Her hands shaking, Suzannah ripped open the edge of the envelope and pulled out the money that was included inside.
There were half a dozen hundred dollar bills and a printed map pointing her toward a town called Mystic Mountain.
It seemed like a dream, or rather it was a hallucination.
She wanted to believe in it.
She just wondered how far she could go before it evaporated in front of her like just another daydream.
Suzannah lifted her head and looked at the room around her. The walls had been cheery at one point. She'd painted the apartment shortly after she'd moved in to make the most of having her own place.
That had been almost ten years ago.
She let out a breath and shook her head.
What else did she have to do?
"Do you like your job, Suzy?"
Startled, Suzannah sat upright and blinked at the world around her.
The factory.
She was back in the factory.
And that voice in her head, it wasn't truly in there, it was attached to the man leaning over her shoulder.
Mister Mattingly.
"I said," he spat the words, and she felt some of his spittle on the side of her face and on her neck, "do you like your job, Suzannah?"
Swallowing, she was acutely aware that everyone was staring at her.
It was like rubber-necking at an accident. People just had to stare. If there was gore? All the better, right?
And Suzannah knew that she was a few biting words away from becoming chum and Mister Mattingly was a shark through and through.
Suzannah knew that he was waiting for an answer, which seemed like a waste because there was only one answer that might save her job.
But did she want to save it?
She still had that envelope back at her apartment.
The envelope.
The map.
And six hundred dollars to get her there.
The whole factory went still and silent when Mister Mattingly's hand slapped down on the table beside her.
Someone across the cavernous floor gasped at the violent slap, but no one turned to look at them.
No, everyone was staring at her and waiting.
So was she.
What was she going to say?