Joe heard no more as searing anger overtook him, like an electric shock through his body, and he threw the orb across the room. At the very last second before it left his hand, he aimed it towards his bed, so rather than it smashing against the wall, it hit the sheets and the covers harmlessly, and stayed there.

After catching his breath, he went right after it. He found the orb and pulled it from the covers. But it was dead once more—no light emanated from within, and no caller was on the other end. It was again just a simple bauble he might have bought at a gift store.

“Motherfucker,” Joe whispered shakily, through gritted teeth. He stared at the orb, conflicted, unsure if he wanted it to reactivate or not. Finally he dropped it back onto the bedsheets.

He paced about the apartment, the anxiety digging into him. He stopped and stared at the bed determinedly, knowing what he had to do. The dreams ultimately were not the right answer, he knew this, but… he had no other recourse. He had to sleep, to dream—because it was the only way to contact her. Also, he had to hone his skills. His dream weaving. But—why? he asked himself. The answer came right away, and it was unnerving.

To do battle with Eddie.

He took a deep breath, not wishing to waste any time dwelling on that notion. It wouldn’t do much good. Instead he remained focused on the bed, which lay there, in wait. He was so weary and so he knew he would fall asleep within seconds after laying down upon it. But first he had to get some food in his system. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ate. There were basic human things he had to remember to do.

In a daze, he left his apartment building and walked down to the street. It was relatively quiet on the Saturday morning, although by then the sun was getting high in the sky and the summer heat was simmering like a pot on the stove getting ready to boil. He got an egg sandwich from a bagel shop and consumed it rapidly, mechanically, and followed it with a bottle of water that he chugged in one continuous swill, until he held it upside down completely. Then he went back to his apartment. Once inside, he finally did what he’d been avoiding for the past several hours, which was to look at his phone. Ultimately he had to. It was due diligence. He should at least know who’d been trying to contact him.

Even though he tried to mentally prepare himself for the staggering amount of notifications from the new emails, missed calls, and unread texts, the enormity of them still felt overwhelming. He scanned them all quickly. Nick was the most prominent in them, but several other of his friends had contacted him too. The tones at first were purely shocked, of the wtf variety, but more recently had become concerned, just wondering where he was and if he was okay. He felt utterly awful ignoring them, barely even reading them, but he knew there was not any other choice. He hadn’t the time or the wherewithal to deal with any of it. But as he stared at all the messages, they did inject a certain reality into his situation, making him think that, if he were to keep this up, he was probably going to end up in jail—or in an asylum. He wondered quite seriously which one would snag him first. And while still staring somberly at the phone, he saw it light up soundlessly with an incoming call, and her name was prominently displayed on the screen.

Danielle.

Of course. She knew exactly the right time to call. Normally he’d think that was just a coincidence, but those days were done. She knew because she knew.

Or… because he knew?

His hand holding the phone trembled at the thought of either prospect.

It still rang soundlessly in his hand, as Joe gritted his teeth, trying to consider all the ramifications of answering versus not answering. Almost immediately that gave him a sharp pain to his head, and so he threw caution to the wind as he answered.

“Hi, Danielle.” He forced his voice to be quiet and calm.

“Joe?” It was tough to hear her. It sounded like she was driving in traffic with the windows down. He heard vehicles passing by and the wind from her speeding car.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“How are you?” she asked. Her tone was very mellow. That was typical for her.

“I’m okay, I guess. Well, I’m not great, but, I mean… I’m not dead either.”

“That was wild last night. You were wild. Like I’ve never seen.” She said it like it was simply amusing, in the same way teenagers would rehash a drug experience.

“Are you okay, Danielle?” he asked, purposefully injecting real concern into his voice. He wanted her to know he was concerned.

“Oh, I’m fine, Joe, don’t worry about me. I feel great, actually.” Again he heard the traffic and the wind gusting in the background.

“It sounds like you’re driving somewhere.”

“I am.”

“Where to?”

“New York City, silly. How many times have I told you?”

“Oh, shit,” Joe said, realizing once more that, despite everything, Saturday had arrived. “You’re going to that party,” he added.

“Of course I am. I’m not missing it. It only happens once, you know.”

He felt a chill go through him.

“You should drop everything and go,” she suggested. “You can still get there in time. You could still be my date.”

Joe sighed impatiently. “What is this party, Danielle? What is it that only happens once?”

“It’s the End of the World Party. I told you.”

He felt a burst of impatience. “Danielle. Didn’t you see me jump off a balcony last night? To fight a guy taking a baseball bat to my car? That’s not normal behavior, Danielle. It’s not okay.”

“Yeah, Joe, I wanted to talk to you about that. There are some drugs you should avoid, you know.”

He huffed angrily. “Do you realize what’s going on here? Do you really understand?”

“No. Tell me.”

“I’m just…”

“Say it.”

“I’m not sure if any of this is even real.” He took a deep breath, pleading to himself to say the rest. “I’m not even sure if you’re real.”

There was silence. Even the wind had stopped gusting.

“Danielle?” he asked. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah. I heard you. You said you’re not sure if I’m real? If I’m not real, then how the fuck am I calling you, you fuckin’ dildo?”

Joe didn’t reply. He more or less expected that response. But still he kept trying, speaking rather calmly. “Your friend came after me last night. Landon. He was waiting at my apartment building when I got home.”

She made a flummoxed noise. “That doesn’t sound like Landon. He’s not the jealous type.”

Joe continued, still in his calm voice. “He shot at me with an assault rifle. I think a good chunk of Northwest D.C. went into lockdown from all the gunfire. Didn’t you see it on the news?”

Still silence.

“Seriously, Danielle. Someone or something tried to kill me.”

She finally replied. “No one can kill you, Joe. You’re too strong.” She said it proudly. Despite everything Joe felt quivers go all through him.

“So what do you know about that?”

“About what?”

“Whatever is happening to me?”

“What’s happening to you?”

He sighed in frustration. “Last night I was running on top of the city, Danielle. Are you hearing me? I was literally jumping from building to building and running across goddamn rooftops, like it was nothing.”

“Well, then think about how good you could fuck.”

Joe exhaled, realizing this conversation was hopeless. Carrying it on would only just sink him further.

“Danielle. I got to go. Take care of yourself, okay? Be careful.”

“That’s sweet. Thanks.”

He stared at the phone in amazement and confusion. Her tone was fully genuine.

“Bye, Joe,” she said during the silence, and then hung up.

He slowly brought the phone down, trying to decide whether or not it was good he’d taken the call. He gave that up pretty quickly, realizing it was another futile exercise. Then he again made sure all the noises and vibrations were off. He even turned the phone upside down so the glowing screen had no chance of bothering him either.

Joe drew the shades and made it as dark as he could inside the apartment, which wasn’t totally possible, not with the summer sun assaulting the edges of the curtains. Then he paced slowly over to the refrigerator, wanting to get his bottle of vodka from the freezer. But he stopped, realizing he’d left it in his room last night, just prior to his rapid exit. He found it there, on top of his desk, and he put the bottle straight up to his lips. He disliked drinking it at room temperature, but he just wanted to get it down fast so it would help him fall asleep. He took several long swills, then put the cap back on, and dropped it noisily back on his desk.

He deposited all the contents from his pockets onto his nightstand, and among those items was her letter—crumpled and smashed, yet still intact. While staring at the letter, he thought about how insane the past twenty-four hours of his life had been. But wasn’t it always? His life was forever haywire and there was nothing he could ever do about it. He still stared at the letter, as he shed his dirty clothes and left them in a crumpled pile on the floor. Then he walked into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. The walls and mirror were covered in steam when he walked out a few minutes later. He put on a fresh pair of boxers and then slipped into the sheets, knowing he’d fall asleep almost immediately, considering he’d been up all night—and what a long, strange night it had been. Plus he felt drowsy from the food he’d consumed, and the alcohol had been the final touch.

As he felt sleep closing in on him, he opened his eyes and noticed the orb was in the covers with him. He thought it was a little too close, so he pushed it away, and then he had a mind to cover it with his second pillow, so it was actually out of sight. He didn’t want to see it—nor did he wish for anyone to be looking back at him while he slept.

Sleep was about to take him again when he opened his eyes once more. He retrieved his phone from the nightstand and double-checked to make sure all the noises and vibrations—basically any alert it could possibly make—were all off. They were, and so he set the phone down.

But only a second later he opened his eyes and grabbed the phone yet again. He snapped open the case, removed the battery, and set it and the remaining pieces of the phone gently down onto the floor, where they sat on the hardwood, a detached, unpowered mess.

Feeling more satisfied yet, Joe shut his eyes.

He didn’t wish to take any chances this time.