Day 9 (2 page)

 

CHAPTER 3

 

Willowcon 25

Los Angeles, California - Today

 

The audience at the panel discussion was huge—hundreds of
Weeping Willows
fans packed into a hotel ballroom. Everyone watched as five speakers at a table at the front of the room argued about which
Willows
characters had had sex on the show.

It could only have happened at a
Weeping Willows
convention.

"Foster kid orgies!" said a chubby, middle-aged woman in a wild sarong at the end of the table. "Is that all you people can
talk
about?"

The big room erupted with a storm of babble and laughter. The four other panelists at the table fought to talk over each other. All three hundred or so audience members raised a commotion at once.

Except two. In the very last row of chairs at the back of the ballroom, Dunne and Hannahlee sat silently.

If the rest of the crowd had realized Hannahlee was among them, they would have gone even more berserk. They would have swarmed her, clutched her, carried her off like cartoon ants carrying off a picnic sandwich. But Hannahlee had changed so much, no one recognized her as Kitty Willow.

"Oh come on!" The woman who had started it all drowned out everyone else. Her sarong was blindingly bright yellow and pink. "Who
doesn't
think
Leif
was banging
Kitty
?"

"Now
that
," said a sequined man in a wheelchair at the far end of the panel, "is what
I
call getting some
pussy
."

The crowd roared with groans and laughter...but the reaction in the back row was different. Hannahlee turned to Dunne and caught his eye. Though her expression was unreadable, it wasn't a smile of any kind.

Suddenly, a fresh ruckus drew Dunne's attention back to the panelists. Sequin Man and Sarong Woman were having it out with a guy in the front row of the audience.

"I say the Willows are even
better
role models as brother-sister lovers," said Sarong Woman. "Their shared intimacies create a very
functional
family."

"Are you
nuts
?" said the guy in the front row. "There was no
incest
in
Weeping Willows
. It was a
family show
!"

"You're right." Sequin Man stroked his long, purple wig. "It ain't
incest
if the brothers and sisters aren't blood relations!"

That was when Dunne decided he'd had enough. Turning to Hannahlee, he realized that she was way ahead of him.

Because she was already gone.

 

When Dunne walked out of the ballroom, Hannahlee was waiting for him. She sat on a padded bench against the wall of the corridor, eyes trained on the ballroom doorway.

As he approached, she got up and straightened her beige pantsuit. "There wasn't any incest on the show. We played foster kids fighting crime in the town of Justice, Arizona. No orgies."

"I know," said Dunne. "People just like to stir up controversy."

"There sure are a lot of them." Hannahlee gazed into the crowded corridor, which was bustling with noise and activity. "All this for seventeen little shows."

Dunne started to correct her, to point out that the cast and crew had shot
twenty-one
episodes of
Willows
, with seventeen aired on network TV, three more released years later on video, and one mysteriously "lost." He decided not to open his mouth, though, because after all, Hannahlee had
been
there for the filming. If she wanted to say "seventeen," she could say "seventeen."

Better for him to focus on other numbers. "Willowcon draws thousands of people," he said, starting down the corridor. "There are other conventions, but none even comes
close
to this one."

Hannahlee walked alongside him. "When did it become more than just a cult thing?"

Dunne wondered why she was so out of touch with the arc of her own show's popularity. "The conventions started in the early 80s," he said. "But
Willows
fandom didn't really take off till the mid-90s, when the unaired episodes were released on video."

"We were cancelled so fast," said Hannahlee. "We never thought it would get this big."

Just then, a girl in braids and buckskin hurried past, and Hannahlee gaped at her. "Was that supposed to be
me
?"

"From the episode 'War's Path,' yeah." Dunne saw the girl zip through open double doors into a darkened room at the end of the corridor. "Come on."

A sign on an easel outside the double doors read "Masquerade." The auditorium beyond was enormous, packed with thousands of people, all watching a stage at the far end of the room.

The distant stage was full of colorful figures dancing under bright lights. The song "We Are Family" by Sister Sledge blasted over the auditorium's P.A. system.

As Dunne watched, the buckskinned Kitty Willow lookalike ran down the center aisle and leaped onto the stage. As she flung her arms in the air, the song changed to "What's New, Pussycat?" and the audience went crazy.

Hannahlee leaned over to speak in Dunne's ear. "They're supposed to be us? The Willows?"

Dunne nodded. "It's a costume contest. They dress up and act out skits to music."

"I see." Hannahlee's voice was flat.

Suddenly, the music changed again, this time to "War" by Edwin Starr. Someone dressed like Warren "War" Willow—in his trademark Army fatigues and Day-Glo yellow smiley face t-shirt—jumped to the front of the group and launched into a wild break-dance.

Dunne looked at Hannahlee. She watched the stage with no obvious reaction. Whatever was going through her mind, she wasn't letting him in on it.

Just then, without a word, she headed for the exit. Dunne got stuck in the crowd and fell behind. When he finally caught up outside the auditorium, Hannahlee was talking to someone.

The man was in his sixties, with a dark tan and gleaming white teeth. He wore a pale blue madras shirt, white chinos, and huarache sandals. He patted his shaggy mop of silver hair with one hand. His other hand rested lightly on Hannahlee's shoulder.

As Dunne drew up to the two of them, Hannahlee turned. "Dunne," she said. "I'd like you to meet an old friend."

"Still robbing the cradle, eh, Lianna?" The silver-haired man lunged forward and pumped Dunne's hand fiercely. "I should've known you hadn't lost your touch!"

Dunne was speechless. Hannahlee's "old friend" was someone he recognized...someone he'd watched countless times in reruns of
Weeping Willows
.

Hannahlee smiled. "Dunne is my coworker," she said. "Not my love interest."

"Not
yet
anyway." The man released Dunne's hand like he was snapping a football. "So what brings you to Willowcon, Dunne? You have a
Willows
connection?"

"He writes books," said Hannahlee. "He wrote
Falling Leif
."

"No kidding!" The man gave Dunne's shoulder a squeeze.

"Dunne, this is Scott Savage," said Hannahlee. "He played Leif Willow on the show."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Savage." Dunne couldn't help sounding excited. "I'm a big fan of your work."

"Wish I could say the same, son," said Scott, "but the truth is, I thought
Falling Leif
was a poor excuse for toilet paper."

 

CHAPTER 4

Warpath Journal

Dateline: "Willowcon 25," Los Angeles, California

My name is Warren Willow. My brothers and sisters call me "War" for short.

Also because I think peace is groovy, but I believe we must sometimes fight to protect it.

Case in point. Our nation's freedom is in danger from people who look just like my family. Masters of disguise walk among us, agents of a secret far-right organization. They have imprisoned all my brothers and sisters, assumed their identities, and fanned out to execute a brutal master plan.

They call themselves the Poison Oaks. Like the Willows, they are all adopted children, raised and trained by charismatic parents for a mission. Unlike the Willows, they are pure evil.

They are our mirror images.

And I must stop them at any cost. I cannot allow them to commit acts of terror that will break the will of this great country. I cannot allow them to destroy what the Founding Fathers worked so hard to create.

And yes, I realize what I will have to do. I know that they will fight to the death. I know that I cannot show them one iota of mercy.

I know that I will have to battle these people—who look just like my brothers and sisters—and kill them in cold blood.

It will be my most important, and most difficult, mission yet. The thought of it shakes my courage...but not my faith. My adoptive father, Lawson Willow—"Law" Willow to us kids—taught me better than that.

I know I will succeed.

It's like the time I wasn't sure I could take down Ballantyne Foster single-handedly. From his cage over Ballantyne's shark tank, Father Law shouted the words that gave me the strength to defeat my enemy. Those same words have carried me through many battles since, and they come back to me now as I spot my first Poison Oak target.

"Everything you need to win is in your heart."

The target is one of the two imposters standing outside the auditorium. Though my instinct is to charge right in, I keep my distance for now, sizing up these wicked doppelgängers.

I can hardly believe how much they look like my brother Leif and sister Kitty. Seeing them there, such perfect copies, makes me miss my own flesh and blood.

It also makes me wonder if the real Leif and Kitty are still alive. We've heard nothing from them or the other abducted Willows for weeks, not since genius brother Buzz beamed out the Oaks' secret plans on his hidden transmitter.

Maybe I can get some information out of my target...as long as I remember my primary mission must come first.

Save America at any cost.

As I watch "Leif" and "Kitty," they are joined by someone I haven't seen before. A handler, maybe? His pale skin, light brown hair and goatee remind me of Scandinavian Steve.

Whoever he is, he has made the mistake of his life joining up with the Oaks. He'll regret it.

So will all of them, for this no ordinary case. It's a blood feud, with the very existence of my beloved nation and family at stake.

I call it my warpath.

And it can only end one way. No matter how perfect the imposters, no matter how deadly their weapons and skills, no matter how unbeatable their nefarious plans, I will stop them. I will win.

I know this because I see it in my heart, as Father Law taught me. I will win and receive my just reward.

Am I talking about Heaven? Only if Heaven means finishing my warpath...saving America and the Willows in a storm of peace-loving bloodshed.

Or avenging their loss, if I must.

But first things first. And by first, I mean taking out my target.

 

CHAPTER 5

 

"Maybe Cyrus Gowdy is dead," said Scott Savage, a.k.a. Leif Willow. "Did you ever think of that?"

Dunne shrugged. The truth was, he was having a hard time thinking about anything other than Savage calling one of his novels "a poor excuse for toilet paper."

It was one thing hearing negative comments from a Joe Schmo reader or getting a bad review from some hack critic. Being body-slammed by a childhood idol like Savage was something far more profoundly disturbing.

"Halcyon Studios thinks Gowdy's alive," said Hannahlee. "Somewhere in the fan underground."

"Might as well be the
Weather
Underground," said Savage. "I haven't seen or heard from the old bastard in
decades
."

"So you don't have any idea where he might be?" said Dunne. "Any place he might have mentioned years ago?"

Savage ignored Dunne's questions and took Hannahlee's hand. "I haven't seen
you
in almost as long," he said. "How wonderful that you should walk back into my life like this today."

Hannahlee winced. "Feeling's mutual." She said it through clenched teeth.

"Let's meet later for a drink." Savage kissed her hand and released it like a dove. "Just the
two
of us."

"You're here as a guest?" said Hannahlee.

Savage nodded proudly. "I'll be performing my one-man show onstage tomorrow."

Hannahlee reached into her purse and pulled out a white business card, which she handed to Savage. "Please call me if you hear anything about Gowdy, Scott."

"Likewise." Savage produced a card from his vest pocket and handed it over with a flourish. "Let me know how
your
search turns out."

"Thanks for your interest." Dunne's voice was tinged with sarcasm.

Savage caught his gaze and held it. "Leif Willow would never take drugs.
Falling Leif
was a
disgrace
to the character."

"He was
undercover
," said Dunne. "Tracking his girlfriend's
murderer
."

Savage's glare intensified. "Leif is a role model. I wonder how many kids who read your book ended up thinking 'it's okay to take drugs if
Leif
does it.'"

"Are you serious?" Dunne couldn't believe he was arguing with the actor who'd played Leif about how he'd portrayed Leif in a novel.

"Did you know I pitched them my
own
Leif book? A whole
series
of them for kids." Savage folded his arms and sneered. "Instead, the publisher puts out trash like
Falling Leif
."

Dunne could see he'd never win, so he kept his mouth shut. He only regretted that his image of Scott Savage—and by extension, Leif Willow—had been forever tainted.

"Poison." Savage jabbed a finger at Dunne. "That's what you spread." He turned his gaze on Hannahlee. "Isn't that right, Lianna?"

Hannahlee's expression was unreadable. "Are you sure you can't think of a lead for us, Scott? Maybe someone who can point us in the right direction?"

Savage narrowed his eyes. "Now that you mention it."

"A lead?" said Hannahlee.

"
Weeping Willows
' biggest fan," said Savage. "He's here. If anyone can guide you through the fan underground, it's him."

"What's his name?" said Hannahlee.

"Windsor." Savage pointed down the corridor. "He was scheduled to appear in the Bradford Room at three. Maybe you can still catch him."

 

Everyone was on their feet. When Dunne and Hannahlee walked into the crowded room, everyone was up, clapping along with the song.

Dunne barely caught a glimpse of the singer between the swaying bodies of the crowd. All he really got was an impression of someone big in a puffy white shirt, playing an old-fashioned stringed instrument.

The voice, though, was enormous and distinct. It boomed through the room like thunder, operatically deep and resonant as cannon fire. The clarity was perfect; every word was exquisitely shaped, from the multiply trilled "R"s to the sibilant "S"s. The singer further decked the lyrics with swings of mood and nuance, infusing them with wild, reckless life.

As he sang a dirty song about Kitty Willow.

To the tune of "The Devil Went Down to Georgia."

"Kitty went down on Holly," he sang, "and the sisters began to squeal. Bella and Kenya joined the party, jumping right in to cop a feel."

As soon as Dunne realized what the song was about, he shot a glance at Hannahlee, wondering if he ought to spin her right around and out the door. Her face revealed no reaction.

When the singer strummed a final chord and held his instrument high, the audience erupted with cheers and applause.

"I love this guy," said a pudgy young man next to Dunne. "He
is
the god of filk."

"Filk?" said Dunne.

"The one and only slashfic filker!" As the young man headed for the stage, Dunne saw the singer's face on the back of his black t-shirt. Below the face, in Gothic letters, was a name.

Sweet Quincy Windsor.