I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could scrub the image of her body from my brain. I already saw it once in the photos, but it’s a thousand times worse in person. I didn’t know Zoe long, but in those few short hours, she became my friend. She proved to be braver than I originally thought when she convinced Wombat to help us and later when she crawled through those ducts and set off the smoke bomb. She wanted to go to art school and to be reunited with her little sister and give her a better life. But I failed her and now she’s dead like Trent.
Maybe Future-Adam was right, and we can’t change the future. Maybe, no matter what happens, our fate is already written and we’re just puppets being pulled along by strings. And by traveling to the future, the five of us are forced to relive this loop over and over.
I switch off the water and briefly touch her blue hair to say good-bye. I might have failed Zoe and Trent, but I still have a few hours until my own clock runs out. I can still escape, get out of the city, try to flee my fate.
But what about Chris? He has a kid on the way—I can’t abandon him. I need to tell him the others are dead at the very least, but he won’t answer my calls.
I have to track him down in person.
Downey Automotive is a hole-in-the-wall mechanic shop that fixes banged-up cars that were in accidents and fender benders. They’re scattered across the lot behind a chain-link fence. As I approach, a big black dog barks at me from the other side. A guy looks up from the hood of one of the cars, but he’s not Chris.
The inside of the shop is hot enough to melt your skin off, with one wimpy fan blowing in the corner. Sweat rolls down my back, hot and slick under my tank top. Behind the counter is a guy in his twenties who’s completely covered in tattoos, even along his neck and hands. Three days ago he totally would have been my type.
He gives me a slow once-over with a grin. “Hey, mami, con que te ayudo?” I get the feeling he’s asking if I need help with more than just my car.
“I’m looking for Chris.”
“He’s gone.” The guy leans back and crosses his arms. “You the one who called earlier?”
“Yeah. Could you give me his number, por favor?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I can’t just hand out his number to some random hyna.”
“It’s an emergency.” I lean on the counter and give him my best pleading look. The guy’s eyes immediately dart down to my chest. He’s not exactly subtle. But he isn’t budging either. “It’s about Shawnda,” I add.
He gives my boobs another long appraisal and clears his throat. “Yeah, okay. But don’t tell him you got it from me.”
“Gracias.” I glance at my watch while he scribbles numbers on a Post-it. Chris only has an hour before the window of his death begins. This is my one chance to warn him before then, and if this number doesn’t work, if this guy is playing me, there’s nothing else I can do.
But just as I’m slipping the number in my pocket, Chris walks into the shop. “Cortez, give us a minute,” he says, and the guy behind the counter disappears into the back.
I almost want to hug Chris it’s such a relief to see him alive. But he glares at me, the muscles in his neck twitching, a heavy wrench clutched in his hand.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks.
“Trent and Zoe are dead,” I say quickly. “I think you’re next. You have to get out of here. You have to—”
“What?” His eyes bulge a little. “How do you know they’re dead?”
“I-I went to see them and found their bodies.”
He grips the wrench harder and growls, “Get out of here. Now.”
“Chris, listen to me. I’m not the killer. I don’t even have a gun!”
“Yeah? And where’s your boyfriend?”
“I don’t know! But I don’t think he’s the killer either.”
“No, course not. ’Cause he tricked you, and now he’s going to set you up.” He shakes his head. “You’re the one who should run.”
“But Shawnda and your son—”
“I don’t need your help!” he yells, getting right up in my face. “I have it under control! Now get out of here before I call the cops!”