Eighteen

Alison recognized Reed’s voice immediately. She knew his game as well. He was banking on Alison’s commitment to the craft: that she’d stay dead because “the show must go on.” Unfortunately for Reed Baker, Alison had no such commitment to her art. She opened her eyes, looked straight out to the audience, and winked. The entire packed house of Leeds Theatre gasped collectively, with one exception. Suzie Garcia, who, when nervous, agitated, or exposed to a burst of sunlight, was capable of emitting a special, very loud sneeze that released so much air, energy, and detritus that her lips fluttered uncontrollably in its wake. This was Suzie Garcia’s Horsey Sneeze. It’s not important to the plot, but it happened, and the reader was promised that we’d get back to it, so there you go.

The pall bearers, apparently shocked by Ophelia’s return to life, dropped her like a sack of bricks. She thudded appropriately, but didn’t wallow for long. Instead, she rolled her weight to her upper back, folded her palms to the hardwood, and kipped to her feet. Unknowingly to Alison, this would set off a chain reaction that added a second layer of confusion to the already bizarre scene. For when Alison was dropped, her headphone cord was released from her phone, and, in the motion of her kip-up, she had apparently instructed it to continue playing her “I’M NOT BEING DRAMATIC, YOU ARE” playlist. Her phone was still happily connected to the Leeds Theatre Bluetooth system, and this fact entitled the audience to the perfect cuing of This fffire by Franz Ferdinand. They couldn’t have timed it more perfectly if they had tried.

As the wild energy of electric guitars bounced against each other and the pulsing dance beat kicked in, Alison squared off. Reed, not wanting to be foiled by Ophelia’s awakening, took to the weapon rack and produced– well, actually, a foil. Aly leapt directly to Hamlet’s scabbard and removed his epee, pointing it at her opponent and then bringing the hilt to her lip in the French salute. She then gave the audience a mischievous look and spoke to them directly.

“And that’s when Hamlet realized he was having a dream. A very groovy dream, from another time.”

Reed didn’t like this, and protested accordingly. “No, it wasn’t a dream. It was Hamlet’s dead father’s ghost taking arms against his dead girlfriend.”

But Alison was too quick for him. “That’s exactly what a dream ghost would say,” she retorted, and the audience roared. She moved in to attack, a lazy cut to the thigh, intended to be parried. Reed didn’t disappoint. The blades rang against each other with a satisfying crash. Alison followed up with some footwork and a few other easy passes as the song’s vocals splashed into the fray.

Eyes boring a way through me
Paralyze, controlling completely
Now there is a fire in me
A fire that burns

The rest of the players were super confused at this point and did what confused actors do: backed away slowly for whatever this was and didn’t break character. As the chorus thundered in, Alison exploded into a flurry of blows that Reed was helpless to defend.

This fire is out of control
We’re gonna burn this city, burn this city
This fire is out of control
We’re gonna burn it, I’ll burn it, I, I, I’ll burn it down

Some of the strikes clattered against his foil while others simply thudded against his pumpkin pants. Alison smirked a little at the thought that she was literally whipping his bum. In the booth, Freddy Dennis had the sense to fade the music after the first chorus– not out of frame– just lower so that the audience could focus on the action of this apparently brand new scene. Ellie Foster followed suit with the lights, letting them bloom a little to intensify the fight. She also threw in some violet, since Alison had stated that it was a dream sequence. It is worth noting that the audience got a good laugh out of the bum whips. Perhaps a snort also sounded from somewhere in the deep recesses of the theatre. One can never tell when there’s so much going on.

Reed Baker, who was starting to feel outmatched– because he was– decided to play to his strengths. In this case, there wasn’t much to lean on, except his physical strength. He allowed one last whip in the pumpkin pants before grabbing the epee by its blade. Though this would historically be considered by many to be a bad move, it was fine in this setting because they were stage weapons. Reed tugged hard and pulled Alison into a grapple. He managed to get a hand on her wrist and a second wrapped around her back. She lunged, but not to get out of the grapple, it seemed. Somehow, it appeared she wanted to pull the melee down-center, a little more directly into the spotlight. Actors, am I right?

Reed could feel himself gaining control as Alison dropped her weapon and winced. He kicked out her right shin and she went down hard on the other knee.

“You know what’s sad?” said Reed as he adjusted his grip on her wrist and snatched the other. “If you had gone after us at the garden arch, you would have had a fighting chance. Wanna know why?”

“Enlighten me,” Alison coughed as Reed shifted his weight and her back crashed to the stage floor.

Reed went on as he finished the pin, leaving Alison helpless under his weight. “Elephant was running a short roster this year as well. So short, the whole agency was yours for the taking that night. You’re good, kiddo. You’re strong and you’re smart. But we’re a little stronger and a little smarter and we gotcha this year.”

Reed Baker had his hands on her wrists in a perfect pin. She wriggled every errant muscle she could think of, hoping to find any sort of leverage, but there was none to be found. That was that. She sighed and eased downward, giving Reed a little nod to let him know that he’d won, though she was still too ashamed to make eye contact. She looked away, up into the cool blue lights and she awaited her fate.

“Any last words?” asked Reed, a devilish smile growing on his wicked but somehow still very cute face.

“Just one.”

“Say it, then.”

“JELLYBEAN!”

And reality collapsed. An otherworldly explosion of wood and metal bellowed through Leeds Theatre, its shockwave echoing against every wall, every surface– its resonance reverberating in every bone of every body. The floor tore open below them in an earth-shattering clamor. Reed Baker and Alison Ashe were free falling into the gaping maw of the earth itself, twisting and writhing towards its welcoming, molten core. And then, a flumph, and a thud, and a groaning cough, as Reed got the wind knocked out of him.

He was on his back now, in some sort of dungeon, perhaps. He wasn’t sure. His eyes and his brain were still adjusting. Below him, something soft and leathery. Above him, Alison Ashe, who had somehow switched places with him as they fell and was now happily sitting on his chest. As he opened his mouth to speak, he heard the twist and click of his university pin detaching from its base. As the tunnel vision subsided, another figure materialized. It was Paige Hall, gripping a large lever on the opposing wall and grinning wildly. Mouth agape, he glanced down at the empty base of the pin, and back up at Alison, who was admiring the beautiful elephant etched on its underside. He had had something to say but instead held it in. Dead people don’t talk.

Alison popped up off the crash pad and ran to Paige for a big, big hug. Alison’s eyeballs might have popped out, the little devil squeezed so hard. She lifted her small-framed friend high in the air and spun, both giggling with joy and fury as the lights and music faded from above and Peters’s voice came onto the intercom.

“We will now have a brief, fifteen minute intermission.”

Reed was still lying there on his back, his hands tucked behind his head and a big smile on his face. Their joy was infectious and, if there was one thing he liked more than winning, it was losing fair-and-square to a worthy adversary. If you aren’t going to win, it’s time to root for your nemesis, if you’re lucky enough to have one.

Paige and Aly hopped up onto the crash pad and sat cross-legged. Paige spoke first.

“Now that we’ve got a captive audience, I think it’s time you knew that we got you. But not today, not three weeks ago. All the way back.”

Reed looked confused. Or perhaps that’s just what his face looked like. Alison chimed in. “Perhaps Mr. Baker requires a visual aid. Nicholas, why don’t you come say hello to our little friend?”

The squeal of an old green room door, and Nick Rodgers emerged from the shadows beyond. “Hi, Reed.” Reed sat up now and crossed his legs as well. He didn’t speak, but he did laugh heartily and clap his hands together with glee. Nick gave a little bow as Paige jumped into the conversation.

“That’s right, boyo. You were TRIPLE-CROSSED!”

“You see,” Alison continued, “Rodgers was genuine in his commitment to Elephant losing this year. So genuine, in fact, that he changed majors so he could join you.”

“And plant the idea in your head to run a short roster,” said Nick.

Alison went on. “So, from the planning phases of the gala, we had always intended for you to walk away with the Rajas. All of them. So they’d be safe and sound when Elephant went dark.”

Reed clapped again. His face went a little sour as a thought came across it. Unable to articulate this, because he was dead, he simply pointed at Paige’s knee.

“Oh, that,” said Paige. “We planned that, too. Aly taught us the whole exchange.”

Reed made an odd spurting gesture with his fingers, perhaps to mimic blood coming out of her knee.

“Ah, yes. You saw me bleed. But did you hear the ketchup packet exploding from beneath my leggings? Did you smell the sweet Heinz Fifty Seven in the night air? I did. It was gross. I threw those leggings away.”

Alison took over again. “Everything was designed for you to think you were one step ahead. The gala, the Rajas, the compromised coms, we even gave you an empty coffin and you just crawled right into it. And our buddy Nick Rodgers, well, he only had one condition for all his assistance. He wanted to be the one to snuff out the Elephant Faction once and for all. You ready, Nick?”

Nick nodded and took a deep breath. Then, he reached for his own token, and twisted it off with a satisfying click. Reed Baker clapped his little hands raw as Aly and Paige popped off the crash pad for their biggest hug in at least three weeks.

Baker was dead. Rodgers was dead. Ophelia was dead– not Aly though! But Horatio still had a scene to finish. Alison escorted Reed and Nick to the booth, where they could watch Act V from a couple of stools. From there she climbed up to her little crow’s nest in the grid, and watched the rest of the show, grinning ‘till the very end, despite all the murder and tragedy and stuff.

The audience gave a decisive standing ovation. Funny Hamlet was apparently a hit, and the patrons responded so well to the new dream sequence that they decided to keep it in. The front-page headline in the next day’s Brown Daily Herald would read “Hamlet Slays!”

There was a lot still to figure out for Alison Ashe as she started to put together the pieces of her future. The heavy fog of uncertainty for what lay ahead used to really bother her. If she couldn’t plan every moment, be in control of every detail, she’d fret and sweat and turn in her sleep and make flowcharts to plan her next move. But tonight, she started to feel that weight fall away, just a little. Because, whatever happened next, she knew she had one thing absolutely, undoubtedly, locked in. No matter what.

From the safety of their favorite booth at Frosty Jane’s, Alison Ashe and Paige Hall giggled uncontrollably.