by Sara Clancy
***
In the sudden silence, a high-pitched wail filled her ears. The shrill sound drowned out everything else and made her battered ears ache. Slowly, she blinked open her eyes, and lifted her head just enough to see the top of Tristan’s head. A moment later, he followed suit. His bright blue eyes were bloodshot and lined with heavy bags. For a while, they stared at each other, neither entirely sure what had changed. Besides the silence. Her sleep-deprived mind was slow to make the connection. She could see him. She could see the entirety of the staff break room. It was morning.
Carefully, Ruby released her grip of the sides of Tristan’s hands. Having been locked into place for hours, the muscles of her fingers protested the movement. Whimpering in pain, she forced them open a little at a time and slipped her fingers from his curls. Her arms throbbed just as badly, the joints of her shoulders cracking like brittle stone. From the sounds he admitted, Tristan was suffering from the same discomfort. How long have we been here?
“Can you hear her?” he whispered.
She shook her head.
His eyes were wide as he asked, “Are they gone?”
“I think it’s morning. They never came during the day before.”
The shallow, uncertain comfort of that seemed to please him, and he crumbled in on himself. It didn’t look like he could remain upright if it wasn’t for the wall beside him.
“I’m so exhausted,” he said.
“Me too.”
“She never rang back.”
Ruby watched him for a moment, trying to force her sluggish mind to understand. “Nina?”
“She said she’d ring back. She never did.”
“Maybe we just couldn’t hear her,” Ruby said. The idea wasn’t as comforting as she had intended. The idea that the police helicopter could have come and gone without them was almost enough to bring a fresh wave of tears. “Try calling her now.”
Gradually, they both parted, dislodging their limbs from each other as their muscles pulled and screamed. While she couldn’t remember exactly when they had twisted together, it didn’t carry any embarrassment or awkwardness. There was no shame when it came to survival, and they had gathered like small creatures waiting for a predator to pass.
His fingers looked weak and feeble as he raised them to click on the radio. Nothing. Not even the slight traces of dead air that had come playing over the line the day before. They both attempted a few times each before he absently reached for the actual radio attached to his belt.
“Damn it. My battery died,” he said.
She checked hers, finding that the little red light was off and that it wouldn’t turn back on.
“Me too,” she said. “What about your phone?”
Glancing around, his brows furrowed as he continued to search the room. He patted himself down. Then he swore.
“I dropped it in the kitchen.”
“Okay,” Ruby nodded. “Let’s go get it.”
His eyes widened as he stared at her. “You can’t be serious.”
“We need to see what’s going on,” Ruby said. “Don’t worry, I’ll go. You can stay here.”
“I can’t let you go alone.”
“I’ll be okay,” she promised.
He shook his head quickly, the twitch returning to his eyes as his head twitched. “No. I’ll come. If we can get out, I don’t want to waste any time with you coming back to find me.”
“Okay.”
He was still twitching as he nodded. “Okay.”
It took longer than either of them expected to get up. The night spent in that open position, every muscle tensed to the point of breaking, was felt deep within their bones. Her leg throbbed in time with her heartbeat, and any attempt to put weight onto it provoked a ripple of pain. Vaguely, she was also aware of half a dozen little cuts, but none of them compared to her ankle. A spasm of pain sparked across her stomach as she reached down and snatched her discarded knife. Tiny droplets of dried blood clung to the metal surface.
Wrapping her arm around her stomach, she forced herself to straighten, shoving the knife back into her jacket pocket. Yesterday, she had run about without ever noticing the weight of the radio strapped to her belt. Now, however, it was impossible to ignore. It felt like she was dragging an anchor behind her as she limped towards the door.
“It has been a long time since I’ve done an all-nighter,” Tristan said beside her. His movements were stiff and forced.
“Was that a joke?”
“Oh, my God,” he muttered. “Yes. I’m trying to break the tension. Being a smartass is my coping mechanism. Just let me have this.”
“Now you’re mad?”
“Very frustrated,” he snapped before he looked over and saw her forced smile. He flashed his teeth but his brow wrinkled, so she didn’t quite know if her attempt to playfully mess with him had provoked the desired result. “You’re kind of horrible.”
“It’s my coping mechanism.”
Their hard fought struggle for levity disappeared as they were forced to pull the chair free. The motion clicked the handle and rattled the wood. Both of which were enough to leave them hesitant to actually open it.
Ruby was the first one to gather her senses. A luxury of being through this before, she thought to herself bitterly. Still, she was careful when she opened it, inching it wider a little bit at a time. The kitchen was brilliantly lit, the overhead lights playing off the pristine walls dancing over the thin shards of glass that littered the ground by the door. Without sleep, her brain was slower to make the connection that the electricity was back on, another good omen. It made her heartbeat calm a little more as she shuffled down the narrow hall and into the kitchen. The brightness only grew until everything looked as sterile as a hospital.
Tristan was close behind her. His breath pushed against the back of her neck in a near mirroring gesture of last night. It made her skin crawl, but at least it distracted her from the cold. With the heater back on line, the temperature inside shouldn’t have been so low. As the glass cracked under her shoe, she remembered that they might effectively be missing a wall. Suddenly, she was grateful for the small traces of lingering warmth that the two doors had kept contained.
Carefully, she flattened her hand against the swinging door. But it was far harder to make herself push. Swallowing thickly, she tried to force down the bile that promised to rise. Looking over her shoulder, she glanced up to the florescent lights. For a few seconds, she watched the glow, allowing the comfort of it to solidify her will. Then she pushed.
The bottom of the door scraped across the floor as it easily swung open. Instantly, frigid air charged in to crash against her, the sudden bombardment making her stagger back a step. Her breath became visible as she forced herself through the door. Tristan swore sharply as he followed.
Her pace hesitated as she noticed which one of the windows they had broken to enter. It was the one that Tristan had been staring at the night before. Now, it stood as a gaping hole. The glass that once filled it was scattered as tiny shards across most of the restaurant floor. Just like the metal gate, the fog hugged the window frame, swelling but never coming in. Slowly, they perused the damage, the evidence, before they found each other’s eyes again.
“Please tell me you see it, too,” he said. “I really need you to confirm it.”
“It’s real. It happened.”
A slight laugh escaped him. “Huh, that actually didn’t make me feel any better.”
“Sorry.”
He waved her off and she shifted her eyes back to the room.
“Do you see your phone?” she asked.
“No. Where did yours go?”
Ruby pointed to the now empty space on the bar.
“They took your phone?”
“Looks like it,” she said. “If you had yours in the kitchen, it might have just slid under the stove or something.”
“Let’s get a new radio first. That way, if the gondola’s good we can just jump on and go.”
It seemed lik
e the perfect opportunity for another joke. Something to help ease the transition for him from the world he knew to the one he faced now.
“You’d leave without your phone?” she smiled.
She watched all of the muscles of his face, but none of them moved into what could be a smile.
“I’ll buy a new one,” he said quickly before stalking across the room.
No more jokes, she told herself as she hurried to catch up. Tristan made it to the stairs a second before she did. Just enough time for her to see him stop suddenly, his body becoming rigid as he remained at the top of the stairwell. Then she was beside him and saw what he saw. While the fog didn’t come in through the window, it had built up down stairs. From their position, they could see the mist lazily rolling against the curve of the staircase. It was still a frothy white, solid in color and slithering in form.
“If it’s up this high,” he said slowly, “The whole bottom floor will be filled.”
“It’s daylight. They won’t be here. We can get there and back in time.”
“How do you know they’re not here? What if they’re like vampires and just need to keep out of direct sunlight? They could be waiting down there.”
Ruby continued to watch the fog as it bobbed and rippled. “We need to get in contact with Nina. If we can’t find your phone, what other choice do we have?”
At this, Tristan whirled around and bolted back into the kitchen. It only took one more glance for her to realize that trying to find his phone was a much smarter option. They searched every inch of the kitchen, their growing desperation forcing them to check under the fridge and inside the walk-in freezer. Then every other place that they could think of. Not just the most logical. But any place that could possibly accommodate a device of that size. They found nothing.
“They took my phone,” Tristan said as he slammed his fist against the fridge door.
“Mine too.”
“Yours doesn’t matter,” he said. Pushing his hair out of his face, he looked around once more. “We need to get to the radios.”
“I know.”
“They’re all in the gift shop.”
“I know,” she repeated. “I can go by myself.”
He waved off the offer again. His agreement didn’t prevent his eye from twitching again. And so they found themselves back at the top of the stairs, watching the mist roll, neither ready to take the first step. As much as she wanted to go back to the staff room and collapse in a heap, she wanted to leave more. Tapping her pocket, she relished the feel of the knife tucked away inside.
The first step was the hardest. She could feel Tristan’s attention upon her, but she had already gone down a few more stairs before he moved to catch up. While she had every intention of continuing on her set path, she found her body fighting against her. Her body won out over her mind one step over the layer of the mist.
“We won’t be able to see much of anything when we’re in it,” he noted as he came up beside her.
“I remember.” She moved her head in his direction but couldn’t tear her eyes off of the fog. “You know where the radios are up here, right?”
“In the gift shop. On a shelf under the cash register.”
“Okay,” she nodded.
“Here’s the plan,” he said. “We stick close and, at the first sign of anything weird, we run like hell.”
“Agreed.”
“So let’s go.”
Despite their brave words, neither wanted to take the first step. They only come at night. That thought alone wasn’t enough to push her forward. They’re coming back. The icy depths of the fog swallowed her foot before she knew that she had moved. Somehow, it was even colder than the night before. It felt like the Arctic Ocean, and her foot instantly numbed painfully at the touch. They’re coming back. Breathing heavily through her nose, Ruby continued down the stairs, her body shoving as the mist greedily welcomed her in.
Chapter 11
The mist lapped at Ruby’s chin, sealing her throat with a frigid grip. Still, she held her breath and slipped below the surface. Her refusal to let the strange fog inside her body set her lungs on fire, the inferno growing as they descended the stairs. Blood rushed through her ears, and soon it became the only sound that she could be certain was real. The clack of their footsteps was always a second too late and never came from the right place. A chorus of whispers soon covered Tristan’s rapid breathing. The shards of sound created a constant buzz but never formed any actual words.
By the time they reached the bottom stair, Ruby’s whole body was demanding air. Survival overrode her disgust. With a staggered gasp, she gulped down breath after breath, each one destroying just a little more of the warmth that lingered within her cells.
The smog was a thick sludge against her skin and still carried the other worldly glow that it had possessed last night. Slowly, she lifted her hand. The push and pull of her muscles told her that her palm wasn’t even an inch from her face but she still couldn’t even see a shadow of her fingers.
“Tristan?”
She felt the words leave her lips but her voice rolled out in all directions. Despite herself, she spun around, chasing the traces, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. Tristan’s response came from her right while a hand fell upon her left arm. She screamed as she jerked away, ripping herself free from the questing fingers.
“Please tell me that was you.” This time, Tristan’s whisper came from the same direction as the hand.
Swallowing thickly, Ruby muttered a reassurance and reached out towards him. It took some hesitant, blind fumbling, but they eventually succeeded in finding each other’s hands. His skin was smooth and soft against her palm, but his fingers didn’t seem as long as they should be. Unable to see him, she had nothing to beat back her rising paranoia. She dug her nails into his hand, squeezing until he released a pained gasp.
“Ruby? What the hell?”
“Just checking,” she muttered. “Sorry.”
His grunt of response rose up all around her. Gently, he tried to coax her to move, having decided on the direction they needed to take. But his words rolled past her, adding to the whispers that hovered in the mist.
“Ruby, come on,” Tristan pleaded, the cloud repeating his words like mockery. “I don’t want to stay here.”
Hesitantly, they shuffled forward. As they left the staircase behind, the fog grew bolder with its tricks. One moment, it smothered the soft squeak of their shoes. The next, they boomed like a beating drum. Their panted breaths switched back and forth from demonic hisses to helpless mewls.
Tristan softly muttered a curse, as if he thought that she wouldn’t hear and instantly begin to question him.
"I can't find the wall," he said.
"What?"
That’s not possible, she thought wildly. It has to be there. The children couldn’t move walls. Could they? Clenching his hand, she began to fling her arm wildly, joining his search for anything solid. She rapidly shook her head as she found nothing, as if she could somehow change reality by force of will alone. Then a thought slammed into her.
"Where is the staircase?" she asked, hysteria simmering under her skin.
It didn’t matter which way she turned. There was only the blinding white, the crushing cold, and the whispers. It has to be here, her mind screamed. We have to get back! Growing desperate, she began to lurch around, unable to get very far as Tristan pulled her back.
“Relax, we must have just turned around.” The gentle squeeze of his hand didn’t do anything to settle her fears. “It’s not that big of a place. No matter what direction we pick, we’ll still have plenty of time to retrace our steps.”
Without sight, it was far easier for her to notice how strained his voice was becoming. She wished she hadn’t. Everything would be easier if she could believe that he wasn’t afraid. Or that, at the very least, he believed what he said. So she closed her eyes and focused instead on the only two points of reality she had; the hand in her own and the gr
ound under her feet.
“Okay,” she said as the cold settled into the layers of her clothes. “You pick.”
The hesitation in his choice made it clear that he didn’t have the slightest clue where they were headed. She didn’t comment on it. In truth, she had no idea either and was just happy that he decided on something. They shuffled forward with hesitant steps. Ruby kept a tight grip on his hand while searching the air before her with wide sweeps of her free arm. Nothing met her fingertips.
Time lost all meaning as they continued through the opaque sludge. The cold was taking its toll, making her skin crack and her teeth chatter. Bits of the fog had pooled, gathering into random puddles that made their shoes slip. Ruby didn’t want to talk but couldn’t stand the constant unintelligible whispers that drifted around them.
“Shouldn’t we have reached somewhere by now?” she asked.
Tristan’s answer wasn’t immediate. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
The mist stirred as the fingers around her palm tensed. “This doesn’t feel right. We’ve been walking a while. The hall isn’t this long.”
“So we should turn at a right angle, right?” she stammered. “That way, we’ll hit a wall and be able to follow that.”
She squeezed his hand, wanting him to know that he wasn’t alone. That she was just as scared as he was. And most likely just as exhausted and hungry. Fatigue pressed down on her, making his head throb like her brain was trying to break free.
A flurry of footsteps jarred her from her thoughts. The light pattering raced past them, splashing through the puddles and thumping against the tiles. Ruby snapped around, trying to track the unseen child as they passed. But the echo and twist of noise within the fog made it impossible to do so.
“Did you hear that?” Tristan whispered.
She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she held her breath as she searched the fog. Her efforts were for nothing.
“Yes,” she said at last.
The footsteps raced past them again. This time close enough to stir the mist around them and splatter the icy water against their shins. It can’t be the children, she reminded herself desperately. They only come at night. Any comfort she might have taken from that died as she remembered the ghost-like figures that had chased her yesterday. That was just a trick. She latched onto the thought as tightly as she did Tristan’s hand. They’re trying to scare you. Make you do something stupid. Just breathe. Think it through. A sweet little giggle drifted out from the depths. At first, it sounded a vast distance away. Then it was spoken directly into the shell of her ear. With a staggered cry, she flung herself back, her feet slipping over the titles and almost dropping her down onto the floor.