Rabbits(32)

That car had come so close to hitting me that whoever was driving didn’t have time to honk.

I looked across the street.

The light hadn’t changed, and the woman with the greyhound hadn’t actually stepped off the curb.

She was the one who’d pulled me back onto the sidewalk and away from the oncoming station wagon.

“Thank you,” I said—and although my “thank you” was definitely genuine, it felt and sounded distant in my head, as if I were speaking through some kind of reverse megaphone from someplace far away. My voice was also clearly missing the requisite “holy shit I almost died” sense of urgency.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Her dog looked up at me, maybe wondering the same thing.

“I was thinking about something else,” I said, which wasn’t true. I couldn’t actually remember thinking about anything at all.

“You stepped in front of that car,” she said.

Did she think I just tried to kill myself?

I shook my head and forced a smile. “I was just distracted.”

“Maybe you should call someone?” she said, still slightly concerned, but clearly ready to move on with her day.

Saving my life—or, at the very least, saving me from a significant number of broken bones—would be an interesting story she’d repeat a few times throughout the day, probably adding a little extra drama each time she told it, but I could tell she was looking forward to the experience being over, especially if it turned out I actually was suicidal and was gearing up to try again.

“I’m good, thank you. Thanks so much,” I said, waving her away with a smile.

Thanks so much. I sounded like an asshole.

When the woman and her dog were safely across the street, I took a closer look at my surroundings.

Where the hell was I?

The world in front of my eyes appeared foreign, like a word I’d momentarily forgotten how to spell. I looked up at the closest street sign. I was standing on Nineteenth Avenue, directly across the street from a restaurant called The Kingfish Cafe.

Okay, this was looking familiar.

I loved The Kingfish. I often went there for lunch, but I had no idea what I was doing there at that moment.

Then the world slowly began slipping back into focus.

The last thing I remembered was standing in the Magician’s office with Chloe talking about WorGames.

I looked at the time on my phone. It was five thirty.

Somehow, I’d lost more than six hours.



* * *



—

I slipped into The Kingfish Cafe’s bathroom, splashed water on my face, and took inventory: Everything was where it should be, no scrapes or bruises. Whatever I’d done during the past six hours hadn’t involved bodily harm.

Losing time was obviously disconcerting, but the accompanying feeling of helplessness was worse. What had happened during that time? Had I done something that I was never going to remember?

Then something else hit me that was even more disturbing. The Kingfish Cafe had closed permanently in 2015.



* * *



—

“What’s up?” Chloe said, stepping past me and into the living room.

“Nothing much,” I said.

I watched as she moved around my place to see if something in her expression might reveal whether I’d contacted her during the past six hours.

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Like what?” I said, shutting the door to my apartment and following her into the kitchen.

“Like a weirdo,” she said as she grabbed a soda from my fridge and cracked it open.

“I don’t know. Let’s go with lack of sleep,” I said, doing my best to sound nonchalant.

She tilted her head a little. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I said I’m fine,” I snapped.

“Okay, okay,” she said. “Settle TFD.”

I would have loved to have settled the fuck down, but I’d just lost six hours.

Chloe pulled out her laptop and opened a browser window. “Check it out.”

“What is it?”

Chloe pointed at her screen. “You were right. Tabitha Henry is connected to WorGames.”

“She is?”

“Yeah, through Chronicler Enterprises.”

“What is Chronicler Enterprises? Why does that sound familiar?”

“Um…because they own Tabitha Henry’s escape room company? Baron’s finance bros dug that shit up, remember?”

“Right, I remember, but why do we care what WorGames has to do with Tabitha Henry?” I asked.

“Are you serious?”

“What?” I asked.

She pulled up a bunch of legal documents and a list of shell corporations.

“K, you asked me to look into a possible Chronicler Enterprises/WorGames connection hours ago.”

“I did?”

Chloe crossed her arms and glared.

I forced a laugh, trying to sound casual. “What?”

“Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

I shook my head. “I’m just feeling a bit tired.”

“K…”

“Fine. I can’t remember the past six hours.”