“Anyhow, are we raiding tonight?” Jim wants to know. “Can I bring my Reaper instead of my Paladin?”
“Sure. Whatever you want. Raid starts at nine. Did you get the invite?” I sip my coffee and look at him.
“I’m ready. We’re meeting at the Chocolate Square?”
“Yup. Gathering there, and then we’ll go hunting for the mini-boss in the park nearby. Make sure the battery on your phone is charged.”
He fist pumps like the dork he is. “I’m ready. Ok, I have to run. I just wanted to check with you.”
“Bye.” I smile at him as he leaves and return to my desk, coffee in hand. Even though I just got chastised by my boss for sending personal emails, I send another, just because.
I mean, I figure I’m this far in, so why not, right? If emails are a crime, it doesn’t matter if I send 600 or 601—I’m still toast if they find out.
It’s a long damn day. So long. I spend most of it tweaking spreadsheets and preparing a deck for my boss’s annual meeting. Then I have to make sixty copies—spiral bound—of a color handout for yet another meeting, and that eats up far more time than it should. The day is long and all I can think about is the raid in Heroes of Ancient Legend later tonight. It’s not the first one I’ve run for my guild, but I always obsess over how we can improve things. That’s what a good guild leader does.
By the time the end of the day hits, I pack up my desk and practically race out the door with the rest of the corporate drones as we all stream toward the parking garage. I wobble on my shoes—my balance is even worse after a full day of being in high heels—and nearly crash into Todd from Account Management. Gah. I manage to careen out of his way and text on my phone, typing with one hand into Discord.
RAID IN TWO HOURS, BITCHES. BE @ CHOC SQUARE W/UR BATTERIES CHARGED.
I get a flurry of gifs and thumbs-up emojis from guildmates who are equally excited, and I smile even as I narrowly avoid running into a pillar in the garage. I find my car and back out of my space, then turn in the opposite direction of Chocolate Square restaurant. I probably need to stop by my apartment and get extra chargers anyhow. There’s always some dingdong who isn’t prepared. Speaking of…I look at my own phone battery and grimace. 54%. That might not do it for the raid.
Well, I wanted to change out of my shoes anyhow, right? And my coffee-stained skirt. It’s the weekend, which means jeans and T-shirts and all-night gameathons. I sure don’t want to spend it in this uncomfortable mess. I want some sneakers and my comfy jeans.
I race home to my apartment building and plug my phone into the charger while I change clothes. Most of the raids turn into an all-night thing, which means cold air, so I throw on a pink GAMERS DO IT WITH BATTERIES T-shirt and jeans. My hair goes into two low pigtails because the wind drives me nuts, and I stuff my messenger bag full of extra charging cords and head out.
I head back in a moment later to get my own phone, because I’m the worst at remembering my own shit. Good intentions and all that. With my phone in hand, I race back out to the hall…and then pause.
My friend Faith lives all the way down the hall, next to the empty apartment. We sometimes run into each other at the mailboxes and chat for a few minutes, and we always look out for one another if there’s a package to be had—she’s as addicted to Amazon deliveries as I am. I can’t help but notice that her door’s hanging open, though.
And I’m pretty sure it was hanging open this morning when I left for work, too. I thought I’d just missed her in the hall, because who hasn’t run out to grab a coffee down the street and left their door open in case they lost their keys?
Just me?
But her door’s been open all day, so this isn’t a coffee run or a mail run and now I’m getting a little concerned. My phone pings with a million messages of guildies on their way to the raid location and I know I have to go soon. Chocolate Square is a casual restaurant, but it’s Friday night and we’re going to have a big group, which means I need to get there early to hog tables so everyone can have a seat.
I need to go.
I’m going to get so much grief from people if we can’t get enough tables.
Instead, though, I head toward Faith’s door slowly, trying to think about the last time I saw her. Yesterday? Day before? I tiptoe forward and pause in front of the open door. “Faith?” I call. “You there?”
No answer. I knock on the door, and then jerk my hand back. Shit. I shouldn’t touch the door and leave fingerprints if this is a crime scene.
And then, shit, why am I even thinking about that? This isn’t a crime scene…I hope. I swallow hard and because I’m a chicken, I use the corner of my pink cardigan to push the door open a bit farther.
“Faith?”
Still no answer. Her apartment looks empty. Clean—which is really, really unnatural for someone like me—but definitely empty. Her laptop’s on her coffee table, still open and not plugged in as if it was recently abandoned. Hmm. I glance down the hall, but no one’s coming, so I step inside. Faith wouldn’t be pissed, after all. She’d be glad I’m looking out for her. I peek into her bedroom, but it’s equally clean and empty. After a moment’s hesitation, I move to her laptop and swipe my finger across the trackpad. The computer lights up, asking me to input a password, but the battery in the corner flashes bright red.
Unless Faith likes to live dangerously with her battery life, she’s been gone for a while.
My skin prickles when I notice her phone is between two of the couch cushions. Okay, no one in this day and age leaves their phone behind. This right here’s a damn murder scene and I’m touching all the equipment. With a shudder, I head for the door, desperate to leave. There’s a metallic taste in my mouth and I’m starting to pant with sheer panic. Did someone kill Faith? Am I next? I’m freaking out.
I’m two steps out her door and about to head to the office when I notice the apartment door next to hers is open, just a crack.
Oh my god. This is some serious Pennywise situation stuff going on right now.
I stare at the door, wondering if I’m going to be the dumb girl that goes through and gets murdered, or if I’m smart and run away and call the cops.
“Faith?” I hiss, just in case.
No answer.
What if she’s there in a pool of blood? What if she’s trying to hit some sort of Life Alert bracelet and if I walk away she dies? The apartment’s supposed to be empty. Supposed to be.
I stare at the door and then whimper when I realize I’m going to be the dummy that goes inside to see what’s in there. God, I hate my brain. I know I can’t leave. Not now that I thought it into existence.
“I’m coming in,” I warn the axe murderer on the other side. “And if you kill me, I’ll haunt you forever and warn all your future victims.”
There’s no answer from the axe murderer on the other side, so I suck in a breath, push my glasses up my nose, and open the door to step inside.
2
I open my eyes to bright light streaming down through the trees, and my first thought is that the murderer clearly hit me in the head and I’ve been unconscious for hours.