“Is this some kind of gag?” asked Ash.

“It must be,” said Waldo dismissively.

“Uh, I’m not so sure,” breathed Tanya as the mass of conventioneers closed in.

A mountain of a man in barbarian garb raised a spiked club.

“You back off now,” warned Alexa.

The barbarian brought the end of the club down on the corner of the Courtesy Desk, shredding the tabletop like confetti and collapsing the desk to the ground.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Ash, quickly stepping back.  “This is definitely for real, guys.”

“Use your gun-thingie, Country” urged Alexa.

“It’s not a real weapon,” answered Kenny under his breath.

“Well, bluff them!”

“Okay, ya’ll better step back, NOW,” instructed Kenny as the crowd continued to close in on them.

He held up his PVC piping gun.  Without warning, a jet of flame shot out from its plastic muzzle.  The flame caught the barbarian’s club and ignited it like a torch.  The barbarian threw it down in surprise and fright.   A Sleestack and a ninja assassin were also singed and retreated.  The mass advance halted.

“You maniac!” shouted Waldo.  “You brought a homemade flamethrower here?”

“I swear I didn’t!  I don’t know how that happened!”

“Who cares?” shouted Alexa.  “We have something to fight with.  I say we torch that pirate over there and take his cutlass.  I can handle a sword.  We can fight our way to the exit.”

They all turned to Waldo.  He looked momentarily indecisive.

“Okay,” he finally agreed. “Take weapons from the closest goons.  Whatever we can get our hands on.  But let’s not maim anyone if we can help it.  We still don’t know what’s going on here.”

Kenny cautiously took a stop forward.

“That wizard over there,” instructed Waldo.  “We can bash some heads with that staff.”

Kenny raised his PVC flamethrower.

“No!” shouted Ash.

They turned and looked at her.

“That’s Parker.  My boyfriend.  Don’t hurt him.  Please.  He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“What do we do, then?” asked Tanya.

“Why does everyone keep looking at me?” grumbled Waldo.  “Okay.  We retreat as a group towards the main entrance.  If anyone gets to close, fire a warning blast at ‘em.”

“There’s no way we get through all those people to the main entrance,” protested Kenny. 

“We have to try,” Alexa urged.

“No, he’s right,” admitted Waldo.  Let’s try to get to the Nostradamus Comics booth.  It’s a defensible position against the wall.  We can barricade ourselves and then…then we figure something out.”

“I’m with Mr. Borg,” agreed Tanya.

“Okay, everyone.  Stay close,” said Kenny.  They awkwardly lurched sideways as a group toward the Nostradamus booth.

The surrounding mob shadowed their movement.  An evil clown got too close and Kenny fired a brief blast in his direction.   They had moved within twenty feet of the Nostradamus booth when Waldo tripped backwards over a miniature radio-controlled tank.  He fell hard, flat on his back.  A familiar, green-hooded figure loomed over him, arm-stalks stretching down. 

“Vegetable Man, stop!” he yelled out of desperation.

“Back away!” yelled Kenny, running to Waldo’s side.  Alexa and Tanya helped Waldo to his feet.  Vegetable Man stood rooted in place.  Once Waldo was back up, they turned and sprinted the final distance to the Nostradamus Comics booth.

“Torch that front row of comics,” ordered Waldo.  Kenny set to work with his PVC flamethrower, and soon twelve long banker-boxes full of Bronze Age Marvels, DC’s, Golden Keys and Charltons went up in a fragrant blaze of mylar and newsprint. Tanya found a battery powered fan in the back and positioned it so that the smoke would blow towards their pursuers.  The mob stopped thirty feet away, facing the booth, still as an ancient terra cotta army. 

“Pray that we don’t set off some kind of automatic sprinkler system,” muttered Waldo.

“My phone’s not working,” said Tanya.  “Anyone else?”

After a quick check, it was clear that they could not call for help.

“Somebody please tell me what is going on?” Ash pleaded.

“Standard horror plot number four,” mused Waldo.

“Huh?”

“A small group of travelers find themselves in a small, isolated town, only to discover that the town is actually a trap for the unwary, a lure to draw in victims for sacrifice, murder…or feasting.  Are any of you from here?”

“I’m from Fredericksburg,” answered Kenny.

“Yoder, Wyoming,” said Ash.

“Born in Natal, Brazil,” answered Alexa, “moved to Philly when I was twelve.”

“I’m from Brownsville, twenty miles down the road,” said Tanya.  “So I know that people in Harlingen aren’t monsters or vampires or space aliens, or whatever.  That would be like you believing everyone in College Station is a zombie.”

“Well, actually…”

“Parker isn’t from here, so that sinks your theory,” Ash said.

“He could have been assimilated,” Kenny pointed out.

“I was just musing aloud,” said Waldo.  “I don’t actually believe that is what’s going on here.  This is…a game.  But what are the rules?  And who’s in charge of the game?”