Last Edited: 02/18/25

  New Chapter 4 - Escape

  After hearing the panicked voice in my head telling me to “run like hell,” I picked a direction and started running as fast as I could, trying to distance myself from whatever that hornet’s nest was.

  The Púca and I sprinted like hell… right into a crowded street filled with slow-moving carts and pedestrians of all shapes and sizes, staring at us. Everyone nearby had stopped to investigate the sound of the shattered window, creating a barrier of bodies blocking our escape.

  Despite the panicked circumstances, it was hard not to gawk at all the different races of creatures surrounding me. As Ró liked to say, I was gobsmacked by the crowd before me. There were more than a few of the beings I had come to think of as “evil elves” interspersed in the crowd, some with facial tattoos but most without. Aside from them, a menagerie of different beings outnumbered them. Bipedial snake-headed creatures covered in iridescent scales. Upright sea lions covered head to toe in dark brown fur with webbed hands, stubby legs, and feet that resembled flippers. Short stocky bearded people that looked like classic dwarves straight out of World of Warcraft. The most perplexing creature looked like a centaur drawn by a 5-year-old kid with limited art skills. It was quadrupedal with a vaguely human head and torso centered over four squat legs that ended in cloven hooves, excessively long arms, and hands that reached the floor.

  My brain glitched at the overwhelming creature. ‘How does he put pants on???’ was the only thing my exhausted, over-taxed ADD brain could come up with at that moment.

  Thankfully, the Púca wasn’t phased by the crowd, and they opened their razor-toothed maw, bellowing a fierce roar as they charged at one section of the unmoving crowd. The Púca must have been a terrifying sight for these people as they screamed, yelled, hissed, grunted, and, in one case, gurgled before leaping out of the way in panic as the Púca charged towards them. One of the sea lion creatures stumbled backward in a panicked effort to escape, the Púca effortlessly leaping over the sprawling form, snapping their jaws as they flew through the air.

  Púca’s roar restarted my addled brain. Wide-eyed, I wordlessly started following them through the crowd, clumsily leaping over the prone sea lion guy, racing after the Púca.

  After making it through the crowd, we started running down some kind of boulevard or promenade. What looked like merchant stalls on both sides of the road and a robust mixture of pedestrians and animal-drawn wagons were making their way up and down the road. People seemed to follow the right-hand traffic flow that most countries on earth used, though many pedestrians crossed the street wherever and whenever they wanted.

  While the Púca's terrifying appearance admirably cut through the city’s inhabitants, the foot traffic was too thick to move at any significant speed.

  While trying to shove my way along, I noticed a narrow gap between the different travel directions in the middle of the road. I sent a command down our mental connection, and the Púca changed their course. We raced down the gap, careening against people and carts but finally moving at a decent speed down the road.

  I heard shouts of that unintelligible evil elf language behind me. Presumably, someone was yelling at me to stop, surrender, lay down, pay taxes, or do any number of things that I had no intention of doing. I didn't even consider stopping to talk it out with my pursuers. Even if I did speak their language, I had seen enough to strongly suspect that this city, country, or world likely operated on strong authoritarian principles, and I was unlikely to be given anything like a fair chance to explain myself or my actions in that dungeon. It's more likely I would wind up in one of those cells or, more likely, on this world's equivalent of a vivisection table.

  Without the intense fear of getting caught driving me forward, I would have stopped and marveled at the city sprawling out before me. It was simply… incredible.

  Ornate street lamps lined both sides of the road with round orbs of yellow-white flame floating several centimeters above a small open platform, every orb giving off a slowly undulating glow making every shadow slowly undulate. Tall elaborate buildings rose up on both sides of the street, appearing to be made of mostly wood and stone. All had the expected doors, windows, and balconies, but the architectural style was completely foreign to anything I had ever seen before. The buildings rose high into the sky, taller than any wood and stone building had any right to. Most of the rooms appeared to be illuminated by candle or fire light as the illumination shining out of open doors and windows swayed around in a mesmerizing display. The city looked like it was gently dancing under a full moon.

  And not just any moon. It was my moon. I mean Earth’s moon. I went through an amateur astronomy phase in my youth, complete with cheap telescopes and moon gazing parties. I knew what Earth's moon looked like and could even still remember the names of the bigger craters and Marias.

  The overwhelming sight of my moon in this alien world distracted me from the road, and I soon crashed into the side of a cart hard enough to knock me to the ground. I came to a rolling stop, slightly dazed. After a brief shake of my head, I noted that the road was paved with small, rough interlocking bricks.

  “Fáire bhfúil áit a te ág du cheann! Run like hell!” screamed the female voice in my head in a decidedly unfriendly tone. I rapidly picked myself up off the road to start running.

  “Not you again, lady.” I said as I took off running, the Púca thankfully slowed enough for me to catch up. “I can’t understand a fucking word you are screaming at me so shut the hell up, please, and thank you.”

  “Né inis doom dú phéist béag a súas dunádh! Asshole!” hissed the voice.

  “Lady, I’m a little busy running for my life, so please kindly fuck off!” I wheezed while running full tilt behind the Púca. I noticed that while running, the chaotic energy I felt swirling around my body started to even out. It was like control was being exerted over it, but nothing I was consciously doing.

  “Fuck You!” the voice yelled in my head. The voice seemed to be learning English, or at least some of the swear words I had been saying aloud, which, in retrospect, was mostly what I’d been speaking aloud.

  Púca and I keep running. While I ran two or three days a week for exercise and stress relief, this was my first time running for my life. Experience told me that we couldn’t keep up this all-out sprint for much longer. Well, maybe Púca could. I really had no idea what they were capable of. They might be able to run at this speed or faster for hours; who knew? We had to find a place to hide. I needed time to figure out what was going on and, if I am being honest with myself, time to have another panic attack or two.

  Evasion… Misdirection… Concealment… My thoughts flowed to the Púca. They turned their head towards me and nodded, a weirdly human gesture from the fur-covered nightmare fuel.

  I spotted a dimly lit side street or alley and made a hard left turn for it, Púca eliciting shouts of terror from unsuspecting pedestrians as we ran past. I ran as fast as I could, my lungs burning from the exertion. I heard distant sounds of shouting in that unintelligible elf language, probably some upstanding citizens answering the age-old question of “Which way did he go?”

  The alley was dark and cluttered with the detritus you would expect from a medieval city, though it had some blatantly fantastical additions. Wooden crates, barrels, and refuse strewn the sides of the alley, with the occasional prone form sleeping under a dirty blanket. I briefly noticed that the sleeping figures usually had some fantastical feature such as a tail, hooved feet, or long furry ears poking out from the blankets that indicated that they weren’t members of the dark elf species that comprised the majority of the pedestrians on the main street. We ran past a seated figure wearing a hood around their head with an oddly shaped object sticking out from under it, a red glow and smoke drifting into the air, indicating a pipe of some kind. As I passed the individual, I noticed they weren’t wearing clothes. What I thought was a hood was a fleshy cowl that surrounded a vaguely serpent-like face similar to a cobra. They were cradling a small lizard creature in their arms. I was unsure if it was their offspring or pet. I stared wide-eyed at the creature as I ran by it. They didn't react to mine or Púca’s presence as it gazed forward, large reptilian eyes in a thousand-yard stare. It was a clear reminder that I wasn't on earth anymore, as if I needed one.

  “What the fuck was that?” I asked aloud, not really expecting an answer.

  “Nága” said the female voice with only a little contempt.

  Nága? Wasn’t that a Dungeons and Dragons character or something? Kind of like a half-snake, half-human creature? I thought to myself as I ran. I never played D&D myself, but I had enough nerd friends to have passing knowledge of some of the lore of the game.

  The alley ended in a T intersection, and I took another left turn, hoping that doubling back would confuse my pursuers. I was forced to slow my pace as I felt on the verge of passing out, the adrenaline surge I felt at the start of the chase wearing off. I started wondering if I even had adrenaline. I had a new body and was running for my life in a fantasy world. Were the laws of physics and biology the same here? Can I eat the food here? Were the protein and carbohydrate molecules the same as on earth? Do I have DNA? I think my blood is orange now; that might mean I’m adapted to this world…

  Concentration!!! The Púca screamed into my mind. I had started to slow down in my ADD fulled thought tangents, and they had pulled far ahead.

  I shook my head in an effort to focus and wheezed out a mumbled “sorry” as I half ran and half stumbled along. We kept moving, but our pace reduced to a fast jog due to my exhaustion. We kept to darkened alleys and streets, making random turns. I wasn’t worried about getting lost since I had no idea where I was. I just wanted distance, time to think, and a hiding place.

  After a few more twists and turns through the stone-covered streets, I spotted a dark alley, absent the floating fire orbs that seemed to be the primary method of illumination in this city. I wheezed out “this way” to the Púca and stumbled into the side alley. I spotted what looked like a large raised deck attached to a building. It had sheets of rotting wood attached haphazardly around three sides, enclosing the space underneath. After a quick stumble around it, I spotted a narrow opening against the building, half hidden by refuse. It looked like it might be a good hiding spot and somewhere I could catch my breath and think.

  I crawled through the opening, scraping my shoulders and, more distressingly, my now curvy hips on the wood of the narrow entrance. It smelled terrible, the lingering funk of old urine, excrement, and unwashed bodies heavy in the air. It was dark but faintly illuminated by a red crystal stuck to the wall of the building. It was just enough light to see around the enclosed space but not enough to escape into the alley. I saw filthy blankets bunched up in one corner and a moldy wooden bucket in the other. I crawled on my hands and knees until I was able to collapse with my back against the firm wall of the building, panting deep lungfuls of air. The Púca crawled in after me, having no trouble moving through the opening due to their now narrow frame. They wrinkled their snout at the smell and collapsed onto the ground, panting from their exertions.

  I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall, continuing to suck in lungfuls of air. After about a minute, my breathing calmed, and my head stopped swimming from the exertion. I opened my eyes and looked around the tiny space, a dawning realization hitting me.

  “Jesus, does someone live here?” I muttered. The space looked like one of those homeless camps seen on TV news. Piles of stuff were randomly scattered across the floor, but I could recognize that there was a system to it.

  I wondered what would happen if the occupants came home, but I decided to fight that battle if and when it happened. So much had happened in such a short time I needed a moment to let my brain process what was happening to me. I had already gone through a mental crisis, questioning if I was hallucinating or in a comma, and that question threatened to overtake me again. The sight of Earth’s moon, the presence of a D&D character, and now that voice in my head swearing at me begged me to revisit the idea that I was, in fact, bat shit crazy. The constant rancid smell kept me from descending down that rabbit hole of thought, though, as I had never smelled anything in a dream before.

  My head lolled back to rest against the wall. I started gritting my teeth, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. The thought “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck…” cycled meaninglessly over and over, another panic attack on the verge of erupting.

  Calm… Serenity… Peace….

  The Púca’s thoughts flowed gently into my mind, washing over me in a calming wave. My breathing slowed as I allowed the thoughts to soothe me. I looked down at the Púca. They had crawled over and placed their monstrous head in my lap, jagged shark teeth resting softly against my leg. I should have been terrified but was only comforted at the site. They started to emit an undulating purring sound that helped calm me further. Despite all the horrible shit happening to me, at least I wasn’t alone for now.

  “Thanks, little guy…”

  The actions of the Púca reminded me of my cat growing up. He was a fat Main Coon my mother had named Freddie Purcury after her favorite musician. He was the best cat ever and had a knack for knowing when I was upset as a kid. Whenever I felt down or upset, especially after Mom was gone, he would sense my sadness and find me no matter where I hid in the house. He would loudly meow at me a few times before plopping his fat, fluffy body into my lap, producing a purr loud enough to be heard across the room. By our unspoken contract, I would stroke his long body with my short nails and give him chin and head scratches, all while he purred away like a diesel motor. Every time I slowed my scratching ministrations, he would gently nip at my hand as a rebuke of my poor performance in worshipping his greatness.

  Thinking of Freddie made me sad. He was a wonderful pet and had died from kidney disease shortly before my father had…

  I closed my eyes and shook my head to banish the sad thoughts. I had a giant pile of fantasy world bullshit to deal with and couldn't afford to fall into unproductive melancholia over my dead father.

  It was time to take stock and form a plan. I was stuck in a fantasy world filled with dark elves, snake people, monsters, and shape-shifting demon sloths. I briefly reflected on all the races of beings I had seen in our terrifying chase across the city, dawning realization that I had never once seen a human.

  As I tried to calm myself and think, I became aware of a strange sensation, a light tingling feeling on my skin. It was easy to miss if you weren’t looking for it. The only reason I even noticed it was because it felt like the energy I had absorbed in that terrible, endless nightmare of hell that brought me here. Flashing memories of that torturous existence threatened to send me spiraling into a panic attack, so I shook my head and tried focusing on that gentle pressure of energy on my skin.

  It was like what I imagined walking naked in a fog might feel like, the feeling of water vapor gently pressing on every inch of my skin. I had drawn in that energy in that endless void; maybe this was the same. I reached out to that energy with my mind… and nothing happened. I tried reaching out several more times… nothing.

  I tried lifting my hand, reaching outward in front of me. I felt my hand move through the almost imperceptible energy, but again, nothing happened.

  “Abadén! Né laet fhéaider tacégmeil a danaúmah lú rhith da lámha múrfoh”

  “Oh, shut up you hag” I muttered with my eyes closed.

  “Asshole!” was again screamed at me. Apparently, she liked that word.

  I shook my head and focused my mind on the energy. I couldn’t grasp it mentally or physically, but you couldn't grab electricity or heat. Energy flows from an area of high concentration to low concentration… unless stopped by an insulator. Maybe something I was doing was keeping the energy out. Perhaps I could let it just flow into me. I relaxed and tried to imagine my skin as having thousands of tiny holes in it, willing my skin to absorb the energy. Nothing happened at first, but slowly, I felt the energy seep into my skin. I felt the flow of energy move through my skin and circulate around my body, first moving toward my chest, swirling around, and then back out again. I was confused as to how that was happening until I realized that the energy was flowing in the same pattern as my circulatory system, flowing to my heart through veins, flowing back out through the lungs, back into the heart, and then back out to the body through the arteries.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The same energy had fueled my panicked escape, but where that energy was a flooding river, the energy I was absorbing now was a trickle. I let the energy slowly flow into me for several minutes.

  My concentration broke when the Púca shifted his head in my lap, their teeth lightly scrapping against my thigh without causing injury. My attention turned back to the creature, and I asked a question I hadn’t had time to think about until now.

  “Do you have a name?” The Púca lifted its head off my lap and turned it to the side in confusion.

  I tapped the center of my chest, my fingers digging into the crevasse between my breasts, giving me an unpleasant reminder of my new body. “Rian… Rian… My name is Rian”. I then pointed at the Púca. “Name?”

  “Níla úinmeacha laharthé aér Púca, amúdám daer!" sang the voice in my head.

  “Oh, fuck not you again, lady. I can’t even deal with your gibberish right now, so kindly shut the hell up.” I growled in anger.

  “Asshole Rian!”

  That voice was learning English. I still wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a psychotic delusion inside my head, but maybe I should teach her some English to try to communicate with her.

  “I don’t suppose you have a name?” I mockingly asked, not expecting an answer but more swear words.

  “Anann”

  “Anann?” I asked, surprised at the answer

  “Anann”

  “Your name is Anann?” I asked again.

  “Táa”

  “Táa? Does that mean yes, or is your name Táa?” I asked,

  “NILA!!! Anann is ainméu, dóur!” screamed into my mind.

  I covered my ears, which was useless as the voice wasn’t made of sound waves. I had recognized the word Anann in the screaming, though, so I had a pretty good idea that the voice’s name was Anann and that táa likely meant yes. I needed to gain control over the conversation before it became an Abbot and Costello routine.

  “Anann. Your name is Anann and táa means yes in your language.” I stated aloud.

  “Táa”

  Correctness… The feeling flowed from the Púca.

  Looking back down at the gently purring demon creature in my lap, “Táa… yes?”

  Obviousness…

  “Well excuse me, I wasn't aware that you were such an expert linguist.” I rolled my eyes. “Though that makes sense since you’re from this world.”

  Confusion… Incredulity…

  “Nevermind, you don’t understand my language, which sucks, ” I said with a deep sigh. “I thought when you get Isekai’d, you were supposed to know the language automatically. I guess I won't be getting that beach episode after all…” I muttered.

  Confusion… Incredulity…

  I waved my hands and shook my head in what I hoped was a universal gesture for no. I wanted to start the name-game conversation over. I tapped myself on the chest again, tapping higher to miss my fleshy protrusions.

  “Rian” I said aloud and then pointed at the Púca. The Púca lifted themselves off my lap and sat on their haunches, looking at me. I then received the most extended stream of conscious thought feelings I had ever received from them.

  Flowersbloominginameadowbrightcolorsfillingtheskywarmsummersunsetstarfillednightjoyfulbirdssoaringthroughtheskywingsspreadwide… What I got from the Púca wasn’t words but flashes of images and feelings like in a pleasant dream. It staggered me a bit, and I had to shake my head to regain focus.

  “Uhh…what? That’s your name, all of that?” I asked, looking at the Púca.

  “Táa,” Anann said.

  “You can hear them, the Púca?” I asked, glancing up at the deck’s underside-turned ceiling for some reason, and gesturing at the Púca. I still wasn’t used to hearing a disembodied woman’s voice.

  “Ara ndaigbh amúdám, tátúo hainé agéus néascthaé anambá agéus támá á bhfostnú i d'intinbhn." The words where nonsense but the condescension was easy enough to hear.

  “Oh great. Just more gibberish. Thanks, Anann. Very helpful,” I responded with the same condescension. “You know what? For being such a bitch, your name is Annie now. No Anann. You name Annie!”

  “Name Anann! Asshole!”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of your name being ANNIE! Now shut up and let me talk to someone I actually like.”

  I was being very petulant with Anann and the name thing, but she was pissing me off. She’d done nothing but scream gibberish and call me an asshole since I’d started hearing her voice, and I was sick of it. I turned my attention back to the Púca, who was still looking at me expectantly.

  “I don’t think I can call you… all of that. I’m sorry, my mind can’t handle receiving or transmitting that.” Immediately, I realized I had used the word transmitting in a long sentence to my new friend, which would only further confuse the Púca. They apparently understood whatever language was spoken in this city or world, but unfortunately and understandably, they had no idea what an alien from another world was saying.

  Apologies… Incapability… Ineptitude… I let my feelings flow to the Púca. They looked at me and nodded their head in understanding, which was still weird to me that meant the same thing here.

  I needed to call them something. I couldn’t use their proper name, but I couldn’t just call them Púca either. I wouldn’t want someone naming me Human. A stream of consciousness of random ideas ran through my mind. Maybe I should call them Meucruy. Wasn’t he the Roman god of language, or was that Hermes? Should I call him Meucruy? Hermes? No, that’s dumb. They can shapeshift, so maybe Proteus? Eh, they don’t look like a Proteus. He healed me when we first met, so maybe name them after the Roman god of healing. Wait, wasn’t that guy named Asclepius or something equally unpronounceable, so that wouldn’t work. Why am I hung up on naming them after a god? That’s kind of weird. They purr like a cat. Maybe I should name him after a cat. That talking cat from that one book series I liked was called Princes Donut, I think that could be fun. Maybe Freddie after my cat? No, there could only be one Freddie Purrcury. Plus, the Púca isn’t a fat, pampered house cat.

  I look over at the creature. The Púca was still sitting and looking at me expectantly. Their lean body was partly silhouetted in the dim red light, their dark fur partially blending them into the darkness. They were slowly tapping their sharp talon-like nails on the stone floor, the clicking sound barely audible. Their tail slowly whipped back and forth, the orange blood-covered scorpion-esque needle tip hovering only a few centimeters off the floor, occasionally gently bumping into piles of trash. Razor teeth glistened in the light, likely from a combination of salvia and blood, the red light partially masking the orange color. Solid black orbs stared back at me expectantly.

  It was still strange to me that if I had seen the Púca in this lighting at any other time, I would probably shit myself in fright and either run or cry, probably both. I felt nothing but warmth and companionship for them as they stared at me.

  Yeah, this little fella isn’t a Purcury or any other cutesy pet name. I remembered another online book series that I had a passing interest in. The main character, who had also been tossed unexpectedly into a fantasy world, had named their terrifying monster familiar, something innocuous like Carlos or Callum, so people wouldn’t be scared of it. Thinking back to the Púca’s current form and the crowd’s reaction to it during our escape, I realized that I could name him Humphrey, and people would still be probably be terrified of them. Maybe I needed to name them with something with gravitas in honor of their fighting skills.

  I racked my brain, thinking about all the heroic figures I knew from books, movies, and TV. Names like Hercules, Beowulf, MacBeth, Achilles, Odysseus, Leonidas, Aang, Pike, and Master Chief swirled around my mind. None of them fit the creature sitting before me.

  I sighed deeply and rolled my head back to look at the ceiling of the little ramshackle shanty. I don't know why I struggled with giving the Púca a name. They didn't speak my language, so anything I called them would just be an arbitrary vocal utterance to signal that I wanted their attention. Deep down, though, I knew that names were important. They held power and meaning. Instead of giving them a random name, maybe they should name themselves.

  I looked at the Púca and again pointed at myself. “Rian” and then pointed at the Púca.

  Flowersbloominginameadowbrightcolorsfillingtheskywarmsummersunsetstarfillednightjoyfulbirdssoaringthroughtheskywingsspreadwide…

  This time, I let the Púca’s true name wash over me. It wasn’t words or even a language as such. As I experienced their name, I plunged into a pool of images and sensations. A beautiful meadow filled with gorgeous flowers, not recognizing any of them due to their otherworldly appearance, their sents so alien yet so enticing. I watched as the colors of some of the flower petals slowly shifted from purples to reds to pinks to blues as small buzzing creatures flitted around, a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors. I watched a crystal blue sky begin to fill with every shade of yellow, orange, and red as the sun set on the horizon. A clear night filled with shining stars, an ethereal blue, pink, and white streak of dense stars slashed across the sky. Dark red birds with four glowing gossamer wings glided through the air, occasionally flapping them in long, graceful arcs. The flood of images stopped, and the Púca’s name floated to the top of my mind.

  “Soaring Through Summer’s Endless Sky,” I muttered as I opened my eyes. I looked at the Púca, pointed at them, and said, “Soaring Through Summer’s Endless Sky, your name is Soaring Through Summer’s Endless Sky”. The Púca tilted their head to one side and then the other, appearing to moll over my words. They then slowly nodded in agreement.

  Agreement… Affirmation…

  “It’s an oddly pretty name for something with raptor claws and serrated shark teeth, but here we are. I think I’m going to call you Sky for short, though. Soaring Through Summer’s Endless Sky is nice but a bit of a mouthful for everyday use.” Sky gave me a very humanesque shrug of their shoulders.

  “Well Sky, what’s our next step, little dude?” I asked, more to the universe than to Sky.

  As if in answer to my question, a frenetic bundle of clothing burst through the single entrance of the shack.

  ***********************************************

  Róisín walked back to her flat after spending over an hour grilling Cara about her relationship with Rian while simultaneously flirting with her. She probably had gone overboard with both, but she felt justified. Rian was a little dope, especially today, after ignoring her texts and, in a moment of weakness, an actual phone call to him, but he was her dope. He had quickly become her best friend, and she felt the urge to look out for him. He was like a lost puppy, a stranger in a strange land, far from home, and sadly, with no one to go home to.

  After she had, rather rudely, come out as a lesbian to Rian, he had immediately accepted her and treated her as a friend, and only a friend. She never felt any pressure or subtle hints that he wanted her to give men “another try”, as so many before him had. Even though Tige and Shinji were good flatmates and friends, she had seen their occasional longing glances and side eyes, especially Tige. She suspected that he had a massive crush on her, like Rian used to. Despite her repeated invitations to go out, it was probably good that he didn’t come out to the pubs with her and Rian. She imagined a steamed (drunk) Tige either declaring his undying love for her or, much more likely, getting in a jealous brawl with Rian over either being an American, how much time they spent together, or, most likely, both.

  Róisín had wanted to grill Cara for two reasons. One, she and Rian were supposed to be going out on a date, and Róisín had felt the need to evaluate her to see if she was good enough for Rian. She didn’t want Rian going out with some doxie trash; he deserved better than that. Two, Cara was hot, and if there was any chance she might be harboring some suppressed feelings for the better half of the human species, then it was up to Róisín to aggressively foster those feelings and help her out of her shell. Róisín had decided on the walk to the pub that should Cara respond favorably to her flirting, Róisín wouldn't do anything to pursue her until after she talked to Rian. Rian and Cara were supposed to be meeting up for a first date, and Rian had stood her up. Also, he had never mentioned her before, so really, how attached could he be to Cara?

  Unfortunately for Róisín, there was no need to debate the morality of stealing her best friend's date. Cara had shown zero positive interest in Róisín’s flirting antics and appeared to grow only more uncomfortable the longer it went on. Cara, like so many other women, was only interested in the mentally deficient, langer-equipped half of the population.

  Usually, Róisín would stop flirting with a girl once she got a sense that they weren’t interested in exploring their sexuality with her, but she kept it up on Cara. It worked to keep Cara unbalanced during their conversation. She learned that Cara and Rian shared a statistics class, and she had asked him out on a date tonight after some light flirting. Róisín appreciated the guts it took for a girl to ask a guy out. Strangely, he then stood her up for their date and wasn’t responding to Cara’s texts and phone calls. Róisín really started to worry about Rian. Ghosting a girl was way out of character, and he wasn’t responding to her texts either.

  There was something off about Cara that Róisín couldn’t put her finger on. Through the grilling, Cara became more interested in figuring out where Rian was than in being mad at him for standing her up. In Róisín experience, if you stood up a lass after she spent a lot of time to look pretty, the only emotion they felt was anger. Cara was annoyed but not furious, almost like Rian was skipping out of a study group instead of a date. It didn’t sit well with Róisín.

  Róisín opened the door of her shared flat. She found Tige and Shinji sitting on the couch, their phones out, staring intently at the TV, watching RTé news.

  “What’s this all about then?” Róisín asked. While Tige and Shinji were on friendly terms, they generally didn't hang out together.

  Tige responded first, “Ya haven’t heard? There was a bombing at the Archeology building earlier today!”

  “What?!” Róisín exclaimed, racing to join them on the couch. She sat down next to Shinji in time to catch an ongoing live broadcast.

  “As we receive more updates, we will relay them to you,” a pretty but otherwise unremarkable female reporter said into a camera as emergency personnel hustled about in the background. “To recap, an explosion occurred in the National Museum of Ireland Archaeology building shortly before 5pm today. An unidentified explosive device was set off on the second floor, causing damage to the building and surrounding artifacts. Museum officials have confirmed significant structural damage to the second floor and the destruction of several exhibits but have yet to report any fatalities. Emergency vehicles have arrived on site, but we have not seen anyone being treated for injuries. Garda arrived shortly after the explosion and secured the building. They have yet to release any official statement on this incident other than to say that the building has been evacuated and their investigation is ongoing. We will continue to report on this event as information becomes available.”

  “What in the bloody hell is going on?” Róisín asked.

  “You know about as much as we do right now,” Shinji replied. “I’ve been scouring social media sites looking for any more information. People have upload videos, mostly of the crowd outside of the museum after the explosion, but there is one video from inside building.”

  He held up his phone, a video playing on a loop. It showed a mundane scene of a child walking around the exhibits on the museum's first floor, probably a parent taking a video of their child that would have never likely been looked at again except for what happened in the final moments of the video. The child, clearly bored and slightly annoyed at the parental attention, was looking at a glass exhibit of bronze artifacts when a thunderclap and bright flash overhead oversaturated the video. A swirling blur of images and a clatter was next as the phone fell onto the ground, dropped by its owner. The phone landed camera side facing up, pointing at the ceiling. The image briefly showed an undamaged ceiling with gentle pulsating light reflected over the edge from an unseen source. The sound of screaming started several seconds after the explosion as people registered what had happened. The video ended as a hand reached down and grasped the phone, covering the camera.

  “The video poster claims that he and family were right under the explosion. He posted that he and his kid are shaken up but fine. Some people commented on the video asking about injuries. He just posted that he didn’t see anyone seriously injured, other than a sprained ankle someone suffered running out of the building,” explained Shinji.

  “Bet it was some crazy shithead yank from the States” muttered Tige. “Probably someone mad at Irish Catholic immigrants or some such shite….”

  Róisín chose to ignore Tige’s comment. She didn’t know why Tige hated Americans so much. During their awkward conversations about his treatment of Rian, Tige refused to tell her why. Tige didn’t have anything against Rian, though Rian’s repeated childish comments to him really tested Tige’s patience and anger control. Tige just hated all Americans. He had confided to her that his silent treatment was the only way he could control his anger and not repeatedly punch Rian in his dumbass face. Róisín reminded herself to speak with Rian about his comments to Tige before Tige lost it.

  Róisín watched in glassy-eyed horror while the TV reporter repeated the information when she felt a gentle elbow nudge her. She looked over to Shinji, who was looking at her with side eyes. He glanced down and subtly nodded his head toward his phone, which continued playing the museum explosion video on repeat. He gently tapped the corner of the screen.

  Róisín waited for the video to restart. When it did, she caught sight of what Shinji had seen. Far in the background of the video was a slightly blurry guy sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. A very familiar looking guy. He was just at the edge of the video and moved in and out of frame as the cameraman moved the phone around, focusing on the annoyed girl. Róisín watched as the guy abruptly jerked his head up to look at something above the camera on the second floor. It was blurry, but that face... The guy stood up and fast marched across the screen toward the stairs to the second floor. A minute later, the explosion happened. Róisín watched the video two more times as Shinji held his phone, her eyes growing wider with each viewing.

  Róisín, still wide-eyed, turned her head toward Shinji, who gave her a slight shrug of his shoulders. He silently mouthed the word, “Maybe?”

  Róisín pulled out her phone and started angrily smashing the virtual keyboard on her messaging app.

  WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!?!