Ethan’s horror, in retrospect, all grew out of the conversation he’d had while Hunter was in the diner’s bathroom, well before the chaos had broken out. A man in a gabardine suit. A bubble of frozen time that seemed to last for an eternity.
Nine empty rooms. Twelve cold beds.
See you soon, Mister Cross.
Ethan forced his aching head back to the present, back to the problems that had come up in this motel. He’d come to dinnertonight because he needed to speak to Sarah Powers, the woman he’d met earlier in the motel’s office. Ethan needed to understand something, desperately. He knew he should ask Sarah not to reveal his presence here to some man in Fort Stockton named Frank O’Shea, seeing as Sarah worked for Frank and the fry cook at the diner worked for Frank and Frank wouldn’t look too kindly on Ethan and Hunter hurting one of his men and blah blah blah.
But for some reason, Ethan didn’t feel especially frightened of Frank. If there was anyone he was scared to meet again, it was the man in the gabardine suit, but what were the odds of that?
See you soon, Mister Cross.
No. When Ethan and Hunter stepped into the motel’s cafe, Ethan walked right past where Thomas stood at the bar, looking ready to mix him a drink. Ethan went down the motel’s hall, toward the sounds of banging metal, and pushed open a swinging wooden door to the cafe’s kitchen. He found Tabitha pouring mashed potatoes into an enormous silver serving dish. Her head snapped up, her face startled.
Ethan didn’t bother saying hello. He turned back to a bewildered Hunter. Ethan said, “I just wanted to be sure it was really her making all that noise in there.”
“Why?”
Ethan walked back into the cafe in a haze. “I really don’t know.”
Hunter seemed agitated, clearly anxious about Ethan’s condition. “We should go back to our room. I can come get us some food later.”
“No. No. I need to speak to Sarah.”
“Who?”
“The woman from the office. The one with the camera.” Ethan settled himself in the cafe’s corner booth. “I want to know why she lied about meeting my mom. How…”
Ethan trailed off. The other question was even more unnerving.
How does Sarah know who I am?
Watching the way Ethan rubbed his aching temples, Hunter made a little grunt of apology. “I wish I’d saved those cigarettes. They helped my head.”
The clock above the bar struck 7:35. The bell over the cafe’s doorchimed. The Black girl from the Malibu, Kyla, stepped into the cafe, followed a few steps later by Penelope Holiday, the teenage girl from the Honda Odyssey. They scanned the room. They each looked distracted by their own problems.
Which is when something truly uncanny happened.
The clock above the bar struck 7:35. The bell over the cafe’s door chimed. Kyla stepped inside, followed by Penelope Holiday, and with a rush of déjà vu, Ethan wondered if he was losing his mind. It was like he’d remembered this moment—had anticipated it—even though it had never happened to him before. He’d seen it coming a moment before it happened. Had recalled the moment before he’d lived it.
Ethan thought of camera film: double exposures, two images recorded over each other. He rubbed his head. Somehow the pain was getting worse.
Kyla made her way across the cafe. He’d only met her in the office a couple hours ago, when she and her aloof friend Fernanda had come looking for towels. Kyla and Ethan hadn’t said much to each other then—really, all she did was apologize for leaving him and Hunter by the side of the road—but in a funny way, Ethan felt like he knew Kyla well, or at least well enough to see she wasn’t faring much better than him. Her face was clouded, her mouth set in a grimace. She rubbed her head. She sat down across from Ethan and Hunter without a word, only to flinch, half stand, embarrassed by some mistake.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know why I sat here.”
“It’s all right,” Ethan said. “Sit. Where’s your friend?”
“Fernanda? She went back to our room. I think her stomach’s fucked up.”
“Right.” For some reason, Ethan didn’t feel convinced by this story.
Down the cafe’s hall, a pan struck the ground so loudly Ethan and Kyla both pressed their hands to their heads. Thomas watched them from behind the bar. He looked almost anxious. “Did y’all not want something to drink?”
The teenage girl, Penelope, said, “My sister says it’s too late for that.”
“Your sister?” Ethan said, only to hesitate when his mind caught up with him.
How did he know her name was Penelope?
