23

23

I wake up the next morning before Jason and decide to check the Dark Web. I start up the pay-per-use phone, log into the app, and immediately see there is a new post from Rick. It reads, simply: “Dear Sarah, I know you’ll read this. I will see you soon. Hasa Diga, Ebowai.”

The world drops out from under me. The meaning of those last three words is clear. There were only three people in the diner when I made that Book of Mormon reference to Zeke; myself, Zeke, and Jason, and unless we’re going for a Fight Club twist ending here where it turns out I’ve had a split personality working against me this entire time—for fuck’s sake, I sure hope we’re not going down that tired out trope—that means either Jason or Zeke have ratted me out to Rick, or might even be Rick.

I climb out of bed, doing my best not to make too much commotion and wake Jason, and start pacing the room, trying to sort out my thoughts. It makes absolutely zero sense for Zeke to turncoat on his