After leaving the crazy woman’s house, I ended up at a lonely crossing where the road leaving the foothills met a state highway. Don’t ask me what highway because it wasn’t marked. I guess you didn’t need to know such things back in the day. Anyway, it was dark but at least the rain had stopped. I could read the signs in front of the headlights as I parked on the side of the road. One arrow pointed to Tropico Springs while the other led him to some place called Willoughby. There was no mileage given on either sign. The names sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place them.

But it didn’t matter since I’ll just be coming back when I hit the city limits!

The antique cars, the strange places on a map, the old-fashioned clothing were too much. I’m dropped into the middle of an old black and white movie that I usually passed by when surfing the TV channels. I appeared stuck in my great-grandpa’s version of the world while trying to figure out what to do next. The primary question tumbling around my mind was simple.

What do I do now?

I dropped my head, then looked up at the moon trying to peak through the cloudy sky. At one point in my life, I knew who I was and what my life was about.

“Well, I can’t run away so that means I need to find another option.” I suddenly realized that talking to myself was becoming a habit.

“Damn it, I can remember everything! Who the fuck wants to be someone else. Fuck this! My name is Sebastian Kennicott. I was born on June 1st, 2000. My mom’s name is Ashley, and Mike is my dad’s name,” I screamed at the windshield.

Memories came flooding back, some good and some not. I had an apartment along with a cat that hated me named Melvin. Samantha was my last steady girl, but she suddenly decided that she’s a pansexual one day and left the apartment. Right now, I miss my smartphone more than I miss Melvin.

Still, that bitch never took the cat back!

As I’m recalling the life of Sebastian Kennicott, I desperately want to return to the typical type of life of a middle-class college student.

But nothing else matters until I solve the question of how to leave.

That thought started my idea that this city was like a mystery or a puzzle I needed to solve. I remembered Miss Wonderful said that I needed brains to survive.

“Evidently, my options are to keep trying to leave Stull Junction which appears fruitless. Or I can return to that crazy office and hope that the invisible secretary has a clue for me.” I mumbled to myself, then another idea sprung at me.

Information!

I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. My ambition in college gave me a potential method to get me better options. Right now, I’m flying blind, but I can change that.

Just before that bitch kidnapped me into this place, I was hanging out in the bar with some friends. It’s typical guy shit to kill time and brag about stuff you don’t have a clue about while drinking beer and eyeing the hot babes in the place. You know what I mean.

That night I bragged to the others about a story that I’m working on for the college news channel about conflicts of interest within the administration. Sure, it’s nothing major in a vast sea of news, but I spent a lot of time doing interviews and gathering information about the administrators and their activities. That’s right, my dreams comprised becoming a talking head broadcaster and making a couple of million a year.

One of the first things I learned in tracking down leads and meeting with various people is that information is the lifeblood. As I sat in that car, I remembered pilots shot down over enemy territory required information to stay alive inside hostile territory. If you don’t believe me, just ask any gamer who’s going through hell mode in a video game designed by sadists. Those thoughts led me to a little black book that I nearly forgot about inside my coat pocket.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

I didn’t pay much attention to it before. My quick scan of the pages revealed names, dates and numbers which didn’t mean much. Parts of the book also read something of a diary which I wasn’t really interested in.

However, I remembered how Sally condemned me as a two-bit shyster. Now, I’m not familiar with a lot of slang but I’m pretty sure that she meant was that Lane Dagger is a con man. And I know that a con artist needs information to pull off their scams. When I started looking closer at the black book, a tired smile gradually filled my face.

There are names and numbers alright, along with more notes about people as I flip through the pages. As I read the scribbled writing, it occurred to me that Lane Dagger is more than an asshole. No, he is a devious and meticulous asshole.

One of the first names in the book revealed tidbits about Adele Williams. I shook my head at the information that I found, then I put the book back in my pocket. A quick U-turn put me back on the road back to Stull Junction while my stomach really complained about no food for the day.

As I drove along, a weariness filled my body. Being on edge all day took its toll on me and now the effects were catching up. I yawned and rolled down the window to let the breeze help keep me awake. At the same time, my belly rumbled for food.

Maybe when morning came, everything would be back to my life as Sebastian in my world. However, I didn’t believe that anymore. In my mind, I segmented off my past with this guy named Lane since it made things easier to think in a way.

I’m sure this came from my time playing characters in video games. Whether, I went up or down, right or left, or killed an NPC in order to solve the puzzles to open the next door. It finally occurred to me that I can use the same method to make my future under the character of Lane Dagger. Hell, I’m in this damn place, sometimes you have to roll with the punches.

After a lot of unfamiliar turns and streets, eventually, I got the car back to the main square. Nothing along the way looked like a drive through for food which didn’t surprise me. I drove by the building that held my office along with my invisible secretary. However, I didn’t stop. Instead, I found the address of 15 Maiden Lane. While I didn’t have a map, I recalled seeing that street name near the corner where I found the Hudson car.

The reason for this direction came from a shocking item along with the other information that I found inside the little black book. A hydrogen bomb equivalent when compared to the other shocks I dealt with so far.

Shit, I’m married!

Well, technically Lane Dagger is married, and Lane left me plenty of details about his wife. The only reason I noticed this came from Adele Williams’ third name in parentheses. That’s right, it was Dagger and I’m willing to bet it’s not my sister.

Now, I consider myself too young for such a thing. I certainly wasn’t looking for a wife. However, this day of hell turned me into one pissed off individual. I damn well wasn’t letting marriage get in my way.

As my tired mind went through the day’s events, I finally decided to look into the situation. The more I learned more about the life this Lane character has, the better for me to figure out how to escape. The more information, the better to get back at Miss Wonderful. An additional incentive came from the fact that I didn’t fancy sleeping on the couch in my weird office.

A few blocks later, I found Maiden Lane. Following the road until it stopped in front of a four-story building with a circular drive. A large number 15 placed above the glass atrium showed me I reached the correct place. Parking in the first stall that I found, I plodded to the entrance. Scanning the area, I kept wondering how I would find my place since the building held a fair number of apartments. To my surprise, a man in a green uniform ran to the door and opened it as I approached.

Things were different in the past!

“Good evening, Mr. Dagger!” The man smiled automatically as I gave him an uncomfortable nod.

Pretty upscale, I decided, while noticing the smell of whiskey on the man as I passed by. Covertly looking for a place to find my apartment number, I spotted a small cluster of mailboxes behind a lobby desk. Walking over to the counter with marble trim, I noticed a tired-looking young man in an identical green uniform rise from his chair. Unfortunately, the boxes I looked over did not show any names, only the numbers in three rows for each story of the building. Obviously, I had no intention of knocking at every apartment.

“Can I help you? I believe someone has already retrieved your mail.” The thin-lipped man glanced back at the wall.

“Are you sure?” I glanced at him with a frown. “I’m expecting an important letter.” I leaned over the counter, appearing highly interested in a box.

The man pulled out a key with a barely concealed sigh and went over to box number 13. He held it open for me to see it was empty.

“I’m sorry, nothing there.”

My smile was probably more of a sneer since I was tired. I walked to the stairs. As I turned the corner to the second flight of steps, I wanted to pat himself on the back for my ingenuity. Then, I heard an echoed whisper from the man at the counter to the doorman.

“Looks like he’s still pretty sauced again.”

Evidently Lane is a drunkard as well, I thought.