voices
pressure at my neck
one two three four five
can you hear me?
she’s unresponsive
contusion, careful with the
that’s it
can you hear me?
yes
how do I say yes
how do I
Three
The sky was so blue.It was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes—that blue, blue sky. Like something out of a dream, or a painting, a photograph with the contrast bumped up. It was so bright it hurt my eyes, and I had to blink several times before I could even stand to keep them open.
I remembered being shoved to the ground. My head hurt a little, but not as much as I would’ve expected it to—more like that groggy, heavy feeling that came from sleeping in a little too late, the one that would linger the whole day unless you got coffee or fresh air in time.
There was no shortage of fresh air. I turned my head, and blades of grass tickled at my nose. The blue sky had already caused a twinge of panic, a dull one, like I knew there was something tofeelbut couldn’t quite muster the energy to all the way feel it. The last I remembered, it had been night, so it was unsettling to have to squint against the sun. But now therewas blue sky and green grass where previously it had all been black—starless night and charcoal asphalt and then that borderless darkness smothering everything.
And hadn’t there been more? Voices, not frantic but…terse. Efficient. I was suddenly reminded of the time they’d done a scoliosis check on the kids in my elementary school, and one of the volunteers had thought she’d seen something in my back. In the month before my parents took me in to see the doctor, I’d sat ramrod straight and gingerly laid myself in bed every night like I would break, until finally my pediatrician had confirmed it was nothing.
Maybe this—whateverthiswas—had also been nothing. I sat up, automatically putting my hand to the back of my skull. I couldn’t feel anything there, not a bump or a cut or my hair wet with blood. It did throb a little, and sitting up so fast made my vision kaleidoscope for a few seconds before clearing out again.
I was still wearing my blue-purple dress from the date. The datehadhappened…right? If this was a dream, I didn’t know where it had started. I couldn’t think of any other explanation of why I’d be sitting here in this strange place in broad daylight, my car nowhere to be seen.
There was a car only a few feet from me, actually, just notmycar. When I looked again I saw that it was missing its two back wheels and rear bumper, and there was a piece of paper tucked into the window with numbers scribbled on it that meant nothing to me.
None of this meant anything to me. There was the grass prickling the backs of my knees, and when I turned my headthere was a hedge, blocking out my view of anything else except the hint of rooftops on the other side. When I turned my head in the other direction, over a slight hill there was a building painted white with signage toward the top I couldn’t read, its letters partially obscured by a few trees.Garage. Some sort of garage.
Maybe my car had been taken to a mechanic? That didn’t make any sense—there’d been nothing wrong with it, other than the few things that had always been wrong with it. Maybe whoever had crashed into me and taken my purse had stolen my car, as well? But then why would I behere?
The garage didn’t look particularly open, at least not from where I was sitting. There were two large metal doors, painted green, that were rolled shut. While I was studying them, a figure passed over my vision, just once, the shadow of a man or the memory of whoever had attacked me, I couldn’t really tell. A shiver ran through me, not just from the vision—it wascold, a crisp chill to the air that I’d been too distracted to fully appreciate until now.
I pushed myself to my feet, running my hands over my body, checking for any damage. Checking for…I didn’t even know what. I tried pinching myself hard, because wasn’t that supposed to work if you were in a dream? But all I did was leave an angry red mark on the back of my hand that faded after a minute, the same way it would’ve if this were real.
From up on the hill, that white-and-green garage was calling to me. Maybe it was because it was the only building I could see from this vantage point, but at least it wassomething. I gave the area around me one last look, making sure my purseor car keys weren’t lying nearby, even though I already knew they wouldn’t be. And then I started climbing the hill.
The side of the building with the rolled-up doors didn’t look that inviting. There were a few cars parked close by, something about them a little off, in the way that details in dreams can be skewed versions of the real thing. The side of the building I was more interested in was the one that had an actual door and a couple windows that I could peer through even though everything was dark inside.
It took a minute for my eyes to adjust. It looked like a standard mechanic’s reception area—linoleum floor, a front counter, chairs set around the perimeter, a small table with a carafe and some paper cups stacked up.
The only unusual part was that, in this space, there were shelves and shelves of books lining the walls—battered, well-loved books with cracked spines, from floor to ceiling. This had to be a dream. The bookshelves proved it, exactly the kind of detail my subconscious would’ve added, putting something I loved in an incongruous place, reminding me that this world was constructed by my own secret desires.
“Oi!” The voice behind me made me jump.
I spun around to see a man. I supposed I should have felt threatened, especially since my body still carried inside it the feeling of that person slamming into me, the way it had only taken a second to completely lay me out. But I didn’t.
Still, there was a charge in the air around this man, the way you could sometimes feel a storm coming. Not so much danger as thepotentialfor danger. It was hard not to be aware of the fact that he was taller than me, stronger than me—he hadthat lean, wiry look to him like he could haul his own body weight up the side of a mountain, which was something I definitely couldn’t do. He was dressed monochromatically—heather gray T-shirt streaked with grease, dark gray work pants, heavy black boots. Light brown hair in a buzz cut and the most electric blue eyes I’d ever seen.
