He goes to the trunk and puts his bag inside. He realizes he’s overestimated the efficacy of the app, however, when he turns and Fuller is on his feet again, blocking his path.

“You mother — ” he begins, murder in his expression, cocking his arm back for a punch that will probably break Danny’s jaw.

He stops. His arm isn’t moving. Fuller’s look of pure rage dissolves into confusion as he realizes someone is holding his wrist, keeping him locked in place.

“Danny,” Alana says. “Still winning friends and influencing people.”

“Alana. I thought you got in at four.”

“My flight was delayed,” she says.

Fuller gets over the shock of Alana’s ridiculous strength. He pivots and tries a swing at her with his left hand.

Alana moves her head an inch and lets it whiff harmlessly past. Then she yanks Fuller off his feet and hurls him like a half-empty garbage bag. He spins twice in the air before hitting the ground.

Danny looks at him rolling on the ground, in pain. “I guess you’re not keeping any secrets now.”

Alana shrugs. “I don’t live here anymore,” she says. “And I never liked these two.”

Lonnie, on his hands and knees, throws up again.

“Well. That’s disgusting,” Alana says. “You know, stuff like this is where you veer off into mad-scientist territory, Danny.”

“It’s possible he had a lot of ear infections as a kid. The vestibular system — ”

Alana gives him a look he hasn’t seen in a long time. He shuts up.

“You going to the Creek?” she asks.

“On my way.”

“My car is over there. I’ll follow you.”

She walks off, past the bodies of Lonnie and Fuller, who are trying to get up, but not very hard.

“Good to see you both,” Danny says to them, because he has to say something. He gets behind the wheel and pulls out, careful to steer around them.

He and Alana drive to meet the others.

11

Like Time-Lapse Photography

Carrie gets out of her Geo and looks at the Creek Bar & Grill.

This was where they drank when they were in high school. Back then, The Creek was the place the bartender would pretend you were 21 as long as you could pay for the $2.50 pitchers and the neon-yellow nachos he’d prep in the microwave. (You’d hear it every Monday morning: Hey, where were you Saturday night? Dude, I was up the Creek…)

It’s been remodeled. Now there’s a sign outside the Creek promising wi-fi, artisanal bourbons, local microbrews.

They all show up at about the same time. Danny appears from around the corner. Alana pulls her rental into a spot that opens up as she arrives. Eric steps out of the alley.