Prologue – The Great Escape

Frederick’s boots scuffed against the concrete as he paced before the imposing brick enclosures, the night dens of the mighty lions. His eyes darted to the checklist in his trembling hand, then back to the metal doors set into the rear wall, the pathway for the beasts’ nightly entry. All were secure, except one.

A chill ran down his spine as he halted before the sign: Room 16 – Male Lion: Lancelot. He scanned the list yet again, his mind racing. Damn! What do I do? The words tumbled out, barely audible over the pounding of his heart. Sweat-soaked shirt clung to his back. He spun about, ensuring Lancelot hadn’t wandered into a neighboring den. After the fifth frantic check, the truth hit him like a ton of bricks. We’re screwed!

With the clipboard clutched tightly in his fist, he tore from the big cat section, racing down the long corridor lined with cages and the watchful eyes of their inhabitants. He burst through the exit, emerging onto a concrete path winding through overgrown vegetation that threatened to reclaim it. As he hit open ground, the path morphed into a walkway meant for gawking visitors, not panicked zoo staff. The admin building loomed ahead, his only hope. His manager had to know, a search was needed before it was too late.

Twenty-five stairs vanished in six long strides. Frederick slapped his ID card against the reader, the door shuddering open under his weight. Another flight disappeared in his upward trajectory, spitting him out before the manager’s office. He hammered his fist against the door twice, then flung it wide. Boss, he wheezed, bent double to catch his breath, we have...a big problem.

The manager, a florid man with a nose like a burst vein, peered up from paperwork. What the hell are you talking about, Frederick?

Lancelot is gone!

What? How the hell can he be gone?

I don’t know, Frederick panted, still struggling for air. My team has been sweeping the habitat for an hour. He’s gotten out, somehow.

Are you sure you aren’t overreacting? I mean, something similar happened last month with Ginger in the gorilla habitat, and you all found her playing by the water after I sounded the emergency.

We’ve gone over everything twice, and I’ve checked every space in the shelters myself. He’s not here.

Silence fell, broken only by the wet chomping of the manager’s unlit cigar. If they find out we’ve lost a lion, they’ll shut us down.

Frederick stood silent, his breathing slowing but growing no less heavy.

I can’t let that happen. We’d all be unemployed with no hope of any zoo hiring any of us. Hell, we’d be lucky to work as a dog catcher.

What do we do?

The manager looked up, a calculating glint in his eye. What did we do with the corpse of the other male lion that died a couple months back?

Horace? He was placed in the freezer. Sterling mentioned something about keeping him frozen in case some government official wanted to have an autopsy performed.

Thaw it out, place it in Lancelot’s enclosure and go home.

What?

Look, Frederick, we have two choices. One, we announce we allowed a lion to escape and they shut us down. Two, we make it look like Lancelot died naturally and get more visitors because of sympathy for poor Lancelot.

But what if Lancelot is found in the wild? Or worse, hurts someone?

It won’t happen. That lion won’t survive long enough to be a problem. Now, can we do something about his ID chip?

We can go in the system and delete it.

Do that. And then issue a new one and have it put into the corpse when it’s thawed out enough.

Sir, are you sure this is the right thing to do?

The manager pulled the chewed cigar from his mouth, and said, This is the only thing we can do to ensure we all have a job tomorrow. But, if you want everyone to be unemployed, let me call the authorities right now. He picked up his phone’s receiver, acting as if he were about to call someone.

No, said Frederick. The manager returned the receiver to its cradle. You’re right. Lancelot has been here since he was two, I doubt he even knows how to hunt. He’ll probably die of starvation before anyone ever sees him.

My thoughts exactly, said the smiling manager, while placing the cigar back in his mouth. Now, send everyone home. After you have the corpse put in Lancelot’s enclosure, send a text letting everyone know he was found. Then tomorrow morning, you come in early and find him dead. End of story.

Frederick nodded his head and said, You got it, boss.

The manager told him, Look, Frederick, there is no chance in hell of Lancelot being an issue for anyone. So don’t stress, okay?

Frederick smiled, turned and left the room. The plan was set in motion, and he would do as instructed. Inside he assured himself it wouldn’t be an issue. After all, an African lion would have no hope of surviving on his own in a state like New York.

Chapter 1 – One Year Left

Anxiety gnawed at me as I sat in the doctor’s office, patience a foreign concept to my racing mind. The bland room seemed to close in around me as I awaited my fate. No stylish decor or interesting reads to distract me, just the relentless ticking of a generic clock.

Framed diplomas clung to the walls like dull ornaments, while a bookshelf groaned under the weight of medical journals. The office was a stark contrast to the sleek spaces portrayed on TV. But who frets over aesthetics when facing a potentially grim diagnosis?

My mind churned with worst-case scenarios, my body a tense coil of dread. Years of debilitating headaches, could it be something sinister? Please, let it be my weight, I silently begged. Standing five feet nine while carrying two-hundred and fifty pounds surely was a factor, I thought. I'd gladly endure any diet or restriction if it meant a clean bill of health. New York’s temptations would have to go.

My love for this city and its indulgences paled in comparison to the desire to be well. Of course, I couldn’t blame New York for all my weight, as I was heavy before I relocated there.

As anxiety clawed at me, my skin prickled with unease. I scratched at my beard, a futile attempt to calm my frazzled nerves. My hair, usually neatly trimmed, now hung in my face like a shroud. The thought of a barber’s touch made my stomach roil.

The sun cast its rays through the window, but the tinted glass muted its warmth. My gaze fell upon the home I adored, the city that held a piece of my heart. Could this be my fate, to have my life cut short just as I’d found my place?

The door creaked open and I was startled, my heart leaping into my throat. Dr. Jones entered, clipboard in hand, his expression unreadable. He settled behind his desk, a barrier between us.

Sorry for the delay, Daylon. I was discussing your results with a colleague. He paused, fidgeting with the papers on his clipboard. I’m not sure how to share this.

My insides twisted, his words hanging in the air like a guillotine. He turned his monitor to face me, and with a few clicks, an image appeared. A jumbled mass of what looked like nerves and tissue, with a glaring white spot in the center.

What am I looking at? I whispered, my voice trembling.

Dr. Jones leaned in, his pen poised over the screen. This is your frontal lobe, your temporal lobe, and your occipital lobe. And this... He tapped the bright spot. ...is a cancerous mass in your temporal lobe.

The room spun, his words a punch to the gut. I stared blankly at the monitor, then back at him, hoping for a different answer. But his somber expression told me the truth. Time seemed to slow as I grappled with the news, my mind screaming in denial.

The pressure from the mass is causing your headaches, he continued, his voice a distant echo. As it grows, so will the pain.

Can you...can you remove it? I choked out, a glimmer of hope.

I’m sorry, Daylon. The location makes surgery impossible.

A cold dread washed over me, suffocating me. Is there anything, any treatment that could help?

His gaze filled with regret. Anything we try would likely kill you before it could affect the cancer. I won’t lie to you, or offer any false hope.

I turned away, my gaze falling upon the window. The sun was now hidden behind dark clouds, a mirror to my shrouded future. The forecast had called for gloom, and I felt it settling upon me like a dark veil.

How long? I rasped, not looking at him.

We estimate less than a year.

A sob tore from me, my body shuddering. Tears streamed down my face as I gave in to the overwhelming despair. I doubled over, burying my face in my hands. My world was crumbling, and I was powerless to stop it.

I SAVORED THE LAST bite of my white-iced chocolate cake, the sweetness exploding on my tongue. With a satisfied belch, I washed it down with a long swig of soda from a half-filled two-liter bottle. I heaved myself up from the kitchen table, the miniaturized chair scraping against the floor. My plate clattered into the dishwasher, which looked more like a toy box than an appliance. I took another swig of soda, feeling the bubbles burn my nose, before returning the bottle to the fridge that only came up to my chin.

My breakfast had been the same since the doctor’s words shattered my world. I figured, screw healthy eating when you’re dying, I might as well have cake.  Plus, one cake take’s care of an entire week’s worth of breakfasts.

I glanced past the doll-sized sink to the alley window, my gaze drifting to the kitchen of the apartment complex behind mine. A woman stood at her sink, water glistening on her hands as she did dishes.

The fire escape ladder was a rusty blur outside the window, the stairs blocking my full view. You couldn’t access them from there, that was only possible via the living room window.

After a few minutes of voyeurism, I tore my attention away and trudged to the calendar on the wall. I slashed a big X through yesterday’s date with a flourish. This calendar only had nine months, starting in April when my life went to hell. Four were already marked off, and now number five had been started.

My gaze fell on the hole in the wall, a souvenir of my rage-filled breakdown when I got the news. I’d have to spackle that over eventually, but for now it was a reminder to keep my temper in check. Easier said than done.

I flopped onto the couch, flipping on the TV. The news anchor’s voice droned on about a rape here, a murder there, a kidnapping, corporate greed, and the economy swirling down the toilet. Tuesday, I thought, rolling my eyes.

A reporters excited voice snagged my attention. Four armed men, all in black, broke into Graybar Laboratories last night, leaving a trail of destruction and death. Four guards were seriously injured, three killed. The area they targeted was working on immune system enhancers for the military, to protect soldiers from biochemical weapons.

The interesting thing, the field reporter continued, is that a surviving guard said one of the intruders punched through the steel door to get in. These guys were obviously heavily trained and had this planned to the minute. The big question is, who are they, and what’s their endgame with the enhancers?

My phone dinged on the kitchen table, breaking the new’s spell. Time to head to my soul-sucking job. I didn’t know why I bothered, but what else was I gonna do? Wait around for cancer to claim me? At least I had a timeline, unlike those poor saps who get flattened by a bus or fall into a manhole on their way to work.

I grabbed my backpack and headed out the door. Hey, Daylon, a voice called from down the hall. My neighbor and only friend, Marcy, was locking her door.

Morning, I replied, waiting for her. We trudged down the five flights of stairs side by side, like we did every day. Out on the sidewalk, we joined the river of suits and tourists surging toward the subway.

So, today is Friday, said Marcy, tucking a wave of brown hair behind her ear. Got any big plans for the weekend?

Nah, just picked up that new video game, so probably lose myself in it.

Dude, you need to get out more. Fresh air, sunshine, all that jazz.

I looked up at the sky, feeling the sun warm on my face. Hello, I’m outside right now, aren’t I?

Marcy huffed. I’m serious. Sitting in your living room in your boxers, gaming doesn’t constitute a life.  You need to experience reality instead of virtual reality.

Reality’s overrated.

Okay, Debbie Downer. You are young, and have a great future in front of you, why aren’t you more positive?

Marcy was a firecracker, all sass and attitude, with a nose job courtesy of her mom. Most people thought she was Latina, which made her giggle. She was Jewish, but she never really embraced it, to her parent’s dismay. However, she had the wisdom of the ages, even though she was only twenty-eight.

I thought about spilling my guts to her, but didn’t want to burden her with my problems. She’d look at me different, and I couldn’t handle that. Nobody knew about my cancer, not even my uncles who raised me. I needed to tell them, but kept chickening out.

Hard to be upbeat when life sucks, I shrugged.

Marcy swiveled her head to stare at me. When was the last time you got laid?

I stumbled on a nonexistent crack in the sidewalk. What?!

You sound like a person who needs to get his rocks off, bad.  When was the last time you had sex?

I raised an eyebrow and asked, Alone or with someone?

Either, but with someone is way better than with your hand.

You are a hot mess, I joked, laughing at her amazing honesty.  For that moment I had forgotten about my cancer, and it was a welcomed reprieve.

Marcy grinned, her hazel eyes sparkling. That’s better.  You have a handsome face, and when you smile your eyes sparkle.  You should smile more often.

I shrugged. I’ll try, but no promises.

We hit the subway stairs, the din growing louder. We chatted all the way down, finding our usual bench to wait for the train.

Marcy said, Matt and I are going to Bear Mountain for some hiking this weekend, you’re coming with us.

Third wheels aren’t always a good thing.

You aren’t a third wheel, his friend Terry is going, she said, like that solved everything

Terry?

Yes, it’s a gay friend of his.

Gay?

I thought that’d be cool.

I shook my head and said, OMG!  You ask me how long it’s been since I’ve eaten, I changed the context because of nearby ears, and now you are putting a steak in front of me.

Marcy burst out laughing. Oh, Daylon! I didn’t think that at all. I just thought you guys might hit it off, you know, become friends. You don’t have many of those.

The train roared into the station, brakes squealing. We stood, letting people off before finding seats. Let me think about it, I told her, but she just smiled and said, Nine sharp, hiking boots mandatory.

I rolled my eyes, smiling. I said I’d think about it.

Nine, she enunciated, drawing out the word. Be there, or else.

I chuckled, shaking my head. Maybe a hike was just what the doctor ordered. Or not. I’d have to think about it.

We quickly grabbed two seats and prepared for our commute.  Some people remained standing, possibly because they would be sitting in an office all day or maybe because the hard plastic seats weren’t real comfortable. They did have a certain uncomfortableness about them, but I felt it was safer to sit in case something unexpected occurred.

A CRISP BREEZE RUSTLED the leaves as the sun painted the sky a brilliant blue. Hikers stretched against wooden fences, cyclists tinkered with their gear, and parents gathered their brood for a weekend outing.

I looked at all the fit humans going through the motions, keeping up an active lifestyle so they remained healthy.  But every one of them, no matter how much they did, would meet the same end. Death. It didn't matter if you died young or withered away at a century old. The futility of it all suffocated me, deepening my despair.

Snap out of it, Marcy said.

What? I asked, lost in my morbid thoughts.

You zoned out. Stay present and enjoy this perfect weather.

Sorry. I do that sometimes, I said, forcing a smile. I’ll try to enjoy myself. But the lie tasted bitter. I hadn’t come for the scenery, but for the possibility of a distraction in Matt’s friend, Terry.

That’s all I ask, she said.

Matt approached, camera in hand. Forgot this in the car. Phone cameras just don’t cut it.

Marcy glanced at her watch. How much longer till Terry’s here?

He texted and said he’d be here in five minutes.  He got hung up by an accident on the turnpike.

I took a swig of water, and quickly touched my front short’s pocket, realizing my error. Shit, I left my meds on the counter!

What kind? Matt asked, concern etched on his face.

For my headaches.

Will you be okay? asked Marcy. We can do this another day, or just stay here and chat.

I’m not sure. I mean, I feel okay but if I get one of my headaches, there’s no life line available.

Matt said, We can head back to New York, won’t be a problem.

I’ll just try to not overdo it, I replied. I should be okay.

Matt looked past us and said, I’ll be right back, and then jogged toward a small building.

As he left, Marcy touched my arm. Are you sure you’ll be okay?  I would feel horrible if I forced you to come and something happened.

I placed my hand on hers and said, I’ll be fine.  I always have my pills with me because I never know when one of these damn headaches might pop up.

Say something if one does, okay?

Will do. As I didn’t want to focus to be about my brain, I changed the subject, Matt is really super.  I like him.

Matt was a very handsome young man with dark brown hair, olive complexion with piercing green eyes.  He wore a thick, manicured goatee on a steel jaw that accented his muscular physic.  You could tell the gym wasn’t his full-time job, but it was a place he frequented.  His 6 feet height was something I was jealous of, and that he’d make it past 30.

Marcy blushed with her reply, He is sweet, loving, handsome and loaded.  What more could a girl ask for?

Hung, I said, with a wide grin on my face.

Marcy raised an eyebrow accompanied with a smirk.

I smiled at her unspoken reply.

A couple minutes passed before Matt returned, carrying a small pill bottle. This was the only thing they had for headaches, he said, and handed me the medicine.

You didn’t have to do that, I replied, as I accepted the bottle and located the dosage per pill. I looked at him and said, Thanks, Matt, that was thoughtful.

Hopefully, this will help if something happens.

You’re the best, said Marcy, as she pulled Matt down for a kiss.

I pocketed the pills, hoping I wouldn’t need them. They wouldn’t touch the agony caused by the monster growing in my brain.

Matt took a seat next to Marcy, across from me and we chatted about the hike, with our goal of reaching The Perkins Memorial Tower that set at the top of Bear Mountain.  It was a good distance, but Matt was optimistic about us making it.  I’m sure this would be a light stroll for him.

Hey, guys.  I’m sorry for being late, said Terry, as he arrived to our table, interrupting a generic conversation.  We all stood up from our seats and greeted him.  Matt gave him a hug, while Marcy and I shook his hand, as we didn’t know him.

It is nice to meet you, I said.

Same here.

I looked at Terry’s smiling face and thought how handsome he was.  He had blond hair, blue eyes, a thick goatee, and shoulders most would kill for.  He was also no stranger to the gym, and I wondered if that was how he and Matt met, but didn’t ask.

Are we ready to get this party started? asked Matt.

Hell yeah, replied Terry.

We set off, leaving the bustling trailhead behind. The concrete jungle of NYC was a world away, replaced by the vibrant, thriving forest.

THE SUN BLAZED DOWN, its fiery rays piercing through my skull like a relentless drill. I cursed myself for not thinking to bring a hat. With each step, the pressure inside my head ratcheted up, a tightening vise threatening to crush my brain. It wasn’t pain yet, but I knew it would be soon. I unscrewed the bottle Matt had bought and shook out three pills, adding a fourth after a moment’s hesitation.

Terry’s voice cut through my burgeoning misery. Are you okay, Daylon?

There’s some pressure, so I’m taking a preemptive strike. I popped the pills into my mouth and swallowed, hoping they’d work fast.

My mother used to suffer from these horrible migraines. Is that what you get? Terry asked, concern etched in his voice.

I knew my headaches were different, as they were caused by the hidden beast growing in my head, but I just said, Yes. Sometimes they’re debilitating.

Matt and Marcy were fifteen feet ahead, oblivious to our conversation. Terry voiced the unspoken thought between us. I hope you were okay with me coming? I sort of feel like Matt and Marcy are trying to hook us up.

I snorted. If Marcy had her way, I’d be married with two adopted Vietnamese children.

Terry’s laughter was a warm breeze on a summer day. You seem like a great person. If you ever want to go on a real date, I’d be interested.

I smiled, feeling a spark of connection, and then a lightning bolt of pain shot through my head, setting my brain ablaze. I collapsed to my knees, hands clutching my skull to keep it from shattering. The agony radiated outward, threatening to turn my insides out.

Marcy and Matt’s worried voices reached me, but I couldn’t respond. I could only kneel there, moaning and rocking in a futile attempt to ease the torment.

Marcy’s voice was beside me. What’s the matter? Is it a headache?

I couldn’t reply at that moment as I hadn’t yet been able to deal with the pain.  I gave an Uh huh as that was all I could muster.

Can you take some pills?

He did just a few seconds before it hit, Terry explained.

Marcy said, Let’s get him to that stump, so he can rest.

Terry and Matt hauled me up and half-carried me to the stump. I couldn’t open my eyes, couldn’t remove my hands from my head. My breathing was shallow gasps, my skin slick with sweat.

Marcy’s voice seemed to come from far away. Daylon, you’re turning red. Is that normal?

Uh huh, I grunted, still controlled by the pain.  The stump was in a shade, so brought some relief.  I tried to speak, but the pain made it sound like I was near crying, which I was.  In broken English I told them, I don’t, can’t go. My jaw was clinched so hard I thought my teeth would break. Through the pain, I told them, You go on.

It’s okay, Matt said. We’ll stay here and wait for your headache to subside, and then we’ll head back.

No, I told them, but couldn’t manage more. 

Marcy said, We can’t leave him here, alone.

I’ll be fine, I grunted, my head still in my hands.

They argued for a bit, until Terry explained that his mother wanted stillness when she had hers, and that may be what I needed.  I grunted in the affirmative as I heard him speak.

After more conversation, Marcy knelt down next to me and said, Just say the word and I’ll call someone and get paramedics here to help.  The last thing I want to do is leave you alone here in the woods.

Go, I grunted, the pain still controlling me. I’ll be fine.

I could sense their hesitation, but I knew stillness was my only hope. After more arguing, they reluctantly said their goodbyes and slowly walked away. I sat on the stump, head in hands, focusing on slowing my breath and letting my body deal with the agony. Marcy would worry, but once they returned, everything would go back to normal. Me sitting alone in the woods would not be an issue.

THE VISE-LIKE GRIP of pain in my head had finally loosened, allowing me to lift my face from my hands. I wasn’t back to normal, but at least the agony was now bearable. The shade provided some relief, I was sure of that. The rustling of leaves and chirping of birds was noticeable, a stark contrast to the pounding from my headache.

Several hikers stopped during my time on the stump to inquire about my condition, as I’m sure I looked like either a depressed man ready to cut his wrist, or a man suffering a stroke or other ailment. Their concerned faces and questioning eyes made me realize how much my condition affected others.

I glanced at my watch and realized it had been two-and-a-half hours since our hike started. The others were probably at the tower and worried about me. Knowing Marcy as I did, they wouldn’t stay long, as she would want to get back as quick as possible. I smiled; thankful someone in New York cared so much about me.

I stood up slowly from my seat; my body ached because of sitting too long in the same position. I stretched and then went for the bottle in my pocket. I dispensed two more pills and took them with a huge gulp of water. The cool liquid slid down my parched throat, providing temporary relief.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as it felt like I was being watched. I slowly looked around the area, trying to see what might have caused that feeling. I looked down the trail in both directions and then at the wooded area that surround me. Upon looking in the shadows of the forest across from me, I spotted a pair of eyes glowing in the darkened space, as they reflected the sunlight that sprinkled onto the trail. I froze in place deciding between fight or flight. My heart pounded in my chest and my mouth went dry.

It was obvious the eyes were moving, and they were moving in my direction. I looked down the path toward the tower and friends, thinking flight was the best option. A branch snapped which brought me back to the eyes. They were closer as sunlight broke through the forest canopy and reached the intruder. I lost my breath when I saw the head of a full sized, male African lion and realized it was looking for its next meal.

‘What the hell is a lion doing on Bear Mountain?’ I thought to myself, while backing away from him, not aware I was entering the forest behind me. The lion roared, and I turned and fled in the direction away from the beast, hearing him charge toward me. The ground thundered beneath his paws, shaking the earth.

The forest was filled with trees and saplings, along with broken branches on the ground. My weight hindered my ability to leap over anything large so I would change direction when faced with an oversized obstacle. The rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs filled the air as I fled for my life.

I felt the animal closing in on me, so I pushed myself as hard as I could. As I ran, I grabbed a tree with my hand and used my arm as a pendulum to sling shot me in another direction. The movement caused the lion to slip up on the leaves on the forest floor, as the actual dirt surface was two or three inches below them and gripping wasn’t possible.

I sprinted with everything I had while yelling at the top of my lungs. The thumps of the cat’s feet behind me were getting closer. I strained to run faster, but my shorter legs and the slippery forest floor fought against me. Saplings slapped me as I ran while the forest floor crunched beneath me.

The thumps were so close I could almost feel the cat breathing down my neck. I pushed myself harder, trying to outrun something that had a top speed of 50 miles per hour. I knew I could not out-run this creature and for a moment I almost laughed, thinking I wouldn’t make it to the end of the year and my death would have nothing to do with cancer. If I wasn’t sprinting for my life at that moment, I would have given it more thought.

I felt claws slash into my back as the lion leapt onto its prey. I screamed out from the pain as the lion bit into my neck and we fell to the ground. However, the leave-covered ground didn’t catch us, as we broke through the forest floor and fell into darkness. The world spun around me as I fell, the lion still clinging to me.

The lion eventually freed its grip, whipping in the air as if trying to regain its footing and land on its feet. I freefell, seeing nothing because of the pain and blood loss from the cat ripping open my carotid artery. Above us, a spec of light entered the large cavern we had fallen into. The walls weren’t seen, but the cat’s cries echoed back at us from them.

We fell for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity. I heard a hard thud and then made impact. In that instant, pain changed to blackness and silence replaced my racing heartbeat. I was at peace.

Chapter 2 – The Morning After

My eyes sprang open , a yawn ripping through me as I stretched while pushing the covers off. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, my gaze snagging on the clock on my nightstand. 5:00 a.m. glared back at me, an ungodly hour considering I usually didn’t roll out of bed until 7:00, and only then after my alarm blared at me. But today was different. Today, I felt...rested. Refreshed. Renewed.

I hopped up, stretched again, arching my back and extending my arms towards the ceiling. Then, out of habit more than anything else, I made my bed. I could never just leave it rumpled; I could blame (or thank) my Uncle Bill for drumming that into me. My fitted sheet had those elastic suspenders that tucked under the mattress, so that barely needed any attention. Just a quick fluff of the pillows, a tug of the top sheet, and a smoothing of the comforter. I stepped back to admire my handiwork, a sense of satisfaction washing over me at the neat, orderly bed.

Next up, a shower. The warm water was heavenly as I lathered up my hair and beard. As I rinsed off, my fingers grazed the back of my neck and a strange thought flashed through my mind - an image of teeth sinking into my skin, of an animal attack. I brushed it off as a lingering nightmare.

Once I was dry, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, taking stock of myself. I turned, my eyes scanning my back, expecting to see, I don’t know, scars or something. But there was nothing. No scars, no scratches, no new moles. Just my usual, unremarkable skin.

What the hell is going on? I asked my reflection.

I turned back around, my gaze dropping to my stomach. I rubbed my hands over it, a surprised laugh escaping me. Damn, did I lose weight? I wasn’t exactly ripped now, but there was a noticeable difference. My chest looked firmer too, though that was harder to tell through the hair. I grinned at myself, pleased with the changes, even if I had no idea what was behind them.

I finished getting ready, and as I was brushing my teeth, I caught myself smiling. I had been smiling since I woke up. Something was different, and I had no idea what.

In the kitchen, I headed for the calendar to X out the previous day. But as I stood there, I realized I had no idea what the date even was. I snagged my phone from the counter, unplugging it as I went. The screen lit up, displaying the date: August 13th. The X’s on the calendar stopped on the 10th.

Why didn’t I mark off Saturday? I wondered, chalking it up to a marathon gaming session or something. I added X’s to the 11th and 12th, bringing the calendar current.

As I set the phone down, I saw the missed calls from Marcy, and the string of texts from my Uncle Raymond. I scanned them, wincing at the growing concern in his messages. The last one, from just an hour ago, was bordering on panic.

I quickly typed out an apology, hitting send. My phone rang almost immediately, and I couldn’t help but smile as I answered, I’m so sorry for making you worry.

We’ve been worried sick, Uncle Raymond’s voice burst from the speaker. Bill wanted to call the police, and I was about to.

I’m glad you waited.

Why didn’t you call or text back? There was an undercurrent of annoyance in his voice.

Honestly, I started, launching into the lie I came up with, I dropped my phone in the toilet.  I shut it off and put it in a bag of rice.  I got it out today and it’s working.

This is why you need a phone in your apartment.

This was just a fluke. I don’t really need a landline.

Tell that to your poor uncles who were worried sick about you in that crazy city.

Raymond, I’m an adult now. You guys don’t need to worry about me like I’m a kid. I can take care of myself, I promise.

You are important to us, and we will always worry about you no matter your age. So, stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

I chuckled, shaking my head. If it happens again, I’ll consider a landline. But, I know it won’t.

If it does, you’ll get a landline, even if I have to pay for it.

Okay, fine, I conceded, knowing I was fighting a losing battle. I glanced at the clock, and asked, I know you get up early, but why are you up this early?

Bill is flying out to Hawaii this morning, so I’m driving him to the airport. And since we live almost two hours away, we have to leave soon.

Does this have anything do with that hologram particle projection thing he’s been working on? Bill had mentioned that project before, but I hadn’t realized it was taking off.

Yeah, an investor wants a presentation. And since he’s willing to pay for Bill to fly out, why not do it?

You should go with him?

Uncle Raymond sighed. Daylon, we can’t just up and leave the farm alone.

Ask Aunt Sophie’s husband to watch it for you guys.

Jack? Are you serious?  He hates us.

No, he doesn’t.  He just has an issue with the gay thing.  He’ll come around someday, I said, even though I didn’t believe it.  Jack was a racist, bigoted homophobe who would never change.

That’s the reason we got you instead of them.

And I couldn’t be more appreciative of you guys raising me.

Hey, baby boy, said a second voice and was gone. Uncle Raymond said, Bill says hi.

Tell him I send my love.

Uncle Raymond joked. He doesn’t know who you are.

I laughed and assumed Bill was too.

We better get off here and head out, said Uncle Raymond.  Please, don’t make me worry that long again.  If your phone breaks, borrow a friend’s and get me a message.  My heart can’t take worrying and I would die if anything happened to you.

I thought about my cancer and knew I would have to tell the whole family soon.  The last thing I wanted was for them to be blind-sided by my sudden death. I just didn’t want to tell anyone.

I will talk to you guys later.  Be safe driving and tell Bill to bring me back a souvenir from Hawaii.

I will.  We love you, Daylon.  Be careful in that crazy city.

With a chuckle, I replied, I’m always careful.  I love you guys.  Text me later.

Oh, I will and you better reply.

Bye, Raymond.

Bye, Daylon.

I hit the disconnect button and put the phone back on the counter.  Breakfast was next on my list, and since there was plenty of time to make anything, an omelet was on the menu this morning instead of chocolate cake.

‘DING,’ CAME FROM MY phone, and I turned off the television, as that was my alarm telling me to head to work.  Another regular day at the office had arrived, and I genuinely looked forward to it.

I snatched my phone and keys from the counter, backpack from the floor and headed out. Once in the hallway, I locked the two locks.  It was just another regular day.

What the shit!

The shout startled me and I turned to see Marcy storming toward me with an expression of anger and horror mixed with relief.

What? I asked, dumbfounded by her statement.

What the hell happened to you?  We looked for hours, even calling in the rangers and shit.  We went back Sunday to do another search.  Where were you?  She grabbed me in a hug and squeezed me. Oh, my God!  I was so fricken worried. We thought you were dead.

I’m fine and have no idea what you’re talking about.

She pulled away and looked at me.  What? You don’t know what I’m talking about. Do you have amnesia or something?

I don’t think so.

Do you remember going to Bear Mountain Saturday for a hike?  We met Matt up there.  You got a headache and had to rest, and you ordered us to go on without you.

I looked at her and thought she was messing with me.  Are you telling me we went for a hike at Bear Mountain this weekend?

Ah-yeah, she replied, drawing out the words.

I think I would remember if we... I had to stop mid-sentence because images flashed in my memory of us at the picnic table, Matt chatting, introduction of Terry, the hike and then the African lion.

I grabbed the back of my neck and flinched, searching the surroundings and expecting to see a lion tracking me.

What the hell just happened? Marcy asked.  Are you about to freak out on me?

While looking around, I said,