Whirl

Regan ran. Bursting out of the eerily silent house, she frantically scanned her surroundings, her
heart pounding in her ears. The multitude of stars faintly illuminated the surrounding fields of grass,
but there was not a soul in sight.
Thank God.
Regan hurried down the little dirt path, somehow managing to open her car door and duck
inside. Locking all the doors—Why? The only danger here is you—she gripped the steering wheel with
shaking hands. “Breathe.” Regan closed her eyes. “Breathe, Regan. Calm down.” She let out a shaky
breath. “Okay, calm down.” She opened her eyes again. What now? What could she possibly do?
Regan’s lips trembled. How did this happen? She was an upright, conscientious businesswoman, not
some deranged lunatic roaming the streets! No, this wouldn’t, couldn’t, be the end of Regan Matthews.
She wiped away the forming tears with a rough hand and set her mouth in a grim line.
Who could she turn to? Her family? Too far. What she really needed right now was to talk to
someone in person. Drew? He was the one who had told her to come here in the first place... Drew
would know what to do; if nothing else, he would help her come up with some ideas. She started the
car. Yes, turning to Drew was her best option. Regan drew another deep breath, threw one last look at
the lonely house behind her, and sped off into the night.
~
“Hi, Drew.” Regan watched her best friend take in her disheveled hair, her running mascara,
and her rumpled pantsuit in alarm. His mouth wobbled around uselessly for a while before coherent
words formed.
“Regan! My God! What happened?” Drew quickly pulled her inside, shutting the front door
behind him. The house was pleasantly warm, a sharp contrast to the nipping cold outside. “Holy sh—
are you all right? Did Henderson do this to you?” His brown eyes searched hers in concern. Regan
moved over to the couch and sunk gratefully into it.
“I killed him, Drew.”
Drew froze. "W—What?" He laughed nervously. "You... what? Are you serious?"
“I told him to stop embezzling from the company, and he just laughed at me. He said no one
would believe me—I have no proof!" Regan faltered, her voice on the edge of breaking. “And that’s
when I lost it. I couldn’t think rationally anymore—I was furious! I was the one who worked the 15-
hour days, I’m the one who made that company what it is today!
“Henderson had a gun lying on the table, so I… I picked it up, and shot him. Right in the
chest.”
 "He had a gun? Just lying on the table?" Drew ran a hand through his hair in disbelief.
Regan blinked confusedly. "Y-yes. He must have been about to go hunting... I don't know.
That's not the point! Didn't you hear what I just said? I shot him, Drew! I killed a man! What am I
going to do?"
Drew adjusted his glasses uncomfortably. "Are you sure he's dead? He's a big guy—maybe you
just... nicked him or something..." His voice trailed off into silence.
Regan waved a helpless hand. "Well, he dropped like a rock and didn't get back up. I didn't
stick around long enough to check."
Drew looked relieved. "So shouldn't we go back and check first? You're probably panicking
over nothing. Most likely he's not actually dead, and being the slime that he is, I'm sure we can bribe
him to keep quiet."
Regan looked at him hopefully. "Do you really think so?"
"Of course," Drew said confidently. "Let's go."
~
"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God." Regan began to hyperventilate.
They had arrived at Henderson's house only to see several official-looking cars parked outside,
and Regan had immediately told Drew to turn back. Now safely parked in Drew’s driveway, Drew
tried to comfort her.
"Regan, you don't know if he's told them that you were the one who shot him," Drew said.
Under his breath he muttered, "That is, if he's still alive."
"Of course he has! If he’s still alive, why wouldn't he? Oh my God, what am I going to do?"
Regan cradled her head in her hands. "I can’t believe I killed him. I can’t go to jail! I can’t! I'm going
to have to go into hiding until this all blows over. I'll move out of Wisconsin, start a new life using a
new identity..." Drew waited in silence as Regan rocked herself back and forth desolately.
All of a sudden, Regan sat up, her eyes narrowed in an almost accusatory look. "You have a
cabin out in the mountains, don’t you?”
Drew stopped fidgeting with his shirt. “Yes,” he said slowly, “I do.”
“Let me hide out there. I need to get away from this, and have a couple days to figure
everything out.” She paused. “What do you say?”
Drew swallowed awkwardly. “Sure, I guess.” He ran an agitated hand through his dark hair.
“Look, don’t take this the wrong way, Regan, but are you sure this is—well, the right thing to do?”
Regan laughed bitterly. “The right thing to do? The right thing to do? The right thing to do
would’ve been not to kill a man! It’s a little late for right and wrong now. But I can’t go to jail, Drew!
I’ve only got one life! And I’m not going to spend it locked up in some tiny, godforsaken cell! Just the
very thought of it makes me want to—to throw myself off a bridge.” Regan finally seemed to notice
that her voice had been rising, and briefly closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax. Opening them
again, she leaned wearily against Drew. “So what is it? Will you help me or not?”
Drew took her hand carefully in his. “Of course I will,” he said with a sigh. “After all, what are
friends for?”
~
“Do you need to go to town first? To pick anything up?”
“No, there’s no time. The sooner I’m out of your hair, the better.”

2
 They sat through the ride in silence. The moon rose high in the sky as they drove away from
civilization, heading towards the mountains. Houses became more and more sparse until eventually
Regan stopped seeing them altogether. After roughly an hour of braving steep and winding roads,
Drew stopped the car. “Here we are.”
Regan stirred from the warm drowsiness she had settled into and peered out the window. The
brilliant moonlight revealed the small cabin nestled in the trees, dark and lifeless. “It’s perfect.”
Turning to Drew, she said, “Thanks for everything. I’ll call you in a couple days, once I’ve gotten a
hold of myself.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—are you kidding me?” Drew killed the engine. Regan blinked at him,
startled. “There’s no way I’m leaving you out here by yourself for a couple of days! I’m staying with
you.”
“But your job…?” Regan searched her memory for the nature of Drew’s job, and was mildly
annoyed when her brain came back empty-handed.
“Actually, I’m kind of in between projects at the moment. That’s one drawback of freelancing.”
Drew made a wry face.
Regan frowned. “But won’t anyone miss you? I’m supposedly on vacation, so I’m safe, but
what if someone comes looking for you?”
Drew took out his cell phone and waved it in her face. “If it’s really that important, they’ll call,
and then I can drive back over. Stop worrying, Regan. It’ll be fine.”
“You’re right.” Regan opened the car door. “And I am glad that I’m not going to be alone.”
They stepped out of Regan’s car and made their way over to the cabin.
“We’re lucky that the cabin’s pretty well stocked,” said Drew as he unlocked the door, “since I
didn’t have time to grab food beforehand. The bathroom has extra toothbrushes and toothpaste, but
don’t shower yet—I still need to turn on the water heater.” He stepped inside, flicking on the lights.
“All right. I think I’m going to go straight to bed anyway. It’s been a long day.” Regan
followed Drew in. Immediately beyond the entryway was the living area, with a kitchenette tucked
away to the right. To the left was the bathroom and another closed wooden door. “There’s only one
bedroom?”
“You can take it. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Thanks.” Regan headed towards the bathroom. She tucked herself into bed a few minutes
later, but it was a while before she finally entered blessed sleep.
~
Regan had her second breakdown during breakfast the next morning.
“There, there,” Drew said, hugging a sobbing Regan to him. “Everything will be…” He
struggled to find a suitable word. “Well, you’ll be… Things will work out.”
Regan couldn’t stop trembling. “I killed someone. I can’t believe it. I killed someone.” Her
voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “I’m a murderer! What should I do, Drew? What do I do?”
Drew took a deep breath and gingerly unlatched Regan from his shoulder. He tilted Regan’s
chin to look her straight in the eye. “I don’t know, Regan,” he said carefully. “What do you think you
should do?”
“W—what?” Regan stammered in surprise, her sobs turning into hiccups. Drew remained
silent. Regan averted her eyes in confusion. “I—I don’t want to be locked up forever,” she said softly.
Drew pushed on relentlessly. “So what are you going to do?”

3
 Taut silence stretched on between them. Regan finally looked up to meet Drew’s concerned
gaze. Carefully, she removed his hands from where he had been gripping her forearms. She lifted her
head high, even though her eyes were welling up with tears, and swallowed once. “I’m running away,
Drew. I can’t face what I’ve done. Maybe one day I’ll have the courage to turn myself in, but it wasn’t
yesterday, it’s not today, and it’s not going to be tomorrow.” Her cheeks were flushed, but her gaze
didn’t waver.
Drew’s eyes darted between Regan’s as if he were searching for something. Eventually he
either found it or gave up, for he broke off the stare and said, “All right. I just wanted to know where
you stood.” Abruptly he turned away from Regan. Gesturing to the dining table where their breakfast
of soggy biscuits and coffee lay mostly untouched, Drew said lightheartedly, “Anyway, I think we
should drive down to town today. You don’t particularly want to eat this stuff for breakfast, lunch, and
dinner, do you?”
“No," Regan smiled weakly. "Why don’t you take the car down and pick up some food?”
“You don’t want to come with me?” Drew looked surprised and—oddly, thought Regan—
slightly annoyed.
“No. I don’t think I can handle being in public yet.”
“I understand.”
Regan scooted her chair backwards and stood up. “I hope you don’t mind.” Drew made a
noncommittal sound, shrugging. She took her plate over to the sink then headed to the easy chair in
front of the fireplace. Settling in, she stared deeply into the fire. She heard Drew gulp down the rest of
his coffee before clearing the table. A clatter in the sink, and then the front door opened and shut with a
whine.
Alone with her thoughts once again, Regan felt the weight of her exhaustion and fear bearing
down on her.
How are you going to get yourself out of this one, Regan? How exactly does one go about
“disappearing”? Regan tried to think of all the movies she’d seen with people on the lam. I’ll have to
withdraw all my money as cash (but wouldn’t that be suspicious?), pack up what I can from the house,
and just drive as far away as possible. …But no, they’ll probably have people looking out for my car. I
can’t even take my own car! She felt a wave of helplessness. How am I going to get anywhere? Thank
God I have Drew. I don’t know how I would get through all of this by myself. I really am lucky. He’s
looked out for me so many times, like that time in college after that crazy night at… whose party was it
again? Derek’s? Justin’s? Whatever. Just thank goodness for Drew.
The front door opened again. Regan turned around and saw Drew come in, sliding his cell
phone into his jacket pocket. Seeing his empty hands, her face fell. “I thought you were going to pick
up some food.”
“Oh, I decided against it. Didn’t want to leave you here alone.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine for a couple hours. I’m willing to risk it for some real food.”
Drew shrugged. “We’ll see.” He started washing the dishes.
What’s gotten into him? Regan frowned, but her face quickly smoothed back over as she called
out, “Drew, I just want you to know that I really appreciate all of this—all that you’re doing for me.”
Drew glanced up at her, his expression neutral.
“Of course,” he said dismissively.
“I mean it,” said Regan earnestly. “I’m really sorry for bringing you into this mess. I know that
you’re probably incriminating yourself just by helping me, so… thanks. I’ll never forget you.”

4
 Drew laughed awkwardly. “We haven’t parted ways yet,” he said. “Let’s do our goodbyes, you
know, when we do our goodbyes.” He shot Regan a lopsided smile.
Regan nodded and turned back to the fire. I will definitely never forget him. A guy like that
certainly doesn’t come around every day. Regan tried to remember if she and Drew had ever been
more than friends. I’m sure my Mom would love it if we got together. But have I ever felt that way
towards Drew? I don’t think so… I can’t really remember. We’ve been friends for so long anyway.
“You know what I just realized, Regan?” Drew padded over from the kitchen. “We didn’t bring
any change of clothes! If we’re going to be staying here for a couple of days, I’d like to grab some
shirts from home. You want to go grab some stuff too?”
Regan picked at her blouse with distaste. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Let’s go tomorrow.”
“You’re willing to wait another day? I don’t know about you, but I just feel gross. I think I’d
feel a lot better if I had some clean clothing.”
“Oh, don’t me hold you back! By all means, go back and grab some. I just don’t feel like going,
that’s all.” Regan made a shooing motion with her hands.
Defeated, Drew said, “All right, all right, I’ll just wait until tomorrow as well.” He walked back
towards the kitchenette, adjusting his shirt uncomfortably.
I don’t understand why he doesn’t just go by himself, Regan thought to herself. Has Drew
always been this clingy? She tried to remember their college days. Drew was her shy, nice guy friend.
Never partied too hard, majored in something having to do with computers. What was it again? Regan
scrunched up her face, trying to recall the details from happier times. I should know this like I know my
own name… Why can’t I remember anything?
A startling realization struck. No, that’s not true. She felt an uncomfortable flush start to rise. I
remember my company, I remember Henderson… I just don’t remember anything about Drew. Her
chest had a sinking feeling. Basics, Regan. What’s Drew’s full name? Andrew Corrick Johnson.
What’s Drew’s favorite color? Um, red. No, blue. Maybe red. His birthday? Can’t remember. His
family? Can’t… remember… Siblings? Regan fought her rising panic. But I’ve seen his family dozens
of times! We have been best friends for over a decade now. What’s happening? What’s happening to
me? Regan stood up unsteadily from her seat.
“You all right?” Drew called over.
“Sure,” Regan lied. “Just still reeling from last night, I guess.”
“Understandable.” Drew turned off the sink. Wiping his hands on a towel, he looked earnestly
at Regan. “You know, I just remembered that I still have your message about discovering Henderson’s
embezzlement on my answering machine. Maybe we should go back and delete that, just in case the
police eventually go through my things.”
Regan felt her temper flare, thanks to her already frayed nerves. “Jesus, Drew! Why don’t you
just go and do it yourself then? Why do you keep trying to get me to go back into town anyway?”
Drew flinched, and Regan immediately regretted her harsh words. “I’m just trying to look out
for you.”
Regan blew out a breath, suddenly very tired. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just really… confused
right now.” She shook her head, as if to clear it. “I think I’ll take a shower.”
Under hot running water, Regan tried to explain to herself what was happening. Shock, she told
herself. An early onset of Alzheimer’s? Most likely shock. Weird things happened to people in shock.
Perhaps losing bits of your memory was one of them. Yes, that’s what it was. Shock. She emerged

5
from the shower feeling considerably cleaner and sure of herself. Regan left the bathroom, prepared to
apologize once again for her outburst.
The cabin was empty.
“Drew?” Regan called out. No one answered. She moved over to the window. His car was still
there. She went over to the other window. Ah, there he was. He was standing outside, with his back to
the cabin, talking on his cell phone. He seemed irritated. I hope it’s not because of the predicament
I’ve put him in, thought Regan anxiously. She opened the front door, intent on joining him outside, but
stilled when bits of his conversation reached her.
“…tried several times! She won’t budge! I’m starting to think it would be much easier if you
guys came and picked her up. She’s already beginning to be suspicious of me.” Drew took off his
glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, we’re at the cabin.”
Regan closed the door as quickly and silently as she could. It can’t be… I can’t believe it. Of
all people, Drew? He’s my best friend! I can’t believe it. That traitorous bastard. I trusted him, and he
goes behind my back and tries to turn me in. Why is all this happening to me? I have to get away.
What do I do about Drew?
The creaking of a door had Regan whirling around, all her muscles tensed for fight-or-flight.
Drew paused in the doorway, looking at Regan searchingly.
“Drew!” breathed Regan. She tried to smile reassuringly at him. “You know what? You were
completely right. I think I do need to pick up a few things from town. Do you mind?”
“Of course not.” Drew looked ridiculously relieved. Regan held her hand out for the keys, but
he shook his head. “Don’t be silly, Regan—I’ll take you.”
Regan hoped her voice still sounded light and cheerful. “Oh please, I can drive myself. I just
need to get a few quick things. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.” His genuinely apologetic tone made Regan realize that it
was futile. Something inside Regan finally snapped. With a cry of anguish, she threw herself towards
the door, pushing Drew out of the way. Drew’s shout of surprise mingled with the other wordless
emotions roaring in her ears. She rushed outside with the vague goal of running away from the cabin,
the town, everything—and knowing that it was impossible.
Suddenly something sharp pricked her leg. Regan looked down, falling to one knee. Something
was jutting out of her leg. I wonder what that is, Regan thought hazily. Her vision began to darken.
She looked around wildly for Drew and found him standing several yards away, holding a gun and
watching her warily.
“Why?” Regan rasped. “Why, Drew?”
“I’m sorry,” Drew said. And then everything went dark.
~
Caroline Jakowski woke up, her heart pounding. Something important had just happened; she
needed to be running, she needed to get away from something, someone—
“You’re awake! Good, I was worried.” Caroline looked up. The person who had spoken was a
smiling old man, dressed like a doctor. That was probably because—Caroline looked around—she was
sitting in a doctor’s office. Or lying down, rather. “I’m afraid this last test ended a little… unusually.”
The doctor’s white lab coat caught Caroline’s eye. On the pocket, in neat blue stitching, was the word
Whirl. Underneath it read Do you know your limits? “We hadn’t anticipated trouble in bringing you
back here, you see,” the doctor was saying. “You certainly gave Elliot here a bit of a scare. He was
supposed to be keeping an eye on you, and to bring you back to us once the experiment was done.”

6
 “Let’s just say that I was uneasy,” a voice slid in. For the first time, Caroline noticed the man
standing slightly behind her. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, and suddenly she felt angry and
afraid for no reason that she could articulate.
The doctor caught her hand and patted it soothingly. “There, there. You must still have some
residual memories left from the experiment. You remember Elliot don’t you?”
The man who Caroline had known as Drew Johnson just hours before flashed her an unsure
smile. “Elliot McKee, ma’am, remember? Sorry about the rough treatment—tranquilizers are really a
last resort, but I was worried that I would lose you before I could bring you back here and have your
memories restored.”
“Memories.” Caroline said the word slowly. Her gaze flicked back to the beaming doctor. “Oh
yes.”
It all came back to her at once.
~
She was Caroline Jakowski, 34, married to the wealthy businessman Caleb Jakowski. No
children. A week ago she and her book club friends had been having lunch at a small café in New York
City when one of them had spotted an ad for Whirl.
“‘Do you know your limits?’” Lillian read.
“What the hell does that mean?” snorted Maggie.
“Well,” Lillian continued, tracing the lines of text with her finger, “it says here that Whirl is a
new company that will allow you to find out once and for all what you are capable of, given the right
provocations. Apparently they can store all your memories away and give you new ones, and then put
you in a situation you yourself had previously specified, in order to see how you react.”
“That’s silly,” said Caroline disapprovingly. “Why would you trust someone else to tell you
what you’re capable of? It’s ridiculous.”
“But the whole point is that you’re the one making all the decisions,” Emilia joined in. “I read
about this in a magazine. They just set up the scenario and provide you with the motive—how you
respond is all up to you. It’s extremely popular in Italy right now.”
“How exciting!” Lillian gushed. “I love to keep up with European trends.”
“I wish I could get my husband to try it,” said Maggie. “Then I could test the ‘limit’ of his
fidelity, and see if I should just divorce his ass.” They laughed over their cups of coffee.
“I wonder how long this silly fad will last,” said Caroline, shaking her head. “A fool and his
money are soon parted, I suppose.” She hadn’t made it all the way from poor country girl to sharp
businesswoman by falling for enticing scams.
“Why don’t you try it?” suggested Emilia. “Just do a couple scenarios. If it really works, you
can give us a recommendation. If it doesn’t, we’ll get our husbands on them before they can say
‘Whoops, sorry.’”
Caroline remained unconvinced. “But what would I want to know about myself that I don’t
already know?”
“How about if you would kill someone?” said Maggie with a wicked smile.
~
“I remember everything now,” Caroline said tiredly.
Doctor Maletski smiled widely. “Good, good!”

7
 “The man I knew as Henderson…?”
Doctor Maletski waved it away. “Merely an actor. And the bullets in the gun were only rubber.
Do not worry yourself.” Caroline cradled her head in her hands.
Elliot cleared his throat. “Doctor, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get going. I need to be in
Chicago by tonight for another appointment.”
“Yes, you may go. I’ll see you next week for Mrs. Hildebrand’s appointment.” The doctor
returned his attention to Caroline, opening the folder he had in his hands and looking it over with
eagerness. “So, Mrs. Jakowski—you had ordered quite a few scenarios to be tested. We’ve already
ascertained that you won’t kill for love, power, or revenge, but you will kill for money. Shall we
proceed on to the next one?”
Caroline lifted her head forlornly. “No, no more. I think there are some things that I don’t want
to know.”
Doctor Maletski nodded gravely. “Of course, Mrs. Jakowski.” He closed the folder, the
ordinary manila folder that contained countless detailed reports of Caroline’s actions. “Of course.”
Caroline began to cry.