Alternative

| Chapter Eighteen

Everything I have been working on for months slips through my fingers. As I stumble out of Alt-Life's building, each piece of data, each successful minute, hour, day, drops to the floor like water. Once I'm on the curb, I slip in what could be its puddle, but I know it's my own heart breaking and crumbling under the weight of my failures.

I'm sorry, Em. As tears build up in my eyes, I hurry over to my car. The keys fumble in my hand as I try and open the door. Dropping them once, I curse out in frustration before picking them up again. Em, I fucked up so bad.

The inside of my car is hot. I'm suffocating. Struggling to breathe, I open my window as I dock my phone and turn on my phone. "I can't..." I gasp.

The engine powers on with a veracity I can't match. I lean back, staring out the windows, as I pull out of the parking lot. When I'm on the road, I quickly tap my phone. I need to make a call.

Joe's name is the first I select. It rings. And rings. And rings.

"Answer your phone, Joe!" I yell. Joe doesn't answer. Ending the call before it goes to voicemail, I bite my lip. "Come on, Joe..."

Panic fuels my adrenaline and I find myself speeding, flooring in the direction of his apartment building. If Morris said he ran, he would've gone there, right? He would've done everything to hide his evidence, delete his computer's file; he would've made sure to save himself, save us.

Growling through my breaths, I turn onto an adjacent street as I slap my phone again. "Dial Joe Sanchez!"

More rings. Another voicemail. He doesn't answer.

I find myself impatiently waiting at a stoplight.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. When Joe brought me this idea, it was months after Em's injury. But it was the reason I came back to work. He said if we copied enough data, we could save her. He promised he'd protect me and her; he promised to give back the happiness we lost.

Yet, after months of success, no matter how small they were, it all came tumbling down because of one crazy woman. A liar. A manipulator. I knew there was something off the first night I returned; no one needs to be so sultry for no reason. But because I was so thirsty for data, for memories, I ignored it. I watched it, watched her, and let Emery absorb the memories of that nasty, horrible, "Bitch!" Screaming, I slam my hands against the steering wheel.

Ahead, the light doesn't change. The red forces me to stay. But my impatience causes me to look back at my phone. The screen is blinking, waiting for another command. I press the key to start a new call. "Come on, Joe, talk to me. Please. What's going on?"

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

I glance up at the light holding me back. The wheel squeaks under my grip. "Let's go, come on," I hiss. The engine revs as I press down on the gas pedal but don't move forward. "I need to find out what's happening."

The ringing ends, but the voicemail doesn't appear. My phone is disrupted by a notification ping.

Thinking it's Joe or Emery, I check it immediately, just as the light turns green. It's a text message.

"I don't know why you always run away from me. Don't you understand what you're doing?"

"What?" I squint, trying to find the sender. It isn't Joe or Em. The number isn't saved to my contacts. Who is this?

Another notification pops up, another text message. It's right beneath the first one. "Maybe if I go to the one place you always want to be, you'll come to find me. How's that sound? Will you stop running then?"

My heart falls, crashing against my ribcage. I hear it echo in my chest as it crashes into a pool of fear.

With shaking, trembling hands, try to reach for my phone. A car beeps behind me before swerving around my car, yelling, "Fuckin' move!"

Ping. "You still owe me another memory session. I think just one more will do."

Elizabeth.

"I'll forget the fourth one if you just do as I say."

Another car honks its angry horn before I finally press my foot down on the gas. Except, I don't move forward. I turn the wheel, forcing my car in the other direction. My u-turn almost collides with an oncoming truck.

I scream as fear takes over me.

Ping. "I think you'll like this one, too. They're very special. I promise."

I clench my jaw shut as I serve between traffic, driving as fast as I can. I tell myself I need to get home, I need to get to Em because that's the only place I always want to be.

Ping. "You haven't figured this out yet, have you, Ray? Don't you see? She doesn't love you like I do."

"Move it!" I shout at the cars in front of me. Two miles down, just blocks to go. I need to get home before something bad happens. I need to stop Elizabeth from doing something she'll regret.

If she does, I'll make her pay. At this point, I've got nothing to lose.

Ping. "No one will ever love you as I do. You're mine."

Traffic has stopped. The normal morning jam. I stare ahead at the cars that have stalled and behind me, at the people sitting impatiently in their driver's seats. A part of me wants their patience, their ability to wait, but I can't do it. Not now. I need to get home.

I snatch my phone off its dock.

Ping. "Do you remember me yet, Rayna? Come on, it should be easy."

I pull my keys out of the ignition.

Ping. "Nothing's ringing a bell? Nothing at all?"

My arm hits my side door as I force it open and step out into the street. I take one deep breath before I start running home, pumping my legs as hard as they can go.

Ping. "I think you'll remember me once you see me. Then I can accept your apology. Face to face."

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There's a car I don't recognize parked in my driveway. But next to it, Joe's car is parked. His driver's side door is open as if he rushed out of it. Dread fills me as I think of the worst, but because of it, I take caution as I approach my home. The door is closed, yet that doesn't bring me comfort.

What if she's there?

Holding my breath, I walk up the front steps. My hand shakes when I reach for the door. When I turn the knob, I find that it's unlocked. "Shit," I whisper.

Sweat and tears drip down my face as I push it open. Inside, it's dark. The windows have been covered, blocking the sunlight from coming inside. I don't take another step as I close the door behind me.

"Em?" I whisper, scanning the living room. "Joe?"

There's nothing. No movements. No responses. Just silence and darkness. Immediately I think the worst. What if Elizabeth got here before I did? What if she hurt my wife, my best friend?

Rage begins to fill me as I inch further inside. With the first step I take, the television that hangs on my wall turns on. The light is bright and with the sudden change, I hiss and cover my face.

"Oh, Ray," a voice sounds behind me. "It took you long enough."

Quickly, I turn around, but I'm not fast enough to react. I only catch a glimpse of who spoke to me before a fists slams into the side of my face. With pain shooting up my nose, I stumble back, groaning as I try to focus.

Yet, I can't. I'm hit again. And again.

Silence comes over me, and I can do nothing but welcome the darkness.

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