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The basement.
In the living world, tour guides will tell you that it doesn’t exist. Indeed, Texans may mock you at the mere suggestion. But the truth is, there is a series of tunnels beneath the Alamo connecting chambers and storerooms in a secret cellar that has crossed into Everlost. It was here, beneath the vortex, that the Neon Nightmares called home.
Avalon led their captives to the secret passage behind the paperweight shelves in the gift shop, then down narrow stone stairs. The stairs gave way to a low tunnel that finally opened up into a large, dim chamber filled with bedrolls; a common room where most activities took place. The sleeping Interlights were carried off down a winding corridor to be stored elsewhere until they woke up, but Avalon had the bearers of the glass coffin lay it before him, so he could have a good long look at the girl inside.
“What’s her name?” he asked Jix, and shouted, “Answer me!” before Jix could open his mouth, so that anything Jix said would sound as if he were responding to Avalon’s demand, rather than his question.
“Mary Hightower, the Eastern Witch,” Jix said, and the Neons all murmered to themselves, already building Mary’s powerful mystique in their minds.
Seeing the Neons’ reaction, Avalon said, “She belongs to me now. When she awakes she will be my personal servant,” although Jix suspected it would be the other way around. Avalon told the pallbearers to take her away with the other sleeping Interlights, dismissing her as if she were completely unimportant—but clearly she was already sparking the imagination of the Neons, whose eyes followed the coffin until it was down the hallway and out of sight.
The Neons had far less respect for Jix and Jill, who had their hands tied behind their backs, and were repeatedly taunted and prodded.
“Funny war paint you got,” they said to Jix.
“It’s not paint,” he proudly told them. “I am a son of the jaguar gods.”
“Stop that,” Jill whispered to him. “The ‘jaguar god’ stuff is getting old.”
Jix whispered back, “If only one in five believe me, that’s more than twenty who’ll be afraid to fight me when we try to escape.”
Jix looked around to see if there might be an escape route. There were several other doorways, leading to other rooms, or tunnels. Until he knew where they led, there was no sense trying to run. At the far end of the room, Jix noticed a large object covered by a flowery quilt. It was about four feet high with a rounded top. He couldn’t imagine what it might be.
“We have two coins!” Avalon announced to his warriors, tapping his shirt pocket to make sure they were still there. The Neons cheered. Then Avalon gave Jix and Jill an unpleasant Oreo smile. “If it was up to me, I’d lock you both in the old storeroom and forget about you for a year or two—but it ain’t my decision to make.”
“I thought you were the leader,” Jix said.
Avalon shook his head. “No, I’m the high priest.”
Jill gave him her best diminishing look. “You don’t look like much of a priest.”
Avalon made a sudden move as if to slap her with the back of his hand, but he didn’t do it. He was only trying to make her flinch. Jill, however, never flinched at anything.
Then Jix locked eyes with him and said very calmly, “If you hit her, I will open my mouth wide enough to swallow you whole, force you through my bowels, then out my other end.”
Avalon scowled at him. “You can’t do that.”
“Try me,” Jix said. Avalon backed off, then angrily stormed away, and Jix winked at Jill. “One in five.”
They watched as the rest of the Neons stood at attention and Avalon went toward the blanket-covered object in the front of the room.
“What is it?” Jill whispered.
“An altar, I think,” said Jix. Then Avalon got down on his knees, and the minute he did all the others knelt as well.
“On your knees!” ordered one of the guards, forcing Jix and Jill down.
Then Avalon removed the blanket.
There were many unusual objects in Everlost, with unusual properties. While there were things that had crossed that had made Jix raise an eyebrow, there was nothing as strange as the object beneath the blanket. He wasn’t surprised that it had crossed—what was bizarre was how it was being used.
The object was an old-fashioned jukebox. Jix had seen them before in the restaurants and bars that tourists visited. The old ones used small vinyl records to play music; the new ones had CDs or digital files, but still were made to look old. This was the real thing: a classic round-topped machine built in the 1950s with lots of chrome and neon—red, yellow, and green—the same colors as their war paint.
“Now I’ve seen everything,” said Jill, and one of the guards shook her. “No talking once Wurlitzer is revealed!”
The device, which did bear the company name “Wurlitzer” sat patiently waiting for someone to select a song. But of course, the songs were not free.
“Mighty Wurlitzer, we beseech thee,” chanted Avalon. “Answer us what we ask.”
