Chapter 17 · The Door in Mark's Apartment

"Don't move."

Mark froze halfway across his living room, water glass in hand. Amy stood behind him in stained scrubs, one hand locked around her phone.

"There's a door," she said.

"What?"

She pointed past his shoulder.

A wooden door stood three feet from the couch with no wall, frame, or ceiling to hold it up. Six old panels. Tarnished brass knob. Its bottom hovered above the carpet.

Mark set the glass down. Water sloshed over his fingers.

"When did that get here?"

"I'm calling Daniel."

"Don't."

"Mark—"

"Don't call anyone yet."

Amy gave him a hard look. "Your hand's burning again, isn't it?"

He shoved his scarred hand into his pocket. "It's nothing."

"You always say that right before everything gets worse."

Her phone buzzed before she could dial.

Daniel: On my way. Don't touch it.

A second message appeared.

Lucas: What's happening?

Amy typed back. "A door appeared in Mark's apartment. No frame."

Lucas: I'm coming.

Daniel: Stay put.

Lucas: I can see his building from here.

Mark took the phone from Amy. "Everybody stay calm. I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Amy said. "Your fingers are shaking."

"I said I'm fine."

The apartment buzzer sounded.

Mark flinched.