I said, since it's my birthday, we should go play laser tag. Dad said no. Or go to a haunted house. Dad said no. Or even get some freakin' ice cream. Dad said no. Hours after we got back from the casino, we were still sitting across from each other, over the crummy hotel coffee table with a deck of cards.
I pulled my next card, it was a 3, just what I needed. At least something in my life wasn't running full-bore toward boredom and despair. But I kept my cool, hiding any hint that I'd hit it.
He looked at me from across the table with those gunslinger's eyes. "You gonna lay 'em down or what?" he said.
Dang it! He knew already. I threw down my book of 3s. "Do we have to play Rummy? Let's just play one game of poker. Just for practice."
"You lost those privileges," said Dad, rearranging his hand.
"But at the casino, I didn't gamble or anything."
Dad just looked at me.
"What, you don't believe me?"
Dad discarded, "It's your turn."
My phone buzzed. It was another text from Tibia. "C'mon, it's Halloween 🎃 U don't even need a costume 😜." I ignored it and took another card. Our room fridge rattled to life as I considered my options. "R u there??? Earth to Coffee, Earth to Coffee 📞☕️ Come in space cowboy 🤠🚀."
I picked it up, shooting off a quick text. "Can't 🙅♂️ I'm with Dad."
"Who you been texting?" Dad said.
I rearranged my hand. "It's nobody, just a girl I met at the casino last night."
"You don't need to be running 'round with no casino girls," he said.
"She's not a casino girl."
"Any girl you meet at a casino is a casino girl."
"What about Mom?" I said.
Another text came in. "U're with him now!!! U gotta do it!!! 💪💪💪."
"No way," I texted back.
"I met your mother where you're supposed to meet girls, at a bar."
I rolled my eyes. "So what am I supposed to do if I can't have any friends? You said you'd be gone for a whole week."
Dad scooped up the cards to shuffle. "There's plenty to do. It's Dallas. The room's all paid up, the fridge is full, and there's money in the–"
"Not enough money," I said.
"Enough as long as you don't gamble."
"If u don't do it, you can't tail him 👀👣."
I texted back, "I can't just steal his phone."
"😎 He'll never know it was gone 🕵️♀️ U just need it long enough to pair your phone to his ⌛⌛⌛."
Dad snapped his fingers in my face. "Hey! Are you even listening?"
I put the phone down. "Yeah I'm listening! But why can't I just go with you?"
"We talked about that." Dad picked up my discard, moved his cards around some, then laid them all out. "Rummy."
I huffed, throwing down my cards. "But what if something goes wrong? I can watch your back."
"I don't need you to–"
"We can be a team."
"Coffee???," said her text.
"Enough!" There's gonna be no more about this team business. This is the last time we're gonna be on the road. This is the last score. We're done. We're not a team!"
"But–"
Dad threw down the deck of cards. I turned my face as they flew in all directions. I could feel him glaring at me. I just kept my eyes on the table. I knew what he looked like anyway.
"Coffee???☕️☕️☕️."
"U there??? 🤔."
"K, I'm going trick-r-treating without u then 🙄🎃🍭."
***
I stood on the street corner staring at the screen. The little dot moved slowly down Pearl Avenue. Dad was on the move again. Cracking Dad's password was easy. 8, 9, 6, 7. Those were his winning board cards at the 2001 World Series of Poker. He'd told me that story a kajillion times. Once I was in, pairing my phone with Dad's was a snap… Ok, I screwed it up a bunch of times, and Dad's a lite sleeper, so I had to do it all sitting in the bathroom with the lights off. But Tibia walked me through it.
In the morning, he'd headed out for the big game.
"You're not even taking your bag?" I had said.
"Don't need it," he said and walked out the door.
I tailed him all the way downtown. It was $50 for an Uber, what a rip. At the last minute Tibia said she was coming too. Something about getting in fight with her dad, and she was bored as heck, and the suspense was killing her. Whatever. I waited for her on the corner of Pearl and Bryan, next to the Metro Station. I'd been standing there for ten whole minutes. Where was she? While I sat around, Dad was getting away.
I looked down the street, scanning for him. But all I could see was a mob of carnation-colored party-goers. It was Dallas's annual Day of the Dead Parade. The street was slammed with people in sequined, Mexican, costumes and sugar skull face paint. The line went on as far as I could see. A troupe of dancers in flowery puff skirts twirled by, followed by a trio of giant papier-mâché skeletons on stilts.
The metro train, the Green Line, pulled up next to me. Out poured more skeletons, mariachis, and Aztec warriors. I got up on my toes, looking for Tibia. Nothing. I checked Dad's progress again. He'd moved another half a block down the street. It seemed like he was heading towards the Cathedral Guadalupe. Why the heck was he walking with the parade? He hates parades. Was he meeting someone at the church? He hates church too.
Then someone pushed me from behind. "You got him?"
I spun around. "Jeez! Don't do that." Tibia stood there, innocently sipping from a disposable coffee cup. She had on sugar skull face paint, and a yellow paper carnation behind her ear. It seemed like she'd gotten all done up for Dia de los Muertos. And since she was Hispanic, she'd blend right in with the crowd. It was a good idea, but I gave her a hard time anyway. "Ew," I joked, "so you never washed your face from last night's trick-or-treating?"
She glared at me from behind her coffee cup. "You should've come. We went to the ritzy part of town. They were handing out full-size Snickers and everything."
"I don't really go in for that kind of stuff anyway."
"It's bad luck, you know, not going trick-or-treating. Anything can happen now," she said, smiling. Her getup was actually kinda cute in a morbid way.
I pointed at her elaborate makeup. "So is this why you're so late?"
"No, I'm late 'cuz I got you this," she handed me a second coffee cup.
"Ooo, cannibalism, thanks," I said, taking it. I peered into the lid's tiny opening, with pretend suspicion, "What'd you put in it?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's your favorite, pumpkin spice latte."
My eyebrows raised. "How do you know what my favorite is?" I said, taking a sip. Creamy, spicy, goodness rolled down my throat.
"You're white. Your people can't resist pumpkin spice."
I frowned mid-swallow. Maybe she didn't look so cute after all. Just then the mob from the Green Line passed us, jumbling us together. Our cups knocked, and I put my hand over the lid to keep from getting it on her.
"So, did you get him or not?" she said over the noisy crowd, pointing to my phone.
"Yeah, he's going that way." I pointed. "It's like he's part of the parade. It's so weir–"
Tibia snatched my phone. "Jeez, he's almost to the end!"
"End of what?"
"We gotta go now!" She grabbed my arm and pushed into the crowd. We bobbed and weaved, trying to get ahead of the mob.
Skeletons choked the street, skeletons in sombreros, skeletons in marigolds, skeletons in tuxedos. There was even a black horse with white bones painted all over it. The parade marched on towards the church. Every minute or so I could see the red-brick spire, of Cathedral Guadalupe, peeking out from a cloud of tissue-papered banners. We squeezed past a fat skeleton in a mariachi outfit. My drink smashed between us.
"Hey, watch it buddy!" yelled the mariachi.
"Sorry," I said, darting back into the cloud of people.
A troupe of Aztec dancers hooted and stamped across our path. The shells on their anklets rattled like snakes. Behind them, two men hoisted an arched ventana made of yellow paper carnations. Behind them, more men carried a flowered platform sporting a skeletal Virgin Mary, holding a skeletal baby Jesus.
"I see him," Tibia said, pointing at a white stetson bobbing in and out of the feathered headdresses and sombreros. "He's with some guys in skeleton costumes."
"That describes everyone," I said.
"No, skinny guys in skeleton costumes. Like last night." We pushed back into the crowd, trying to beat the slow roll of the parade. But blocking our path was a giant papier-mâché skeleton, riding a giant papier-mâché bicycle. "We're losing him." Tibia sprinted around the oversized cyclist, and slipped by a police officer mounted on horseback.
"Slow down!" the cop yelled at us.
Tibia turned, only to trip over a streamer. She stumbled into a party of teenage Catrinas in purple dresses. One of them gave her a hard push, sending her careening into the mounted police officer. The horse spooked, rearing up. The officer tumbled off. Tibia fell under the horse. I'd seen plenty of cowboys stomped like this.
"Tibs!" I yelled, and dove for her. The hooves were coming down on us. Everything was in slow-mo. I could just see it now. The horseshoe prints they'd find on our dented foreheads would read, Property of Dallas PD. Tibia gritted her teeth, clutching my arm. I heaved, rolling us to one side. The hooves smacked the concrete, inches from our faces. "Jeez, that was close."
"Get off of me," she said, giving me a shove.
"What, no thank you?" I said.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was the cop. "Hey, are you kids okay?"
"He's getting away," Tibia said, yanking me up.
"Sorry," I said, waving to the cop as we dashed.
We were closing in on the church. I saw a glimpse of a white hat ducking inside. A large fence, made of red brick and wrought iron, separated the raucous festivities from the serene, gothic building. A big crowd gathered around. We squeezed our way through. And the closer we got, the calmer things were. The fence was decorated with thousands of yellow marigolds. Nestled amongst the flowers were pictures of past loved ones. Candles, sugar skulls, and bowls of fruit littered the sidewalk. Many crossed themselves and prayed for the dead.
We inched past the gate and into the courtyard. Here, there were no decorations. The only evidence of Día de los Muertos was the costumed parishioners trickling in and out of the church. A sign on the door read, in Spanish and English, 'Todos los Santos Misa, Tranquila Por Favor,' 'All Saints Mass, Quiet Please.'
We stepped inside. Our footsteps echoed throughout the entryway as we walked to the sanctuary. Colored light poured in through stained glass. Dark wooden buttresses stood out against bright white walls. The pews were filled with silent parishioners, many still in costume. At the front, three priests stood at the altar, their backs to us. One of them said something in Latin, holding up a small round wafer. Another rang a bell.
I leaned into Tibia, "So what, Dad decides to stop off for mass before the big game? He's never been to church in his life. That was always Mom's thing."
"I don't know," she said, "Maybe he wanted the extra luck."
"Dad doesn't do luck. Besides," I said, scanning the crowd, "I don't see him anywhere."
We made our way around the edge to a connecting room. It was smaller and, in the middle, stood a large stone bowl on a pedestal. It was filled with water, but I didn't see a spout or anything for drinking. "I guess this is where you wash your hands," I ran my hand through the water.
"Don't do that," she smacked my wrist, "It's a baptistry. That's holy water."
"Everyone else has," I said, "Look at this mess." I pointed to the floor. Water was splashed everywhere. A trail of it led out another doorway and down a hall.
Tibia's eyes got big, "Oh no," she said.
"What?"
"It's holy water." She said it like I was supposed to know what that meant.
"So?"
"We have to get to your dad before it's too late." And she took off down the hall.
I ran after her. "What are you talking about? Do you know something?"
But she just kept sprinting down the hallway. The elaborate architecture of the cathedral turned to bland, utilitarian halls. We turned this way and that, Tibia looking for drips and drops. Me jabbing her with questions like, "What's going on?" and "What do you know?" Finally, we reached a staircase, descending downward.
We stopped. Did all the lights burn out? The further down the stairs went, the darker it got. Unusually dark, like a deep sea sucking up light. Then the hairs on the back of my neck pricked up. Halfway down was a sunflower seed. "Dad!" I yelled, and bounded down the dark stairs.
"Coffee, wait!"
I entered the basement. Muffled voices floated up out of the void. A small light, like a flashlight, shone at the other end. We tiptoed our way around stacks of old boxes, dusty candles, and crates of wine. There was a pile of clothes on the floor. It was the skin-tight skeleton suits along with a bunch of mismatched sports pads. I was starting to second-guess this plan. Confronting a gang of naked marathon runners was clearly out of my comfort zone.
There was a loud scraping sound, metal over concrete. "To the left," said a voice. I recognized it as the Red Skull Man.
Wooden racks were lined up like library bookcases. We ducked behind one. Random objects filled the shelves. An incense burner lay next to an unopened box of Billy Bass, The Dancing Fish. I carefully pulled down the box so we could see. Down at the other end, Red Skull Man and his cronies were moving an old, cast iron bathtub. A small light was hovering over them. It seemed to bob up and down, on its own. They'd also made a costume change. They were still decked out for Día de los Muertos in skeleton jumpsuits, but these were fancier. The bones had colored stripes and symbols painted on 'em, and Red Skull Man's was totally red. It also looked like he had some kind of pipe strapped to his leg, like the kind Indians would smoke from. But where was Dad?
One of the cronies had a hose and was filling the tub. Splashing water echoed through the basement. The red skeleton lifted a little bucket of water, probably the stuff he got from the baptistry. He also had something like a clamshell. He was using it to scoop up some of the holy water. He held it out over the bathtub, sprinkling it around.
"What are they doing?" I whispered.
"Shhh," said Tibia.
The red skeleton nodded to one of his cronies. The crony grabbed the tip of his own ring finger. Then, with a grimace, he snapped it clean off. I jerked, and he tossed it into the tub. But before I could freak out further, the inside of the tub started to glow. Like underwater pool lights, they cast a warbly reflection up on the walls. But these lights were green, a shimmering, radioactive green, like something you'd use if you wanted to cross turtles with ninjas. Then it started to spin and swirl. I looked at Tibia, "What the heck is going–" Then, stepping out of the shadows, walking up to the tub, was Dad.
"Dad!" I yelled.
"Coffee, no!" Tibia reached out, but I'd already darted out from behind the shelves.
Dad froze. The dudes in skeleton suits spun around. Now I could see they weren't wearing suits at all. They were actual skeletons! No skin, no muscles, no guts, nothing, just bones. And they looked pissed. Now, it was my turn to freeze.
"Coffee?" Dad said.
The Red Skull Man grabbed him. "Quick, it'll be too late."
I rushed forward. I had no idea what was going on, but I couldn't risk losing him too.
One of the skeleton cronies stepped into my path, grabbing my arms. "Let go!" He was surprisingly strong for having no muscles.
"Don't hurt him. You promised," said Dad.
"I don't break my word," said the Red Skull Man. I struggled against the grip of the skeleton. Two more cronies ushered Dad towards the tub.
He looked up at me, "Coffee, go home!" And with that, he jumped in. The green light flashed and he was gone.
"Dad!"
Then one by one, the other skeletons jumped into the tub, each disappearing in a flash of light. "Don't kill him," said the Red Skull Man, stepping into the tub, "But make sure he doesn't follow us."
The one holding my arms nodded, as the red skeleton disappeared. Then from a sheath tied to his pelvis, he drew a knife. It had a black obsidian blade, and green, glowing vapor poured off of it like dry ice.
"Hey!" I jerked my arm out of his grip, "What is that?"
The skeleton took a swipe. The black blade seemed to singe the air. It smelled like burned ozone. I stumbled back into some Christmas decorations, tripping over the baby Jesus.
Tibia caught me, "Tallus, stop!" She put her hand out.
She knows this guy!
"Move away, girl," it said in a gruff voice.
"No," she said, getting in front of me, "You have to come through me first. And you know what'll happen then."
The skeleton paused, straightening up. He put the knife back in its sheath. "You can't hide behind your father forever." He turned to the little, bobbing light, and circled his finger, "We go." He climbed into the bathtub, the light following him. In a flash they were gone, leaving only the acid-green glow to illuminate the room.
"What the heck?" I said. "How the crap?" I pointed, not sure how to complete a sentence. "What's going on!"
Tibia pushed me towards the tub. "We don't have a lot of time. If you want your dad back, we have to go now."
"This is crazy. None of this makes sense. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on!"
The green light was dimming. The swirling started to slow. "The gate's closing."
I looked down into the swirling vortex of neon-green liquid. It spun, down, down, down. But down to where? "That skeleton, you knew him. You're a part of this." I shook my head, taking a step back. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"You have to understand." She put her hands on my shoulders… then gave me a hard shove, and I tumbled into the water.