Do I just touch one of these, or do I attempt to focus my vision on the present moment in the bathroom?
I could think of Felix’s essence. He’s in the bathroom with us, and if I see a vision of his future, I’ll also see a vision of my immediate future.
Of course, I could also end up learning what Felix does when he takes longer showers—and get scarred for life.
The good news is that I have time to think now, since for all intents and purposes, I’ve stopped the time flow on the outside—meaning whatever the danger is, it will only be a problem when I exit Headspace and not before.
I opt for the more active solution and summon Felix’s essence. I bring to mind his gentle and affectionate nature, his analytical mind, the efficient way he tackles any problem that comes his way, his gossipy side…
No matter how much I do this, though, the shapes around me don’t budge.
Either I didn’t properly capture Felix’s essence or the shapes here are already the ones I need—which would imply my subconscious mind has already done something similar to what I just did consciously.
If I had a body, it would be trembling in anticipation as I reach out to the nearest shape with my ethereal wisp.
I exit the stall.
The bouncer-looking dudes enter the bathroom and stop next to the stall I just vacated.
Something about the situation strikes me as extremely odd—something that goes beyond seeing men in the same bathroom as me.
Like me, they also look somewhat confused. Perhaps they don’t feel completely at ease seeing a female in the bathroom?
Wait a second.
If they are bouncers at this hotel, they should be used to this bathroom situation.
In fact, I have no evidence that these guys are bouncers at all. With their bulging muscles and mugshot faces, they could just as easily be Russian mobsters working for Baba Yaga.
Crap. Would I find their eyes all-black if I ripped off their sunglasses, or does Baba Yaga not need to mind-control most of her mobsters?
The fourth bathroom stall opens, and Kit waltzes out.
Seeing her seems to bring the goons out of their momentary stupor.
In the time it takes me to think, “I’m dead,” the pair reach into their suit pockets with their meaty hands and produce guns larger than my head.
Before Kit or I can blink, they fire.