Vertigo by Lindsey Sparks & writing as Lindsey Fairleigh

Author:Lindsey Sparks & writing as Lindsey Fairleigh [Sparks, Lindsey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rubus Press

Chapter Four

As I stride up Front Street toward my car, I tap out a quick text to my mom to let her know I spoke to Dr. Bronson and that I’m heading over to give blood for some tests. I hit send and tuck my phone into my coat pocket, then look ahead to scan the Camry’s back bumper. I pause mid-step and stand in the middle of the sidewalk for a long moment, staring at my parked car.

The bumper is unmarked, the taillight unbroken. I slowly approach the car, my eyes glued to the bumper. I bend over, craning my neck to get a closer look. There isn’t a single dent or scratch. And then I realize my neck doesn’t hurt anymore.

I straighten, rubbing the place where my shoulder meets my neck. I roll my head to the right. No pain. No stiffness. It’s as though the accident never happened at all.

Frowning to myself, I round the back end of the car and settle in the driver’s seat. I toss my bag onto the passenger seat and stare out through the windshield, dumbfounded. And then I remember the business card.

I lean over the center console to dig through my bag for my wallet. When I find it, I quickly unsnap the clasp and open it, then look into the pocket where I keep my cash for Max’s card. It’s not there.

“Come on,” I mutter. “I know it’s in here somewhere.” I check all the pockets and folds, but there’s no sign of the business card.

Baffled, I lower the wallet to my lap and stare out through the windshield once more. My eyes narrow, and I pull my phone from my pocket. But the sinking suspicion in my stomach tells me I won’t find any photographic evidence of the incident with Max on it, either. And sure enough, there isn’t a single picture of Max’s driver’s license or insurance card.

I lower my phone, resting it on my open wallet on my lap, and return to staring out through the windshield. “What the hell is going on?”

Was it all a dream? All the weirdness of the last two days—was any of it real?

Am I still in a dream?

I distractedly tuck my wallet and phone into my bag and turn on the car. There must be some way to tell if I’m dreaming. Although, maybe I already have the evidence, what with all of my mismatching memories.

As I pull out onto the road, my thoughts drift back to Mark and Kent’s forgotten conversation and the possibility that reality is less than real.

Maybe I’m not thinking big enough. Maybe the dream isn’t limited to only a few days. Maybe everything is a dream. Maybe it always has been.

Maybe the world really is a simulation.

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