by Amy Cross
"I'm gonna go check his desk," Chloe says, grabbing her folders and getting to her feet. "I'll swing back here at five and I guess we can compare notes. You wanna meet up then?"
Once she's left, Reed and I sit in an uncomfortable silence for a moment. It's clear that we're both completely creeped out by the situation with Lydecker, and I imagine he's feeling the same thing that I'm feeling: he's worried that we're going insane. After all, on the surface, this situation makes absolutely no sense, and it's hard to see how there could possibly be an explanation that brings things back into the realm of reality.
"You okay?" Reed asks eventually.
"Yeah," I reply, even though it's not strictly true. "I'm just kind of dazed by it all."
"Me too." He pauses. "If you want to drown your sorrows later, we could get a drink and see if we come up with anything. Sometimes a couple of beers can help lubricate the brain and get a few extra ideas flowing."
"Sure," I say, looking over at the window. "Right now, I feel like I'm going crazy."
"There's a reasonable explanation," he continues. "Just 'cause we can't see it now, doesn't mean it's not there."
I smile politely, but it's hard to take much solace from his words when he's clearly got no idea what's happening.
"If nothing else," he adds, "it's been an interesting day. Hell, we'd never have met if Lydecker hadn't pulled this little stunt, so..." His voice trails off.
"We'll get that drink later," I reply. "Maybe the three of us can work something out."
"The three of us?" He looks confused for a moment. "Right. Chloe. Sure, maybe she's got an angle that we've missed. I mean, three heads are better than two, right?" He pauses. "I should probably get going. I feel kind of helpless just sitting here, but I'll see you at five, okay? And if anything happens, let me know immediately. If he shows up, maybe it's best not to approach him by yourself. You have no idea how he might react."
"You think he could be dangerous?" I ask with a smile.
"I think we need to be careful," he replies. "There's no need to rush."
After Reed has left the coffee shop, I find myself sitting alone, lost in thought. I feel as if there has to be a really obvious, really easy answer to all of this, something that'll suddenly click into place and make me realize I've been a complete fool. Somehow, we're missing the truth, and I'm convinced that eventually we'll end up sitting around and laughing about how we managed to fool ourselves. The simple fact is that John Lydecker can't be three people at once, even if that's what appears to be happening, so something else is happening instead. Maybe he's just an insanely hard worker who manages to keep three jobs going at once? I figure that if he's some kind of extremely gifted savant, he could maybe flit between the bank where I work, the marketing firm where Reed works, and the fashion magazine where Chloe works, and no-one would ever guess. If we try to match up his working hours later, we'll probably find that they fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The guy probably sleeps for just an hour or two each day. This is all kind of hard to believe, but I feel a little better now that I've come up with an explanation that's at least vaguely credible.
As the afternoon ticks past, I stay in the coffee shop and read newspaper after newspaper, while occasionally glancing over at Lydecker's apartment building. Just before 5pm, I head out and make my way across the busy road before going up to apartment 23 and banging on the door again. I don't really expect him to be home, but I figure I should double-check that he didn't manage to slip into the building while I wasn't looking. Once I'm certain that there's no sign of him, I wander back down and across to the coffee shop, where I wait a while long before realizing that it's almost 6pm and there's still no sign of either Reed or Chloe. Bringing up Reed's number, I try to give him a call.
"Hey," I say as the ringing stops, but I immediately pull the phone away from my ear as I'm hit by a wall of incredibly loud static. I think there might be a human voice in there somewhere, flaring and pulsing somewhere deep in the signal, but it's impossible to hear a word that he's saying. "I'm still at the coffee shop," I shout into the phone, ignoring the weird looks I get from some of the other customers. "Are you coming?"
Once I've cut the call, I try to get in touch with Chloe, but I get the same strange static. Again, I think I can just about make out the sound of her voice, swirling in the noise, but it's hopeless trying to make out any words. I leave a brief message, but I doubt she'll be able to hear it. I guess there must be something wrong with cellphone reception today, although I can't help but notice other people who don't seem to be having any problems. Placing my phone on the table, I try to ignore the growing feeling in the pit of my stomach that's telling me something's wrong. After all, I could understand how Reed or Chloe might be delayed, but both of them? At the same time?
By 8pm, it's clear that for whatever reason, I'm being doubly stood up. Heading out of the coffee shop, I try to call Mendez but my phone's still acting crazy so I decide to head back to the office. Fortunately, Mendez always works late, so at least I know where to find him. I'll just have to give him my sob story and hope that he doesn't decide to take his annoyance out on me. I mean, it's not my fault that John Lydecker's gone walkabouts, and firing me wouldn't help. Then again, Mendez is kind of temperamental, and it's clear that he's not my biggest fan. By the time I reach the office building, I've got a horrible feeling that this bad day is about to get worse, and I'm quickly proved right when I get into the lobby and find that my security card no longer gives me access to the elevators. I swipe several times, but all I get is a red light. Sighing, I take a step back and try to stay calm, even though I'm filling up with anger and my hands are starting to shake. Seriously? Have I already been fired?
Dr. Stef Grant
Today
"Maybe we should stop for some food and water," Gretchen says, coming to a halt in the middle of the road and turning to the rest of us. "We've still got a lot of walking to do."
Pulling a bottle of water from my bag, I unscrew the top and take a few sips. While we're not exactly low on rations, I still can't help trying to conserve our supplies as much as possible. We've got plenty of cases of food and water on the boat, but I guess it's just hard-wired into me to be careful with dwindling resources. Glancing over at Cooper, I realize that he's the same: he takes a sip from his water bottle, but no more, before taking a bite from one of his energy bars. Cooper and I go back a long way, and we've been in some tricky situations together in the past. I guess we've learned the same lessons over the years, and neither of us wants to get even close to the point where we have to start worrying about our rations.
"Thirsty?" Lacey asks.
"Huh?" I ask, before realizing that she's looking at Gretchen, who has already drunk an entire bottle of water.
"It's good to keep hydrated," Gretchen replies, dropping the empty bottle in a nearby bin before taking a second bottle from her bag and starting to drink. "By the time you get thirsty," she continues after a moment, "your body's already passed the point where it's running short. We should all be drinking as much as possible if we're going to keep our strength up." With that, she takes another long swig from her bottle, quickly finishing its contents.
"Still," Cooper says, putting his own bottle back in his bag, "try to pace yourself."
"You won't be saying that when you're starting to lag behind and I'm pushing on ahead," Gretchen replies with a smile. "Seriously, it's basic survival training. You can go weeks without feed, but only three days without water. Even just a few hours without proper hydration can be enough to affect physical performances. Maybe I'm being overly paranoid, but I don't fancy the idea of being below my optimal condition while we're here." She looks back over at Lacey. "After all, the bogeyman might still be watching us."
"I'm not an idiot," Lacey replies. "I'm just cautious."
"You're a civilian," Gretchen says. "I doubt you've ever been in a high pressure situation in your life, have you?"
"I'm not sure what you're basin
g that assumption on," Lacey says, seemingly a little annoyed, "but I've been under plenty of pressure, thank you. My life is basically one long pressure point."
"I bet you were just sitting behind a desk at the time, though," Gretchen continues, evidently keen to see how far she can push Lacey. "Nothing beats the real, heart-in-mouth pressure of being out in the field, facing actual, physical danger. Trust me, I've been in enough war-zones to know what it's like. If you're smart, you'll watch and learn while we're here. Maybe you'll actually pick up some new skills."
"Maybe," Lacey replies through gritted teeth. Once again, she's clearly not willing to fight her corner.
"Another survival technique," Cooper says darkly, "is to avoid expending energy on wasted pursuits such as arguments. Team-work's also pretty important, so let's not start goading one another. We've still got a hell of a walk ahead of us, and I'd like to think we can all stick together." He glances over at Gretchen, who has taken the third and final bottle of water from her bag and started to drink. "Are you okay, Dr. Maloney?" he asks after a moment.
"Me?" Gretchen asks as she finishes the bottle and tosses it into the bin with the other two. "I'm fine. I'm more than fine." She pauses for a moment, and it's clear that something is bothering her. "So are the rest of you just going to take little sips now and again? Aren't you going to hydrate yourselves properly?"
"Are you still thirsty?" Cooper asks, with a hint of concern in his voice.
"I'm fine!" Gretchen replies testily. "Forgive me for offering you all some advice. After all, it's not as if I'm the only one of us who's ever been in a real combat situation. Oh, wait, I am the only one. Still, I guess I mustn't let that get to my head, right? You guys can just carry on with your own plans, but don't blame me when your performance falls and you struggle on the walk back to the boat this evening." She turns and starts walking away, before stopping and turning back to face us.
"Dr. Maloney," Cooper says sternly, "you've drunk three half-liter bottles of water in less than five minutes. Are you still feeling thirsty?"
"Of course not," she snaps quickly, as if she was anticipating the question.
Cooper and I exchange a worried glance. I'm pretty sure we're both thinking the same thing: Gretchen's sudden increased water consumption seems to be more than just a case of dry mouth. In fact, it's almost as if there's something wrong with her. My mind is already filling with various possible causes, such as a blood problem or diabetes, but it's impossible to say what's wrong for certain without giving Gretchen a full check-up, and something tells me that she wouldn't be a very cooperative patient. She's always been kind of argumentative and crotchety, but something seems different right now, as if she's worried or scared.
"Shit, is she sick or something?" Lacey asks. "Please, God, don't tell me she's sick."
"I'm not sick!" Gretchen replies, sounding as if she's disgusted by the idea. "Don't overreact! Just..." She pauses, and for a moment she seems distracted by something. "Give me some water," she says eventually. "I'm okay, but someone just give me some fucking water!"
"We need to get back to the boat," Cooper says. "I think -"
"Give me some fucking water!" Gretchen shouts, hurrying toward me and reaching for my bag.
Swinging out of the way, I take a step back, but Gretchen seems determined to get to my water supply. She manages to grab hold of the bag and pull it off my shoulder, but I get a firm grip and drag it out of her hands.
"Dr. Maloney!" Cooper shouts. "You have to stop this!"
"I just want some water!" she screams, still trying to get into my bag. There's a kind of desperate tone to her voice, and no matter how hard she tries to hide it, she's clearly struggling.
"Here!" I shout at her, pulling out a half-empty bottle and tossing it at her. While she fumbles with the top and starts to drink, I look over at Cooper and see that he's worried.
"I knew this would happen," Lacey says, backing away from us. "I knew we didn't take enough precautions. I should never have listened to anyone else. I should have stayed at home and let someone else come and represent the company -"
"I need more!" Gretchen shouts, tossing the empty bottle aside and staring at me. "I know you've got more! Give it to me!"
"I don't know if I can," I reply.
"Give her another bottle," Cooper says firmly.
Grabbing a bottle from my bag, I throw it at Gretchen and watch as she gets it open. She seems almost like some kind of addict, desperately trying to get the lid off the bottle as fast as possible and finally swigging the water down her throat as if her life's in danger.
"More!" she splutters as she finishes and throws the bottle to one side. She turns to me. "More!"
"I don't have any left," I say. "I only brought two bottles."
"More!" she shouts, lurching toward Cooper, although he hurries out of the way.
"This isn't good," Lacey mutters, still backing away.
"You!" Gretchen shouts at her, stumbling in her direction. "Bitch! Give me your water!"
"Keep away from me!" Lacey shouts, pulling her gun from her bag and fumbling with the safety catch.
"Put that away!" Cooper shouts at her.
"She's not touching me!" Lacey replies, still fiddling with the gun. "I'm not going to let her come anywhere near me! If she's infected with something -"
"She's not infected!" Cooper shouts. "This isn't -"
Before he can finish, Gretchen lets out an agonized moan. She stumbles, almost losing her footing before she manages to stay upright. As she turns to face us, it's clear that something's wrong with her face. Her mouth is contorted into a kind of O shape, and her eyes seem somehow strained, as if she's struggling to keep them open.
"Fuck!" Lacey says, finally getting the safety catch off and aiming the gun directly at Gretchen. There's a level of panic in her eyes that makes me extremely nervous, and I can't help but notice that she's got a finger firmly pressed against the trigger.
"Put that thing down!" Cooper shouts at her.
"Help!" Gretchen shouts, her voice sounding tight and harsh. She takes a couple of steps toward me, and I see to my shock that the skin on the sides of her mouth seems to have started to fuse together, leaving her able to keep only the very middle part of her lips apart. Something similar seems to be happening with her eyes, with the eyelids starting to grow together, and as she turns to look over at Cooper, I see that her ear-holes appear to have fused shut, as if the skin has grown over and completely sealed the entrance.
"Everyone keep back," Cooper says firmly.
Letting out a stifled moan, Gretchen turns back toward me, but now her mouth is completely fused shut by a layer of skin that has grown between her top and bottom lips. Her eyes are almost completely closed as well, and I can only see a faint gap between her eyelids for a moment, before they're sealed. As she takes a couple of steps toward me and reaches out for help, I see that her nostrils have also fused shut, which means there's no way for her to breathe now that her mouth and nose are completely sealed by skin. She seems to be screaming, although the sound is muffled now that she can't open her mouth, and as she drops to her knees she seems to be getting more and more panicked. She reaches out, desperately trying to get hold of someone, but we all make sure to keep as far back from her as possible.
"Holy fuck," Lacey says, still pointing her gun at Gretchen. "Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck..."
There's nothing we can do to help as Gretchen collapses to the ground. As she rolls onto her back, she continues to let out a muffled moaning sounds and she starts clawing at her face, trying to break through the skin that has grown over her mouth. She's getting more and more desperate by the second, and although I want to help her, I'm not willing to risk getting contaminated by whatever has caused this to happen. Instead, I just watch as she tries to get her mouth open, her stifled screams sound more and more agonized until finally she seems to lose some of her energy. She rolls onto her front and tries to crawl toward Cooper, reaching out a hand as if she's d
esperately hoping that someone will be able to save her. Eventually, she stops moaning, and her body falls still.
We stand in silence.
"Is she..." Lacey starts to ask, before her voice trails off.
"I think so," Cooper says, staring down at the body. "I think she suffocated."
"How?" I ask, my heart racing faster than I've ever known. I can feel it pounding in my chest, and I'm having to fight the urge to turn and run.
Cooper shakes his head, unable to find any words.
"We have to get out of here," Lacey says. "We can't stay!"
I take a step toward Gretchen's body, and I see that her eyes, mouth and nose have fused completely shut, along with her ears. I have no idea what could have caused her body to close up like that, but it's clear from her contorted face that her jaw was open when she died, desperately trying to find a way to breathe. Looking over at Cooper, I see that all the color has drained from his face. Whatever caused this, we have to get out of here right now.
Caroline Jones
Fifteen years ago
"I have never seen this woman before in my life," Mendez says, standing on the other side of the security desk and eying me with suspicion. He turns to the security guard. "Sorry," he adds. "I don't know who she is."
"Caroline Jones," I say firmly, fighting the urge to climb over the desk and grab the bastard by his neck. "I've been here for almost a year. I work at terminal 5b. I handle a series of third-level accounts. I deal with Mr. Meldrew and Mrs. Shale, and -"
"Those are all real accounts," Mendez says, interrupting me, "and I don't know how you know the details, but I can assure you that I have a very capable group of employees who are taking care of these things. Ms. Jones, I've honestly never seen you before in my life, and you know that. This stunt, whatever its intentions, is a waste of everyone's time. It's already getting late, and I don't know if you're drunk or maybe you're on some kind of new drug, or maybe you've mixed your medications or something, but I don't have time for this. Maybe you do, but I don't. If you're having an emotional breakdown, please go and do it somewhere else." He turns to the guard. "I swear, the economy's pushing more people over the edge."
