House and the P.L.O.T. Device 25
A/N: You guys almost didn't get this chapter today--when I was almost finished, my laptop decided to shut itself down. (Hopefully a one-time occurence--if I have to send it in for repair again, when I've only had it back a month, I'm going to be pissed.) And I'm terrible about saving my work as I go along, so I could have lost the whole chapter. But, hooray for auto-save! I ended up only losing a couple of sentences.
Also, if you haven't yet, check out The House Quilt Project. Everybody's doing it!
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It was only with some effort, and frequent reminders that he wouldn’t have much fun at Six Flags if he was tired, that Wilson had gotten House to settle down and go to sleep after Chase left the night before their trip. He isn’t particularly surprised when House wakes him insanely early the next morning--if going to the park to feed the ducks warrants a seven AM wake-up call, naturally Six Flags calls for an even earlier one.
“They won’t even be open for another couple of hours,” Wilson reminds him, stumbling out of bed and stripping off the sheets. “If we left now we’d just have to wait.”
“We have to drive there,” House points out.
“It’s like forty-five minutes.”
“Oh.” House watches him for a while. “Then you can make me pancakes.”
Wilson doesn’t have any better ideas for how to keep House occupied until a reasonable departure hour, so he agrees.
House eats ten or twelve of the pancakes, and then spends the rest of the morning, until Chase arrives, being annoying. He runs around the apartment. He bangs on the piano. He has several of his toys--the lion and dinosaurs, but also some things that don’t even have faces, like his cars and Lincoln logs--perform a skit where they beg House and Wilson to allow them to come along to Six Flags. House mercilessly shoots down all of their pleas, but demands that Wilson pay strict attention to the performance.
“If you don’t settle down, I’m going to take Lion and make you stay at home,” Wilson threatens.
House goes very still for about two seconds, before he grins and says, “You wouldn’t dare.”
Wilson has to admit that he’s right. He manages to get House settled down playing a video game for a few minutes, but he’s still ready to cheer when Chase arrives and they can (finally!) leave.
But that, of course, means that Wilson has to put up with House asking, “How much longer?” every two minutes.
Finally he turns the GSP screen toward House, after quickly memorizing the rest of the turns. “This is us, see?” he says, pointing. “And this is Six Flags. You watch and make sure we keep getting closer, okay? You’re in charge of telling me if I start going the wrong way.” He carefully ignores Chase stifling giggles from the backseat.
“Okay,” House says seriously. “You can count on me.”
“I know.”
Wilson’s plan works out fairly well. The only problem is that House insists on loudly alerting him to the “problem” every time the necessity of staying on actual roads requires him to deviate from a straight-line course to Six Flags.
Unfortunately, they get there with fifteen minutes to spare before the park opens. Wilson uses the time to go over a few rules with House. “Stay with us. No running off. Don’t talk to strangers. And there are going to be lines, even with Flash Pass. Whining will not make the lines any shorter.”
“It might,” House says. “We won’t know for sure until I’ve tried.”
“You do not need to try it.” Actually, the lines might not be too bad today--House is too short to ride the biggest rides, and Wilson has a vague idea that the lines for the kiddie rides are usually pretty short. “Chase isn’t going to whine, are you, Chase?”
“No,” Chase says obediently.
“Chase isn’t more grown-up than you are, is he?”
House looks up at Chase. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.” Wilson finds a map of the park. “Here, you boys plan what we should ride first.”
That keeps House occupied for the rest of the time until the park opens. With their pre-purchased tickets, they’re among the first to go in, and they’re able to go on three or four rides before lines even become an issue. Chase turns out to be surprisingly timid about rides. Anything that goes upside down, and he decides he’d rather watch. House quickly determines that he can take advantage of this to have Chase guard the ever-growing pile of souvenirs he accumulates (ranging from a plush dragon backpack to rubber pencils and several pairs of novelty sunglasses). When they go on the kiddie rides--with Chase crammed into the flying elephant and tiny train car beside House--it’s Wilson’s turn to watch their stuff. Various carnival games are dotted amongst the rides, and House insists, against all evidence to the contrary, that he can knock over milk bottles, throw balls into baskets, and shoot small targets with a BB gun and win elaborate prizes. Wilson tries not to keep track of how much it’s costing to prove him wrong. It’s probably a good thing he isn’t winning the games, since if he did, Wilson would have to carry around dozens of giant stuffed animals.
After a few hours, he insists that they stop for lunch. “But we want to ride the bumper cars,” House protests.
“They’ll still be there after lunch.” He unfolds the map. “What should we have? There’s pizza that way--” He points. “And it looks like hamburgers and stuff over there.”
“Pizza,” House says, as if it should have been obvious.
“What do you want to have, Chase?”
Chase looks surprised to have been consulted. “Pizza’s good.”
The line is fairly long, so Wilson sends House and Chase to stake out a table while he waits. “What kind do you want?”
“I want pepperoni, and my dragon wants cheese,” House says. “And a root beer. With one of those twisty straws.” He points.
Wilson makes a split-second decision that insisting that House’s backpack does not require its own slice of pizza is not worth the effort. “Okay. Chase?”
“Um…pepperoni, I guess. And a Coke.”
He doesn’t specify a twisty straw, but Wilson gets him one anyway.
As they eat, House says, “Next I want to go on the bumper cars. And the swings. And the Ferris wheel. And the pirate ship. And maybe the merry-go-round, if they have a pig I can ride on. Or a hippopotamus.”
Chase begins, “Why…never mind.”
Wilson agrees--it’s better not to ask about these things.
“And then I want to do Skee-ball. And water races. And maybe whack-a-mole.”
“Okay,” Wilson says indulgently.
“But first--” he announces dramatically, getting up, “--I hafta go to the bathroom.”
Wilson looks at the pile of their stuff all over the table, and at his own piece of pizza, which he’s barely managed to start eating yet. “Chase, why don’t you go with him?”
“Okay.”
Wilson savors the brief interval of peace and quiet. Okay, it’s not really quiet--the children at the adjoining tables are carrying on much the same way House had been--but he doesn’t have to listen or respond to them. It’s very relaxing.
He’s just starting to think that they should be back soon--when Chase returns, flushed and agitated.
And alone.
“Where’s House?” Wilson asks, worry flaring up like a match..
“I was hoping he was here,” Chase snaps.
“Weren’t you watching him?” he demands. How hard is it to take a kid to the bathroom without losing him?
“I was in the--you know, the stall! He said he’d wait right there.” Chase looks like he might cry.
“Okay,” Wilson says quickly. “Let’s look for him.” Quickly, he gathers up their stuff. “You go that way, I’ll go this way. You have your phone? Call if you find him.”
#
House quickly decides that waiting around in the bathroom for Chase to finish is boring. He decides to go back to Wilson. He can get him to buy him some ice cream. He thinks they might have Dippin’ Dots.
The bathroom is large and confusing, but he eventually finds the door, and heads back to their table. He remembers where it is--next to a pillar under a sign reminding park-goers that cutting in line is not allowed.
He finds the table all right, but it’s occupied by a family with two kids. No Wilson. He looks around, just in case he misremembered the table. Still no Wilson.
Maybe he decided to give up the table so someone else could use it--there are a lot of people waiting, and that seems like something Wilson would do. In that case, he decides, Wilson would be next to the entrance.
Only he’s not there. Maybe right outside the door?
He tries that. No Wilson there, either.
Time to find Chase. They can look for Wilson together. He goes back into the bathroom. “Chase?” he calls.
No answer. He checks under all of the stall doors. Chase’s shoes are nowhere to be found. “Chase!” he calls again.
“He’s not here, kid,” someone says from one of the stalls.
“Already knew that!” he yells back. No Chase, and no Wilson, either. Clearly, when he exited the bathroom, he stepped into a parallel universe in which Wilson and Chase are not here. Maybe the parallel universe in which they went to the hamburger place instead.
He decides not to think about the possibility that he is trapped in the parallel universe in which Wilson hadn’t come to the park at all, or maybe even one in which Wilson didn’t exist at all. Clearly, going back into the bathroom didn’t put him back in the right universe….maybe if he left again?
He tries that. Their table is still occupied by the family with kids. Still in the parallel universe. Well, he decides, if this is the parallel universe in which they went to the hamburger place, if he goes to the hamburger place, he’ll find them. Maybe there would be another one of him there, too! That would be cool. Alternate-universe-him could help regular-him get back to his own universe. Another him will probably be more help than Wilson and Chase, anyway.
He consults a map that someone left on top of the trash can, and sets off toward the hamburger place.
The bumper cars happen to be on the way, so he stops for a ride, standing in line behind a family with a bunch of kids so that the attendant won’t notice he doesn’t have a grown-up with him. The line is short, so he rides twice before continuing on his way toward the hamburger stand. It wasn’t that much fun by himself anyway--he’ll have to come back and ride with Chase, Wilson, and the other him. He, Chase, and other-him can gang up on Wilson.
By the time he finds his way to the hamburger restaurant, he’s tired and thirsty. Unfortunately, Wilson is carrying the money so he can’t get a soda until he finds Wilson. One version or the other. He hopes alternate-universe Wilson is as much of a pushover as the real one.
But he can’t find Wilson inside the hamburger place, either. After looking carefully--the restaurant is crowded, and there’s no guarantee the alternate universe versions hadn’t picked a table that’s hidden in a corner--he goes back outside to think. Checking the hamburger restaurant was his one best idea.
He’s still trying to figure out what to do next when he catches a glimpse of Wilson walking away. He doesn’t get a good look, but he’s carrying the dragon backpack, so it must be him.
#
Wilson is growing increasingly frantic as he scouts the area around the pizza place. While he knows that the most likely outcome is that he’ll stumble across House arguing with a park employee about something--probably not even having thought that Wilson might be wondering where he is--he can’t help but worry. You hear about kids being abducted at places like this, and while House ought to know better than to go off with a stranger, it’s also possible that he’d think it would be a good idea to go off with the kidnapper so that he can rescue the previous victims and be a hero.
The more he thinks about it, the more likely that seems. In fact, House could even have decided to tail some perfectly innocent stranger in the hopes of uncovering a kidnapping ring.
He decides to go back to the bathroom and look for Clues. Whether House was abducted or wandered off on his own, it would be like him to leave some version of a trail of breadcrumbs, assuming that Wilson would see it and understand.
He starts by searching the area around the sinks, since he can check there without people assuming he’s some kind of lurking restroom pervert. But there are no Clues there, so he has to go on to inspect the urinals (attracting many curious stares and annoyed glares) and then all of the stalls. This last takes some time, since he has to wait for each stall to be vacant before he can check it. There’s also a lot of graffiti, and he has to examine all of it. He’s trying to decide if “HW + GJ 4 EVER!” might be a hint when his phone rings.
The caller ID shows that it’s Chase. “Did you find him?”
Chase sighs. “No. I was hoping you had.”
“Not yet.” He shares his Restroom Clues theory.
“That sounds like something he might do,” Chase admits. “Do you want me to come help look?”
“No, I’m about done. Why don’t you go check the bumper cars. He was talking about going on those next, so maybe…you could ask the employee if they saw him. It’s too bad we don’t have a picture,” he adds.
“There can’t be too many little kids with crutches wandering around,” Chase points out.
“True.”
“I’ll check there, and some of the other rides he was talking about. Which ones did he say? I remember the carousel, because of the pigs…and he wanted to play skee-ball. Maybe I should try the arcade, too.”
“He doesn’t have any money, though. As far as I know. But he might have forgotten, or scammed someone into giving him some…okay, try the bumper cars, the pirate ship, and the arcade. I think the other ones he was talking about--the carousel and the Ferris wheel and stuff--are all in the same place, so I’ll check those out when I’m done here. Call if you find anything.”
They hang up, and he comes out of the stall. He almost bumps into a young man who’s standing there.
“Hey,” the man says. “It’s not any of my business, but did you actually lose somebody, or are you playing a game?”
With House, it could easily be a little of both, but he says, “We lost somebody. Why?” Maybe he’d seen something….
“You should really go to the Lost Parents Center. They’ll make an announcement and have all the park employees look for him.”
He really should have thought of that. “Good idea. Thanks.”
“No problem. We lost my little sister when my family came here last year. Turns out she saw another mom who was wearing the same color dress as ours and followed her halfway across the park. Good luck.”
Wilson decides to finish checking the bathroom for Clues before going to the Lost Parents place. He’s almost finished when he does find a Clue--although not one that House left deliberately.
The restroom has two exits. Confusingly, both exits let out into dining areas: one is the pizza place where they ate lunch; the other is a deli. The two rooms are mirror images of each other, and the décor in both places is similar enough that he can easily see someone getting confused.
He’s not sure if this is a positive development or not. It’s not like they had a shortage of theories about how House might have disappeared. But using the wrong restroom exit is less likely to lead to mayhem than attempting to break up a kidnapping ring--whether or not said kidnapping ring exists anywhere outside of House’s imagination.
Ultimately, he decides to try the Lost Parents place next. The two-exits thing makes it slightly more likely that House is aware that he’s lost, as opposed to wandering around the park on some inscrutable errand of his own devising. Calling it the Lost Parents Center is, he has to admit, a stroke of genius on the part of the park planners. If the other lost kids are anything at all like House, they know perfectly well they aren’t lost--it’s their parents who are missing! Chances are, House will turn up there on his own eventually, if the park people don’t find him first.
On to Chapter 26