My control was slipping. For better or for worse, Addy had taken the lead, and Addy wanted us on the road and far away from home. I trusted his ability to adapt; it was one of his better talents. I just wasn't sure it would be enough.

Addy slid into the driver's seat and I took the passenger side. Blaine sat in the back with Brad stretched across the seats, head on Blaine's lap.

For the second time, I recommended that we drive straight to the police station, but Addy shook his head, making a sour face. Instead, he peeled out and headed straight for the highway, claiming we had to be 'baffling and unpredictable' if we wanted to escape our hunters.

As we rounded a banked curve at twice the recommended speed, I shot Addy a nervous glance.

“Some extra speed is good, but you’re driving recklessly,” I commented.

“I’m driving tactically,” Addy corrected, “We won’t escape the Coalition of Addy’s by making smooth turns and coming to full stops.”

"I can't tell if you're being serious," I admitted, "'Coalition of Addy's?'"

"Parallel dimensions! Parallel Addy’s are hunting me to become stronger! It sounds crazy, but I'm 94.5% sure!"

"Woah. Ok, one, I don't think you're practiced enough to be stating your confidence to the tenth decimal place-,"

"Nah, man! 94.5. I'm a superforecaster!"

"-and also, what?"

“Shut up and trust me, it’s the only explanation that makes sense!” Addy started, and I knew I was in for another of his infamous conspiracies. I settled in and listened.

“Last night when I got home, I found this card.”

He drew a card from his pocket, one that looked very similar to mine and Blaine’s, only his had a red border. I seized it from his grasp, suddenly more attentive.

ANDREW

10- Sing a song and get praise

20- Go 20 hours without being verbally aggressive

30- Have conversations with 6 new girls in public

40- Kiss a man on the lips

50- Donate $10,000 to a charity

TB- 18

The ‘10’ and the ‘30’ had been circled, and the ‘20’ crossed out.

“Don’t be verbally aggressive? Donate $10,000?” Addy spoke with heavy incredulity, “Whoever made this card knows me too well, and that was just the beginning. I tried to destroy the fucking thing. Tear it, burn it, stab it, soak it. Nothing worked.”

Huh. Why hadn't I tried that? Especially after discovering that I couldn't bend the cards. I found myself idly trying to rip the card as I continued to listen.

“That’s when I realized that some magical skrilla was afoot, so I went to the bar.”

“Of course you did,” Blaine said, reaching and taking Addy’s card from my hand.

Addy ignored him, “And after talking to the sixth girl there, I checked the card and it had changed. No roofies, either; don't worry, I checked. So then I decided to try something else from the card. I went over to the jukebox, and there was only one song worth requesting. Guess what it was.”

My brain tried to search for a song fitting of the occasion. But it was such a weird scenario to apply a song to.

Finally, I guessed, “‘What’s Up’ by the 4 Non Blondes?”

“What the fuck? No. I don’t even know what that is,” Addy scoffed, “It had to be... ‘Country Roads.’”

I groaned. And here I was trying to find something relevant to the situation.

“I sang with the passion of all my drunken ancestors, and this old hag in the corner clapped along. I checked the card, saw that another number had been circled, then got the fuck out of there. I don’t even remember driving home; I was so drunk. I woke up on the floor of the laundry room back at my house, and the card was still in my pocket. The verbal aggression line was crossed out, and I can only imagine why. I’ll bet my sister or mom kicked up shit when I got home. They're always up my ass."

I nodded along to the story. Somehow, none of it was surprising.

Addy continued, "Anyway, I broke all the eggs in my fridge and then hopped on FortNite. There was no use doing the other things on the card. No fucking way.”

“Dude, I’ll kiss you,” Blaine offered, “I don’t care. I kissed Chris.”

Blaine had always identified as straight. But after two dozen comments from him over the years, Brad and I had begun to wonder. Blaine was either bisexual, or he was admirably comfortable with his sexuality.

“Fuck no. I’m not- FUCK!” Addy shouted, veering halfway off the road to dodge a sedan which had stopped abruptly, “They’re still after us! We need to get more random!”

He upheld this statement by suddenly steering onto the nearest exit and merging onto a perpendicular highway. I bit back the urge to snap at him again for being reckless. My heart was pounding, jolted to life by the frenetic movements.

“Hold on,” I said, “You still haven’t explained the parallel dimensions and the other Addys.”

“I was getting there, bitchass,” Addy grumbled, “I was playing Fort Nite and spraying these chuggas with bullets when suddenly a real bullet came through my window and nearly missed my face. I screamed like a prepubescent bitch and probably shat myself a little. Ha! Just kidding, that's disgusting. Anyway, I dropped to the floor and army crawled to the basement wondering who the fuck was shooting at me. I took the keys for my mom’s car and drove out of there faster than Black Lightning.”

I stopped nodding. Something about the story hadn't fit.

“I didn't think speed was part of Black Lighting's-,” I began, but Addy overpowered my voice.

“Last night I saw a superhero. He was black! He said, ‘this is for the street, Black Lightning’s back! And yes, he does have superspeed, dumbass. What do you think lightning stands for? Anyway, that’s around when I called you and said I was coming over.”

“Still no mention of alternate Addy's,” I pointed out, my suspicions reaching a peak.

“Well, I never actually saw any. But it makes sense, right? That card was made specifically for me, and who else knows myself better than - oh, I don’t know - another Addy? Also, who shot the gun?”

I emphasized a sigh.

“Addy, that doesn’t prove your theory at all. Sure, we can... add it to a list of possibilities. But then we'd also have to consider parallel Blaine's and Alec's, because the two of us also got cards!”

"Shit, really? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because he's trying to win!" Blaine cut in, "He's been sending me these texts. I get them in clumps, because my service is being spotty, but listen. 'Epic empanada.' 'Hands off my taco salad.' Alec, you can stop, by the way. I already failed the 'no cell-phone' challenge."

"Yes, I know," I said, "And I didn't tell you, Addy, because when the hell was I supposed to tell you?"

"True," Addy confessed, "You right, fam, you right."

I returned the red card to Addy, and said, "If this is a point system, then Addy is at 58, Blaine has 23, I-,"

“Fuck! What the-! Turn, damnit!” Addy shouted, manically pulling at the steering wheel. The wheel wasn’t budging and we were rapidly approaching a curve in the highway.

It took me a moment to understand what that meant. My heart was racing blindly, and I trusted there was a good reason.

Finally, it registered.

The wheel wasn't budging, and we were rapidly approaching a curve in the highway.

“Slow down!” I begged, but my voice was lost amongst Addy and Blaine's shouting. Shouted advice, insults, and profanity. A cacophony of noise, crescendoing above the roar of the car's engine.

We missed the turn. The car moved diagonally across a lane of traffic, and then two more. I had the impulse to open the door and dive out the side of the car, but my muscles locked up. The others weren't moving either as we soared off the edge of the highway and over a shallow ditch. I added to their swears and screams as we blasted across the unkempt grass, toward a wall of trees.

Even though we saw the impact coming, it didn’t play out the way I expected. From television and movies, I had inferred that disasters like this happened incrementally. We would demolish a row of trees, grind to a halt after bringing down three or four of them. Then, the surrounding trees would fall on us. And then the tires would slowly flatten, letting out a sad whine as the tension of the situation slowly released.

An airbag blasted against my chest. The first tree we ran into brought us to a full stop. Something else pounded the back of my seat, causing my entire body to flop forward against the airbag.

Pain spread down my torso like a waterfall. I let out a held breath, and it came out in multiple vicious gasps.

My eyes roved aimlessly, looking left, looking right, glancing at the dent in the hood where the car was hugging the tree. I breathed out through my nose, trying to calm myself.

My attempt failed the moment Addy unleashed a flurry of punches against his own airbag, reciting the words, “What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!”

The airbags started to deflate, and I was able to fill my lungs with more air. But the act of doing so was somehow painful.

“Damn… Addy… why?” Blaine’s breathing sounded just as ragged as mine.

“The fucking steering wheel locked up! The Dark League of Addy sabotaged my power steering fluid!”

“No League… of Addy,” I reaffirmed, “Stop with the jokes. We need to… get out of the car… come on…”

I opened the door and slid out of my seat. My legs touched down in the tall grass, wobbly. They nearly buckled, but I grabbed onto a random part of the car for support. Addy followed my lead.

Blaine was slower to get out. His arms encircled his head, protecting it. He stayed that way for a solid thirty seconds before taking action.

Brad was on the floor. As Blaine fumbled for the seatbelt release, Brad rose from the dead, wiping a smear of blood from his glasses.

“Where the hell are we?” Brad asked, voice strangled.

"We're on one of Jupiter's moons. You missed a lot while you were passed out from a fucking wrist wound," Addy said, unsympathetic.

"Passed out? What?" Brad said, before indignantly adding, "Yeah, of course I passed out. I was shot!"

"Yeah? So was JFK. But at least he wasn't a little bitch about it."

"What? Yeah, whatever, you lost me."

"Not the first time."

Blaine nudged Addy's arm and said something about going easy. I stood in the grass, commanding my breath and heartbeat to slow down.

"Please," I said, mostly breathing the words, "Not now. Focus on... working together."

That got some nods.

The three of us caught Brad up to speed while we staggered out and away from the car. It was on fire, but it probably wouldn't explode - that was another thing the movies got wrong. Still, there was always a risk and Addy motioned us to get further away. I drew a phone from my pocket and was only mildly surprised by what I found.

A total lack of cell service. None at the apartment and none here. Had my phone been compromised?

“Can anyone else call the police? Or Triple-A? Or anybody?” I asked.

"I could go for a hospital right about now," Brad mumbled, "Do they put those on wheels?"

"Yeah, its called a fucking ambulance," Addy helpfully supplied.

They each checked their phones, and each of them shook their heads.

Again, only mildly surprised. We were being fucked with, after all.

“We can’t stop moving,” Addy urged, waving us into the woods.

"You want to abandon your mother's car while its literally on fire?" Blaine asked, standing his ground.

"Would you rather we wait for the enemy to find us?" Addy challenged.

"That's assuming there is an enemy," Blaine mumbled.

"If you want to stay here and roast marshmallows on my mom's car, be my guest, but the rest of us are getting out of here. The forest is safer than the highway. Brad, stop humping that tree."

Brad was a few paces away, trying to find a comfortable way to lean against a crooked pine. He looked like he could pass out any second.

“How is the forest safer than the side of the road?” Blaine continued, unrelenting.

"Our enemies are clever," Addy explained, "Probably because they're alternate versions of Alec and me. They hired snipers. They sabotaged our cell-phones and my vehicle. Now riddle me this, Batman. How can anybody sabotage an entire forest?"

"Alright. So nothing about the Batman comment was cool. But I'm gonna let it slide because you make a fair point," Blaine said.

"Of course I do. Now follow me. Step into my office," Addy said, beckoning with a hand gesture.

Apparently, the entirety of the forest was his office.

And so we trudged into the woods, abandoning the car. As we carved our own path, making random turns at Addy’s discretion, my mind wandered, speculating which danger would befall us next. If there weren't snipers or traps in the forest, a clever enemy could still find us. Would find us, eventually.

We might be safe here for now. But not forever. And we couldn't survive here for more than a day. If somebody wanted us - or maybe just Addy and Brad - dead, we wouldn’t be safe anywhere for too long. We couldn't contact the police nor the FBI, regardless of whether our cell-phones were working. There had been a voice in my head. Maybe. Mysterious events and circumstances trailed behind us, and we had failed to form any explanations.

It was all becoming too much.

I told my brain to silence itself. To focus on surface-level tasks like walking and making small talk.

But I had never been good at small talk. Never knew what to say. Never found any of what my friends chose to talk about interesting. Maybe it was a sheltered childhood. Maybe it was faulty wiring. But it bothered me that my friends were talking casually and I wasn't contributing. So I tuned them out.

My focus returned to the impossible task of walking and not thinking. Not thinking about danger. About bullets and the traumatic crash I had just been involved in. Not thinking about my lack of meaningful connections. About how if I was killed here and now, it would take days or weeks before anyone noticed my absence. And maybe longer. And maybe they wouldn't even care that much. And- and-

I gasped. For whatever reason, I had stopped breathing.

My friends turned, three pairs of eyes scrutinizing me. Me. The creepy-

Yeah. Fuck.

It had all become too much.

I- this was wrong. Losing control of the situation. Of my thoughts and feelings. Slipping.

I felt my brain heating up and going fuzzy. My vision blurred, muting most of the color around me while accentuating the bright spots. The light shining between the trees was magnified. It blinded. It stung, but not in a physical way. It- it stung deep, causing my thought processes to sizzle and spark. I couldn't focus. I was frozen in place, my friends all around me, looking at me, judging me, feeling pity or amusement or confusion or annoyance-

Too much to deal with. Danger, mystery, the competitive nature of the cards. I needed security. I felt like the gentlest breeze would hoist my body up and away and into the branches. I was weightless, made of nothing. Made of atoms and impulses. Made wrong. I needed something to hold me down and keep me from blowing away or disintegrating. Heavy blankets or- or pressure. I needed pressure.

Addy was staring, eyebrows knit together in worry. Or frustration. Or disappointment. Fuck, I could never tell. Could never discern anything like that and be sure of it. It made me a little less human and a lot less connected. It was part of why I had so few friends. And the ones I did have hated each other - from time to time - and maybe didn't like me too much either. Why should they, when I was cold and critical most of the time? And now I was this. Broken.

And pressure. I couldn't cope with this pressure, but also the lack of pressure.

“Alec, we gotta keep moving or they’ll find us,” Addy said.

It was true, but I couldn't.

At least he hadn't noticed what was wrong with me. But if I didn't speak immediately, maybe they would notice, and then-, “No. Please. Thinking. Stop- hold on... stop.”

The words poured out. Broken.

The words were loud. Was I yelling them?

“Are you alright, man?” Blaine asked me. Fuck, they were noticing. I needed to appear calm.

I needed to break down, to fall into somebody’s arms. But not theirs. Not my parents’ arms either. Needed someone.

No, I didn’t. Why would that help at all?

“Ok,” another word spilled out of my mouth. I knew I had to keep speaking.

“Ok, like you’re feeling ok? Or… dude, talk to me,” Blaine said.

Wasn’t feeling ok. Couldn’t talk. My mind. All the possible sentences. Fragmented. A spinning and bouncing jumble of words. I just stood there. Didn’t elaborate.

“Maybe they drugged or poisoned him?” Brad speculated.

“Shut up,” Addy said, habitually, “Damnit, no its not that, its... Alec, do you need us to carry you?”

My mind constructed the image of my friends carrying me. Slumped over Addy's shoulder or carried between two people. Maybe all three. A fully grown adult with no injuries or ailments, being carried. Pathetic.

No. Hell no. There was no need for that. I am a capable, rational, credible-

-imperfect mess.

No. They needed to know that I was fine. I could pretend to be fine. I would start by telling them.

“I’m fine,” I stammered. And even though it was a lie, the panic began to subside. My focus was returning to reality, like a wave crashing against a shore and receding back into the ocean.

We’re fine, I told myself, forcing myself to believe it, even if we don’t find answers, we can find safety. And then we'll find safety again. We're capable. We'll solve each problem as it comes up, and then we'll solve the next problem, and the next one.

It was shaky ground to stand on. But it was working, to some degree.

I resumed walking, and my friends followed, saying nothing more of the incident. Leaving it to rest. Putting it in the past.

I appreciated that. It meant a lot.

Walking became my focus again. Walking and the sound of my breaths, small and brief.

Somewhere in the distance behind us, an explosion roared.