Stasis (Part 2): Iterate

by E. W. Osborne

  Kristine chewed on her nail and continued writing through her thoughts, telling herself it could always be deleted later. She cringed at the thought of Christopher reading it out of context. It felt terribly selfish to even admit to herself, but what weighed heaviest on her mind was her career. With a huff, she pushed the life list away and made a fresh one for her work.

  The catatonic curse video she’d released had collected more views than any other she’d posted. The first follow-up garnered even more. The message spread like wildfire and before long, other freelancers picked up the story. At first, she’d felt protective over it. She was the one to do the research, who put her life on the line to break the story after all. When she removed her emotions from it, she realized the most important thing was that she’d shined a light on something incredibly dangerous. That it had a life of its own only proved her instincts had been correct.

  The trouble was, the moment she reported it, the phenomenon stopped, at least in the city. At first, she suspected it was just an anomaly. How could anything like that come at a regular pace? Of course there’d be fluctuations. But it was as if the attention she brought to the problem was like a poison, killing it before it spread.

  Or like a medicine to a disease, she thought to herself, trying to paint the situation in a more positive light.

  While the epidemic had slowed around her, rumors spread that it’d now infiltrated throughout the country. Not good, for several reasons. More people were dying, more lives were being ruined, and she couldn’t cover it without significant travel.

  The night Christopher had left for work had solidified her fears. After a few quick calculations and a call to her favorite EMT, she figured the hospital was due for another wave of patients. With excitement thrumming through her veins, she’d gotten everything ready. Hair, makeup, and extra cameras just in case one or two were confiscated while filming. She was spending a lot of time around the hospital, so she was bound to be noticed soon. When she got to the emergency room early, she pretended to wait for a friend. While there, she wandered around, kept herself busy in the gift shop, tried to blend in. She even tried Dr. Lal just to see if he was around, but still, no answer. She didn’t dare ask for him in case it roused any suspicions.

  Kristine had gotten a feel for the kind of traffic the hospital normally dealt with. As one of the busiest hospitals in the country, there was definitely a constant flow of people coming in and out. However, that night felt quiet. The nurses and other staff lingered around a lot longer than she ever remembered seeing. They huddled in tight groups, leaning on counters, against walls, actually taking time to chat. Kristine chalked it up to her imagination, but she thought the air felt a little… different.

  For over four hours she waited. And waited. And waited. Shades of the first nights she’d spent chasing a weird lead came back to her. Not a single catatonic patient showed up. It was like they knew she was waiting with camera in hand, ready to splash their stories across the web. It was well after midnight when she finally declared defeat and headed back to her empty apartment.

  Kristine spent the early morning hours going through her notes from interviewing Sammy and the doctor, vowing she’d get to the bottom of it. Nothing compared to the feeling she had when she’d posted that first video. There was no greater high than when she realized she was not only getting views, but helping people.

  She’d barely slept. In the stark, sober morning, the first wave of motherly guilt had slapped her hard across the face. As she buttered her underdone toast, smiling to herself, she’d realized this dogged drive was going to have to slow down. There were more important things to worry about now.

  The list making didn’t help her focus. There were too many questions and not enough answers. Where was the doctor? Who were those men? Why had everything suddenly stopped? What happened to the patients? What happened to their victims? Why were only a few people talking about this?

  A wave of dizziness rocked her, tilting the world as if she were on the bow of a ship. She glanced at the time and was shocked to see she’d been writing for the better part of her day. A couple quick taps on her tablet and her regular order from the deli around the corner would be soon at her door.

  Staring at her list, she could come to only one conclusion.

  “I won’t let go of this until I know everything.”

  Just as she knew the story itself was important, she knew in her gut that it would always haunt her if she abandoned it now.

  Kristine opened up a new document and titled it, “To Do.”

  Contact local morgues

  Contact hospitals in the following cities

  * San Francisco

  * Kansas City

  * Miami

  * Seattle

  * Austin

  Track down Dr. Lal

  * Find family or close friends?

  A sound in the hallway pulled her attention from the tablet. Impressed by their speedy delivery, she launched herself over the arm of the sofa with a laugh. We order from there so much, someone must’ve let them in.

  She whipped open the door expecting to see Carl pulling her food from the warmer bag and was surprised by a more familiar face.

  “Oh! What the…”

  “Surprise,” Christopher said, his expression matching hers. He’d obviously been trying to sneak in and was shocked by the door whipping open in his face.

  Slow to respond, she looked up and down the hallway as if still expecting her food to be there. “What are you doing home so early?” she asked as she hugged him at the door.

  “They let me cut off early.” He squinted at her as he squeezed past. “You expecting your other boyfriend or something?”

  She laughed. “If by boyfriend you mean food, then yes. I just ordered from the deli. Besides, you’re my fiancé now, not boyfriend,” she said, wiggling her left hand.

  “Good, I’m starving.”

  He discarded his bag by the front door and flopped onto the sofa where all her work was spread out. Kristine breathed sharply through her nose, reminding herself she would’ve had to stop to eat anyway.

  Life is more important than career, she thought. As if to drill that point home, Christopher did a great impression of mind-reading.

  “What’s this?” he asked, her tablet in hand.

  “Just some work,” she replied dismissively. Her floundering career wasn’t exactly her favorite topic at the moment and would’ve much preferred to talk about something else. “Speaking of which, how was yours?”

  She tapped his leg and gestured for him to move. He frowned as he sat up, ignoring her question. “What are you working on?”

  “You know. The comatose thing.”

  “Still?”

  “Yeah! It’s not happening in the city anymore, as far as I can tell. A few of us are working together, sharing information, which is good because I can’t seem to track down that doctor.” She got lost in the details again, the tiny fragments of facts shifting around in her head like pieces of a puzzle. “I can almost see the pattern…”

  He broke her concentration by twitching his foot. “But you’re still working on it?”

  Kristine sucked her tongue to keep from snapping at him. He’d just walked in the door. She didn’t want to be a complete bitch and start chewing him out for leaving his stuff everywhere, interrupting work, and… “Well, yeah, of course. I’m not going to drop a story like that so quickly. Even if it’s gone a little cold,” she scoffed, trying to redirect her irritation.

  Christopher’s lip twitched. She could tell he was picking his words wisely, which only bugged her more. “Maybe you should,” he finally settled on.

  Pulling the tablet from his hand, she dipped her head low to draw his attention. “And why is that exactly?”

  A shadow crossed his expression. She’d seen it happen plenty of times before, but just never with him. He was hiding something. As quickly as it arrived, it passed.

  He shrugged and scooted back, kicking his legs ont
o hers. He counted off his reasons on each finger. “Because you’re my kept woman now. You don’t have to. Stress isn’t good for the baby. Plus, you have a wedding to plan.” His satisfied grin grated on her last nerve. “I could go on.”

  Kristine licked her lip and threw his legs off her lap. “Yeah, feel free to stop.”

  “What? What’d I say?”

  The fact he legitimately didn’t understand why she might be upset was the last straw. With only a few hours of sleep under her belt, hungry, and the weight of the world on her shoulders, her patience was rice-paper thin. She opened her mouth ready to lay into him when the door buzzed from downstairs. The food had arrived meaning Christopher had literally been saved by the doorbell.

  Just as she was biting into her sandwich, she leveled a meaningful look at him. “If you think I’m going to be barefoot and pregnant…” She didn’t even complete the sentence, letting a menacing chuckle finish it for her. She didn’t let anything get in her way when she was chasing a story and she wasn’t about to change now.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Alfreton, UK

  AN IDIOT COULD’VE FIGURED out the pattern. Maybe an idiot wouldn’t have spent so long trying to convince themselves they were wrong. But there was no denying the trend. The website Mouse had sent him was connected to the wave of suicides sweeping London.

  Alex could sympathize a little with her friend now. The pull of that counter was almost irresistible. Knowing it was spinning away, slowly but surely knocking off seconds, minutes, hours until the final moment. And then what?

  “And then…” he muttered into his hand unable to finish the sentence.

  As far as he could put together, the counter was directly connected to the wave of murders across the United States. Mouse’s friends had deciphered the ridiculously easy hexadecimal code which, as far as Alex was concerned, made the whole thing feel juvenile. It’d been an interesting turn of events until they’d linked some religious tone to it. Now it felt ludicrous to even care. Some bible-basher doomsday clock…

  Still, the other changes to the site on each refresh kept him coming back. What had happened during the Alpha stage remained a mystery, but the Beta had definitely been linked to the murders. If the news coming from across the Atlantic was anything to go by, the murders had slowed in the major cities but spread to other parts of the country. Depending on who he listened to, the reigning theory was either drugs or some type of social madness spreading through the populous. No one was talking about Seeds.

  The moment he heard about the growing numbers of suicides in London, he instantly drew the connection. Now, he didn’t know what to do about it.

  Alone in his stuffy room, blackout curtains pulled tight over the light of day, Alex found himself facing his greatest fear. He could come to only one conclusion.

  I have to tell someone.

  Simple in theory, but far from easy in practice. He’d modeled his whole life around his phobias, working around them rather than pushing through them. It wasn’t healthy, but it was the way he’d found peace. Connecting to people he chose to connect with came with the freedom of walking away whenever it became too much.

  Alex was weak, unfit, afraid. Hypnos was brave, witty, and unflinching. Given a choice, he’d always pick a life where he could be Hypnos. He clung to the persona and the safety it provided like it was his last life line. In many ways, it was. But reaching out to a person of authority would expose him more than he was comfortable with.

  Unless I remained anonymous.

  He stared at the countdown, feeling comforted that the guards he had in place would protect him from anyone trying to peer back. Mouse’s friends had poked at a poisonous monster and managed to walk away without a painful bite. He’d been around long enough to know there was always someone watching you, tracking you, for one nefarious use or another. He should know… he did it himself.

  The countdown was a mystery that beckoned to him. It was like staring at a puzzle, knowing the solution was right in front of you but that some of the pieces were invisible. But it also required him to admit he wasn’t the right person to try to sort it out, and that wasn’t a comfortable admission.

  A message popped up on his second screen, a faint flicker of movement pulling his eye to the right.

  Just wanted to let you know he chickened out. Thanks anyway.

  Alex snorted as he quickly typed out a response. His heart beat a little faster knowing Mouse was on the other end right then, alive, her attention on him.

  Yeah, had a feeling. His funeral.

  I hope not.

  Soz, didn’t mean it like that. Try to convince him. He puts you at risk too.

  I’ll try, but I’d have better success castrating a stampeding bull.

  You have such a way with words

  It’s why you love me ;) Heard about London. Don’t go slitting your wrists now, you limey bastard.

  Can do. Try not to get murdered, Yankee scum.

  Alex watched to see if her little icon indicated she’d gone offline but it stayed green. For a few moments, he stared, wondering who else she could be speaking to at the same time, hating the emotions bubbling up in his chest. He conjured up images of gorgeous men, guys who played sports and didn’t break into a heavy sweat whenever they spoke to someone outside of their family. Before he could slip too far down a spiral of despair, his mum called from the foot of the stairs.

  “I’m going out.”

  He rolled his eyes and shouted back through the walls and closed door. “Yeah, alright.”

  “You getting out of bed today?” she sneered.

  Alex sighed, hanging his head so low his chin touched his chest. “I am out of bed, Mum.”

  “I checked my bank account this morning.”

  He didn’t bite at the bait, knowing it didn’t matter but choosing not to play her game. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. Seems a little low.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t drink it all then,” he snapped, unable to check himself. Her footfalls stomped up the stairs, stopping only when he quickly added. “I’ll pay it in now, yeah? Calm yourself.”

  He squeezed his eyes shut and could almost see her through the wall. Her manicured nails digging into the chipped paint of the railing, her makeup smudging into her deep wrinkles with every glower and frown. In the end, she cleared her throat and descended the stairs in a much calmer mood.

  “Now, was that so hard? Don’t wait up!” she chirped before slamming the front door.

  The good mood Mouse had put him in was erased. He gritted his teeth, glaring at the monitors as if they were judgmental faces watching him. It felt good to be alone but it would’ve felt better to rage against her.

  He chewed his lower lip, peeling pieces of skin off with tiny nibbles of his front teeth.

  It’s not like she gives a shit where the money comes from or how I get it, so long as it’s in her account every flippin’ week.

  At the same time, he couldn’t blame her. He was a burden. Sure, she was nasty and horrible to him from time to time, but he was always fed and clothed and dry. When she raised her hand to him, he knew he deserved it. He pushed her too far sometimes. Even in their worst fights, she never told him to leave.

  It was a lot to ask, taking care of an adult child, giving up her social life because no man wanted to come into that house. “Into this hot mess,” she’d say with a look of accusation. Only a glare, never a full condemnation.

  A sharp pain on his lip jolted him back to the present. The bitter tang of blood touched his tongue as he probed a spot he’d torn a little too much. A blinking alert pulled his attention from his dark thoughts. Wheeling quickly to the screen, he hoped Mouse had returned to talk again. They hadn’t had a long conversation in forever, her Uni work taking so much of her time.

  Alex’s eyebrows met as he frowned at the message from someone who called themselves The Gardener.

  I’m a big fan.

  The cursor blinked, patiently waiting for Alex’s response
. Minutes ticked by as he sat statue-still, brain whirring away. He didn’t recognize the handle. He couldn’t recall ever coming across it in anything he’d read. He wasn’t particularly happy this person had found a way to message him directly because it meant they’d bypassed several security measures. Another message popped up just as he’d decided The Gardener was probably some hacker wannabe kid.

  Maybe we can collaborate.

  Yeah, maybe. Hold your breath till then.

  That’s funny. You’re funny.

  And you aren’t worth my time.

  Alex blocked the account from messaging him again, but it’d still left him rattled. No one should’ve been able to get that close to him. No one should’ve even known what to look for let alone break in through the front door. At least they’d been polite enough to wipe their feet before barging in, but that in itself was a message.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Across the UK

  June 19th

  THE SEA in this part of the world never looked warm, exactly. It sparkled, it moved, it held ships and fishing trawlers but it never beckoned. Although she’d moved around a lot as a kid and then settled as an adult, the sea was never far away. It was always there, another world, another place she could see but never visit. This whole vast universe existing right in front of her face yet beyond her reach.

  Today, she thought, squinting at the glittering water, I’d like to go for a swim.

  Nice, warm, sunny days are cherished. Even on the south coast of England where sun is as plentiful as anywhere in the UK, a sunny day is rarely missed. When she parked up and climbed from her car, she realized she wasn’t the only person who’d had the same thought. It was no matter. The other people wouldn’t bother her. They’d keep to themselves.

  Families and couples struggled with sun chairs, wind-breakers, baskets of food, tubs of toys, coolers of drinks. Not her. She left the keys in the ignition, shut the door, and walked to the stone beach with empty arms. With a steady stride, she traveled down the beach until the crowds thinned out and she saw more pebbles than people.