Chapter 24: New World, Old Friend

“Connor?”

The name tumbles from my lips like a prayer, hanging in the space between us for one eternal second before everything explodes into motion.

Connor launches himself at me with such force that the duffel bag slides off my shoulder, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that should worry me but doesn’t, not now, not when my best friend’s arms are crushing me in an embrace so tight it squeezes the air from my lungs.

‘No homo.’

“Adam! Holy shit! Adam!” Connor’s voice breaks as he clutches me, his body shaking with sobs. “I can’t believe it, man. Is it really you? Is it the real you?”

People are staring now. The two women Connor was with hang back, exchanging worried glances as they watch our reunion unfold. One of them, a tall blonde with striking features, takes a protective step forward but doesn’t intervene.

I’m crying, too, unashamed tears streaming down my face, dampening Connor’s shoulder as I return his embrace with equal fervor. “Yeah, it’s me. It’s really me.”

Connor pulls back just enough to look at my face, his hands gripping my shoulders like he’s afraid I might disappear if he lets go. His blue eyes are red-rimmed and wild as they search mine, looking for confirmation that I’m real, that this isn’t some cruel trick.

“I got hit by a fucking truck on the 22nd floor at Larry’s Fund,” I blurt out, the words rushing from me in a jumbled mess. “One minute, I was with you, and the next, I was waking up in this fucked-up world where everything is backward.”

Connor’s face splits into a grin so wide it must hurt, tears still streaming unchecked down his cheeks. “Bro, it really is you! Holy shit, dude, I missed you so much.” He pulls me into another bone-crushing hug, practically lifting me off my feet despite being several inches shorter than me.

“Bro, no homo, no homo.” I say, not wanting to accidentally become gay.

‘Not that there’s anything wrong with it.’

When he finally releases me, my mind catches up to what’s happening. “Wait, you’re here. That means you died too,” I say, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. “You died that day?”

Connor nods, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Yeah, the truck smashed through the building. Did you think it just stopped and ended there?” He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “The floor got fucked in the process, and I fell to the floor below. I got impaled by some rebar or some shit and died.”

“That sounds awful,” I whisper, trying to imagine the pain and fear he must have felt.

Connor laughs, the sound halfway between genuine amusement and lingering shock. “At least I didn’t get hit by a truck like some fucking loser!”

We laugh.

‘God, I missed Connor.’

Behind Connor, the two women shift uncomfortably. The blonde one keeps looking between Connor and me with growing concern. The other, shorter with curly brown hair, studies me with an intensity that feels almost clinical, her gaze lingering on the blue baseball cap pulled low over my face.

I follow their gaze, suddenly self-conscious. “What? Is there something on my hat?” I reach up to touch the brim, wondering if I’ve been walking around with some embarrassing logo this whole time.

Connor turns, noticing the women’s discomfort. “Oh shit, sorry. Adam, these are my... um, these are April and Gabby Harper.” He gestures to them with an awkward wave. “April, Gabby, this is Adam Anderson. My best friend from... before.”

April, the taller blonde, steps forward with visible reluctance. Her hazel eyes run up and down me assessing me as if I’m a threat. “Connor,” she says, her voice low and tense, “You finally remember something?” April pulls Connor close to him.

Connor’s expression falls slightly. “I didn’t remember something, April. This is Adam. My best friend I told you about.”

April’s eyes narrow, her posture stiffening as she pulls Connor closer to her side. “Connor, honey,” she says, her voice gentle but firm, “we’ve talked about this. The doctors said your memories would probably come back gradually, but you need to be careful about…”

“I’m not confused,” Connor interrupts, a hint of frustration coloring his tone. “I know exactly who I am and where I’m from. And this is Adam.”

Gabby, the shorter woman with curly brown hair, steps forward and places a calming hand on April’s arm. “Let’s not do this here,” she says quietly, her eyes darting around the crowded station. “People are watching.”

She’s right. Our emotional reunion has drawn curious stares from nearby travelers, some openly gawking at the spectacle we’re creating. I suddenly feel exposed, vulnerable in a way that sends fresh panic coursing through me. If Caterina has people looking for me...

I bend down to retrieve my fallen duffel bag, clutching it protectively against my chest. The weight of it, the money and gun inside, serves as a stark reminder of my situation.

“Look,” I say, lowering my voice, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m kind of in a hurry. I need to get on this train.”

April’s gaze drops to the duffel bag, her expression growing more suspicious. “What’s in the bag?” she asks bluntly.

“April!” Gabby hisses, looking embarrassed.

I shift uncomfortably, adjusting my grip on the bag. “Just Hot boy stuff.”

Connor studies my face, his initial joy fading into concern as he takes in my nervous demeanor, the sunglasses hiding my fading black eye, the baseball cap pulled low over my forehead. His eyes drop to the duffel bag, then back to my face.

“Are you in trouble, man?” he asks quietly.

Before I can answer, a monotone voice crackles over the PA system: “Attention, passengers. The 2:15 train to Rockport with stops in Chelsea, Lynn, Swampscott, Salem, Beverly, Manchester, Gloucester, and Rockport is now boarding on track 7. Please have your tickets ready.”

“That’s us,” Gabby says, sounding relieved at the interruption. She tugs gently at April’s sleeve. “We should go.”

Connor looks torn, his gaze ping-ponging between me and the women who seem to have some claim on him in this world. “Adam’s coming with us,” he announces suddenly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

April opens her mouth as if to protest, but Connor cuts her off. “He’s coming, April. We can sort everything out on the train.”

“I’m on that train anyway,” I blurt out, clutching the duffel bag tighter. “I was just about to buy a ticket.”

Connor’s face breaks into a relieved smile. “That’s perfect!” he exclaims, clapping me on the shoulder. “Then we can get caught up.”

April’s eyes narrow suspiciously, darting between my face and the heavy bag in my arms. She opens her mouth as if to object, but Gabby tugs at her sleeve again, more insistently this time.

“We need to go if we’re going to make it,” Gabby says, her voice gentle but firm. “They’re boarding now.”

“We’ll wait for you by the gate,” Connor says, his voice thick with emotion. “Don’t... don’t go anywhere else, okay?”

‘He can tell I’m bugging out. What a good friend.’

I nod, swallowing against the lump forming in my throat. “I won’t.”

We separate, Connor being gently guided away by the Harper sisters while I approach the ticket counter. The woman behind the glass barely glances at me as I purchase a one-way ticket to Beverly. Her disinterest is a blessing. She won’t remember me if anyone comes asking.

*****

The train rattles and sways beneath us as we speed northward along the coast. Connor and I sit side by side in the two-person seat. Directly in front of us, April and Gabby occupy the forward-facing seats, their bodies angled awkwardly to maintain the illusion they’re not attempting to eavesdrop.

The duffel bag sits heavy on my lap, my arms wrapped around it protectively. I haven’t let it go since boarding the train, not even when Connor offered to put it in the overhead rack.

I’ve been whispering to Connor non-stop for the past twenty minutes, the words pouring out of me in a desperate flood. Everything from waking up in this gender-flipped world to my first encounter with Caterina, how i got a wife, how my wife sold me, the violence, the severed hand that finally drove me to flee. It’s like lancing a wound, painful but necessary, the poison of the past weeks draining out with each confession.

Connor stares at me, his blue eyes wide and unblinking. He hasn’t interrupted once, just letting me purge myself of these experiences like the good friend he’s always been. His face has cycled through shock, horror, disbelief, and back again as my story unfolds.

When I finally fall silent, exhausted by the telling, Connor leans in close, his voice dropping to a whisper too.

“Dude, I can’t believe how hard you’ve had it. Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, a mixture of sympathy and horror etched across his features. “The mob? A cunt wife? Insane.”

I nod, suddenly aware of the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. “Yeah.”

Connor glances toward April and Gabby, who immediately pretend to be engrossed in something on Gabby’s phone. He’s not fooled for a second.

“Look,” he says, turning them fully, his voice firm with resolve. “I don’t care if you believe me or not about how Adam and I know each other, but please let him stay a few days. He needs to be somewhere safe for a bit.”

April’s head snaps up. “You look like you’re in trouble with something,” she says, her voice cold and suspicious. “Are you trying to steal Connor away from us?”

“What? No!” I sputter, taken aback by the accusation yet thankful to realize she clearly sucks at eavesdropping. “I had no idea Connor was even here. I was just trying to…”

Gabby cuts me off, her warm brown eyes suddenly hard as she glares at me. “I don’t care if you have autism. You’re not taking Connor.”

“But I don’t have autism,” I protest, completely bewildered by this sudden turn in the conversation.

Connor starts laughing, his shoulders shaking as he tries to contain himself. The sisters look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“What’s so funny?” April demands, crossing her arms defensively.

Connor points at my head, barely able to speak through his laughter. “The hat... oh my God... the hat’s not his. He just told me.”

“The hat?” I reach up and pull the blue baseball cap from my head, turning it around to see the front for the first time. There, in bold white letters across the crown, are the words: “PLEASE BE PATIENT WITH ME I HAVE AUTISM.”

“Oh, fuck me,” I groan, staring at the cap in horror. “I had no idea. I just grabbed it off a bench because I needed a disguise.”

The realization washes over me in waves. The pitying looks on the subway. The way people avoided eye contact. The extra space they gave me in line.

“That explains so much,” I mutter, feeling heat rise to my face. “Everyone on the subway was looking at me weird.”

Gabby’s expression softens slightly. “You... didn’t know what your own hat said?”

“I sto… I found it. I was in a hurry and having a bad hair day.”

Connor’s laughter has subsided into occasional chuckles. He wipes tears from his eyes. “Only you, man. Only you would accidentally take an autism awareness hat as a disguise.”

The tension on the train is thick enough to slice with a knife as April’s eyes bore into mine.

“What do you want with Connor?” April finally asks, her voice sharp as a razor’s edge.

I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of suspicion pressing down on me. “I don’t want anything,” I say, trying to keep my voice level despite my exhaustion. “I’m not trying to get in his way at all.”

The duffel bag shifts on my lap as the train rounds a curve, and I tighten my grip instinctively. The quarter million dollars and firearm inside feel like they’re broadcasting their presence with neon signs, though logically, I know they’re hidden.

Gabby studies my face for a long momen.

“Oh,” she says, apparently coming to some internal conclusion. She turns around in her seat and faces forward, shoulders relaxing slightly. “I don’t care then.”

April looks at her sister in disbelief, then back at Connor, anxiety radiating from her in almost visible waves.

“Does he really need help that badly?” she asks Connor.

Connor gives her a stern look, his usual easygoing expression hardening into something unfamiliar to me but apparently recognizable to April, whose eyes widen further.

“I’ll go a week without fucking all three of you sisters if you even consider turning him away,” he says, his voice deadly serious despite how stupid the threat is.

The statement hits like a thunderclap in our little section of the train. April physically recoils as if slapped, her face draining of color. Gabby turns around so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t give herself whiplash.

“Alright, alright, fine!” April stammers panic evident in her voice as she raises her hands in surrender. “We’ll help him, just don’t get mad at us, okay? We’re sorry!”

Gabby’s brown eyes are wide with the same panic. “You can’t just take that away from us!” she protests, her voice cracking slightly.

I whisper into the void.

“God, I fucking hate this world.”