Fall of Man | Book 4 | The Tide

by Sisavath, Sam

  “What about you?” Emily asked.

  “I was in a basement,” Stacy said. Her face paled slightly. “Then I was here.”

  “What were you doing in a basement?”

  “Probably the same thing you were doing at your house.” She glanced over at the others. “And everyone here. Staying alive.”

  “Bloodshot eyes,” Belinda said. She had leaned back against the wall, looking more tired now than when Emily first saw her. “They all had bloodshot eyes, didn’t they?”

  “Different story, same tune,” Jeff said from across the room.

  “How long have you been here?” Emily asked them.

  The others exchanged a look. Emily had a feeling her question was something they’d heard before…and didn’t have the answers to.

  “What?” she said anyway.

  “We don’t know,” Stacy said. “It could have been days. Weeks. Months. Or maybe hours.” She shook her head and, for the first time, wrapped her arms around her chest and might have shivered slightly. “We don’t know. We just don’t know.”

  Chapter Three

  Six people locked in a room with her. She knew their names but not much else. That wasn’t entirely true. She could make out some things about them from the way they were dressed and acted and even spoke.

  Emily had settled down against the wall next to the door, with the other six to the right, left, and in front of her. That gave her a perfect view of everyone in the room with her. They weren’t a threat now, but that didn’t mean they still couldn’t become one in the next few seconds, minutes, hours, or days.

  Days? God, I hope I’m not still here in days.

  Stacy sat to Emily’s right. The young woman with the blonde hair was obviously intelligent. She’d even taken a leadership role of sorts, though not overtly to threaten the masculinity of the two big men. Emily had been around plenty of smart women, and Stacy was one of those. Her clothes were baggy cargo pants, tennis shoes, and a jacket over a white T-shirt. Casual and “young,” but there was a reason for that. Since the blood infection turned the world upside down, Emily had changed her own clothes for the practical. The others would have done the same. Well, most of them, anyway.

  Fisher was next to Stacy. If there was one person Emily had to keep a careful eye on at all times, it would have to be Fisher. He wasn’t quite as big as Klein—6’1” or so to Klein’s hulking 6’5”—but he had the other two remaining males beat by a good margin. Certainly, the lanky Jeff or the frail-looking Paul wouldn’t stand a chance in a fistfight. Not that Fisher looked as if he was ready to throw down with any of them, including her. Late thirties, wearing a black T-shirt underneath a leather jacket. He sat on the floor next to Stacy, nursing his broken nose. His blue eyes occasionally stared daggers at Emily when he didn’t think she noticed. The two were just inches apart. A couple. Which made Emily wonder exactly how long it’d taken them to develop that relationship.

  Jeff was to the left of her. There wasn’t much about him to think about. Sixteen, maybe seventeen, and too young and too thin to be much of a danger. Maybe half-black, half-white. Definitely biracial. His clothes—dirty Nike sneakers speckled with dry blood and black jogger pants—didn’t really tell her too much about him, and though he wouldn’t be getting over what Emily had done to him anytime soon, he didn’t appear to be really holding a grudge beyond the first few minutes of her waking up. At least, he wasn’t sneaking glances at her the way Fisher was.

  Paul was the oldest in the group. The sweater and golf pants screamed retiree, though he was too young for that. Going bald, but not quite there yet—maybe five or ten more years to go—and quiet. He sat next to Jeff, but not in the Stacy and Fisher kind of way.

  Klein was in front of her. Mid-thirties. A laborer. Maybe a machinist. Definitely someone who worked with his hands. His face was grizzled, lips pale, but his eyes were soft and gentle. Like most physically intimidating men, Klein was very aware of his size and did whatever he could not to scare people. Especially women. He’d only grabbed Emily because she was beating up Fisher. The fact he was still wearing his work shirt told her he’d been caught up in the first days of the event while at that work and either hadn’t had time to change or didn’t think it mattered. He flicked at dry dirt clinging to the soles of his well-worn boots.

  And, finally, there was Belinda. She sat next to Klein. The only one wearing clothes that screamed office girl. Unlike Emily and Stacy, Belinda hadn’t bothered to change her wardrobe. Maybe she didn’t have to. Emily had a feeling a girl like Belinda always had someone to white knight over her safety. She was pretty enough, in a classy sort of way. Belinda had gorgeous green eyes, complementing soft lips that gave off a cherry shade of red. Her looks were something she’d clearly kept up with despite everything that had happened. Which was odd, but Emily supposed it helped to find her constant white knights.

  For the longest time, no one said a word. The only sounds were their breaths. There wasn’t even any noises coming from outside the room. Nothing whatsoever to hint at their location or even if there was anyone beyond the steel-plated walls. But of course there had to be, because someone had brought them here.

  The question was who?

  And why?

  “Does anyone have a watch?” Emily finally asked.

  All six pairs of eyes turned to her as if they were caught by surprise. Not by the question, but the fact that she had spoken up at all.

  “No,” Stacy said first. “That’s why it’s so hard to think about how long we’ve been here.”

  Emily nodded. She didn’t have to ask the young woman to elaborate. She’d noticed it almost right away once the chaos stopped and she had time to sit down and contemplate her predicament. There was no way to tell time inside the room. Not only that, but time itself felt elusive, and she couldn’t be absolutely sure how long it’d been since she woke up. Or, for that matter, how much time had passed since they all settled down to their individual parts of their prison—and that was exactly what this was—and became lost in their private thoughts.

  Time.

  There was something…odd about time in here. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was there, like the tune to a song she was convinced she knew but couldn’t identify. It was maddening, and at the same time, frightening.

  “They took our watches,” Jeff said. “I had me a nice G-shock, too. Gold.” He managed a slight grin. “Gold-plated, anyway.”

  “I wasn’t wearing a watch,” Paul said. “Haven’t worn one in a few years now, actually.”

  “How come?” Klein asked from across the room.

  “How come what?”

  “How come you don’t wear a watch anymore?”

  The older man shrugged. “Who wears watches anymore these days?”

  “Me,” Jeff said. “Well, used to.”

  “Besides you, son.”

  “What about your glasses?” Emily asked.

  “Ma’am?” Paul said.

  “Your glasses. They took everything I had on me, but you still have your glasses.”

  “Now that you mention it,” Paul said. Then, as if inspired by the mention of them, pushed his eyeglasses further up the bridge of his nose.

  “They left you your glasses,” Emily said. “Why?”

  “I couldn’t tell you, ma’am.”

  “They were on the floor next to him,” Stacy said. “Why? You think there’s something about them that could help us?”

  Emily shook her head. “Just curious why they did him the favor of leaving his glasses when they took everything else from us, including our watches.”

  “You don’t think it was an oversight on the part of whoever did this to us?” Stacy asked.

  “I don’t know,” Emily said, but she thought, Except I don’t believe in coincidences. And I believe in courteous jailers even less.

  “Back to the original topic. I had a watch on me, too,” Fisher said. He looked over at Stacy next to him. “What about you?”

&
nbsp; She shook her head. “I had a phone.”

  “You didn’t wear a watch?”

  “Like Paul, I haven’t worn a watch since the iPhone came out.”

  “I did,” Belinda said, “but it was, you know, just fashion.”

  Of course it was, Emily thought.

  She said, “Who was the first one to wake up?”

  “Me again,” Stacy said.

  “And everyone was already here when you did?”

  “Yes. Fisher woke up next. Then Belinda, Klein, Jeff, Paul, and then you. In that order.”

  “Why?” Emily asked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why did I wake up last?”

  “I have no idea. I thought you might know.”

  Emily shook her head. Just another question that she needed to find the answer to. One among many. So, so many at the moment.

  Right now, though, she had other riddles to solve. “Does anyone have any idea how long we’ve been here?”

  “That’s the other thing,” Stacy said.

  “Which is?”

  “I can’t really tell how long I’ve been here. Or even when I woke up.”

  “At least two hours,” Klein said.

  “Are you sure about that?” Fisher asked him.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Klein didn’t answer the second time quite as quickly.

  Finally, he said, “I think it’s been two hours.” He looked to Stacy as if for confirmation.

  She pursed a smile. “I don’t know. It’s…murky.”

  “Yes, time feels weird in here,” Belinda said.

  “Yeah, very weird,” Stacy said. “It was the first thing I noticed. Time seems… I don’t know how to phrase it.”

  “Give it a shot,” Paul said.

  “It’s weird, like Belinda said.”

  “Fluid,” Emily said.

  Stacy looked across the room at her. “Yes. Exactly. Time feels fluid in here. That’s the best way to put it.”

  “Makes no sense,” Jeff said.

  “None of this makes any sense,” Klein said.

  “You think you’ve been here for two hours,” Emily said to him. It wasn’t a question.

  “Maybe,” the big man said. Emily noticed that he didn’t have even a little bit of the confidence with which he’d first answered her.

  Emily said to Stacy, “He says two hours. What do you say?”

  The other woman shook her head. “I couldn’t even begin to answer you. Like everyone says, time is…weird in here.”

  “Ditto that,” Jeff said, peering out from between his bent knees. “And I’m starving. Anyone got food?”

  “No, kid, sorry,” Paul said.

  “Dammit.”

  Paul turned his attention to Emily. “You have blood on your clothes.”

  “So do you,” Emily said.

  “So do all of us,” Klein said. He glanced at the others as if for confirmation.

  “Yes,” Stacy said. “We all have blood on us.”

  “Where was everyone before they woke up here?” Emily asked.

  Again, they exchanged looks, as if they’d never considered the question until she raised it. She found that odd—or maybe she shouldn’t have. Civilians weren’t always the most curious of people. The phrase ignorance is bliss was a common go-to reaction to most things they were afraid to ask.

  “I was in a basement,” Stacy said.

  “My shop,” Klein said.

  “Police station,” Belinda said.

  Police station? Emily thought. Now how did that happen?

  Belinda had the answers, but she didn’t offer them. No one, besides Emily, apparently, was curious enough to ask her to expound.

  “My apartment,” Paul was saying.

  “An RV,” Fisher said.

  “Dumpster,” Jeff said.

  Emily looked over at the teenager. So did everyone else.

  “What?” Jeff said. “I was hiding, okay? There were two of those maniacs chasing me. It was the best spot I could find at the time.”

  “No one’s judging you, Jeff,” Paul said.

  “Sure feels like it,” the kid said.

  Emily fought back a slight smile.

  “What about you?” Stacy asked her.

  “I was home,” Emily lied.

  “Where’s home?”

  “Arrow Bay.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Just outside the city limits. Next to Bear Lake.”

  Stacy stared at her in silence.

  “What?” Emily said.

  “I’ve never heard of Bear Lake,” the young woman said.

  “It’s just a few miles outside the city.”

  Stacy shrugged before turning to Fisher. “You know where that is?”

  Fisher shook his head. “Never heard of any Bear Lake,” he said, looking back at Emily almost accusingly.

  Oh, who was she kidding? There was no almost about that stare.

  Emily narrowed her eyes back at him. “Maybe you should get out more.”

  “I do,” Fisher said. “I’ve just about traveled this entire country. Seen every state and slept on every strip of road. And I’ve never heard of Bear Lake.”

  “Where is this lake, exactly?” Klein asked.

  Emily turned to him. “I already told you, it’s just outside the city limits.”

  “Yeah, but what city?”

  She stared at him.

  The big man returned it.

  So did everyone else: They were watching her now, and Emily didn’t like it. She didn’t like it one bit. She was the one asking questions, trying to collect evidence, and to suddenly find herself the focal point was, to put it mildly, annoying.

  “What about you?” she asked Klein instead. “What city were you in before you woke up here?”

  “Anaheim,” Klein said.

  “What?” Fisher said.

  “Anaheim,” Klein repeated.

  “That’s in California.”

  “Yeah, I know it’s in California. So?”

  “I was in North Dakota before I woke up in here.”

  Klein stared at Fisher, who returned it in kind.

  “What the fuck?” Klein finally said.

  “I was in Chicago,” Belinda said. Her voice had dropped to almost a whisper, as if she were afraid of being overheard.

  “Oh, fuck,” Jeff said. He hadn’t tried to lower his voice.

  “Seattle,” Paul said.

  “Austin, Texas,” Stacy said. “I was hiding in a friend’s basement before I woke up here.”

  “And you?” Emily asked Jeff.

  The kid lifted his head out from behind his bent knees. “Miami. Miami friggin’ Florida.”

  Emily turned to look at the others. They were doing the same—not just at her, but each other. Back and forth, then back and forth again. Everyone was wearing their confusion on their faces.

  Confusion, and fear.

  A lot of fear.

  After what seemed like an hour of silence, Jeff gave voice to what was on all of their minds: “Holy fuck, this is creepy. Where the hell are we?”

  Chapter Four

  Nothing made sense. Not that things were making sense before she woke up here, but they had made some sense.

  Mostly.

  But now, sitting in a fifteen-by-fifteen room with six strangers, sense had just flown the coop. Cole’s absence made things worse. There was no clarity to anything—where they were, how she had gotten here, or even how long it’d been since she and Cole scrambled up that ladder to the rooftop of Anton’s warehouse.

  Absolutely nothing.

  Emily hated not knowing. After discovering the pattern with the blood, she thought she’d gotten a better understanding of what was happening to the world. Not the complete picture by any stretch of the imagination, but some of it.

  Some.

  Now, she wasn’t so sure.

  It’d been twenty or so minutes since anyone last spoke. No one
had moved from their spot. Stacy remained next to Fisher, Klein next to Belinda, and Paul next to Jeff. It was almost as if each person had chosen their ally and wasn’t going to break from their choice. Which was something Emily found odd, because they hadn’t been here for very long. Not long enough to develop alliances. It took more than a few hours to know who you can trust with your life. At least it did, to her.

  Or was she wrong? Had they been in here longer than she thought? Was it days instead of hours? Or weeks instead of days?

  No, it couldn’t have been weeks. Or even days. She wouldn’t still be alive if she’d been unconscious for that long. Humans needed sustenance to survive. Even coma patients were fed intravenously.

  Unless…someone had been keeping her alive until she could be delivered here.

  But that was a crazy thought.

  Wasn’t it?

  Maybe.

  Maybe it wasn’t.

  That was the problem. (One of many.) Anything was possible. Just like it’d been days (Weeks? Months?) ago when all of this madness began. The possibilities were wide open, and along with them, every potential scenario she could think of. Unfortunately for Emily, she could think of a lot of them. That was, after all, her job before she took up the role of housewife and, soon, mother.

  …and, soon, mother…

  Again, she resisted the urge to reach down to feel her growing belly. It was well-hidden behind her clothes, but that wouldn’t last for very much longer. Soon, she would show, and there would be no keeping it from these people. These strangers. Would they take advantage of it?

  Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  That was, again, the problem. The not knowing. She hated the not knowing most of all.

  The ambiance inside the room didn’t make it any easier. The floor was cold, hard concrete while the walls and ceiling were cold, hard steel. The air was chilly, and all of them had their arms across their chests now for warmth. Sitting for a long time was uncomfortable; but then, so was standing. Everything was uncomfortable.

  It’s a prison. It’s supposed to be uncomfortable.

  She knew that now without any doubt. They were prisoners, in a prison. Except she didn’t know where, why, or maybe more perplexing of all, when.