Premonitions by Jamie Schultz Page A

him and his world-class fuckup brother out of a bad spot when nobody else in the world would, and as far as he was concerned nobody else in the world ever needed to know about it.
    “All you need to know is that those two women are like my sisters. I’d do anything for them, and I mean literally fucking anything. Got that?”
    “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”
    They went back to picking through the weeds, and Nail picked up the pace some, leaving Genevieve behind. Too damn many questions. It didn’t take him long to catch up to Tommy.
    “Burrito wrapper,” Nail said, holding up his prize.
    Tommy opened the bag. “In it goes.” He stepped close to Nail and glanced meaningfully back at Genevieve. “What do you think?” he whispered. “I got a shot?”
    “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Nail said. “Hurry up and let’s get this over with.”
    * * *
    Karyn turned on the kitchen faucet, waited for the water to cool down to room temperature, and filled a glass. Shetook a sip, wrinkling her nose at the chlorine. Though she kept meaning to get a water filter, somehow it never happened.
    The dead bolt on the front door turned with a scraping sound, and Anna let herself in. “How about a beer?” Anna asked.
    “Hey, shut the door—huh.” It was already shut.
    Anna put her elbows on the peeling Formica counter that separated the entry from the kitchen. “How about two beers?”
    “That good, huh?”
    “None of the usual suspects are giving me anything. I hear Tommy and—”
    The dead bolt on the front door turned with a scraping sound, and Anna let herself in.
    The other Anna kept right on talking. “—Nail got some good stuff but—”
    “How about a beer?” the new Anna asked.
    “—gonna need some prep time—”
    “How about two beers?”
    Karyn closed her eyes.
Go away. Please go away.
When she opened them again, both Annas were leaning on the counter, moving and talking out of sync with each other. The sound wasn’t much worse than two people talking over each other, but looking at them made Karyn feel dizzy. They were superimposed, but not like double-exposed film, where one or both seemed somewhat insubstantial—both were perfectly solid, and the resulting amalgam had a distorted figure, arms that were unnaturally wide where one Anna had moved slightly with respect to the other, twenty fingers, and a face that could have inspired either Picasso or Hieronymus Bosch.
    The dead bolt on the front door turned with a scraping sound—
    Karyn nearly ran for her bedroom. She crossed the living room in half a dozen rapid strides, closed the bedroom door, and paused with her hand on the knob, listening. The chatter from the other side faded, but that didn’t make her feel better. Her heart slammed in her chest, so forceful she could hear the hissing swell of blood rushthrough her ears, and she wondered for a moment if she might pass out.
    I can’t do this. I can’t have this now.
    She pressed her ear to the door. The thin material, barely better than cardboard, let everything through, and she heard what might have been a fourth voice joined to the others.
    If they come in here, I’ll scream, I swear.
    Without turning her back to the door, she crossed the small room to the dresser, pulled open the top drawer, and took out a plastic zipper bag.
    From outside, the voices quieted until Karyn couldn’t hear them anymore. Maybe the Annas had gone. Maybe they were all out there having a beer together. Karyn knew they weren’t real, and she was even fairly sure they were harmless, but she couldn’t make herself check if they were still out there.
    After what felt like a long time, she sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the zipper bag and running her thumbs over its contents.
    “I hate you,” she said.
    In truth, she wasn’t sure what she hated more—the necessity of the bitter concoction, or the undeniable fact that there was noticeably less in the bag than there should have been. She’d gone to see