It rang once.
“C’mon.”
It rang twice.
“Come. On.”
It rang thrice.
There was a pause.
Hi, you’ve reached the Greene’s. Unfortunately, we’re unable to come to the phone right now, so-
“Sonofabitch, what’s the point of a damn landline if you’re never going to use it?”
Such was the question of the hour, or rather several hours at this point, as Chris was continuing his long tedious drive back to home base. He had several routes mapped out on his phone from previous trips: different paths just for different scenarios, like dealing with a passing storm or skirting around the all-too-common congestion. Here, he chose to take the roads that while not the most straightforward, kept him out of view from any observant state cruiser watching by the shoulder. Nearing the end of August, they’d be itching to satisfy any lingering quotas on the books, not counting any other recent occurrences.
However, this sneaky scenic detour came at the expense of any modern world amenities for the longest stretch. Such as traffic lights, or rest stops, or cell towers sprouting up on the horizon. A part of him was glad it hadn’t become too crowded…yet, but there was always going to be consequences leaving somewhere so disconnected. This was one such time.
He sighed in frustration, putting the phone back in the cupholder and leaned back. He could feel the rough aged fabric rubbing against his back, along with a few strands sticking to the dried- “Guess I’ll have to give it another thirty or so. There’s a few telephone wires up there, so I should be coming up on a town. They should probably have a tower for me to try again.”
The phone abruptly switched back to a playlist he was listening to, with phaser-ladened guitars and tip-tap cymbals aplenty in the old country sound. He couldn’t pin down exactly whose song it was again, but it didn’t really matter. As long as it kept his mind off the events in the rear view mirror, it could’ve been blown out radio static for all he cared. Least it’s not the gurgles of the cookie monster, like it usually is with Roman. I don’t know how he listens to that for five minutes, let alone forty-five.
He tapped his fingers on the wheel to the bassline, eyeing the yellow double line to speed by a slow sedan soon as the opposite traffic cleared. Another benefit to taking paths less travelled is that said travelers aren’t too bothered when you move slightly out of the legal boundaries. That, or he didn’t hang around long enough to notice.
By now, he’d shifted into hill country, with patches of greens and browns all over sweeping through bumpy rock and scattered brush. A high sitting sun, not a single could in the sky. What wonderful summer weather.
Don’t look at it.
Plenty of good biking trails around here. Hiking, too, especially if you can find one along the edge of the water. Stop a moment and relax, maybe even swim if you’re up for it.
It’s not behind you, just keep driving and everything will be fine. You’re here by yourself, you were always by yourself. No one else.
The lane opened, and he accelerated to cut in front. He was about halfway cleared when the sedan realized what he was doing, and proceeded to speed up himself. Causing him to blend back in just before their front bumper, a yelp of a tire squeal as the whine of the engine intensified. Though there was distance between them, that didn’t stop the driver from loudly objecting to his actions, with a heavy hand on the horn as they continued. And continued. And continued.
He swiveled around, he hoped eye to eye with the silhouette behind the dark reflecting windshield and shouted at them. “Oh will you calm down? I didn’t even clip you, prick! How about next time, you actually use the pedal?”
He looked down at it.
The log was still in the backseat.
He grumbled to himself as he slinked back to the road head, mentally applying blinders to nip the bud of any further blooming curiosity. His body was soon rushed by a wave of emotions, bringing him right back to where he was the night prior. It put him on edge, not even comfortable enough to sit still in his seat. Fingers trembling on the wheel, nerves and nasty looks from otherworldly beings burning holes in his head.
He glanced outside. Plenty of bugs buzzing around, but no birds anywhere.
So, we’re really going home?
She’s coming…she’s…coming…
Help.
He smacked a frustrated hand on the wheel. A bead of sweat dripped down his face and into his nose, making him cringe. “This ain’t gonna work, lest I wanna go face first in a ditch. I need to…I don’t know, eat something, walk around for a while. I can’t keep sitting in this car. It’s fucking with my head.”
He picked up the phone again and switched off the music app. Upon doing this, a low droning hum replaced the acoustics, rising and falling, like a heartbeat, causing the air to shimmer around the twisted bark. The lower register vibrated in his ears every couple seconds. He bet if he brought it closer to him he’d become nauseous from the sensation.
Perhaps he should’ve used a different type of music for this, the kind from ‘outlaws’ as his mom referred to them. It seemed a nice period for her, considering how she reminisced; going on hours about the shows she went to, waiting in lines for records, getting things signed by the artists. He couldn’t really understand it, not being much of a concert goer. But, having the power to hold an entire crowd captive in the palm of your hand certainly had its allure.
He always wondered about them. Not country singers per se, rather the culture they imitated and then later acquainted with in modern terms. The not-so-ancient mythology of the American frontier: outlaws and cowboys, horse riders and gunslingers. It was hard to miss, considering the region. Surrounded by timeworn structures and statues to the names of history, the legacies of fantastical viewpoints in the maturing of the nation.
What if he were to bring those burgeoning pioneers to the here and now? Could this be what they envisioned to themselves when pursuing the divine merits of manifest destiny?
The low hum continued to dig into his ears, by now giving him a splitting headache. He looked down at himself. The bloody shirt stuck to the fibers of the seat belt.
“Clothes. I think they’d say some clothes would be in order first.”
He parked near the edge of the lot. The engine gave out an unceremonious sputter, followed by the soft clicks popping away into the nothing. He sat silently, tapping his fingers on his thighs and looking around. Sparse traffic would pass, a car here, a truck there, but nothing too congested to warrant driving to another spot. Most people should just be rolling out of the house now. That doesn’t explain all the cars here in the lot already…
He tilted the rearview towards him to thoroughly examine himself, most importantly, his face. His hair, which was far too long, slick with grease and sweat, was mangled from a severe case of bedhead. It looked like an animal had nested on his head. He raked his fingers through it while continuing to angle his face in the tiny mirror. Somehow, it’d escaped the ordeal completely unscathed, not even a single drop of blood. The sheer ridiculousness of it all made him chuckle a little, knowing that the aftermath was sitting just below the confines of the little strip, and within there, you would never notice.
Maybe he should thank Chrissy for being courteous enough to leave crucial assets untouched. Well, almost untouched, as the weird lump under his shirt made at the very least translucent. Last he checked, it wasn’t good behavior to feast on other people’s hearts, whether figurative or literal.
He wiped away a light film of sweat, and refocused. “Shirt and shoes, that’s all you need from here. Just a shirt and shoes. That’s it, nothing more.” He instructed to the equally serious eyes looking back at him. “And if anyone asks what happened, you cut yourself shaving. With a weedwhacker.”
Behind him, the pulsating glow appeared from the backseat. His eyelids fell with an annoyed groan. Sure enough, it was the log, with its various symbols illuminated by a green light from within.
“Of course, you’d want to throw your two cents in, wouldn’t you?” He scowled. “Well, guess you ain’t needing any clothes now, and you sure as hell ain’t coming in with me.” He hit a button on his key to open the trunk. He went to the back and grabbed it. Upon touching the coarse bark, he was hit with an intense shock, every nerve in his finger erupting with heat. Like he’d stuck his hand in a raging fire. He quickly ran to the trunk, tossed it in and slammed it shut. He forcefully shook out his hand, even hopping around on one foot till it dissipated.
The thing’s muffled groan could still be heard from under the lid. Quit your whining, I’ll be right back.
He casually walked to the entrance, with giant glass panels reflecting the bright open sunshine. Wincing the whole time, somehow finding every pebble and puddle scattered on the asphalt. Whatever hydration left in him rolled down his back, airing out the giant tear. It also helped most bloodstains were now on his back, so face-to-face wouldn’t be as suspicious as looking like he fed someone through a woodchipper.
The doors parted with a bright, welcoming chime, and he stepped forward in the middle of the frame, letting cold air waft over him with relief. Air conditioning, what a wonderful invention. Its presence was so overwhelming his body stopped on its own a few seconds, eyes closed, deep breaths. A sudden tiredness followed, weightlessness in his legs, but he managed to wrangle back support of himself and moved inside.
The place was more spacious than it let on, which was both a positive and a negative quality. A pseudo-rustic detailing to its design, just enough to draw those visiting from the big cities playing pretend the role of the everyman. Wooden furniture stood around ceramic tiles and reflective metal. Studio lights, a chandelier hanging from exposed beams, even a longhorn skull. Something was in the air, like a fragrance, but it all turned to an unrecognizable mush between the wood, sweat, and copper.
The tiles were cold on his damp socks, the bottom halves leaving greyish prints for a time. Not his concern now. Instead, he was focused on finding the best way to make his arm across his back a natural position. It wasn’t. What if he told them he had a strange case of an eternal itch, cursed to never be relieved by the elusive sweet spot?
…Don’t say cursed.
It appeared he didn’t have to worry about any pestering passersby since everyone else was going off a similar game plan. Most were quiet, talking to who they came with but never a word to him. Not even a sideways glance as he shuffled by.
He quietly went around the store a few minutes, just as he’d typically do most of his shopping trips. Music continued to play somewhere, he could feel it in his ears, but he couldn’t make it out. Somewhere in front of him, maybe. He looked up and followed the ceiling trim, eventually focusing on a corner.
A small white speaker, and just underneath, a camera.
He stood there staring at it. Then he went down another beam and noticed a second camera in a similar position. It, too, was pointed in his direction.
His heart began to beat harder. He looked behind him, then forward again.
“Relax.” He whispered to himself. “Just relax. Those are for other reasons. You’re here to buy and leave.”
He looked back at them.
…Could she mimic something inorganic? How would that even work? An organism turning mechanical, and to be that small. Everything she’s done prior has been alive to some extent, a human, a bird, a…well, I guess horse partly. But a camera?
He did remember when she was in the car with him, and how she was able to make clothing out of her own shell and flesh, or whatever goop made up her insides. Whatever it was, clothes weren’t made out of it.
He didn’t panic, just picked up the pace a few beats faster. The others continued to ignore him, which was good ultimately, but now their almost singular behavior of being distracted was starting to distract him.
Except for one head, one person who turned just as he moved out of sight. He sped up a little more.
You didn’t see me, you didn’t see me, you didn’t see me-
“Hello, sir?”
You saw me.
He froze on the spot and bowed his head to the ground. A blurry vignette of his hunched figure stared back at him through the tiles. He closed his eyes, and his mouth became a thin line. Everything grew quiet.
“Excuse me, sir?”
He swallowed, exhaled out his nose loudly, and nodded. “Yes?” He responded with tired rasp and turned to the voice. He went pale.
“Are you finding everything alright?”
Jane.
A hitch in his breath. “I, uh…” He took a small step back and blinked a few times, yet she remained in full clarity, hands clasped together at her waist. Watching him with a kind smile. “…maybe?”
She tilted her head, brow furrowed. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little green around the gills there. No offense.”
The air in his throat caught his vocals, emitting a low croak. Say something. “Wha-no, no, you’re fine. Bad night, didn’t get any sleep, you know how it is.”
“Yeah, some nights can be a real mess.” She replied in a soft, understanding tone.
Same hair. Same eyes. Same face. A complete carbon copy from the motel, save for the change in uniform, wearing this store’s staff t-shirt with a pressed logo.
He continued to stare at her slack-jawed, an index finger held up before him as he tried to find his voice. It curled, extended, then curled again. Meanwhile, she continued to stand there, calm and smiling. He brought his knuckles up to his mouth, closing it.
“Sorry.” He finally said through an awkward chortle. “It’s just, haven’t we met before?”
“No.”
“You sure? I think we did, could’ve sworn we spoke just yesterday.”
She gazed off to the side, pursing her lips to show visually racking her brain, then shaking her head. “Nope, sure I would’ve remembered you. I mean,” She unfolded her hands and held them up, one high above the other to demonstrate height. “kinda hard to miss that.”
He rolled his eyes dismissively, letting his shoulders relax. “Whatever, I don’t have the patience to argue with it anymore. If life wants to keep thrashing me around every time I try to get some sense, then I’ll gladly stand here and plant my feet in confusion.” He didn’t care if she heard him at this point. Because from what he could see, he was destined to be the world’s wacky wonders whipping post whether he wanted it or not. Do as you please, as long as it makes this experience go by quicker.
“Hmm, alright. Well, since I’m here now, is there anything I can help you find? I hate to see someone so turned around.”
“Sure, why not?” He replied, giving her a dispassionate shrug. “You want to help me? I need a new shirt and a pair of shoes.”
She nodded, obviously attempting to hold back a grimace. “I’ll say, that one looks like it’s been put through the wringer long enough. And,” She paused. “You’re not wearing any shoes.”
“No, I’m not.”
She crossed her arms in playful disapproval. “You know, company policy technically states you shouldn’t even be in here looking like this.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know full well about the three S’s.”
“But,” She continued, “I’ll give you a pass today, considering how…unexpected last night must’ve turned out.”
“You have no idea.”
I believe I do.
“And, from a certain point of view, dirty socks could be considered a form of footwear, yes?”
“I’m not gonna go that far now. I believe in at least a few social norms, and everyone needs a pair of shoes. Everyone. Hell, even horses need a pair from time to time, you know what I mean?”
She smiled again and nodded. “Yes, sir, I understand completely.”
They were in the back corner of the store without a word more to detour. He continued to study her over, though he’d told himself he wouldn’t. And as he rightfully suspected, yes, this Jane was the same as the last Jane he’d spoken to. As a matter of fact, he could’ve sworn he’d seen another girl similar practicing on the baseball fields in between his walks around campus. Though, that one might’ve been stretching it a little.
She carefully walked her fingers between each of the hanging fabrics, “Shirts, shirts, shirts,” She mumbled to herself like a tune, then turned back to him. “As you can see, we have a wide variety of colors and cuts. Something here for any occasion.”
He nodded absently, not even focusing on her sales spiel enough to start sifting through the clothing racks. Instead, he was keeping a close eye on the rest of the near statuesque customers. “Yeah, that’s cool, but I just need one thing. Nothing too fancy.”
“Of course, of course,” She responded, “Are there any brands you fancy in particular?”
“I just said nothing fan-oh,” He glanced over at her, “I don’t know, Levi’s fine, I guess, same as my jeans. Large, if you have it.”
“Of cours~se.”
Aside from the store music, the rest was eerily quiet, with most small talk ceased and now they were all standing around mute. He caught one of her coworkers, somewhat lacking in the title, trying to restock a shelf. Though he was viewing her from a profile, the expression on her face was clear to see. The lack of one.
Blank. Eyes wide open. Never blinking.
Jesus, someone’s really into the wares, or we’re running on more than just coffee this morning. But that ain’t the excuse for everyone else. Something strange is afoot…as it’s been for a while. Man, I hate being like this, but I ain’t exactly got a choice here.
A tap on the shoulder.
“Hmm?”
She'd come uncomfortably close to him, almost touching his back if he hadn't moved. But, kept smiles all the way. “It appears you’ve finally hit a stroke of luck 'cause I’ve got one of these in stock for ya.” ‘These’ in question happened to be a long-sleeved button-down in black. His brow perked up.
For once, he actually had a slight curl in his lips, “Well now, would you look at that?” He said, finally taking in the small victory of something going right, and best of all, normal. He also caught on to the big self congratulatory smirk on her face. “How’d you figure me for this persuasion?”
She shrugged, “Had a feeling you’d like it, I could tell right away. I think it’ll go well with your eyes.”
“Ah, right,” He replied, taking the shirt in hand, rubbing the dark denim. “Definitely that. It couldn’t have anything to do with the big seven-zero printed on the tag here. Must be pure coincidence.”
“You asked for a cut and brand. That’s what I have to offer. If it’s not to your liking, we can find something else, Chris.”
“No, this is fine. Wait, how’d you-“
“You said you needed shoes next, yes~s?”
“Yeah, but-“
“Perfect, follow me.” She motioned a hand at him and began walking off. “I think we have something you’re really gonna like.”
“Wait a minute, what about-“ But by that point, she was already well on her way to the shoe aisles, clearly drowning out his quivering questions. He grumbled to himself, annoyed, and did as instructed.
He looked down at the shirt. Still got the hanger, metal hook. Twist that off, and I can hide the sharp end between my fingers. The wood, well, that’ll be a blunter approach. We’re closer to the emergency exit, but I bet I can make it to the front if I double time it.
"Hey, is everyone around here usually this zoned out?"
"Zoned out?"
"Yeah, it's awfully quiet for the amount of people Even your coworkers look kinda out of it."
She gave him a dull glare on their behalf, putting her hands on her hips. "I wouldn't be like that, it is still early in the morning. I agree it is strange to see this many customers just when the doors opened, but I'm not going to judge. That would be uncalled for. Not all of us have the privilege of being early birds."
His ears hung onto the weird stilted cadence of her response, not to mention the hissing trail off every now and then. Was she doing it on purpose, because if not, it was far worse than any valley girl he'd ever been subject to, and he'd had plenty enough of that annoyance before.
...How did she know his name? Did he slip it in conversation on accident at some point? No, he couldn't have...
Just then, a box was shoved into his stomach, knocking some wind out of him. He took it in his hands, saving it from spilling. “Why don’t you do me a favor and take a gander at those, hmm? Believe me, I think you’ll find them to be some real lookers~s.” She giggled.
Uh oh. Red flag. He smiled nervously, while trying to hand the box back to her. “Oh, no thank you, please. I appreciate the effort, but all I need is-“
To open the box. Now.
The lid was now on the floor at his feet, and he was left peering in.
“Woah…” He whispered, eyes widening slowly. He studied the boots wrapped neatly in their packing paper thoroughly. “This is…lizard skin…” A curious fingered lowered inside, itching to trace along the bumpy scales.
“Lucchese, I believe.” Her voice came from behind him now, just over his shoulder. The mere utterance of the brand caused him to retract his hand. She moved over next to him and pointed at them herself. “This material is tougher to break, but well worth the effort. Very flexible and s~scratch resistant.”
“Are you out of your mind?” He exclaimed, still looking down. “There’s no way I’m affording these! I like boots as much as anyone else, but you need to get your head out your read end. Don’t you sell sneakers or something?”
But she was determined in her decision, for reasons completely unknown. “Please, you need to reconsider.” She said while wrapping a gentle hand around his wrist. Her touch was smooth yet ice cold. “They’ll look real captivating on you. S~Surely some s~stuffy old s~sneakers won’t s~suffice, yes~s?”
He shook her off, not attempting to hide his frustrations any longer. “First, knock that shit off with your voice. It’s really irritating. Second, I don’t have hundreds of dollars waiting to be burned, so there’s no point pushing it.”
It was then Chris saw something weird. Somehow. Even at this point. From the angle he moved the box, the light above cast large white reflections on the polished boot scales. This glare flashed upon her face, yet she failed to react realistically. For a moment, her eye shone like glass. Then, becoming see-through, and behind them a faint teal color filled up the entirety of the sclera.
She jumped back in front of him, but those eyes had a new intensity. “C’mon, humor a girl and at least try them on, will ya?”
“Forget it,” He turned around to put the box back on the shelf. “Why am I even bothering with this? I’ll just do it myself.” He snapped, only to smack face first into…
A wooden door.
“Ow! What the-“ He stepped back, rubbing his forehead in pain, said frustrations fading away for the confusion he boldly claimed he steeled himself for, now realizing he may be in way over his head. How’d we get all the way back to the dressing rooms, and I never noticed! I thought we were just by the-
“In this world, cooperation is key, Chris.” She said with a newfound seriousness. “It’s a successful factor to any operation. Whether it be between retail coworkers or even a nation’s standing army spanning a thousand. Cooperation is the stitches that keep the flapping sole fastened to the worn toe box. Of course, some worry more for surface-level affairs, making sure color families match or if they meet certain dress requirements. But for me, I’m focused on the foundation rather than the display. After all, you can’t build any sound atop what could easily become nothing. Loosen a stitch here, tear a hole there, and with enough time, you’ll be left holding unwound strands, leaving that person and whatever desires they hold bare.”
“I…I don’t….”
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“…No.”
She twisted the knob on the door until the deadbolt clicked, staring him down the whole time. Chris could still feel her icy chills all over him. “Step inside.”
Before he could protest, before she’d even fully opened the door, he was standing in the middle of a small dressing room and his feet encased around something tight and firm. He looked down to see he was wearing the boots. His dirty, bloody, soggy, pebble-ridden socks inside a pair of clean, minimum five hundred dollar lizard skin boots.
He could’ve sworn his heart stopped if it wasn’t pounding away like a jackhammer at a rapid pace. And with that, his t-shirt began to glow, as shades of green faded onto the walls and coat hooks. No, no, no, not now! He panicked, trying helplessly to cover it, but the light was too strong to snuff out.
She stepped in next, closing the door and locking it. She continued to stare at him quietly, eyes without expression, which only made his heart beat faster. He could probably be another thirty minutes closer to home now if he’d stayed on the road. Mom probably wouldn’t even be too shook at his current state anyways. She’d just be happy enough to see him.
Jane’s head dipped down to the boots, which he was most definitely shaking in, her stare slowly morphing into a scowl.
Then, she shifted to his chest, the green light pulsating on her stonelike expression.
“H-Hey, look, I-uh-I didn’t really mean what I said out there, ok? Not to you, at least. Like I said, I-I’ve had it pretty rough lately.”
Rough? Yes, it’s been rough. That much we can agree on, especially when one being has become the singular source of all your woes. You sit there, frantic in your desperate struggles, grasping for a hold of the situation, while the perpetrator mocks you with a calm, unaware demeanor. Oh, if only you could get your hooves on the bastard…
Her face didn’t move, not even a slight twitch of her lips. Yet she spoke with a clear resonance far above normal conversation. It sounded like it was coming from within his own head. She tilted up fully to meet his nervous gaze, where he could now see her neck glowing with a slickly green hue.
A finger snaked under his shirt and began pulling it upward. She spoke again, and he saw the light flicker with each enunciation.
The things you yearn to investigate, peel back the layers of your dreadful situation, and get down the main reasons. Yes~s, you wonder what it is you’ll unearth if you were able to confront this being. To sit down with them and have a little heart-to-heart.
She gave him a cruel smile as the shirt pulled up to his neck and raised her other hand. A slender finger extended out from a tight fist and brought it to the pounding chest plate. Her glare shifted once more, becoming solely focused on the organ, her mouth hanging open with a trail of drool.
The fingertip pressed against the plate.
A feeling clicked within him, something more akin to an instinct rather than any rational reaction. If he were acting rational, he would’ve just forced her off him with some brash insult before storming out to get to the rest of his day. Sure, it wasn’t cool, and whatever feelings between them would sour beyond any chance of recovery, but it’d be the best overall outcome for everyone involved.
Unfortunately, there seemed to be a disconnect somewhere from his brain to his brawn, as his hand clenched like a vice around the slim wrist holding his shirt and yanked her towards him. It followed without resistance, leaving her upper body exposed. She was so caught off guard, her head jerked and her spine bowed backwards.
This split second action was then immediately followed up by his leg pulling back, muscles taut with power, and ramming full force into her stomach.
The cavity caved around the kneecap easily, molding to the shape of the bone in a thick putty. However, what it’d connected to was not skin and organs, but another layer lurking underneath. One smooth and hard, feeling it rupture against his leg. The shatter filled the dressing room with loud hollow snaps. Her shell.
She keeled over and began coughing violently, each heave flush with liquids rushing from her gut. His body didn’t waste another second, as his other hand came down on her unkempt brunette mop and grabbed a fistful of the tangled mess. He swore he even felt some strands rip between his fingers.
His arms pulled her head back and shoved her into the wall as he let out a enraged alien shriek. The force actually lifted her off the ground a few inches, and she connected with full weight, the back of her head a blurry brown explosion. A shower of splintered debris rained down on both of them.
He heard another crack on impact, and a mist of black sprayed across the pale wooden panels. He collapsed backwards, but she refused to move.
The back of her neck was skewered on the coat rack hook. Black dribble clumped her hair into wet strands, while other streaks were going down her arms and shirt. She reached behind her desperately trying to get a grip on the hook, her face gnashing and twitching with a rabid frenzy.
Then, the female features suddenly gave way, and morphed into a dark muzzle of alien anatomy. Giant emotionless eyes, sharp teeth, spastic tongue squirming around a black smooth shine.
It was only now that Chris was able to get a hold of himself and got up from the floor. “I knew it,” He said quietly before raising to a shout. “I fucking knew it, you’re one of them!”
She shrieked with an aggressive chattering, “How dare you! When I’m through with you, you’ll be nothing but a shriveled hu~usk!”A green blast appeared above her head and shot towards him. He jumped back, feeling a sting in his shoulder, connecting with the door and falling out, making it swing wide with a bang!
He didn’t take time process what’d just occurred, bouncing off and sprinting down back to the main section of the store. The boots didn’t push off the wooden floor much as they pressed right through them. He could almost feel the nails flinging out from the old boards.
He didn’t know where he was going. He hadn’t thought that far ahead.