Chapter 3

I swear I heard someone. If not Greg, maybe someone else. Didn’t Jeremy once say he worked late some nights? If it’s him, I know I can still catch the bus. He lives in the same apartment complex as me.

The street lamps bob into view like buoys on a sea of fog. I don’t realize I’m running until I see a guy passing beneath one of the lamps, walking away from me.

I stop.

It’s another re-enactor, dressed like I am. His breeches pull tight across his butt with each step he takes and his shirt billows in the breeze that scurries down the street. From the back I don’t recognize him, but at this point, who cares? He probably works at the plantation, or maybe he’s part of the tea party bunch, down on the wharf.

Wherever he works, he must have a car, right? At this hour, he has to be heading home. “Hey!” I shout.

He keeps walking as if he doesn’t hear me. As I watch, he disappears from the lamp’s light, almost as if he was never really there.

I chase after him. “Hey, wait!”