My friends and I died at this party already and nobody is talking about it.
I can remember it, the burning and the noise and the crushing, but I can’t seem to bring myself to say anything. Do they remember? Why aren’t we talking about it?
We were sitting in the living room when it happened, I’m sure of it. I was sitting here, on this same cushion of Sam’s couch where I’m sitting now. Her dog Charlie was sitting at my feet, exactly like he is now, snoring with his head against my shoe. It was somewhere around 9:48 PM. That’s when I checked my phone and started doing the math to figure out when I could leave and not be rude. Another twelve minutes would make it 10 PM. I was mentally debating whether a 10:02 departure could look casual, like I hadn’t been counting the minutes to leave right at the top of the hour. That’s when Charlie jumped up and darted into the hall.
Now it’s somewhere around 9:30, again. Sam is talking about her sister’s graduation party. Galen is listening. Damien is searching for his phone between the couch cushions. It happened; I know it did. It’s not only me noticing what’s going on right now and making a fake memory out of it.
Last time I followed Charlie down the hall and into the bedroom. He was standing in the corner, shaking, whining, peeing on the floor. His teeth bared in a snarl. His eyes were wide enough to show the whites.
Charlie is the world’s chillest dog. I had never seen him act like this before and it was freaky as hell. When I tried to reassure him that he was having a bad dream that startled him awake, he just backed further into the corner.
That’s when the world exploded. It must have been about 9:50.
It wasn’t a dream.
In my memory, when I finally caught my breath, I could see the sky. Part of it. The building had ripped open. The hallway was gone. The living room was gone. Two of the bedroom walls were missing. I was pinned under something heavy, some part of the building that had collapsed on my legs and body and my left arm. I lay on my side, in a stupefying amount of pain, facing the burning night air.
Galen catches my eye now and gives me a look. A “yikes” look. Some part of Sam’s story is making him feel awkward. I remember that. He’s going to start peeling the label off the bottle in his hand. That’s what I remember from before.
If Charlie hadn’t bolted and ran out, I would have been killed along with everyone else. He’s still snoring now, at whatever time it is. Resting against my foot. I can’t make myself check my phone for some reason. Probably because I didn’t last time.
I don’t know how long I lay trapped before the fires faded and I remembered my phone. It was still in my shirt pocket, and I managed to get it free. Cracks spiderwebbed the screen but it still functioned. I called my parents. They had heard about a gas line explosion but didn’t realize I was in the area. Sam’s condo is a half-hour from my apartment.
After a lot of crying on both ends of the call, my dad heard the sirens and asked if I had already called 911 to let them know I needed rescuing. I told them I loved them and hung up. Before I dialed for help, everything stopped. The fire froze in place. The world was silent.
Then there were new sounds. Someone walked into the room, wandering around, kicking rubble aside. I couldn’t see them. I couldn’t move my head, or my eyes, or anything. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t blink. A pair of boots stepped in front of my face. Whoever owned them sighed and said, “Does anyone know what the hell this guy is doing here?”
Someone else said, “No. Damn it. What did we miss?” I could hear people moving things around for a while. They were the only sounds I could hear. Eventually someone groaned and said, “It’s the dog. We forgot the stupid dog.”
It sounds ridiculous. But I’m sure it happened.
There was murmuring, and cursing. The boots stepped back into my line of sight, joined by another pair. The second man squatted down and looked into my face. I couldn’t make out his features beyond close cut gray hair and some kind of white jumpsuit. My eyes would not move.
The man said, “Reset it. Let’s run it again.” Groans filled the room. “And don’t forget the dog this time.” He stood. “We’re going again! Hang in there, everyone, we’re getting close.”
Things got very bright, and then I was walking into the party again. The condo was whole. Everyone was alive and welcoming me. Just like before. That was two hours ago. Now I’m sitting back on the couch, with a snoring dog at my feet, wondering what it is I remember.
Now I check my phone. It’s 9:48 in the evening. I think that’s the time I checked it last time. I want to say something, but I can’t. It happened; I remember it. I’m not just imagining it. Everything has happened exactly the same as before.
I look down at Charlie, who keeps sleeping. He doesn’t run out the way I expect. It’s not like it happened in my memory. I wonder if that’s a good sign or something else.
Sean MacKendrick is a software engineer who splits his time between Colorado and Texas. Beyond that we don’t know much else about him, except that we have another great story by him coming up next week.
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