By John Leatherman
I crept up the driveway of Sara Wyatt, aka Suspect 4B, who confronted me with a hideous scowl.
“Who dares disturb me?” Sara cackled and waved her broom toward the gap in the thick black curtain blocking off her garage. “Seek you treats on this dreariest of days? Then don’t be tricked by the haunted maze!”
In my Mama Bear costume, I quivered, feigning fear. “I don’t think I’m up for this.” I turned to Rudy, whose costume made it look as though Papa Bear had swallowed him up except for the face. “You take the kids through. I’ll be out here with the witch.” I leaned closer, whispering, “Four minutes. Remember.”
“Like I’d forget anything after dating you, Vesta.”
Rudy took his kids, five-year-old Bradley—Baby Bear—and seven-year-old Gretchen—Goldilocks—into the maze, and Sara greeted the next trick-or-treaters. I waited by the exit but inched toward Sara.
She had refused to discuss her past with the police, but her passion for DIY Halloween pageantry offered a unique opportunity to confirm our suspicions that she’d once dated serial killer Jason Mayer. As an undercover rememberer on the Forgotten Crimes Unit, I would use the haunted maze to get close enough to access Sara’s memories.
My physical body froze, entranced, as my avatar plunged into the viscous fog of Sara’s mind, where memories swarmed like dandelion seeds in a whirlwind, remembrances in yellow and forgettances in blue. I searched for Mayer’s image.
Neuro-probing without a warrant was tricky. Commissioner Weldon hired me with the expectation that he’d never have to defend my tactics to the Psychic Operations Review Council. As long as I stuck to forgotten and repressed memories, my avatar could explore for at least four minutes without Sara knowing. She might sense my leaving, though; hence, I’d enlisted my Internal Affairs colleague Rudolph Lewis and his kids to pose as my family. After four minutes, he’d thank Sara for the maze, and that distraction would provide cover for my withdrawal.
I found many past boyfriends like Mayer—clearly Sara’s type was tall, dark, and stubbly—but only one fit the required time frame. She met him in a bar, never learned his full name, but dated “Jay” for almost six months.
Sara, you need standards.
Was it Mayer? I needed to see if Sara’s Jay had the distinctive weeping moose tattoo on his left shoulder.
Filtering on exposed biceps, I found one forgotten evening of Sara and tank-topped Jay on her couch watching a slasher movie on SFXX. Transfixed in the action, they sat still, so in Sara’s peripheral vision I could easily see Jay’s shoulder.
His right shoulder.
I groaned, and then I noticed the kitchen to the left.
I fast-forwarded the memory until Sara’s view shifted from the television as she plodded toward the refrigerator.
As Sara returned to the couch, she briefly glimpsed Jay’s left shoulder. I rewound to find the best view then stepped into the memory to examine the exposed tattoo of a weeping…
…manatee?
It’s not Mayer.
Suddenly Sara’s mind-eye illuminated the memory like a spotlight. How was she actively thinking about something she’d forgotten?
Wait—the blue tinge had become yellow during the fridge run. Of course, Sara would forget hours on the couch but remember the brief kitchen visit for a boyfriend too lazy to fetch his own beer. She knew I was in her mind!
Hasn’t it been four minutes yet? Rudy Lew, where are you?
***
Baby Bear Bradley cringed from a mounted plastic skeleton with motion-activated cackling and glowing eyes. “This is too scary!”
Framed in the glow of a strobe light, Goldilocks Gretchen batted at a purple plush spider dangling on fishing line. “This is too lame.”
Scooping foil-wrapped chocolates from a glow-in-the-dark skull bowl on a rickety TV tray, Papa Bear Rudy checked his watch. Roughly halfway through the maze, and two minutes to go. “I think it’s just right.”
***
Sara’s inner voice growled. “Jay brought another woman into my place?”
She thought I was part of the memory!
“I should’ve said…”
The yellow tinge turned pink—the color of fantasy—and Sara materialized. “I knew you were cheating on me!” Now her imagination was in control.
As long as Sara entertained this thought, I could only withdraw my avatar in a way consistent with the fantasy’s rules—which could change arbitrarily. Fortunately, as the presumed “other woman,” I had an obvious play.
Backing away, I held up my hands. “I think I should go.”
Sara fumed, a broom appearing in her hands. “You won’t get away that easily, you filthy, home-wrecking rat!”
Why did she have to say that?
My avatar shrank, sprouting shaggy brown fur and a whiskered snout and tail.
Now giant, Sara swung her broom at me.
I darted for the couch, which loomed like a cliff face across the room. Once under it, I could withdraw—if only my tiny paws could slough through the dense shag carpeting in time.
A moment later, the broom’s straws hurtled toward me with hurricane force, and everything went white…
***
“Ma’am, that was a-maze-ing!”
Calling out to Sara precisely as his watch timer hit four minutes, Rudy led Gretchen and Bradley out of the maze. “Kids, what do we tell the nice witch?”
They chanted in rehearsed unison, “Thank you!”
Sara cackled, “Happy Halloween!”
Rudy nudged Vesta. “Ready, honey?”
Vesta jerked from her neuro-probing trance. “What? Huh?” She glanced around in confusion.
Greeting the next trick-or-treaters, Sara raised her broom.
Vesta recoiled, eyes wide with terror, and scurried down the driveway.
Rudy took the kids’ hands and followed. “Everything okay, V?”
Gretchen trotted up to her. “I should’ve stayed with you, Aunt Vesta. It was lousy.”
Bradley grinned. “Except for the treats! Want some?” He gave Vesta several fun-size bars.
Vesta smiled. “Thanks, Bradley. That’s very…” She sniffed at the offering. “You call these treats? Didn’t they have cheese?”
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What a fascinating idea, John! I love it!
Maybe now the agency will think twice before sending in neural probes without a warrant 😆🧀
cheese, please…
A witches brew of fantasy, humor, and Halloween.