also blamed the game, just sure it had to be related to his friend’s rapture somehow.

Dor walked through the dining room and into the kitchen. He unbarred the swinging garage doors and drove his car inside and crawled out of the driver seat Bo Duke style. After locking up again, he grabbed a handful of rawhide doggy treats from the decommissioned walk-in freezer and trudged upstairs. The trip was a little less daunting this time. It seemed his emotional relief was nearly charged now, as good as it could have been given the circumstances. He planned to recharge it every now and again since it appeared the chaos had finally dwindled enough for him drive his car back to Rose Valley without much incident.

Rounding the top stair, he rattled the treats a few times, but didn’t stop to look for a silhouette in every room and barged straight into the red glow under the bathroom door, walking straight down the hall and back to Claire’s room. He didn’t fish the Glock out of his jacket and, for the first time ever, knocked on the monster’s door with his bare hand. Thump. Thump. Thump.

He creaked the door open and stepped into the room. Today was the day. He was nearly charged and had the right attitude to make a real change in their relationship. Today, he was going to talk to her. That kid said she could read, and if she could read, she could understand English. He was going to explain to her that he meant no harm and would take care of her as long as she didn’t mean him any harm either. Then from those words, their relationship would bloom into a mutual transaction. He’d take care of her, and she’d tell him how to find Lulu. Easy peasy. Don't make more out of it than it actually is.

Stars twirled across the walls and Dor strode over to the bed, to the comforter piled there. Wait… Today, the comforter wasn’t heaped like usual; it was piled in a ball. Today, the monster wasn’t hiding. She was lurking. It took longer than a minute for that revelation to sink in. He stood over the bed, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. She wasn’t here. She was lurking somewhere.

In one fell swoop, his emotional batteries drained to zero again and he felt around for the Glock in his jacket, not taking the time to consider the consequences of that action. Right as his fingers wrapped around the grip, cold saliva dripped on the back of his neck. A quiet centipede slithered down his spine and began to wrap around his stomach. The monster’s tail ignored the arm holding the bag of treats and constricted around his other arm, the one tucked inside his jacket, fingers stopped just shy of gripping his gun.

Her centipede locked his arm tightly in place. He couldn’t move it. The swirling teeth tickled him and right then, the monster appeared. She walked out from behind him, standing right in his face. Her jet black eyes stared daggers into him and right then, Dor wished he was dead.