Cliche: Episode Three by Jeff Menapace

Author:Jeff Menapace [Menapace, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mind Mess Press
Published: 2020-02-13T22:00:00+00:00

The Set

I jerk on my bar stool like I’ve just had one of those unexplained shivers that can hit you even on the hottest of days.

“Whoa—you okay there, brother?”

I turn and look at my friend. He is wearing a Yankees hat. I know he’s my friend—my best friend. His name is…I don’t remember his name.

“Fine,” I say.

“You go away again?” He says this not as a dig, but as a friendly sort of jab from someone who knows me all too well.

“I guess I did,” I say.

“Next round’s on me,” he says.

He waves the bartender over, orders himself a Bombay and tonic, and me a shot of Jim Beam and a lager.

The bartender returns with our drinks. My friend raises his and urges me to do the same. I raise my shot.

“To our brief moment together,” he says.

I frown. “Brief?”

He points to a scoreboard-type thing in the sports bar we’re in. It’s counting down like a New Year’s Eve ball drop or something. It’s on eight minutes and change.

“Little over eight minutes left, brother,” he says. “Drink up.”

“Eight minutes left?”

“They gave you ten minutes. Two have almost passed. Drink up.”

I do, then chase the shot with my lager. The warmth of the whiskey, the cold of the lager after, it’s like sex.

“I’m not sure what’s going on,” I say. “I don’t feel right.”

“You’re not right. You’re all kinds of fucked up, my friend.”

“I am? How?”

“If you don’t know, then I don’t know, brother. It’s your memory that brought me here.”

“Wait, wait…if you don’t know what I don’t know, then what’s with the whole ten-minute countdown thing? How did you know that if I didn’t?”

“My guess? You heard someone mention it while you’ve been here with me. Kinda like an unconscious eavesdropping, so to speak.”

“I’m not following at all.”

“Again, if I had to guess, I would say you’re taking a bit of a snooze right now, voluntary or otherwise. Certain people—please don’t ask me who just yet—probably aren’t happy about that and said you’ve got ten minutes to wake your ass up.”

“So, you mean whoever said it was likely close by, and my unconscious ear snagged it and brought it here somehow?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Why am I unconscious?”

“Like I said: I don’t know if you don’t. But once again, if I had to guess—” He taps my forehead gently with his index finger. “I’d say the memory loss is a good indicator that someone got in there and did some scrambling.”

“You mean like brain damage?”

“Maybe—but not in the tragic accident kind of way. This ten-minute time limit bullshit going on? I’d say that qualifies as enough intrigue to give my doubts merit, wouldn’t you?”

“I guess. I just want to remember.”

“I’ll help as best I can, brother. And if I may yet again make a guess? I’d say that jolt you got a few minutes ago—what they’re probably using to try to wake you up—inadvertently unscrambled a few things.”

“You think?”

“It certainly brought you here with me.” He then flicks the brim of his Yankees cap.

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