It filters through the blinds on the windows, lighting up the entire room. It’s probably midmorning by now. I wonder how long I’ve been sleeping. I stretch and glance around me. As I take in the small tables and chairs, the colourful walls and my makeshift bed on the floor, the events of last night come racing back to me. The small silver hard drive. The memories. The truth. That’s when I realize that Zen is gone. And so is the gun. ‘Don’t move!’ I hear someone yell. I immediately recognize the voice as Zen’s. It’s coming from just outside the door. ‘Who are you!?’ I leap to my feet and run, kicking the door out. It flies off the hinges and clatters to the ground on the other side. Zen jumps slightly at the noise but then regains focus. He’s holding the gun at arm’s length. Pointing it at someone down the hallway.
