Echoworld

Sierra Bravo over and out."

He looked up and jumped on seeing he wasn't alone.

Wren watched him, confused. "What was that?" she asked bluntly.

The man shrugged. "What was what?"

"That! The hole you just stepped out of!" she nearly shouted, pointing.

He glanced behind him and then back to her. "I don't know how much you've had to drink, but there's nothing there. I just came out here to take a leak."

Wren just stared at him. He looked vaguely familiar.

"Are you on your way home?" he asked.

She shook her head, scattering her thoughts. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. No wonder; she'd been awake since the morning before working on her current project. The weariness was beginning to wear off; a second wind, if you will. "Um...what?"

"Well, I figure I have nothing better to do, so why not walk you home?"

She eyed him warily. "All right." She fingered the long curved knife that was sheathed at her hip.

He nodded and they began waking down the street. The sun was setting at their backs, giving a warm orange glow to everything. Their long shadows preceded them as they walked together wordlessly.

"So." Wren couldn't stand the silence. "Do you have a name?"

"I do."

"Care to share?"

"Shaun."

Wren looked at him casually. The faces were very similar...

"You all right?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

He looked unconvinced. "All right."

"What about a last name?"

"Ballou."

She glared at him. "You lie."

"No, I don't."

They reached a streetlight and she stopped and peered up at him. "Is this some sort of joke?"

"No."

"Look, Shaun, or whatever your name is, I'm not in the mood. It's been a long day. Stop this stupid game."

He grabbed her upper arm. "No. I need to explain something to you. You know another Shaun Ballou, don't you?"

"What's it to you? Let me go. Final warning." She reached for her knife, but Shaun got there first.

"Here, let me help you with that." He took the knife from her plain leather sheath and held it to her throat. "I don't want to get violent. You need to understand. So do you know me?"

Wren rolled her eyes. "Fine. If you are Shaun Ballou, Shaun Matthew Ballou nonetheless, then you're 21 years old, you're my friend from half-school, you're my bartender. Enough information?"

Shaun pushed her away from him, still holding the knife. "Shit. Not an hour in and already in overtime," he muttered to himself.

"I'm sick of this game. Give me my damn knife."

He ignored her and continued walking as if he'd never stopped.

Wren caught up and looked at him. "Well, I was right. You're not Shaun. So who are you?"

"Oh, no, I'm Shaun. Just not the Shaun you're familiar with."

They'd reached her apartment complex. Wren began climbing the rusty outdoor starts that led to her apartment. Shaun followed her closely. Halfway up, she turned to him and said, "I'm a big girl. I can make it to my place without an escort. Bye. Have a nice life."

Shaun easily grabbed the back of her sleeveless black shirt. He was stronger than his wiry body made him seem. "No. We need to talk."

"In my apartment?" she said sarcastically. "Uh-uh. Sorry, not happening. And let go of me."

"The more private, the better. I need to explain some stuff to you," he insisted.

"I don't know you and you want me to let you into my apartment? Are you crazy?"

"No, but you'll think I am. Listen, I won't try anything. Hey," he offered with a half-grin, "I'll do you one better." He flipped the knife skillfully and handed it to her, hilt first. She snatched it from his hand.

"Psh. Sure.