I Hope You Find Me

by Trish Marie Dawson

  “You were probably dreaming.” He paused and glanced around the room seriously. “I’ve had some strange dreams myself lately.”

  “I wasn’t dreaming.” I glared at him, aware that my face was flushed with heat.

  “Okay, you weren’t dreaming, but nothing is here now. Except the three of us, of course.” He gestured around the room. He stood and ran his hand through his hair, a move I found more enticing every time I saw it, which immediately annoyed me.

  Connor moved toward the door, and turned to face me. “You going to be okay in here?”

  I rolled my eyes at him, and patted the space next to me as I slipped back under the covers. “I’ll be fine; I’ll keep Zoey in here.”

  “Okay, good night then.” He smiled, and closed the door behind him.

  ***

  Connor lay still in his bed, resting on his back with his arms shoved beneath the pillow, staring up at the ceiling tiles. The room glowed slightly from the moon, making everything around him the same dusty, bluish-grey color. His room smelled faintly of detergent and wet dog as he replayed the day’s events in his mind.

  He had been startled awake earlier that morning by a loud explosion that vibrated through the hotel. He had seen the smoke in the distance and wasn’t sure but it looked to be coming from near the airport and he wondered if a plane had tried to land, and crashed instead. So when the smoke got worse instead of better, he set out with a days’ worth of supplies in the afternoon to see what happened. He had been to the airport just last week. There were so many bodies inside and the runway was littered with planes that even if someone was left to fly them, they wouldn’t be able to taxi down the runway. He doubted a plane could land at all but perhaps someone had tried anyway? Either way, it was worth seeing what was going on.

  He weaved through the streets, walking briskly, with his hands shoved into his pockets. As he rounded a street corner he stopped short as somewhere in the distance a dog barked loudly. He stood still, holding his breath, listening. The barking stopped as abruptly as it started, so he couldn’t pin-point its location. The streets seemed hollow, and sounds bounced off the buildings, making it nearly impossible to find the source.

  He stepped off the curb, still moving in the direction he thought was west when he heard a yell. It sounded just as far away as the dog, and again, he stopped to listen. He turned in circles, as the echoes vibrated down the streets and felt confident it wasn’t coming from behind him. He broke into a run, still moving west, and after passing through one city block the yelling stopped. It sounded like a child or a woman, calling for someone. He wasn’t sure, but he did know one thing, he wasn’t alone after all.

  He waited for more yells to come, even whistled a few times, hoping to hear the dog, but all was quiet once again, so he continued to jog down the streets, his pack slapping against his back with each stride, but he ignored it. He stopped only in the intersections to look down each street and listen. He ran nearly four blocks when he saw the first glints of the bay ahead of him. Though he was still almost a mile away from the shore, far off in the distance he thought he saw a tiny figure blotting out the sun for a second, before it passed behind a building and was gone. He began to run again, this time at full speed. He wanted to find whoever it was before they disappeared.

  A handful of minutes later and the street he was running on merged into Harbor Drive. The bay lay before him, old ships docked to his left, and larger, private and commercial vessels intertwined with small floating piers to his right. He looked down the street to the south, where the figure had disappeared, and glanced up North Harbor Drive before noticing the smoke in the sky. The airport had to be on fire.

  “Fuck.” He said quietly.

  Out of breath, he stood frozen in place, not sure where to go next, when to his left he heard a woman’s voice in the distance. After crossing the street, he jogged half a block, peering into buildings and around the boats. And then he saw her. Down the street, and across a parking lot, at the end of one of the piers he saw a girl jump into the water, and what looked like a black dog jumping in after her. He crossed the road and ran along the sidewalk, looking for a way down to the docks. By the time he made it to the parking lot, he couldn’t see her anymore, and wasn’t sure which pier she was near, so he paced the shore line, hopping along the rocks that lined the bay, hoping to catch sight of her. He could hear barking, but couldn’t see them, anywhere.

  Frustrated, he retraced his steps through the parking lot and jogged to the end, where a large commercial pier stood jetted out behind a seafood restaurant. At the end, he saw them swimming back to the pier.

  “Hey!” He shouted, and waved his arms…but the woman didn’t respond.

  He ran back down the pier and returned to the smaller docks, until he found the one she was closest to. He dropped his pack at the gate, and jogged by the boat slips, the breeze above the water was cold, easily biting through his clothing and chilling his skin. There were so many places in between the boats that she could be, that it took him a full minute to reach the end and in the middle was a bag next to a pile of clothing.

  After looking down the side of the dock for any sign of life, he saw the dog first, paddling around in circles. He stepped to the edge and noticed pale white fingers holding onto the edge of the pier, he looked down, and there they were, treading water, several feet below him. An attractive long-haired woman with dark blue eyes was holding on for dear life, wearing not much of anything, and the dog splashed around her feet, clearly not sure of what to do. After fishing them both out of the water he knew then there was hope. Hope that others were out there.

  He didn’t regret the rest of the day; following them to the airport, even though he knew only the dead were there, and that the place was most likely on fire. And he didn’t regret inviting them back to the hotel for food and water, and safe shelter, even though the invitation slipped out of his mouth before his brain caught on. But he did regret lying to her, to Riley. When she asked for his name, he froze. Everything was different now, who he was two months ago didn’t matter, and she obviously didn’t recognize him.

  For years he wanted his privacy back, to feel normal again, to be seen as normal, to be treated normally, he just didn’t think it would happen because the world died, leaving him completely alone. He didn’t think it would happen like this. So he lied, and gave her his last name. He could be whoever he wanted to be now and Connor was just as good a name as any other.

  He actually felt happy with Riley around. Like there was a purpose in even trying to make it through the day. He could even get used to the dog slobber. It felt safer with them…comfortable and like it was okay to laugh again. He could be himself, his real self with Riley because she didn’t know him as the rest of the world had.

  Plus, she was gorgeous, though a bit careless, and she had a plan, even though he didn’t know what it was exactly, it was better than sitting in a luxury hotel waiting for the power to finally die out and having nowhere left to go.

  The real colors of the room were starting to come back to life as the sun struggled to pierce through the darkness of night and warm the land with its rays when he finally let his eyes close. Sleep took him quickly, eagerly, and gave him no dreams to struggle through.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It hadn’t taken long for Zoey to fall asleep curled up against my legs but I kept my eyes open until dawn. When the sunlight started streaming into the room it forced away the shadows, and I didn’t want to move until the darkness was gone. The room was awash in pale yellows and oranges when I rolled onto my side and buried myself under the covers. I woke two hours later with Zoey nudging my face with her wet nose. I stumbled out of bed, dressed quickly in my jeans, leaving my tank top on and let her out of the room. She seemed disappointed to find the bowl on the kitchen floor empty.

  I noticed Connor had closed his door as well during the night, so I approached it quietly and carefully leaned near the frame and listened for any sounds coming from the roo
m. Satisfied he was still asleep, I ventured into the kitchen and hunted around the cupboards for coffee and mugs. I decided to make a full pot and the smell alone as the coffee brewed helped me relax and wake up a bit. I took my hot mug to the windows and looked at the city around us. There was a partial view of the ocean that I couldn’t see during the night and this early in the morning the sunshine made the water look like colored glass. The glint was almost blinding so I shifted my gaze up and down a few of the streets. In the direction of the airport the sky was hazy, the wind must have been blowing the smoke away from us, but it seemed there was still some sort of fire burning in that area. Zoey allowed me to enjoy my coffee for exactly two minutes before she sat at the front door, whimpering to be let out. This meant walking down twenty flights of stairs. Great.

  “Alright, alright. Give me a minute girl.”

  I went into my room and pulled on my converse and took Zoey’s leash from my pack, sliding it around the back of my neck like a thin pink scarf. I grabbed the key card from the counter where Connor had left it the night before and quietly slipped out the door. The dog and I jogged down each flight of stairs till we reached the main floor landing.

  The lobby was bigger than I had remembered from the night before. There were chairs and tables scattered around one side of the main room for socializing, and a small bar took up the furthest corner. The main desk itself was the most impressive thing in the room to me, with a large rugged marble top and a back-splash of colorful blue tiles.

  Once outside I could smell the smoke in the air and it seemed the wind was shifting, blowing the airport fire in our direction. I silently chided myself for not wearing something warm on my arms since at 6:00 a.m. it was nippy outside.

  Fortunately we didn’t have to walk far from the hotel entrance before finding a patch of grass for Zoey to do her business. While she scouted for the perfect spot I walked to the corner of the building and glanced down the street. The sun hadn’t yet reached the cars and most were still covered in frost. I squinted my eyes at each of the building windows looking for signs of life, but nothing moved, nothing breathed. Zoey sniffed behind me and together we passed back through the lobby and headed up the stairs.

  On the fourth floor landing, when I was talking to the dog about breakfast and being polite to our host, one of the hall doors below us opened with a loud squeak and promptly slammed shut. The noise startled the dog enough to send her dodging up half a flight of stairs. I froze in place. I wasn’t sure if I should call out, or stay hidden. Eventually I leaned over the railing enough to see down the spiral but it didn’t appear like anyone was climbing the dark stairs below us. Suddenly Zoey barked loudly, causing me to jump so badly I bit my lower lip. The air went heavy and the already cold stairwell dropped in temperature causing my arms to break out in goose bumps.

  “Damn dog!” I hissed at her, “Ssshhh.”

  She stopped barking but stood nervously at the railing above me, looking down below…her hackles up, her tail tucked stiffly between her legs. I no longer felt the need to know who had opened the door and I burst out into a full on run up the stairs, taking two at a time. We made it to the fifteenth floor before I had to stop and catch my breath. I had a stitch in my side that hurt like hell and Zoey was panting heavily but whined at me to catch up as she ascended to the next landing and sat down, waiting.

  “Hold on.” I was practically panting myself.

  We took the next few flights a bit slower, but still made it to the twentieth floor in good time. I was sweating when I leaned my back against the hall door. Zoey stood, nosing the crack of the door, waiting for me to open it but I wanted to make sure we hadn’t been followed before starting down the hall. Again, I leaned over the railing and saw nothing below, and heard nothing either. If someone was down there, they weren’t paying attention to where we were on the stairs, so they shouldn’t know which floor we got off at. I decided to risk it. We left the stairwell quietly and jogged down the hall. Once inside the room, both the dog and I relaxed.

  Connor was up and drinking his coffee. He nodded at us, and whistled at Zoey, leading her into the kitchen where he had a bowl of food out for her.

  “I figured the dog needed a potty break,” he said. His hair was disheveled, like he literally just rolled out of bed. “Morning.” His voice was still husky from sleep. Daytime Connor was sexy, but Early Morning Connor…there were no words to do the man justice.

  “Hi.” I was out of breath still. He handed me a bottle of water and when my chest stopped heaving I told him, “I think there’s someone else in the hotel.” I chugged at the water bottle till half of it was gone.

  Connor didn’t respond but he was looking at me curiously. I traded my water for my still warm mug of coffee, and relayed the happenings in the stairwell. He raised his steamy mug to his mouth again and listened without commenting. What he said when I was done surprised me.

  “I think you might be right,” he said quietly.

  “Really?” I thought he didn’t believe me, like he didn’t believe me the night before when I felt someone try and cuddle with me in bed.

  “After what happened last night it got me thinking.” He paused to chew on his lower lip. “Well, sometimes I hear things too, but I’ve never seen anyone, at least not completely.” He sat down on the arm of the sofa, blowing the steam off the top layer of his coffee.

  “What does that mean? Not completely…?” I didn’t understand what he was trying to say. I moved in front of him, waiting for him to make eye contact.

  When he looked up at me, his face was tired and serious looking, the laugh lines around his eyes seemed to have deepened since the day before. He asked one simple and yet complicated question.

  “Do you believe in ghosts, Riley?”

  ***

  It was as if all the air was sucked from the room by some giant vacuum. Part of me wanted to laugh in Connor’s face at the incredulity of what he was suggesting but the other part of me, a much bigger part of me accepted it, completely. I had been seeing and hearing things and even feeling things that couldn’t or at least shouldn’t be real. I sat down heavily on the sofa, and Connor pivoted on the arm rest to face me.

  “So it’s not just me?” I asked.

  He blinked at me. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Good.” I paused to close my eyes just long enough for my mind to transport me to my house…and I opened my eyes warily, not wanting to suffer through those memories again.

  “Good?” Connor seemed surprised.

  “Well, yes. This means I’m not going crazy. Thank God.”

  Connor nodded, then shuffled over to the counter, and sat down beside me, his shoulder slumped as if holding the weight of the world on them. He smelled lovely in the morning…his faint musky sweat mingled with a light fresh linen smell. For a moment, the scent of him overwhelmed me, and I found myself leaning toward him slightly as he began talking.

  “I flew into town from L.A. for business three weeks ago with two others.” He paused to clear his throat before continuing. “It’s funny because looking back now, I remember seeing a handful of sick people in the airport. This guy and his kid on the flight were sick actually. Anyway, we were here for three days before the quarantine notices went up, and the transportation systems were shut down.”

  I interrupted, “Shut down?”

  “Yeah, closed off. We left the hotel and tried for two days to get a flight out. People just mobbed the airport. They ran through the security systems, toppled over gates. And half of them were sick. My friends were showing symptoms that second day so we decided to come back here. The military had started separating people, just grabbing them and taking them away. They announced the airport was shut down – nothing in or out.” He took a sip of coffee and then leaned forward and sat the mug on the coffee table. I sat, riveted, unable to look away from his face while he shared his story with me.

  “So, we headed back to the hotel but took a different route, and there was this mobile cli
nic, and a big truck parked in this lot and people were lined around it, trying to get in. It was total chaos. But there were military nurses and doctors inside, we could see them. I left my friends there.” Connor looked down at his hands. I reached out and slowly touched the side of his hand, just slightly, to let him know I was there.

  “They were sick; I didn’t know what else to do. My friend Grant, he was so ill he couldn’t walk anymore. He kept shaking, and started bleeding from his nose, his mouth and I just panicked.” He brought his hands up and dragged them down his face. His eyes were red and watery when he looked over at me. “Jesus, I just left them there to die. With all the other sick people. I just left them.”

  He balled up his hands into tight fists and pushed them up against his eyes and stayed like that for a long time. When he finally lowered his arms and looked at me, I said quietly, “There was nothing you could have done to save them.”

  “Right.” He said, with a touch of sarcasm.

  “What happened next?” I asked him.

  “Well,” he sighed heavily, “I came back here. By then, this place was pretty much cleared out. Only a handful of people had stayed. The staff had mostly left too. I holed up here, in my room. The streets were full of wandering people, and the sick. I called my parents and they told me half of Dublin had it. My friends in London were either sick or unreachable. Everyone around here died within a week. I’ve knocked on each and every door. No one has answered. I moved the bodies I found into the conference room. I didn’t know what else to do with them.” He paused again, leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sat down on the sofa, leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling. With my hand, I reached out and gently squeezed his shoulder. He smiled down at me faintly.

  “The next day I was down in the kitchen and it felt like someone was in there with me, following me around, you know? Every time I’ve been in there since, it feels like I’m being watched. I hear things too, like whispers or talking. And one morning I woke up after something brushed across my cheek. Before, I dismissed it, you know, as stress or something. But after last night with you, well, I can’t stop thinking about it.” He brought his gaze down and fixed it on my face.