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“You ready, Annie?” asked Brad.
Annie gasped. She blinked hard, her heart rate spiking.
“Are you okay?” asked Brad. He sat across from her in a small office. She didn’t recognize where they were.
Brad was here. Brad was alive!
“Yeah, I’m—“ she started. “I feel like I just woke up from a nightmare.” She took a deep breath. She had made her wish. It had dumped her here—
“Are you sure you’re okay? I can handle things today, if you’re not feeling well.”
“No, I’m okay, I just need a second,” she said. She looked around the room. It was a nice office. She realized it was her office. Framed pictures of her were on the wall. Some with Brad, some of her when she was younger, but others—
But others, well, they were with famous authors.
Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, Colleen Hoover, Janet Evanovich, George RR Martin—
Bestsellers, new and old. And there were more, all over the walls. All stood in front of a sign for their bookstore.
Wait—
“Handle things today?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. He eyed her. “Are you sure you’re okay? We’ve been planning this for months.”
“I—“ she started. “Refresh my memory.”
Brad looked at her, confused. “Mike Sullivan is on his way from the airport right now. We’re the first stop on his book tour. His new book comes out today. Any of this ringing any bells?”
“Oh, right,” she said. “Sorry. I don’t know what happened to me. Feels like my mind went completely blank.”
“There’s a thousand people lined up right now, waiting to see him.” Brad’s phone buzzed. He looked at it. “And he’s here. I’ll go greet him. How about you take a minute, catch your breath, and meet us out there, okay?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
Brad got up to leave.
“Brad, wait—“
“Yes?” he asked, in the door.
“How are Gabby and Buddy doing?” she asked, looking into his eyes.
“They’re good,” he said. “We’re all going out to eat later, with Sullivan and his wife and kids. Did you forget that, too?”
Annie smiled. “Of course. I—thank you. I couldn’t do this without you.”
Brad grinned. “I’m just the pretty face. You’re the brains of the operation. I’ll go collect Sullivan, and get him set up at his signing table.”
Brad left, disappearing out of sight.
Annie took another deep breath. She looked around her office, the office of her bookstore, which had hosted dozens of famous authors. Which had thousands lined up outside. Brad, Gabby, and Buddy lived. So did Mike Sullivan, and Judy, and their children.
It had worked.
It had worked.
Annie let herself calm down. What she had told Brad hadn’t been a lie. She had woken up from a nightmare. Everything that had happened.
Her office phone rang. She looked at the display.
WATSON, ALEX
She answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Annie, how’s the event going?” asked a familiar voice. It was Alex. She was alive.
“Uhhh, we’re just about to get started,” she said. “How are you, Alex?”
“Doing well, doing well,” she said. “Things are humming along with the franchising. The store in LA just broke ground, and permitting is coming along well in New York. Just got the numbers back in Seattle, for their first month. Gangbusters. It’s looking to be a nice feather in the cap for Watson Industries. And for you.”
“Great, that’s great,” said Annie. “I need to go get things organized here. Can I call you back, later?”
“Sure, sure,” said Alex. “We need to discuss things, anyway. I’ll have Tom schedule something formal with you. Sound good?”
“Yeah, sounds great,” she said. “Bye.”
Alex hung up. New stores in Seattle, New York, LA—
A distant roar rang out, and she realized it was the crowd, seeing Sullivan. She needed to go out, to greet him.
I don’t believe it.
She wanted to pinch herself. Annie stood up and left her office, through the short hallways, toward the roar of the crowd. She exited out of the office area, into the main bookstore.
It was massive, and Annie’s heart soared. Stacks and stacks of books. Beautifully organized. It truly was the bookstore of her dreams.
And it was hers.
She walked through the stacks, toward the roar of the crowd. She saw the people, lined up, waiting to get their copy of Sullivan’s newest book. To meet him.
Then she saw him, next to Brad. Him and Judy, and the two kids. He was old, much like the version of him in the book. His two children were grown now, as old as Annie.
Judy looked similar, but revitalized. Healthy. And she was standing.
Standing. No wheelchair. No health problems.
“Annie,” said Brad. “This is Mike Sullivan.”
“Uh—hi. Nice to meet you, in person,” said Annie, forcing a smile. This Mike looked the same as the one she had just left, except for his eyes. The weariness in them was gone.
“Same to you, thanks for having me,” said Mike. “Honestly, seeing this store in person made it all worthwhile. What a dream. Such a great place to kick off the book tour. This is my wife Judy, and my children, Sam and Joanie.”
The two kids smiled, waving. Judy extended her hand, and Annie shook it.
“Nice to meet you,” said Judy. “Something special you’ve put together here.”
“Thank you,” said Annie. “It was a lot of blood, sweat, and tears.”
“I bet,” she said.
“You ready to get started?” asked Brad. “I’ve got all the copies down there at the end of the table. The customers will grab them there, and then bring them to you.”
“Can I see the book?” asked Annie.
“You haven’t seen a copy yet?” asked Brad. “I would swear I showed them to you when we got them in. I haven’t cracked mine open yet.”
“I’m excited about it,” said Mike. “It’s a little different from anything I’ve written before. Little bit of a nod to my roots, in choose your own adventure stories.”
“What?” asked Annie. Cold rose in her stomach. The memory of Judy’s harrowing scream. Of twins, broken by a truck. Carl, carrying an axe.
“When I first started out, I wrote choose your own adventure stories, under a pen name. Eventually got away from it, and well—the rest is history. But this one, well, maybe it’s a little self indulgent, but I think I’ve earned it.”
No, no—
Annie hurried to the end of the table, and picked up one of the books.
THIS BOOK IS CURSED was the title. The cover paid homage to the old covers of choose your own adventure books.
“It can’t be—“
“I’m really excited to dig in on my copy,” said Brad. “The viral marketing stuff got me hook, line, and sinker.”
“I didn’t go for it, at first,” said Mike. “But the kids talked me into it. Said it would help sell the book. And it has. Pre-orders are through the roof!”
“I love the idea of a book that you can’t escape!” said Brad. “That you’re a character inside the book you’re reading! So clever!”
No no no—
Annie picked up the book, flipped through it, towards the middle. She read.
Annie pushed the cap aside, and looked down, the bottom not visible. No one would go down there in the two weeks before it was filled, and afterwards, no one would find it. Not ever.
Annie took a deep breath, and propped her purse on the other side of the cap, and pulled the book out, still wrapped in newsprint. The paper was a little askew, and she pulled it off.
Oh no. No no no.
The book was gone.
Well, not gone.
Replaced.
In its stead was a children’s book, slim, of similar size, but for a younger age.
Buddy.
This isn’t possible, she’d had her wish—
“It’s a fun book,” said Mike. “And once I got it in my head, I couldn’t think of anything else.”
Annie’s eyes darted, to the crowd, to her bookstore, to Sullivan, to Brad—
The feelings of deja vu. The familiarity.
“You’re in the story, Annie, of course I know your name—“
Annie looked down at the book again. She flipped to the beginning.
Eddie knew now that most of them were filled with mediocre writing that only impressed children, and cliffhanger page turns.
As a child, they were impressive. They were special.
But that wasn’t true. He just didn’t have access. If they had more money, if they lived closer to a bookstore—he would have seen them all.
This book, though, this one was special. One of one. A modern rarity. The only one printed.
When he joined book collecting circles, people would whisper about this book. In forums, at used bookstores, at antique fairs, and book markets—once in a while you would see chatter about The Mystery of the Sentinel Lodge. One last book, from JP Harmon, before his untimely and gruesome death.
Annie’s eyes scanned the page. Eddie. It knew everything. They had gotten the book from Eddie—
But this was the book, but how—
Annie hurriedly flipped to the end.
Annie’s eyes scanned the last page of the book. It was her, all of it, her entire quest, of finding the book, of her wish, it was all on the page. She couldn’t believe it. It was impossible, she had wished for everything to be fixed.
Annie dropped the book on the table, and she screamed, she screamed, she screamed.
How many times?
How many times had she done this? How many times through this story, all repeating, the deaths, over and over—
“Is this real?” asked Annie.
“Annie? Are you alright?” asked Brad.
“I’ve never been real, have I?” She was yelling now, and the crowd stared at her, the thousands waiting. Brad, Judy, Mike. They all stared.
She tried to think of her life outside—
“There’s nothing else,” she muttered.
It’s all set dressing.
Brad walked to her. “Annie—“
“How did we meet, Brad?”
“What?”
“How did we meet? How did we meet? Why are we friends?”
“We—“ started Brad, but his face went blank.
“Was it ever real?” she yelled, at Sullivan. “Tell me. Tell me!”
Sullivan said nothing. He only stared.
Annie dropped the book on the table, and she screamed, she screamed, she screamed.