Mine First

by A. J. Marchant

  There were no windows in the dining room, and Lori would have skipped it, going back out to the hallway and around to the kitchen. But Marina edged forward and crouched, shining the light under the table, through the chair legs and around the room. No one.

  Lori followed behind Marina now, keeping a wide berth around the table. The closer they got to the kitchen, the more they felt the temperature drop. There was something else, a noise, a whistle of wind.

  They were a step away from the kitchen when a buzz filled the house, then came the beep and click of appliances and electronics powering up. The dishwasher turned on mid-cycle. The fridge gave a shudder and thunked alive. And something moved.

  Lori made out a shape in the glow of the blinking oven clock, skirting around behind the island bench. It was small, too small to be human, and it was light on its feet. Lori raised the bat, ready to swing as Marina reached around the doorframe and flicked the light switch.

  The room flooded with light. The window over the sink had been nudged inwards. Eyes busy roaming the counters, they both startled at a blur of white stalking out from behind the bench. Marina swore and stepped back, but fear left Lori in that moment.

  38

  LORI LET THE bat drop by her side, her pulse returning to normal. ‘Beanie. You little shit, you scared me.’

  The cat wove between Lori’s legs, arching his back proudly and stretching his neck up for a scratch. Marina crouched and Beanie made a final figure-eight before he strutted over, purring and rubbing his face against her palm, tail curling around her wrist.

  ‘Poor little guy, he’s shivering.’ Marina brushed snow from his back, catching the tea towel Lori tossed to her. It was a struggle to get him to realise they were drying him, not patting him, and his wriggling didn’t help.

  Lori explained how Beanie lived next door, but that he liked to wander the neighbourhood and visit people, although hers was the only house he broke into.

  ‘His cat flap has an electric lock.’ Lori pointed to the little heart-shaped piece of plastic hanging next to the name tag on his collar. ‘Probably got locked out when the power went, figured here was the best place to wait out the storm.’

  Leaving the rest of the drying to Marina, Lori went over to close the window. Beanie had done a good job wedging it open; she used her whole bodyweight to push it shut, the little sensor light flicking from red to green. She wiped away the flakes of snow on the windowsill and then got his dish out from under the sink.

  Buried at the back of the cupboard was a single can of tuna. Beanie head-butted Lori’s leg as she drained the can, forking the little chunks into the dish. Her phone rang as she put the dish down in his favourite corner, right under the heating duct. Marina looked at the screen and held it out. ‘It’s the security firm.’

  Lori answered it as she went to the laundry, letting the guy know it was a false alarm and reciting her security code while she searched the cupboards for Beanie’s bed.

  Even though they’d found the culprit, Lori did another quick check. She grabbed a blanket off the couch as she crossed the hallway to check the sitting room. Skipping the dining room, she circled back through the front entrance and grabbed her work bag, going the long way up the hallway back to the kitchen.

  Marina was sitting on the floor, rubbing a knuckle along the ridge on top of Beanie’s head. She looked up with a crooked smile, holding in a yawn.

  The adrenaline was leaving Lori’s system, but she was far from any chance of sleep. ‘You should go back to bed. I’m gonna hang out here with Beanie for a bit, make sure he’s warm enough.’

  One last pat and purr, and then Marina got up, jokingly patting Lori’s cheek as well and then planting a kiss on her shoulder. ‘Don’t stay up too late.’

  Beanie was curled up on his bed, a draught of warm air blowing down from the vent and ruffling the wet tips of his fur. He looked up out of the corner of his eye as Lori settled down on the edge of his bed and covered her legs with the blanket.

  The oven clock blinked four zero’s, so Lori checked her phone; it was only half-past one in the morning.

  ‘Gonna be a long night, Bean. You picked a real good time to get locked out.’

  Beanie sighed in his sleep and pressed the pink pads of his paw against Lori’s leg, the little jellybean patch of charcoal on his nose wiggling happily.

  39

  LORI TURNED HER alarm off five minutes early but lay in bed a little longer, her thoughts wandering. Something was different. She was happy. She felt safe. And she’d finally had a good night’s sleep.

  Come to think of it, nothing had happened since before the snowstorm.

  That was last week, and today was Tuesday.

  Maybe she’d been right, maybe they had gotten bored and stopped.

  Then again, the entire town had come to a halt for the three days the snowstorm had lasted. Everything was closed down and shuttered, the shelters full, calls for help swamping the emergency services.

  Classes were cancelled and the campus was deserted, but Lori pushed and sweet-talked whoever she could find, finally getting approval to open the hall for the duration of the storm as a refuge for anyone in need.

  Marina had dug up an old projector and set it up to play old movies on the wall. Em had dropped in all the blankets and pillows she could pull together. She would have stayed, but the swim team had a meet out of state and they were only just going to make it out before the storm got worse and the roads closed.

  They’d spent the weekend in the hall. Lori had experienced nothing like it; her own gratitude was somehow even greater than that of the kids who were sheltered, not having to worry about finding a place to survive the storm. From the edges, she’d observed as they all came to life, laughing and mucking around, opening up to the staff who’d volunteered to stay and help.

  Monday morning came, and they woke to a calm blue sky and an unblemished blanketing of snow. Packing up the hall had been bittersweet, but there was a new energy as they all worked together. Maybe that was it, this feeling, a desperately needed and renewed energy.

  The more she thought about it, the bigger it grew, a fluttering in her chest and a buzzing in her fingertips. Not wanting to waste it laying in bed, she tiptoed around the room, packed her swimming gear and work clothes, and snuck out to let Marina sleep a little longer.

  The aftermath of the snowstorm littered the streets, the clean-up slow going. Fallen branches half buried in the banks of snow ploughed up along the side of the road. The outline of cars not yet dug free. Front gardens and mailboxes magically disappeared. Houses white-peaked.

  With each uneven step came a surprise. In some places the snow was packed hard and squeaked under her boots, but other times she sunk to her knees and struggled to kick her feet free.

  On campus, they’d shovelled the footpaths, but the grass sections were hip-high with snow, forcing Lori to take the long way around instead of cutting straight across. The first whiff of chlorine set off the usual reaction as she walked inside. She emptied her bag out on the bench, hung her work clothes in her locker and changed into her swimmers.

  40

  SUNRISE SHONE GOLDEN through the fogged glass. Lori chose the lane one over from the middle and sat on the edge of the pool. Her legs kicked in the warm water, regaining feeling in her feet, needles tingling in her toes.

  No one else was around. She had the pool all to herself. It was peaceful.

  Even more so as she slid in, sinking under the water, standing for a moment on the bottom. She floated back up and pushed off the side with a lazy kick, stretching and breaking the surface.

  A hypnotic rhythm found her and she was soon nearing race pace, the old feeling coming back. Each breath, the tilt of her head, a flash of sound, the memory of a tinny whistle, of her coach urging her on.

  Then came the tumble and push, the small restful moment of quiet and still, straight as an arrow, gliding through the water, everything bursting back in as with one powerful stroke after another she pus
hed ahead, focused.

  Then her foot kicked something. Her pace slowed to a crawl, her concentration broken. Thinking she’d kicked the lane barrier, Lori checked the tiles on the bottom of the pool; she was right above the black line, nowhere near the barriers.

  Before she could speed up, something clamped around her ankle, yanking her to a stop. Her body froze in shock and sank, top-heavy. Awkwardly, she attempted to curve her spine and lift her head towards the surface. But something held her leg up at an angle that made it near impossible. She tried to pull her ankle free, tried to turn around, roll onto her back. But now there was a pressure on her lower back, and another between her shoulders. Hands were pushing her down, fingernails biting at her skin. She struggled and thrashed as a hand made its way up to her neck. Again, she tried to lift her head out of the water and take a breath, but she couldn’t.

  The goggles were getting tight around her head, the plastic cups cutting into her cheekbones, and a pressure building, making it painful to keep her eyes open. Furiously searching the water, Lori forced her eyes open as wide as she could, but all she could make out was a blur of pale legs kicking at her side, muscles shimmering and flexing with each movement, flashes of red in the bubbled water.

  Knowing where to aim, Lori lashed out and her fingers raked weakly over flesh. For a moment the grip on her neck relaxed, then doubled. Lori lashed out again, but they were expecting it. Her hand met with nothing but a vice grip, bones grinding in her wrist and shoulder as her arm was forced behind her back, her hand pinned between her shoulder blades.

  41

  FIGHTING AGAINST THE instinct to draw in air that wasn’t there, Lori pushed against the hand cupped to the back of her head, holding her under the water. Her neck muscles strained against the strong grip, but there was no slack, just a sharp pain as the strap of her goggles pulled at her hair.

  She knew she didn’t have long until she lost the fight against the urge to breathe, aware that if she did inhale, it’d be a lungful of chlorinated water. With a surge of panic and a thrashing kick, Lori rolled onto her back, freeing her arm. But the hands that held her under moved with her body, and now they pressed down on her chest and forehead, plunging her further into the water.

  It’d been a waste of what little energy she had left. The surface was at least a foot above her. She saw a wavering outline of a faceless head before her vision grew fuzzy. Black fading in, fight fading out.

  Her limbs grew heavy, getting harder to command. Her body slackened, the heavy sensation giving way to floating. A relief of cool air ran along the tops of her thighs, feet and hands as they bobbed to the surface.

  But her head and chest were still being held underwater. Her throat was tensing and letting go just a little more with each convulsion, the compulsion to breathe getting too much.

  A shudder passed through her body. Lori was about to give up and let go. But before she could, the hands released her. They gave her a final push, submerging her whole body again, and then let go.

  Lori came up spluttering, gulping and coughing. Adrenaline kept her afloat and treading water as she tore off her goggles, groggy limbs splashing as she tried to wipe away the stinging water that dripped down her forehead and into her eyes.

  By the time the fizz and pop of black stars cleared from her vision there was no one in the water, or on the stands, no sign of their shadow heading into the lockers or out the door, or anywhere. There were only wet footprints, their tracks blurred by the condensation that covered the rubber matting surrounding the pool.

  Floating on her back, Lori caught her breath, and then frog-kicked over to the side. She didn’t have the energy yet to move. She clung there for a time, savouring the cool air on her face, waiting a little longer before she hauled herself up.

  Out of the water, her body felt impossibly heavy. She sat by the side of the pool, legs hugged to her chest, chin resting on her knees, shivering and getting colder every minute, even in the heated space. Her eyes roamed, head turning at every sound.

  Too scared to go anywhere alone, just in case, Lori waited until a group of students walked in and followed them into the locker room. There was no one from the swim team or anyone that she recognised, but still, it felt safer than being alone.

  Lori dressed in a hurry. Her hair dripped, and she’d only half dried herself, oblivious to the fact that she was putting on the damp clothes she’d worn to the pool, instead of her pants and shirt.

  She left her wet swimmers and towel on the bench, wrestling with the stuff spilling from her locker as she slammed it shut, letting her feet carry her wherever they would.

  42

  LORI FOUND HERSELF in class, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the desk, staring up at students sitting straight-backed in their seats, staring warily back at her.

  Looking down at herself, she noticed she hadn’t put on her work clothes. Instead, she wore her track pants, still soaked up to the knee with melted snow, and her old uni sweatshirt, holes worn around the collar and cuffs.

  Fifteen minutes had passed before a student found the nerve to put their hand up, though it wavered as they asked if everything was okay.

  Instead of answering the student’s question, Lori put them in charge of the class for the remaining hour, giving them her notes and little else to go on. She packed up her stuff and walked out, leaving them in a stunned silence.

  In her office, she emailed one of the teaching assistants to take over her classes, then printed an out-of-office notice and posted it on her door. She made the mistake of sitting at her desk with nothing left to do but let her mind wander. Fragmented pictures filled her vision. The straight line of black tiles below her. Long muscled legs, kicking strongly. Bubbles blurring the water.

  Flashes of red.

  Red toenails.

  Addy had red toenails. Why would Addy do something like that? She wouldn’t. Lori couldn’t believe it. But it was her. It had to be. Undeniably. Addy’s toenails were red. Lori could still see them, poking out from under the blankets the morning she woke up in Addy’s bed.

  It hit her, tumbled her like a wave she hadn’t seen coming; Addy had tried to drown her. She hadn’t, though. Yes, she’d held her head under, but she’d let go a moment before it was too late.

  As a swimmer, Addy would know just how long someone with decent lung capacity could be underwater before their breath ran out. Before they’d gulp for air and breathe water instead.

  Lori could still feel the pressure of the hand on the back of her head. She knew she should tell someone. She should call the police, Detective Cooper, anyone.

  Instead, she left her office without her coat, ignoring the cold seeping in as she walked through the campus, hurrying along the streets, up her front path and inside, safe in her home. She set the alarm, turned on the heater, and sprinted up the stairs, yanking on the door to slam it behind her as she crawled into bed.

  When she didn’t hear the slam of the door, she lifted her head to see it hadn’t closed, but had bounced back open when it hit a shoe blocking its path. She argued with herself to leave it, but couldn’t. So she got up, kicked the shoe out of the way and closed the door.

  She told herself she didn’t need to, but she locked the bolt. She crawled back into bed, pulled the blanket up over her head, and listened to the tiny taps of snow hitting the windows until she fell asleep.

  43

  A POUNDING ON the bedroom door woke Lori up. Mind still stuck under water, her body reacted; her heart racing, breath held, fighting to stop from gulping in air that wasn’t there.

  She relaxed when she realised she wasn’t in the pool, breathing again when she saw light filtering through the blankets still pulled up over her head. The trapped air was stuffy and overheated.

  Another knock came and Lori curled into an even tighter ball, squeezing her eyes closed and hoping that whoever it was would go away. But then Marina’s voice came muffled through the door.

  Lori dragged the blankets with her, opening the
door enough to see Marina looking in at her with wild eyes. ‘You shouldn’t keep this door locked, it’s dangerous. What if you were in trouble and I couldn’t get to you—’

  ‘I was asleep—’ Lori stepped back as Marina pushed the door wider, fresh air curling in cool against her cheeks.

  ‘—Em called me. You weren’t answering your phone and there was a sign on your office and she was worried. I was worried.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You didn’t meet her for lunch. We thought something had happened to you.’

  Shit. She’d forgotten about the plans she’d made with Em. The reason why she’d forgotten flooded back. Her chest grew tight. She stumbled backwards and sat on the end of the bed, drawing her legs up and the blanket tight around her.

  Should she tell Marina that they were right to be worried, that something had happened? She hated to think what Em would do to Addy in retaliation, and there was no way she wouldn’t do something. Most likely something that would get Em fired, at best. Or worse, arrested. And there’d be no way Lori could stop her.

  Marina looked down at her with a frown of concern. ‘Are you okay?’

  Lori opened her mouth, but she couldn’t speak. She just shook her head.

  Marina entered the room, pressing her cool palm to Lori’s forehead and then down to her cheeks. She lifted Lori’s chin. Lori wasn’t sure what Marina could see in her eyes, but it was enough to soften her face and quiet her. Marina pulled her in. Lori rested her forehead against Marina’s stomach. Fingertips ran through Lori’s hair, twisting and curling at strands. Marina’s hands pressed against the back of her head and neck, gentle and meant to comfort, but it took everything for Lori not to pull away.