"You lied to me?" I say. My voice is hoarse and I'm on the brink of crying.

The two of us are standing in the center of the white room, our hands at our sides. The television screens behind us continue to flash with memories of our lives –of when our lives intersected.

"Quinn, please," Otis pleas. He reaches for my hand but I recoil.

"All this time? You've been pretending the help me, pretending to care. But you're –you're..."

"Also dying?" Otis frowns.

"Yes!" I scream. "You've been pretending not to know anything, but really you've been in the Fold all along. Visiting your own white room and getting your own creepy instructions, haven't you? HAVEN'T YOU?"

Otis nods.

"Since when?" I ask, folding my arms.

"Since the night of your accident," Otis says, looking away from me. He stares down at the pristine white tiles under our feet.

"How? Why? Where have you been?" I can't stop myself from asking these intrusive questions.

Otis drops my hands and runs his fingers through his hair. He looks away from me, back at his television wall.

"After what happened to you... Everyone was talking about it at school. It was all over. I went home and that night I was just trying to unwind –to not feel. I think I went a bit too far because the next thing I remember I was standing in my room and looking at myself on my bed. I was..." Otis trails off.

"Watching yourself die." I finish for him.

He nods.

"You overdosed?" I bring my hands to cover my mouth.

"Town druggie, right? What did you expect?" Otis looks ashamed.

"That's awful," I say.

"I watched my mom find me, call the ambulance and then everything sort of shifted and I was in this place and everything was white." Otis stops abruptly.

"The white room." I nod. "So you heard the voice too?"

"Welcoming me to the Fold? Yea. I heard it." Otis's voice is abrasive, almost bitter. "I spent what felt like days just walking around. Nobody could hear me or see me. Thought I was going to go mad and then... then I came to the quarry and spotted you."

"How lucky for you," I scoff.

"Q, look. I was alone and afraid and–"

Otis's voice cuts out, drowned by the glaring speaker. It's the same voice from before, but the words are gargled. I cannot tell what it is trying to say. I catch Otis's eye and he looks just as terrified as I feel.

Otis moves closer next to me and I feel his arm reach for mine. The lights above us flicker. The monitors flash red and then go completely black. We are plunged into complete silence and total darkness. I cannot see Otis's face, but I know he is right beside me.

Then I hear a faint click and the middle row of screens turn on. They display pure white noise. The center TV has a clock on it. Only, it's not really a clock.

"Is that–" I begin.

"A countdown." Otis finishes next to me.

I watch the seconds start counting down.

23:56:00 hours.

So the countdown begins.

"Quinn!" Otis shouts behind me.

I turn and head for the door. The room around me feels like it's filled with water again. My footsteps feel heavy. Otis walks behind me, hurrying to keep up.

The door flings open for me.

Once I'm out in the night air, my lungs can breathe easy again. It's freezing cold, even for this dreary frozen tundra of a town. Not that I can really feel the cold, anymore.

"Quinn, come on!" Otis tries to grab my hand again. I shake him off.

"You saw that, Otis. You saw it!" I shout, panic-stricken.

"We don't know what it means," Otis says, his voice comforting.

"Yes we do. We know exactly what it means," I choke. "Our time is almost up. And I've been wasting it with you!"

Otis looks away, ashamed again. I hate the words coming from my mouth, but I cannot help but resent Otis. I resent him lying to me. Making me believe he was alive and somehow my key to solving this whole thing. Making me believe he was my anchor.

"Q, we can do this. I know we can. We are each other's anchor," Otis says.

"That's ridiculous!" I exclaim. "How? We're both dying! And in 24 hours we will both be DEAD!"

"You don't know that," Otis says.

"But I do! You saw that –in there." I jerk my head back to the shed and its now normal, non-glowing door.

"I saw a clock on a TV in a room that doesn't even exist there. Not really. We don't have to let it decide or determine anything." Otis takes my hand in his. I let him.

"But, it's been here all along. It's where we woke up," I say.

"And when has it ever been right about anything?" Otis asks.

I think about this. I think about waking up in the white room, the ticket dispenser, the feeling of floating, the jazz song –I think about everything. All figments of my own imagination. Why should this countdown be anything different?

I look at the pink blooming on the horizon. Dawn. One more day.

The quarry will be a peaceful place to die. At least there is comfort in that.

I look at Otis, at his hand still holding mine, and I smile.

"One day. Let's make it count."

...

It's almost dark again. Otis and I spent the better part of the last 10 hours walking the town. It's a weird thing to walk around and not worry about being seen. It's a weird thing to be dying.

We visited all our old spots. The pool club, the intersection where we almost crashed, the school and the theater. We visited the park and the reservoir. We took one last trip to both our houses.

We walked hand in hand and talked about college and life and what we'd do if we ever woke up. We talked about the future we'll never get to have.

We talked more than I think most people do. Even people who have it all figured out. I think we're ready now.

Otis looks up at the sky and back to me. "We should head back. If you're ready?"

"Ready." I nod.

"You're sure about this? The quarry?" He asks. "That's where you want to be?"

"Of course." I shrug. "I can't think of a more suitable place to expire my time."

"Ok, Q. Don't jump the gun," Otis grins. "We still have all night."

"We do," I mumble, nodding.

One last night with Otis. One last night alive.

"I'm glad it's with you," Otis says, looking away from me.

Small butterflies are fluttering somewhere deep inside me. I can't help but smile at his words. "I'm glad too."

I really am.