Chapter Six
When they arrived at the cabin, they discovered what looked to be the remnants of twenty-five iced coffee cups all strewn around, as if Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts had finally decided to have a winner-take-all rumble.
Caleb was lying on his back in the middle of the coffee catastrophe, and when Norman took a step towards him, he rolled over on his side and proceeded to throw up.
"Disgusting," Norman muttered to Emma. "Some people."
Emma raised an eyebrow and looked for Dylan – she quickly found him, sitting on what appeared to be a cat tree, which was odd, considering that they did not appear to have a cat.
"Okay, listen," Emma said a moment later, "Something weird happened here. All of our memories were wiped. I don't really know how it happened, and honestly, I don't really want to know because it kind of freaks me out. But I do know that someone out there who we all know – even if we don't remember – needs our help. And I, for one, am going to help her. Who's with me?"
No one said anything, so Emma knocked her hand on her chest and yelled, "Who's with me?!"
Norman gave a loud yell, and Dylan clasped his hands over his ears.
"You are all way too loud right now. Can we please crank it down to maybe, like, a 3?"
"NO!" Emma yelled back. "We need to go find her right now!"
Caleb proceeded to throw up again.
"You're repulsive," Norman told him.
"I'm drunk," Caleb replied.
"Okay, okay, I'll go wherever you want if you promise to stop shouting. Jeez," Dylan told Emma.
She looked at Norman and shrugged.
"I had been hoping for a 'This! Is! Sparta!' reaction but, eh, close enough."
They all crammed into Emma's tiny orange car, as she muttered to Norman that Caleb had better not puke all over the seats.
"There's no way I'm asking my dad to lend me money to get puke cleaned out," she told him. "All of this is far weird enough."
Norman had to agree with that, but he felt a surge of exhilaration nonetheless – they were going to find Mother. They were going to find her, and they would be bringing her home at last. She would be safe, and the evil man behind it all would be defeated. Just like in a fairy tale.
As Emma began to drive down the road, Caleb rolled down the window and vomited out the side.
"I'm never drinking. I mean, I know I can't," Emma mumbled, "But I'm also just… not."
"It was a good night!" Dylan exclaimed, then did something that appeared to be attempting to give himself a high five – Norman wasn't really sure. Regardless, he wanted his brother back, the solemn and sullen one who was serious and determined and battled with Mother but loved her nonetheless. Noman had never realized how vital that Dylan had been.
Whenever he got that Dylan back, he was going to take any alcohol in the house and pour it out. It was too big a risk.
Finally, Emma arrived at the location she had been given for Bob Paris' clubhouse. It was surrounded, it appeared, by a five-foot wall.
"What is he, Donald Trump?" Emma grumbled.
"I saw a porno about him," Caleb offered.
Dylan burst out laughing.
"Was he fired?"
They both burst out laughing.
"That doesn't even make any sense! Now shut up. We have to figure out how to get over the wall!"
"Since, my friend, you have revealed your deepest fear - I sentence you to be exposed before your peers! Tear down the wall… tear down the wall! Tear down the wall!" Caleb began chanting.
"What are you even talking about?"
"Pink Floyd. It's from 'The Trial'. On, y'know, 'The Wall."
Emma shook her head.
"You know, I'm going to be so glad when this is all over and done with. How about you, Norman?"
But Norman was staring out the window, trying not to hyperventilate. What was he going to do with this motley crew when he got there? Half of them weren't in any shape to fight whoever and whatever this Bob Paris must have at his disposal.
He wasn't going to back down, though, even if it meant giving his life. His Mother was worth it, after all. She always would be.
He jerked forward when Emma parked in front of a tiny rowhome.
"Why are we stopping here?" Norman asked. It was unlikely that Bob Paris was operating his evil network out of a house that looked like a set from Leave it to Beaver.
"I parked a few blocks away so we're less obvious," Emma told them. "Caleb, Dylan, please try to keep standing. Shit, I should have brought you some coffee."
She opened the door and stepped out, brushing her hands on her pants, then over her O2 tank.
"Let's do this."
Norman bit his lip hard, exiting out of the passenger's side and letting out a breath. Dylan and Caleb followed, at more of a hobble. They were going to be quite the crew, walking into whatever this was going to bed exactly.
But this was what he had, so this was what Norman was going to work with. He would do anything, bear any burden, to be back in Mother's arms again.
They began the slow crawl towards the place that seemed to hold Bob Paris and, hopefully, Mother. Emma, surprisingly enough, was the first to reach the door.
She rang the doorbell and looked around at the others. Norman's heart was in his throat, and maybe it was being crushed.
The door swung open, and Norman found himself staring at a short, smirking man dressed in a black suit.
"I was hoping you would come," the man said, then gave a humorless chuckle.
"Excuse me… who are you?"
Norman narrowed his eyes.
"I'm Bob Paris, and you're Norman Bates… Come on in. I've been waiting."