My Virtual Darcy 🏆 2021 Wattys Shortlister

26 - Betrayal

"Sir, I need your friend to remove her hoodie." The Dollarama employee's gaze jumped from me to the weirdo in pyjamas, unsure of what to make of the curious situation unfolding.

Ignoring their request, Flannel-Pants searched his trouser pocket, growling when the item he retrieved fell to the ground.

"Please, I don't know him." I whipped my head left and right for assistance.

Whispers arose from the teenage group as they hesitated between recording the scene and intervening.

The store clerk frowned. "Sir, what are you doing?"

Flannel-Pants bent down to pick up a black leather box, and I sucked in a sharp breath when he opened it, revealing a silvery disc.

"He's gonna put a Bridge on me. Help!" I sprinted to try to escape my assailant, but he spread his arms, blocking the passage, and I stumbled back into the shop.

"Woah, dude. Bridges caused a hell of a ruckus last week."

"Not cool, man. You could hurt her."

Upon hearing the teenagers' comments, the cashier took my defense. "Sir, step back. Do not touch that girl."

Flannel-Pants discarded the leather case and placed his second Bridge in his hand. I threw a quick glance behind me, pondering if I should shake him off in the aisles or confront him. Before I could make a decision, he lunged, his palm aiming at my face. The store clerk yelped, and stepped in to protect me. The three of us tripped over in a mess of arms and legs.

When they both stilled, I crawled away from them, and accepted the hand offered by one of the teens to get up.

"What's happening?"

"Should we call the mall security?"

"Why aren't they moving?"

My throat constricted with guilt. Was the Dollarama employee okay? They had shielded me--a complete stranger--and were now motionless, sprawled on the floor like a dismantled puppet.

Okay, not motionless anymore.

In sync, Flannel-Pants and they stood up. When they snapped their heads in my direction with vacant stares, I flinched, and dashed away from the store, passing the teenage group and the curious crowds that had gathered in the hallway.

"Remove their Bridges," a voice yelled.

I did not turn to see if the onlookers managed to subdue the zombies. I ran, my heart beat deafening me, and slalomed between shoppers until I found an escalator to the surface.

Fear took me two blocks further and into a back alley. After five minutes spent cowering between dumpsters, I risked a little peep towards the busy streets on both sides. Passers-by filed one after the other, laden down with shopping bags and unaware of my precarious situation.

Energy drained me as the adrenaline stopped flooding my brain. I clasped my hands together to prevent them from shaking, and focused on my breath until it was not shallow anymore.

Once I was again in control of my body, I removed my hoodie to tuck it away between the dumpster, then braided my hair and fashioned it into a low bun, hoping that the cap would be enough to hide both my face and mane. Jaws tightened, I smothered the dread that was weighing on my guts.

"Theo is alright. He's safe. He's waiting for me at the Belvedere." With these assertions in mind, I left the alley and started towards Mount Royal.

When I reached Sherbrooke, the pedestrian red light allowed me a moment of respite. I checked my phone, and exhaled at Amy's reassuring text. She had safely arrived at Aunt Rachana's, and had the household under surveillance. As I typed her an answer, messages from Bahiriya flooded my screen, each more alarming than the last.