"So what exactly are you going to say to Sheldon when you see him?" I asked Rex point blank as we wove through the convoluted aisles of the video game arcade's retail section. Rex's plesiosaur-shaped ghosts swam in front and behind us. They continually multiplied in number before reducing their count back to one. The one that never vanished always preceded us.

"I just want to make it clear to him that when it comes to the paranormal stuff going on inside Ocean Park, Sean's not really their guy. He needs to lay off or find a new specimen for his investigation. Sean isn't going to go that far, so I need to. Plus, it might send a message to those Harry Shuffle idiots to not try anything stupid as well."

I didn't know how effective telling an adult to back off would be. But maybe all Rex needed to do was show that Sean had people in his corner. Rex was leaving the safety of the Final Dungeon in order to accomplish this task after all.

The fins of the plesiosaurs ahead of us raked across dusty rows of vhs tapes, bringing my attention to the covers of old kung fu movies, buddy cop series, cult classics, and what seemed like an endless sea of low-budget romantic comedies. The aisles stretched on.

There was more forgotten entertainment peppered throughout the standard collections – movies that never made it to the box office, nature documentaries, kickboxing classes hosted by washed up champions, historical book-to-film adaptations, wrestle mania compilations, and whatever else managed to wash up on the shores of the Dungeon.

Rex and I eventually crossed the threshold into arcade territory. The coolness humming off the video game consoles was a feeling I remembered from my first foray onto Rex's turf. Between the gaps in the machines, like buoys out at sea, stood tall metal cages practically overflowing with video games marked down so low they might as well have been free.

A handful of black coin dispensers lined the wall connected to the arcade entrance. Wedged between them was a red gumball machine. A crack in the globe had me questioning exactly how safe it was to eat one of its colorful contents.

It was almost comical the way the plesiosaurs crowded at the dark entryway before squeezing themselves out as one. Their bodies morphed as they shouldn't, becoming blob-like and boneless until they were all outside, where they reassumed their more natural shapes and movements.

Breaking into the dawn of the artificially lit Player Nexus initiated a response in me. I could feel the sharpness of my awareness from before dimming the further we strayed away from the arcade. There was a familiarity of the Final Dungeon that felt adjacent to safety or at least certainty in the way things were supposed to be. As if Rex, his father, and Sean had spent tedious hours stacking those video games and arranging those old tapes. Hours that had turned into years. Stacking and stacking like sea floor sediment that had gone untroubled even through the troubling times.

But not every place in the mall felt that steadfast. The ground underneath my feet could have shifted and I wouldn't have been surprised. Especially as we drew closer to the purple tent just one floor below – a sunken ship fresh from the surface.

This growing beacon made me all the more aware of the pager in my pocket. Even though I had told Rex that I would be willing to exchange a favor for a favor, I hadn't yet revealed the details of what I wanted. So far, Sean was the only other person who knew that the Mall had given me instructions that were different from everyone else's.

A few days ago, I wouldn't have considered sharing the Mall's intentions for me with other people besides Sean. But after meeting Hector, who had a strong sense of how the Mall worked, and now Rex, who was carrying out his own agenda, I was starting to question whether I needed to follow Sean's lead all the time. I could not dispel the urge to figure some of these things out on my own.

"I have a question for you, Aqua," Rex said as we rode down one of the escalators. As we descended, the makeshift walls around the great tent rose higher. Crudely drawn images came into view along the outside of the wall. Images that had not been there until now.

"And what's that?"

"Why do you hide your ghosts?"

His question made me think of my interaction with Hector. When I had asked him how he called his stingrays to him, he said that they came on their own because he was their leader. That wasn't the only odd thing Hector Belaire had to say about leadership, but it made me think more about the distant presence of my orcas. Once again, I was reminded of that sure feeling of being able to beckon them closer to me, probably in view of all who could see.

"If it's personal, then I get it," Rex said, mistaking my silence for offense. "I only ask because having them close makes me feel at ease. Like I'm in control of things even when I'm not."

My recent walks on the runway – both real and imaginary – had me feeling like that. That's when the orcas were out in full force. They brought on a sense of comfort and possibility all at once.

"No, it's okay. I feel the same."

Rex and I shared a smile. We had reached the bottom of the escalator, which marked a shift on the plane of our ghosts. My orcas came to me while Rex's plesiosaurs had fallen back. Young and old bodies of killer whales heralded us towards the vandalized walls around the purple tent. There were people milling about the site. All wearing at least one purple-dyed article of clothing.

The pictures on the wall became clearer and clearer to me. Like the words and images plastered across the tapes in the arcade at our backs, these new depictions seemed to have a life of their own. My orcas brought my attention to them and I could not look away.

The once blank hard styrofoam walls were now home to a precursor for some kind of complex mural. Black was the dominant shade with testings of other hues not yet committed to the vision.

One of my orcas dipped down to the farthest side of the wall where the sketches were the roughest. There I saw the edges of what was very clearly a sports car.

A trill came from the leading orca as another dived after it. Then another. The significant three pulled up parallel to the next vision, sweeping themselves up and around in a choreographed circle. The outlines along this part of the wall were more developed, the beginnings of a landscape. I wandered closer, making out beds of coinage and forgotten trinkets, where sunken treasure was partly hidden by rooted kelp trees. Hints of yellows, greens, and browns allowed me to make out sneaky little drifters. Some looked like they could have been seahorses, but when I blinked, I saw only the kelp.

Rex had followed me to the wall. He came to a stop in front of something I had missed.

"Camp's got some real visionaries, huh?"

I followed his gaze to see that he was looking up at something less whimsical and dreamy than underwater treasure. Uncanny realism seemed to light up the wall, even in its stark black and whiteness. I saw a heart the size of my head, with all of its twisting, grasping aortic muscles. I glanced at Rex, who seemed to be openly admiring it before glancing back at the organ. I was no scientist, but there was something so painstakingly accurate about this heart.

And then I suddenly knew why it was there.

"Harry Shuffle's heart."

The answer came under my breath. The realization didn't seem to bewilder Rex as much as I. My orcas chirped and one anchored itself near my shoulder, as if to comfort me. If the jellyfish were made up of people who blamed Sean for Harry Shuffle's death, did that mean there were those among the campers who would praise Sean for the same thing? This graffiti didn't appear ominous in design. Rather each stroke was done in love and reverence, as if the heart had been a gift to the Mall.

"Hi. Can I help you? Are you looking for someone?"

Rex and I turned to see someone dressed in purple, maybe a few years older than us, with a kind face.

"Is Sheldon in? We want to talk to him." Rex said, straight to the point. Even though he had been the one to answer, the camper looked at me with a smile and a nod.

"Come this way."

My orcas hugged the air around us as we followed the camper towards the gap in the wall. Once inside the perimeter holding the tent, I was able to see even more of the murals on the walls. These had more color, purple being chiefest among the hues.

The campers were more concentrated here, gathering in small groups. People were mostly idle. Some played cards or dice.

Shortly after entering their territory, I began to feel the stares. The purple clad campers lowered their cards and lifted their heads up from their distractions to stare at me. Some looked at me in wonder, while others held looks of satisfaction.

Tables and chairs had been thrown together with old magazines. Thousands of them were piled and shoved together to create small towers. The platforms were held in place with layers of glue and duct tape. These were the structures people clustered around, using the tables for trade of personal items or gathering spots for perch to eat.

Rex wandered over to one of these tables and came back with a paisley headband. And yes, it was purple. When I eyed him curiously, he said, "What? These come in handy when you have to go a few days without washing your hair." Then he tucked the kerchief in one of the many pockets of his black cargo pants.

We weren't that far off from going inside the tent when something on the wall caught my eye. Amidst the swells of deep violets, I saw a clear depiction of the tent. It looked grander and drawn in more sacred angles than how it appeared in person. And there, in the purple sky of the mural were my orcas, indisputable among everything else.

They were beautiful.

I was able to perceive every brushstroke of glittering blackness. Each layer overlapping itself to convey the girth and power of the killer whale. They swam – despite the stillness of the visual – they swam towards the tent.

I stopped, looked over my shoulder and met the eyes of everyone who had watched me walk inside their home. What all had they seen on the night of my fashion show? What all did they see when they looked at me now? Which among them had drawn the car, the heart, the sunken treasure – who was responsible for drawing my orcas?

"Did you all know that I was coming here today?" I asked, not looking back at our escort.

Softly, she said, "People in the camp dream. And whatever they remember when they awake, they put up on the wall so that they don't forget."

+++

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See you on the next one,

Coco