𝐝𝐞𝐣𝐚 𝐯𝐮 , 𝟖𝟎𝐬

37 = coincidence

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 25th 2018

after a long day on set, i finally wrapped and i'm more than ready to head home.

michael rolls his window down as he pulls up beside me on the side of the road.

"you sure you don't want me to drive you home?" he asks, "it's late."

"i wanna take the bus." i nod my head at my manager.

"you? on a bus? at night?"

"what, is something wrong with that idea?"

"i don't know, kennedy. you seem to always get yourself into weird situations. this could turn out to be one too-"

"michael, i'll be fine." i interrupt him with a reassuring smile.

he lets out a sigh, "alright. well if you need me, call me."

"i will."

"night, kid." he says, before rolling up his window and driving off.

ever since the events that took place over the last few days, i just want to be left alone. jason telling me about that intruding group of men, "the founders", as they like to call themselves, really freaked me out. then seeing corey not knowing who i am yesterday, seriously freaked me out.

i honestly wish i could talk to naomi. she'd help me through this.

my phone lights up with an incoming call from harrison at the same time i see the bus heading up the street.

i furrow my eyebrows as i slide the call to answer it.

"hey, are you good?" i ask.

"no, how'd you know?" i hear his voice come in on the other end.

"you always facetime me, never call me. what's wrong?"

"it was the weirdest fucking thing. you remember when you took me the 80s with you a couple weeks ago, right?"

"yes, how could i forget? bar fight, arrested, met christian slater-" i begin to ramble.

"yeah, exactly. we were arrested and you had to call jason from the holding cell." harrison says as the bus pulls up to the stop i'm at.

"i remember." i say, the bus doors open and i step inside. the driver doesn't look at me at all. it's cold in here and the bright fluorescent lights immediately wake me up from standing outside in the dark for so long.

"hello? still there?" harrison asks.

"yeah, can you hear me?" i walk down the aisle to talk a seat. no one else is on the bus but me.

"yeah, you cut out for a second there. anyway, i just got a call from that same police station."

"what?" i ask, scrunching my face up in confusion.

"it was that whole automated voice thing! asking if i'd like to take a call from someone who's being held there. i went through the whole message and at the end no one was on the line."

i lean my head back on the seat, "harry, did someone in your family just get arrested?"

"no!"

"then why would you get a call from there?"

"i don't know, dummy! that's the reason i'm calling you." he says, sarcastically.

"maybe it was a ghost." i tease.

"ken, i swear to god it was as if i got a call from ourselves back in the 80s. like, some horror movie shit."

"harry, there's no way-" a sudden ring of static comes through my phone making me yank it away from my ear.