We get off at the Hollywood/Vine station and surface to a crowded walkway. The main part of the sidewalk is black with red stars set into it, each containing a different name written in gold. Across the street, there are even more people gathered under the wide awning of a building.
“Pantages Theatre,” she tells me. “Newsies this month. You seen it?”
I shake my head.
“Yeah, neither have I. Come on.”
She grabs my hand and pulls me through the throngs of pedestrians in front of a building with a big red W in front. At the corner, she turns left. Here, the sidewalk is less crowded, but it doesn’t seem like she’ll let go of my hand so I do it for her.
She glances at me with those tented eyebrows again and begins to sprint. “Hurry up,” she yells. “It’s only a couple of blocks and I’m starving.”
It feels good to run down the sidewalk, weaving between people, with this strange girl leading me. For a few moments, all thoughts of what I’ve done are pushed miles away and I almost feel happy.
As promised, the restaurant isn’t far. Several of the employees greet Iffy as we walk in and take a table along the wall. She does the ordering and then excuses herself to use the toilet.
Leave, a tiny voice in my head whispers. Get out of here. I try to shove it away, but before I’m able to do so, it says, The last thing you need is to make a connection with anyone here.
This makes me pause. The voice is right. At some point, I’ll be returning to 1775 to fix the mistake I committed, which will then wipe out this world. The only reason I haven’t gone yet is my fascination with this place, but as soon as I finish my research, I’ll make the trip.
That’s what I’ve been telling myself, at least.
Leave her here and go. You’ve already learned all you need to know.
I almost give in to the command, but then I see her walking back across the restaurant. I see her easy smile. I see her intelligent yet guarded eyes. And I don’t move.
The food is as good as she said it would be. We talk as we eat. Well, she does most of the talking, telling me of things I should see while I’m in town, of her classes at college, of the job she recently quit or was fired — I’m still not clear which.
After we finish and I’ve put enough money on the table to cover the bill, she says, “You know, if you need a place to stay, there’s a room at the house I live in. The lady who owns it rents them out. It’s not too far from here.”
The offer catches me off guard. “That’s okay. I, uh, have someplace already.”
“Trust me, the house is a hell of a lot better than that rundown hotel you’ve been crashing in.”
The smile slips from my face and I slowly lean back. “You followed me to my hotel?”
“That doesn’t sound good, does it?” she says. “I really need to work on my phrasing.”
Get out of here. Run. Go!
I fight the urge to launch myself from the table. “Why are you following me?”
“I told you, you’re interesting.”
“And I told you you’re lying.”
When I see the hesitation in her eyes again, I know I’m right.
I lean forward. “Did someone put you up to this? Are you a police officer?”
“Police? Why? Did you commit a crime?”
I did. I committed the biggest crime ever.
This is getting me nowhere, and the best thing I can do is leave. I pull on my satchel as I shove up from the table.
“You won’t believe me if I tell you,” she says.
I stop. “You won’t know that unless you try.”
She looks down at her hands and takes a deep breath. “We’re connected, okay? I don’t know how or why, but we just are. About a week ago, I had this…episode, followed by a terrible headache. When it finally went away, I knew you were out there. In fact, I seem to always know exactly where you are.” She looks up at me again. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”
The problem is, I do believe her. No, not just believe her. I know she’s right.
Somehow, someway, my Chaser has turned Iffy into my companion.
But this is way too much for me to deal with. I stumble forward and race out of the restaurant.
That night, as I lie in my hotel bed, desperate for sleep, Iffy’s voice keeps me awake as she says over and over in my head, “I knew you were out there…I seem to always know where you are.”
My time with Iffy has unnerved me, so the next morning I avoid the library and get out of downtown for a few hours.
From the metro station, I catch what’s called the Purple Line as far west as it goes, to a station called Wilshire/Western. As I approach the top of the moving stairway — the escalator, I’ve now learned — I think I must still be in downtown. The buildings here are like those in the center of the city, tall and sleek. But after walking a few blocks, I realize that these merely line Wilshire Boulevard, and none go quite as high as those in the city center.
The area is full of signs written in symbols I don’t recognize. Some include English, and I deduce from the multiple times I see the word KOREA that the symbols are from the language of that country. Research from the past week flashes in my mind: Korea. Asian peninsula west of Japan, bordering China and a very tiny strip of Russia. Split into two countries, North and South. The divide was created when the Korean War in the 1950s reached a stalemate. The South is more aligned with the commerce culture of what is called “the West.” The North is ruled by a totalitarian regime handed down from father to son, and is largely cut off from the rest of the world.
In my timeline, Korea is part of a different China and seldom mentioned.
I wander around until I spot a coffee shop and go in. I’m still too uncertain to try one of the fancy-named drinks these places offer — not to mention they’d deplete most of my cash reserves — so I order a simple coffee. Once I have my cup, I look around for an open chair.
Iffy sits at a small round table along the wall. She’s looking at me, her smile tentative and a bit worried. Me? I’m having a full on panic attack — racing heart, cold sweats, and the sudden inability to catch my breath.
I head toward the door, my attention more on the danger behind me than where I’m going.
“Excuse me!”
I jerk to a stop just in time to avoid spilling my coffee on an older Asian woman.
“Watch where you’re going,” she says.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her.
As I step past her toward the exit, I toss my untouched drink in the trash bin and rush outside.
A few seconds later, I hear Iffy shout, “Denny!”
“Leave me alone!” I yell back.
“I’m not following you. I’ve been here for twenty minutes. I…I knew you’d come.”
I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to even think about what her words mean so I pick up my pace until I’m running. Behind me, I can hear her running, too, but I think I can outrun her.
Finally, her pounding steps stop. “Be careful, Denny! Something’s coming!”
I look toward the street, thinking she’s warning me about a vehicle headed toward me, but there’s only stopped traffic on the road. So I race on, not slowing until I’m blocks and blocks away.
The rest of the day is spent wandering around in a partial daze. Each time I turn a corner I expect to see Iffy waiting for me, but she doesn’t reappear. When darkness falls, I return to my hotel.