THE NEXT COUPLE OF FLOORS THEY PASSED WERE A lot like the lobby: stores both light and dark. Benches occupied by people (or at least people-ish) things. The occasional ghost drifted by carrying transparent shopping bags. Coop saw a group of bird ladies like the one at the DOPS. A few mooks window-shopping. And at least a dozen different species of human and inhuman creatures strolling by, just like the crowds at the Beverly Center. He didn’t even know what to call some of the creatures and felt a little stupid for it. If Giselle was right and he was part of this spectral world, he’d missed a lot of it. On the other hand, what did he care if there was a spook parade going on under his feet? He was a thief. A working stiff. Knowing about all these snaky, winged, and bug-eyed things sipping coffee and eating ice cream cones wasn’t going to make his job any easier.
“What do you think?” said Giselle as they walked to the next escalator. “Am I blowing your mind yet?”
They got on and he said, “Consider it blown. I see what Nick was talking about when he called the place—”
“Don’t say it.”
“I won’t. Honestly, I don’t know what to think, so I’ll just keep my mouth shut for the time being.”
“That’s a perfectly reasonable response.”
“Good. And I’m not feeling like a secret agent yet, either. Your bosses know that DOPS spells ‘dopes,’ right?”
“Yeah, and they’re pretty sensitive about it. Management tried changing the name a few times, but the science wing of the DOPS is pretty stuck on it. Can’t say I blame them. I mean, no one even knows how the Stalin cyborgs work yet.”
“You have commie cyborgs?”
Giselle held her hand up over her head. “Yeah, big bastards. They’ve been around since the forties. Laser eyes. Bushy mustaches. They look just like Uncle Joe, only bigger. Like tractors with legs.”
Coop craned his head around. “Are there any robots down here?”
“Cyborgs.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Cyborgs are cooler.”
“Thanks for clearing it up.”
“The only metal men I’ve seen down here were some knights. I think they’re old Templars. They busk over by the tapas place and bum cigarettes off people.”
“You know, I could wait in the car while you do your sleuthing. I promise not to run away and only listen to NPR on the radio.”
Giselle shook her head. “No way. This is part of your job and your education. You’re part of Peculiar Science now. Get used to it.”
“I’m going to need a few drinks before that happens.”
“We’ll get you a Roy Rogers when we find Babylon’s bar.”
The next floor was one of the wet levels Giselle had talked about. Mist drifted down from the top of the escalator. As Coop stepped off, he was lost in a warm fog. Giselle reached back and took his hand, pulling him along. That felt funny, her hand in his. He couldn’t see much of the floor, but what he saw didn’t make any more sense than the lobby. It looked liked they were on the edge of an enormous swamp. There were some goblins that reminded him of Rodney. People with tentacles for arms, and some of the gill people he’d seen downstairs. Distant fires. Blue will-o’-the wisps glided back and forth through the mist. Off to the side, Coop was sure he could see a frozen yogurt stand.
The next floor up was one of the dry floors. Coop had to shield his eyes from the bright sunlike orb at the top of the white rotunda. The one thing he could see that made sense was a Sunglass Hut nearby. The rest of the floor looked like Death Valley. Enormous serpent-things slithered through the sand. Robed people wandered over the dunes with bags from shoe shops and toy stores.
When they reached the next floor—a regular one like the lobby—Coop was still a little sun dazzled. While Giselle showed Babylon’s picture to a couple of horned mall cops, he looked around. He hadn’t felt quite so lost since his arrest.
Seeing another bar, he peeked inside. People inside stared at him with milky eyes. Coop had been in a lot of bars over the years. Some were open and friendly. The people in most bars couldn’t give a shit whether you came in or not. But there were others that you knew not to go into the minute you stuck your head in. It wasn’t that they were hostile. It was more like someone had sprayed people repellent around the door. At least your kind of people. Going inside could result in a systematic kicking of your ass. That’s the feeling Coop got from this place. And all he’d done was look in the window.
He jumped a little when Giselle tapped him on the shoulder.
“What’s your problem, Mr. Chicken?” she said.
“What’s up with this crowd? They look like they want to snack on my skull.”
Giselle looked past him and pulled Coop back to the escalator. “It’s a mook bar. They’re touchy about the living wandering in and eating their peanuts.”
“Your boss, Salzman, seems like a charming corpse. What’s his story?”
Giselle shrugged. “He’s not so bad. Just ambitious. There are a million guys like him at the DOPS.”
“I get a bad feeling if you were a dick when you were alive, being dead isn’t going to fix it.”
“You got that right.” Giselle stepped off the escalator. “The DOPS loves mooks. They work hard and don’t complain.”
Coop leaned on the escalator railing, trying to get over the onslaught of weirdness. “Of course they don’t complain. Where else are they going to go? I don’t think they let dead people run Dairy Queens.”
Giselle gave him a look. “You’d be surprised how many fast-food joints are run by the undead. Personally, I think a lot of mooks like the DOPS because they hope someone is going to figure out a way to make them alive again.”
“And they can all be real boys. Just like Pinocchio.”
“What did I tell you?”
“Be nice.”
“Or pretend to be.”
“Pretend it is.”
Coop could see the moon from the top of the next escalator. Or something that looked a lot like it. The dark floor where they stepped off was icy. Coop blew into his hands. He looked around and saw a cart giving out free samples of drinks. He wandered over hoping it was some kind of supernatural whiskey.
“Would you like to try something today, sir?” said the pretty vampire in charge of the cart. Her name tag said KRISTEN.
“Hi, Kristen. What do you have that’s got a kick? And warm. But mostly a kick.”
She poured something from a brown bottle into a small paper cup. She handed it to Coop and smiled. Then her smile turned into a frown and she took it back. “Wait. You’re like alive and stuff, aren’t you?” she said in the kind of hard-core Valley Girl accent he hadn’t heard in twenty years.
“Yeah, currently alive. And I’d like to stay that way,” he said.
She shook her head and set the cup on the cart. “Then this is definitely not for you.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
She poured something from another bottle and passed it to him. “Try this,” she said in a way that kick-started Coop’s reptile brain. It wasn’t even a fight-or-flight choice. His brain went straight into flee mode. But he stayed put. Jinx Town had fucked with him enough. Without thinking any more about it, he took the cup and gulped the drink down. A flush passed through his body and his brain thanked him immediately. Coop’s heart jumped a little and he instantly felt warmer. Suddenly, he was inspired to do math, take a nap, and maybe learn to tap-dance. Everything was fascinating, him most of all.
Giselle came running over. “What are you doing? Do you know what that stuff is?”
Kristen smiled at Giselle. “Don’t worry. I’m not about to waste good blood on tourists. He just had some Vin Mariani.”
Coop held out his cup to Giselle. “You really need to try this. It’s like driving the Indy Five Hundred in a bathtub full of warm Jell-O.”
“I bet it is,” said Giselle. “Vin Mariani is wine and cocaine. You’re lucky it isn’t drug-test season at work.”
“Fuck the DOPS. Fuck this whole day. This is why I came to Jinx Town.”
“No. Staying out of jail is why you’re here. And let’s keep you out, shall we? Come on. We have work to do.”
Coop held up a finger. “One second.” He looked at Kristen and pulled out his cash. “I’ll take a case of the stuff.”
“No, you won’t,” said Giselle.
“You’re right. I can’t carry a case. Just one bottle.”
“Goddammit, Coop.”
Kristen took some of his money and handed him an unopened bottle. She leaned forward and said in a stage whisper, “Your mom is pissed.”
Coop put a finger to his lips. “Shh.”
Giselle took his arm and pulled him away from the stand. Coop tucked the bottle under his arm and went with her.
“You need to take this situation seriously,” she said.
“I am taking it seriously.”
“More seriously.”
“Listen. I’ve wanted out of Narnia since we walked in. This stuff made me feel like I could stay. Plus I’m kind of high. That’s what I call a win-win.”
Giselle nodded at the bottle. “You just bought a fifth of who the hell knows what from a trampy vampire. Did it ever occur to you that she might want to poison you or maybe make you her slave?”
Coop frowned. “Kristen wouldn’t do that. She’s a nice girl. And I’m sure it’s against company policy.”
“Plus, you’re all coked up. You’re no use to me now questioning people.”
“Trust me, I was no use before. At least now I don’t want to run screaming back to the car.”
“Fine,” said Giselle. “We’re going into that bar over there. I’m going to show Babylon’s photo around and you’re going to be good and not bother the nice people, all right?”
Coop squinted at the sign over the door. “Týden Divu. I can’t even pronounce that. Is it a vampire bar? Because if it is, I’m going to need more Vin.”
Giselle shook her head. “Don’t worry. It’s an everybody bar. Just keep your mouth shut. And no more drinking.”
“Got it.”
“Let’s go.” When she turned, he opened the bottle, took a swig, and followed her.
Coop had to give Jinx Town credit for one thing. None of the bars had doormen checking IDs. I guess if you get this far, not only can you drink, you deserve a drink. Coop thought about taking another nip, but he’d promised Giselle and already felt a little guilty about the first one. He didn’t like having her mad at him, and he was getting irritated at himself for giving a damn. This is just a job, he reminded himself. I’m the con and she’s the guard. Period. He went into the bar with her, trying to be neutral but still feeling too buzzed to be sure he was doing it right.
Giselle headed off to talk to the bar patrons. The moment she was away from him Coop saw her face light up in a million-dollar smile. He remembered that smile when it had been aimed at him. But that was a long time ago. He walked around the tables and found himself in a gaming area. Roulette on the far side of the room. Craps on the other. Blackjack in the middle. Coop always liked the idea of craps, but the odds were way too much on the house’s side. Same thing with roulette. He’d played some blackjack in prison, which he remembered being barely more exciting than picking paint chips off his cell wall. And there was no way he could sit still for a dealer in his current speed-demon state. Between the big games were rows and rows of slot machines. He gazed at the blinking lights and listened to the bells and electronic pings, a siren song to drunks throughout history. Coop set down the bottle, sat at a vacant machine, and felt around for his money.
He fed a twenty into the slot and pulled the machine’s lever, which was shaped like a curved tentacle. Coop got two skulls and a human heart. On his next pull he got an ouroboros, a pentagram, and what looked sort of like a ham sandwich with hooves. Then he got two bats and an Easter Island head. It was coming back to him why he wasn’t a gambler. He didn’t like throwing money away and he didn’t like being bored. Losing was boring and winning was too stressful. The lights on the machines were getting too bright and the noises too loud. He looked around for Giselle and saw her chatting up a group of well-dressed werewolves. He liked their suits and in another life might have asked them where they bought them, but the jolt of energy and abandon from the cocaine was wearing off, replaced with the same dull dread he’d felt earlier. Rather than attract attention to himself, he slipped another twenty into the slot machine. The spinners whirred for what seemed a long time and finally settled on three eyes. All three blinked at him and a siren went off. Coop leapt back from the machine as diamonds and sapphires cascaded from the payout slot onto the floor. A human, scaly, spiny, and furry crowd gathered around him. A few gawkers applauded as he knelt to scoop up his winnings. Giselle pushed her way through the crowd and stood over him.
“I can’t leave you alone for two minutes,” she said in an annoyed tone.
Coop shoved the last of his winnings into his pockets and got up. “I was doing what you told me. I was being quiet and not bothering anyone. All the noise was just dumb luck.”
Giselle shook her head. “Forget it. We’re too conspicuous now. And I wasn’t getting anywhere anyway. If anyone here knows Babylon, they’re not talking.”
“Great. Let’s go. I get a feeling we’re looking a lot tastier to some of this crowd.”
Giselle put a hand on his elbow. “Relax. You’re home. No one here is going to bother you.”
They made it as far as the bar before someone pointed a gun at them.
“You were saying,” Coop muttered to Giselle.
To Coop the gunman looked human, but he wasn’t willing to bet his Vin Mariani on it. The guy wore a sharkskin suit and his tie hung loose, like he hoped Frank Sinatra’s ghost would stroll by and invite him out for steaks and hookers. They guy pressed the barrel of the gun into Giselle’s chest. Coop recognized the unusual gold model.
“Why are you asking about Mr. Babylon?” said the sharkskin suit.
Giselle didn’t miss a beat. “I just got to town. I’m a Marilyn and I heard that Mr. Babylon liked to work with the best people. Well, I’m the best.”
“Are you?” said the suit. “What’s his story?” he said, pointing the gun at Coop.
“He’s a Flasher. He’s good, but not as good as me. Do you know Mr. Babylon? Could you introduce us?”
The suit pointed the gun back at Giselle. “Never heard of the man. No one around here has. In fact, neither have you. Do you get me?”
“Completely,” said Coop. “We’re sorry to have upset you. And we certainly don’t want to trouble any nonexistent criminal kingpins.” He took Giselle’s hand. “Let’s go get that Slurpee you were talking about.”
The suit lowered the gun and they started out of the bar when he said, “Wait a second. You have a picture of Mr. Babylon? Who the hell are you?”
Coop turned around as the suit brought the gun back up and fired. He pushed Giselle out of the way and caught the blast square in the chest. A scream went up through the bar. Behind Coop, part of the wall was missing, the edges red hot. Coop felt Giselle beside him as she pulled out a tranq pistol and shot the suit in the neck. He collapsed before he got off another shot. Giselle ran over and pulled the guy up by the collar, talking to him rapidly. From the back of the bar, the werewolves in the nice suits were pushing through the crowd. Coop didn’t need an introduction to know that the suit and the wolves were there together. They closed in fast on Giselle.
Coop reached into his pocket and started throwing diamonds and cash into the air. The crowd dove for the loot as he grabbed Giselle and pulled her to her feet. They just made it out the door before Coop ran out of cash and rocks. He could just make out the wolves struggling toward them, trapped in the middle of the grabby, giddy crowd.
He couldn’t help himself. “Good doggies. Stay!”
They headed straight for the escalators and ran down most of the thirteen floors. Giselle grabbed Coop to keep him from sprinting through the lobby. When they hit the exit, they began running again, straight up the ladder and onto Hollywood Boulevard. Coop slammed Catherine Monvoisin’s star shut, and they stood there trying to catch their breath. An off-duty Spider-Man from the Chinese Theater down the block stared at them.
“Annual star inspection,” said Coop. “This one is A-OK. Say Hi to Aunt May for me.”
He and Giselle walked back along the Boulevard to her car by the Pantages. “You doing okay?” said Giselle.
“No.”
She stopped. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“I lost my Vin Mariani.”
She shoved him hard enough to rock him back a few steps. “That’s for being such an asshole.” Then she came over and hugged him. “And this is for taking the shot for me. How did you know it was a hex gun and not a regular one?”
“Babylon shot me with one just like it. You know, that might mean they know each other.”
Giselle gently stepped back out of Coop’s arms. They looked at each other a little awkwardly.
“Yeah. He does,” she said. “When he was all goofed up from the tranq, I got him to give me an address in Laurel Canyon. Want to go check it out?”
“Why not?” said Coop. “But the DOPS owes me about a billion dollars in cash and rocks. Are there expense forms for that kind of thing?”
Giselle reached into her purse and handed Coop a card. “This is my business American Express. If you don’t abuse it, you can use it until we get you reimbursed for the cash.”
“Can I buy some new clothes with it?”
“At this hour?”
“The Roosevelt has a twenty-four-hour place for high rollers who get Fatburger on their French cuffs. I was going to stop there.”
She nodded and gave him a brief smile. “Yeah. After we check out the address you can get some things. Just don’t go nuts.”
“Thanks.”
They got into the Honda and headed for Laurel Canyon. As they passed a yellow Prius, it did a U-turn and began following them.
An hour earlier, Jerry was by a Dumpster in an alley next to a bodega on Highland Avenue. A gray-haired wino with a bottle of Aquavit cradled in his arm was asleep on a flattened cardboard box. Jerry looked around, but didn’t see anyone else nearby.
“Excuse me,” he said to the sleeping drunk. “Excuse me.”
The old man opened his rheumy eyes and stared at him without moving. Jerry took another look around, hoping that maybe there was a concierge or docent who would tell him what to do. When none appeared, he turned back to the drunk.
“I’m looking for a place called Jinx Town. Do you know anything about it?”
“Never heard of it,” said the old man.
“Oh. I was told I could find it here.”
“Do you have anything?”
“What?” said Jerry.
In a surprisingly clear voice, the old man said, “Do. You. Have. Anything?”
“Oh. Right.”
The old man rolled his eyes.
Jerry took an old-fashioned movie theater ticket from his pants pocket. It was orange, grubby, and worn, like someone had found it in the gutter after a hard rain. Charlie, the drywall boss, had given it to him, and Jerry wasn’t sure if he wanted to give it to a dirty alley drunk. He handed it over. The old man tore the ticket in half and gave one of the pieces back to Jerry. He put it back in his pocket.
Without another word, the old man rolled over and slowly pulled himself onto his feet. He went around to the far side of the Dumpster and, laying all his weight on it, pushed it a few feet, revealing a hole in the wall. It was about three feet high. The old man waved for Jerry to go inside. He peered into the dark, but couldn’t see anything.
“You going, boy? I haven’t got all night,” said the old man.
Jerry had come too far and had taken too many chances to chicken out now. His broken ribs ached as he got down on all fours and crawled inside. At the entrance, the old man cleared his throat and held out his hand. Jerry took out a five-dollar tip and handed it to him. After inspecting it for a few seconds, the old man nodded and waved Jerry inside. Once he was in the hole, the old man rolled the Dumpster back into place.
Jerry closed his eyes and opened them. There was no difference in the pitch dark. He crawled for a few feet, then felt the space open up. Holding his hands out, he took a few tentative steps forward and touched something that felt like a wall. He ran his fingertips across it and hit something solid. A doorknob. Jerry twisted it and stepped through.
He was in a towering mall full of shops and restaurants. People and things sort of like people, but not quite, strolled by with bags and drinks. Charlie hadn’t been lying or high after all. Jerry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’d made it all the way to Jinx Town. He brushed the dirt from his hands and knees and started walking.
Jerry went slowly, astonished by everything he saw, but trying not to look like one of the gawking hillbillies who crowded the streets of Hollywood overhead. Still, it was hard not to stare. When anyone, human or not, caught his gaze, Jerry lowered his eyes and walked on.
After making a complete circuit of the bottom floor, he got onto one of the escalators, went up a floor, and started walking again. Jerry wasn’t even sure what he was looking for. For now, it was enough that he’d made it this far and proven to himself that magic and the kind of people who lived with it every day were real. He wasn’t sure how he was going to prove that to anyone in his father’s congregation, but he’d worry about that later.
When he wasn’t people watching, Jerry window-shopped cluttered stores like Swank Skull and Witchateria. From what he could tell about a place called Terror Management Therapy, it seemed to sell a combination of dungeon equipment and office supplies. The staplers growled at him through the window and a ghost took dictation in a ball gag and manacles.
He went up a few more floors, moving quickly past the wet and dry ones, up to a dark floor near the top of the mall.
Jerry stared into the moonlit distance trying to figure out where he was. He hovered around the guardrail overlooking the rest of the mall, wanting to venture into the dark, but for the moment happy to be near the light. But he knew Caleximus wouldn’t want him to come this far just to have his balls shrivel up. And if Tommy ever found out that he’d turned tail . . .
After a few deep breaths, Jerry got up enough nerve to move. He turned to walk into the dark . . . and ran straight into two horned mall cops.
“Are you sure you belong here, kid?” said the shorter of the two. Jerry froze midstep. What would Dad do now? he wondered. Instinctively, he reached into his shirt and pulled out his Caleximus pendant, holding it up so the horned mall cops could see. After a moment, the short cop looked at the tall one, who gave a nod.
“Okay. You have a nice day, sir,” said the short cop, and they both walked on. Jerry didn’t give them a chance to change their minds. He trotted into the darkness and whatever lay under the wan moon.
In fact, what lay beyond was a lot like what he’d seen below. Stores. Bars. Restaurants. There was a pretty girl at a cart giving out free samples of something. He thought about going over, but then caught a glimpse of her fangs. His gut did a backflip in a combination of fear and exhilaration. She’s a vampire, he thought. A real live vampire.
Jerry sat down by a fountain across from a store called Profondo Rosso. It seemed to be some kind of specialty butcher shop, with strange cuts of meat hanging in the window. Jerry didn’t look too closely at them . . . especially after he noticed some of them looking back at him. Water splashed on his pants and left red stains. He wiped it away and smelled his fingers. That’s not water. A switch got thrown in Jerry’s brain. Maybe this was a mistake after all. He’d wanted to prove the magic world was real, and he’d done it. Much more thoroughly than he’d ever imagined. There were other things he wanted, other things he’d come to see, but he couldn’t think of a single one of them right now. All he wanted to do was get back to the old drunk and go home.
When he stood, someone touched him on the shoulder. He would have liked to believe that the sound that came out of him was manly, and not the squeak of a dog’s toy, but he knew the sad truth of it.
He turned around to see that a group of six little girls in pigtails and gingham dresses formed a semicircle around him. “Hi,” said a redhead at the center of the group. “What’s your name?”
He stammered a couple of times before he got it out. “Jerry,” he said.
“Hi, Jerry,” said the redhead. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Yes. It’s my first time.”
“Really? So, you’re not meeting anyone? Nobody here knows you?”
His gut prodded him again. “Uh, yeah. Friends are in the butcher shop.”
“Fibber,” said a girl on the end. Jerry felt like he was being grilled by a bunch of Lizzie Bordens masquerading as Girl Scouts.
The little girls giggled and whispered to each other. “Why don’t we show you around?” said the redhead.
“Thanks,” said Jerry, suddenly wishing he’d listened to his balls earlier when they wanted to leave. “But I was just going.”
“But you just got here. And there’s so much more to see.”
“Thanks, but I really should be getting home.” Jerry started to get up and the little redhead pushed him back down harder than any little girl should have been able to.
“Ow,” said Jerry. “Wow. You’re really strong. What’s your name?”
“Pudding Tame. Ask me again and I’ll tell you the same.”
The little girls giggled, showing their fangs. Jerry couldn’t decide whether he wanted to run or faint. Running seemed pointless, but if he fainted he might look too much like a picnic lunch.
“Please don’t eat me,” he said.
The girls burst out laughing.
“That’s zombies, silly. They’re two floors down. Should we introduce you?”
“No?” said Jerry, not sure what to answer anymore. It was like he was taking his SATs all over again. He’d wanted to run then, too.
“Here’s the thing, Jerry,” said the redhead. “You only get to leave if you can come up with something better than that pretty throat of yours.”
Jerry pulled out his Caleximus pendant. The redhead frowned. “What’s that?”
“It’s a Caleximus thing,” said a brunette next to the redhead. “I’m not sure. I think they’re some kind of metal band.”
“Didn’t they play with Slayer on their last tour? They sucked,” she said, and all the little girls laughed.
“You’re going to have to do better than that, Jerry,” said the redhead.
“I could beg. Just don’t tell my dad.”
The redhead sat down next to him on the fountain. “That sounds fun, but not quite enough.”
“I have money.”
“And I have an AmEx black card.”
“Wow. Even my dad doesn’t have one of those. You must have a really good credit rating.”
“An eight-fifty. What’s yours?”
Jerry started to lie, thought better of it, and said, “About a six.”
The redhead smiled. “You’re cute for a scaredy cat.”
“That’s me. The scarediest cat ever.”
The girl on the end said, “Enough with this stiff. Let’s drain him and go try on shoes.”
“Wait,” said Jerry. He hesitated for just a second. What he was contemplating was a sin of the highest order, but wouldn’t Caleximus reward him for his resourcefulness when the time came? And he really, really wanted to be alive for that. For anything, really. Jerry reached into his jacket and pulled out the silver ceremonial dagger he was supposed to use to kill the black boar. Giving away one of Caleximus’s relics was a big deal, but so was being a juice box for a bunch of pint-size brides of Dracula. He handed it to the redhead.
She held it up and light from across the mall threw a reflection onto her pale face. “Is this real silver?” she said.
“Yes. And full of dark power. It once belonged to our lord . . .”
“Yeah, yeah,” said the brown-haired girl. “It’s not a George Foreman grill, so don’t oversell it, pink boy.”
The redheaded girl nodded and handed the blade to a blond girl. “Not too shabby, Jerry. You just might live long enough to improve that credit rating. Now, why don’t you scoot back home to Grandma’s house before us big bad wolves eat you up for supper?”
He got up. “I will. Thanks. I’m going now.”
“Hit the bricks, loser,” said the brown-haired girl. “We still have to find dinner.”
Happy not to be turned into a flesh Popsicle, Jerry very slowly made his way through the crowd of little girls, trying not to turn his back on any of them and, realizing that was impossible, jerking his head from side to side trying to look at them all at once. That cracked the girls up. When he was clear of them, he ran for the escalator.
“Pussy!” shouted one. Fleeing, Jerry knew that he was in no position to argue the point.
Just as he passed a bar, a man and woman came running out. He wondered if they were running from another gang of moppets when he recognized one of them.
“Coop,” he whispered. “Coop.”
He took a few steps back and let the couple pass. They ran down the escalator, and after a moment’s pause, Jerry went down after them. They slowed as they crossed the lobby, and so did Jerry. When they went out one of the side exits, he waited a few seconds and followed them. They were climbing a ladder when he came out. When they were out of sight, he went up after them, pushing open a trapdoor at the top of the ladder, where he was shocked to find himself on Hollywood Boulevard.
Coop and the woman were half a block ahead, heading east. Jerry got as close to them as he safely could and when they crossed Highland Avenue, he darted down the street, jumped into his mother’s yellow Prius, and tore around the corner onto Hollywood Boulevard. Or, rather, gave chase as quickly as a Prius would allow. He followed the two of them, always keeping half a block behind, until they reached a darker section of the Boulevard. When Coop and the woman got into a Honda Civic and drove off, they headed the wrong way. So he held his breath, hoping there were no cops around, and pulled a fast U-turn.
Maybe Dad and the others won’t believe me about Jinx Town, but they’ll have to believe this.