T-minus 15 minutes.

Paul Bradley stared at his smartwatch as the seconds ticked away on the timer.

How often he looked at that countdown today?

Couldn't be sure, but if he had to venture a guess, he'd say he was rapidly approaching

triple digits.

Still, the countdown hadn't felt real until this point.

Nothing about this day had. From the moment he'd woken up, the world had unfolded predictably

around him. It had been like watching a play while reading ahead in the script. Events, both major

and insignificant, all occurring exactly as foretold.

That feeling was gone now.

He'd only been given so much information, and now that he was entering the final act,

he realized the script's last page was missing.

The timer on his watch was no longer a guide telling him when and where to be. Now it represented uncertainty.

And with that came the possibility of horror, suffering, even doom. He stuffed his hand in his

pocket and promised himself that he wouldn't look at it again. Couldn't be worrying about a countdown just

before the grand finale, not while there was still one last thing for him to do. He didn't know

what it was yet. You just knew he couldn't afford to be late. There wasn't any time for that.

Floor three, he reminded himself as he stepped onto the elevator.

He'd been repeating the instructions so much they were practically etched into his mind at

this point.

He pushed the button.

Turn left when the doors open, hang right at the second hallway, count 15 paces,

...