“Probably some murders,” added Boris, taking another bite.
“Yeah, probably all those things and some other bullshit, too,” said Carla. “Alright, fine, you’re right. I’ll try to visit him tonight. See if I can get some answers.”
At 10 p.m.,Jack waited on the street corner and smoked a cigarette, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible while he waited for Carla to open the side door and beckon him inside. People cast him suspicious glances as they passed, but no one said anything, so he ignored them the same way he ignored his shaking hands.
The gun in his pocket felt like a brick; he’d had to tighten his belt to keep his pants from sliding down with every other step. The leather cut into his hips, reminded him that his life might very well be in danger.
Too much time had passed. People were surely watching him now. When Carla signaled him, they would be intercepted almost immediately. There was no way?—
The door clicked open. Carla’s face peered out. She gestured frantically and Jack couldn’t help himself—he went to her like a man possessed.
He wasn’t possessed, Jack told himself sternly. Just very loyal, very worried, and very tired. If this plan failed, his life wasn’t the only one in danger. Every day, someone new disappeared. The more information they had, the more likely they could stop it from happening again.
But that was futile, he thought, looking at Carla’s pinched face. Who was he to try to solve a time loop? His understanding of time was on par with a middle schooler’s. If not for popular culture, he wouldn’t even have a name for what his life had become. Even Carla and Boris were only marginally more informed.
How the fuck were they supposed to end a time loop? Was it even possible?
“Come on, Jack,” Carla hissed, and he followed her right through the door, praying that this was the right thing to do. That he wasn’t about to meet his end by Enzo’s bullet—or worse.
Inside, she dragged him past the back entrance to the kitchen, down a long, dimly lit hallway to a utility closet, and pulled himin behind her. The sounds of frying food and shouting chefs vanished. In the total darkness, she whispered, “I can’t find Ronnie. I think he’s downstairs. I’m gonna go find him. Wait here in case anything goes wrong, alright?”
Jack swallowed around the ball of lead in his throat. “Got it.”
He didn’t know how to tell her that he wouldn’t be coming to her rescue. That as nervous as he was, his feet would probably just carry him out the door and right down the street at the first sign of trouble.
“You’re gonna be fine,” Carla hissed, as if she could read his thoughts. A hand ran up and down his arm in a gesture that was probably meant to be comforting. Through the fabric of his suit, it was like being scrubbed with sandpaper.
“Good luck,” he said, and kissed her on the mouth.
“I don’t need it,” she scoffed, but he could hear the smile in her voice.
“Yeah, but you should take it anyway.” He grinned crookedly.
Her hand squeezed his. Then she was gone, out into the dimly lit corridor, the sounds of her footfalls fading.
The wait was no less agonizing than he’d expected. Minutes welled like blood in a shallow wound, sluggish and lazy. In the silence, his heartbeat and racing thoughts were deafening.
This must be what it feels like to go mad, he thought. The tension ate at him like acid.
A door slammed. Someone giggled, high and loud. Footsteps hurried past Jack’s closet and vanished.
This must be what it was like to live in a haunted house. Surrounded by darkness, listening to the eerie sounds of something unseen and unknowable. Hidden away like this, it was easy to believe that a gun would do no more damage to the monsters outside than it would to a ghost.
Then came Carla’s laugh, bright and bold. “Aww, Ronnie, come on!”
A low male voice. “Not as easy as you think, cupcake.”
Cupcake?Cupcake?!Jack forced air through his nostrils, triedto keep a wave of jealousy from rising up and crushing him. Of all the unoriginal, childish nicknames…
But it was no better or worse thansweetheart, he realized, deflating.
“Nothing’s too hard for you,” Carla teased.
Jack fought the urge to climb straight out of his own skin.
“I would certainly disagree,” said Ronnie, low and amused. “But the rules don’t apply toyou.”
Jack chewed the inside of his cheek and reminded himself that supply closetsdidn’tscream.
