Rising from the Depths

by Tiffany Roberts

  Awareness came slowly as the fog receded. It was quiet by the time she could open her eyes; she flinched and squeezed them shut immediately, blinded by a bright light.

  How much did I drink yesterday?

  She lifted a hand, which felt ten times heavier than normal, and rubbed her eyes. Her mind was still fuzzy. She couldn’t recall drinking wine the night before, but she had the dry mouth, headache, and muscle pain of a terrible hangover.

  Why does my leg hurt so much?

  I must have banged it against something.

  If that was the case, she must’ve been pretty drunk to have forgotten. The pain was sharp enough to suggest a serious bruise, if not a fracture.

  Eva dropped her hand to the side of the bed and reached for Blake.

  Her arm dangled off the edge, hanging in air. He wasn’t there. The rest of the bed wasn’t there.

  “Blake?” she rasped, her voice cracking. She opened her eyes to slits. The light wasn’t so bad this time, but it didn’t seem right. Their room was never this bright, and they always kept the windows covered, blocking out the morning sunlight. Grunting against the effort, she lifted her head to look around.

  The room was small. A counter ran the length of one wall, with numerous covered containers lined up atop it. A large potted plant was tucked in the corner. The ceiling was pure white, but the walls were covered in vibrant greens, purples, and browns that depicted the jungle surrounding The Watch. There were two plain chairs nearby, a standing tray with wheels, and several machines on either side of the bed.

  This wasn’t her bedroom. She was at the clinic.

  “Blake?” she called again.

  Why wasn’t he here with her?

  Eva slowly pushed herself up, wincing and gritting her teeth against the pain radiating from every muscle in her body — her left leg especially. A wave of dizziness struck her. She stilled for a moment, breathing slowly, and tried to concentrate, tried to remember.

  Why am I here? Why am I so weak?

  Carefully, she turned, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and pushed herself off the edge to stand.

  The world tilted around her. She hit the floor hard, her hip taking the brunt of the impact, but again it was her left leg serving as the main source of her pain. She cried out and grasped her thigh, just above the knee, digging her fingers into her flesh.

  But her fingertips met cloth instead of flesh.

  A bandage?

  Twisting, Eva sat up and looked at her leg.

  The room around her faded into a dark blur, and a high, faint ringing drowned out all other sounds. All she saw, her only point of focus, was the end of her left leg — a bandaged stump just below the knee. Her calf, her ankle, and her foot were gone.

  There was movement at the edge of her vision, and it was only then she realized her mouth was open, and she was screaming. It burned her lungs and throat, and all at once, she could hear it, deafening and filled with terror. Someone was speaking to her, but she couldn’t make out the words through her scream.

  Panting, Eva lifted her leg and reached forward to touch the space her calf should’ve occupied as though this were an optical illusion and the rest of her would just appear. Her hand passed through empty air.

  This is a dream. I’m not awake. This is a nightmare.

  This is a dream.

  A nightmare.

  Wake up!

  WAKE UP!!!

  Gentle hands settled upon Eva’s shoulders as someone kneeled beside her.

  “Eva?” the woman said. “You’re safe, Eva. You’re at the clinic, and you’re safe. I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Aymee. I need you to calm down, okay? You’re hyperventilating. Take some deep breaths.”

  “No,” Eva breathed, shaking her head. “No. No, no, no, no. I’m not awake. This is a dream.”

  One of the hands on her shoulders slid down to rub her back, but Eva was barely aware of it. Her entire body shook, and her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Tingles raced over her skin. The light in the room was dimming, and darkness encroached on the borders of her vision.

  “Dad!” Aymee called over her shoulder before turning her face back to Eva. The motion of her hand on Eva’s back didn’t falter. “Shh,” she soothed. “Breathe for me, Eva. Slow, deep breaths.”

  “My leg! What happened to my leg?” Eva demanded.

  Heavy footsteps approached, and another pair of legs entered Eva’s peripheral vision. There was a masculine curse. “Let’s get her back into bed.”

  “Eva, this is Doctor Kent Rhodes, my father,” Aymee said. “We’re going to lift you and get you back onto the bed, okay?”

  “No! I just want to wake up!” Eva yelled, struggling against the hands that carefully grasped her and lifted her off the floor. Her achy, weakened muscles could not overcome Kent and Aymee; they settled her atop the bed and held her down. “Please let me wake up!”

  “Give her a sedative, Aymee, then check her leg,” Kent said.

  Tears filled Eva’s eyes and blurred her vision. She wailed and fought to free herself, but Kent kept her firmly in place.

  “I know you’re confused and frightened, Eva,” he said, his voice warm and gentle, “but we are taking care of you. We have to sedate you, so you don’t cause yourself any further harm, do you understand?”

  Eva looked up into his blue eyes. “What happened to my leg? Where’s my leg?”

  Something cold pressed against her neck. There was a click, a pinch of pain, and a hiss. Eva flinched.

  “The damage was too extensive, Eva,” Kent said, sounding farther away with each word. “We had to amputate it to save your life.”

  Fingers brushed over the skin of Eva’s thigh as Aymee peeled back the bandages, but Eva refused to look. She blinked away her tears, keeping her eyes on Kent’s. “What...what happened? Why? This…this isn’t real. Please tell me it’s a dream. Where’s Blake?”

  Her gaze drifted away from Kent, wandering around the room as though her husband would be there. Her mind — and her senses — were growing fuzzy.

  Not so fuzzy, however, that she didn’t notice the troubled glance between Aymee and Kent.

  “Blake is… He’s working in the tannery,” Aymee said.

  “He came by to check on you earlier. I’ll send someone to let him know you woke up,” Kent said.

  Aymee frowned deeply; she seemed about to say something more about Blake, but she shook her head. “You just need to focus on resting, okay, Eva? That’s the only way you’re going to recover.”

  “How’s it look?” Kent asked.

  “The skin hasn’t torn, thankfully,” Aymee replied. “The supplies Arkon helped me get from the Facility are definitely better quality than anything we’ve had here before. You wouldn’t think it’s only been four days.”

  “Four days?” Eva asked, her words slurring. Her eyelids — along with every other part of her body — felt suddenly heavy. “What’s only been four days?”

  “You’ve been asleep for a while, Eva,” Aymee said. “You lost a lot of blood, and we’ve kept you sedated to make sure you were getting the rest you need.”

  “What…happened?”

  “You don’t remember?” Kent asked.

  Eva shook her head. She’d been in the water with Blake, Addison, Hailey, and Samuel, enjoying a day off. They’d planned to swim and lounge in the sun…but she couldn’t remember anything after they started swimming.

  “There was an accident,” Aymee said. “We can talk about it when you’re feeling a little better, okay?”

  “What…?” Eva murmured.

  “Rest, Eva. We’ll find Blake, and you can ask questions when you wake up.”

  Eva’s eyelids drifted shut against her will.

  “She really can’t remember anything?” Aymee asked softly.

  “It’s a natural response to trauma,” Kent replied. Eva felt his hands lift away, but her body was leaden and unresponsive. “She may remember, in time…or she may never get those m
emories back.”

  What happened? Tell me what happened!

  But her mouth wouldn’t work, and no sound emerged from her throat. She gave up her fight and let oblivion claim her.

  Artificial light dominated the room when evening came. The sun had set some time ago; whether it had been minutes or hours since, Eva could not say. Time was immeasurable as she sat in the clinic bed with her back propped against the pillows.

  Aymee had been there to administer a pain-relieving shot upon Eva’s second awakening; the medicine wasn’t a sedative, but now Eva wished it had been. All she could do was sit and stare at what her mind refused to accept as real. She had hoped and prayed it was all a bad dream, that nothing had happened, but no amount of wishing could change the reality she faced.

  Her legs were hidden beneath a blanket, but the cloth was draped over her stump, outlining it clearly. She could still sense the rest of her leg, could still imagine her toes wiggling upon her foot, could even feel it.

  But it was…gone.

  Eva reached down and bunched up the blanket in her hands. Her stomach churned, and her heart constricted. Before she could consider what she was about to do, she whipped the blanket aside.

  She wore no pants to conceal her legs; with the blanket moved, there was nothing to hide the truth — no calf; no foot; no wiggling toes. Only a bandaged stump just below her knee. She lifted her leg and bent her knee, ignoring the agony it caused. Tears filled her eyes as she lowered her stump to the bed.

  The door opened, and Eva turned her head to find familiar eyes upon her.

  “Blake,” she breathed. Her tears fell at the sight of him. She didn’t know why he hadn’t been there before, but he was here now, and that was all that mattered.

  Except…something was off.

  He stood in the doorway, his gaze moving from her face to her exposed leg. He paled and looked away.

  Why wasn’t he rushing to her side to hold her, to touch her? To tell her everything would be okay?

  “Blake?” Her tone begged him to look at her.

  He did, but only briefly. Clearing his throat, he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “Doc said you were asking for me.”

  “Of course I was. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Come closer to me. Hold me, Blake!

  “I know. Sorry, I just…” He exhaled loudly, glanced at her, and sat in one of the chairs against the wall, lowering his gaze to the floor. “How, uh… How are you doing?”

  Eva stared at him silently. She couldn’t comprehend what was going on. Why wasn’t he next to her? Why was there so much distance between them?

  “I lost my leg, Blake,” she said blandly.

  Blake swallowed. “I know. I know. Fuck!” He bent forward, dropped his elbows to his knees, and shoved his fingers into his hair.

  “What happened, Blake? I can’t… I don’t remember anything. Please, just tell me what happened.”

  “How the hell could you forget any of that?” he snapped, looking back up at her.

  Eva flinched, eyes wide. In all her time with him, he’d never raised his voice, had never spoken to her so harshly.

  He leapt to his feet and paced anxiously, keeping his gaze averted. “How could you forget that thing tearing Addison apart, or ripping off Sam’s arm? Your own fucking leg?” His face had taken on a sickly pallor.

  An image flashed through her mind, a chaotic mess she could barely decipher — churning crimson water with tangled blonde hair floating on its surface. Addison’s hair.

  Eva swallowed the bile rising in her throat.

  “Where are they?” she croaked. “Are they okay?”

  Blake spun toward her. His eyes were rounded, pupils tiny, and his lower lip quivered. “Where are they, Eva? Dead! They’re fucking dead! Sam, Addy, and Hailey are gone.”

  He turned and stormed away from her, hanging his head.

  Fresh tears streamed down Eva’s cheeks. Something cold and heavy closed around her heart. She hadn’t known, hadn’t remembered. Still couldn’t remember. How terrible a person did that make her? What sort of monster forgot the deaths of her friends?

  Blake shook his head. “If you hadn’t…”

  Eva sniffled and wiped the moisture from her eyes. “Hadn’t what?”

  His shoulders rose with a deep breath. He swung his head toward her, but still didn’t look at her. “If you hadn’t said we should go swimming, they’d still be here. We could’ve done anything else, but you wanted to go swimming, and now…”

  “You’re blaming me?” Disbelief mixed with her hurt, overwhelming her.

  Blake closed his eyes and turned his face away. “I…I can’t do this, Eva.”

  Eva’s heart pounded, and her breath came quick and shallow. Her entire body trembled. “Can’t d-do what? Blake, what is going on? Why are you being like this?”

  “You need to rest,” he replied, walking toward the door.

  “Blake! Where are you going?”

  “I have to…clear my head. I have an early day tomorrow.” He pulled the door open and hesitated as he was moving through. For an instant, it seemed as though he’d look at her, as though he’d come back inside, and this ongoing nightmare would finally end.

  But he continued through and closed the door quietly behind him. Despite his gentleness, the sound of the latch clicking into place possessed a weighty finality that sent a chill through Eva.

  Chapter 4

  Kronus looked up from the table only briefly to glance at the orange-and-purple sky. A salt-kissed breeze flowed through the open windows, refreshingly cool after another hot day. Even when it was stiflingly warm outside, he usually left the windows open just to hear the waves sighing against the nearby shore, to smell the ocean mist in the air, to remind himself that even if he wasn’t home, the place he belonged was never far away.

  He dropped his gaze to the piece of wood in his hand. A pile of curled shavings had gathered on the table beneath it, and the shape he’d subconsciously sought had finally emerged. He eased the blade of his knife against the wood and coaxed away another shaving, smoothing the curve of the little figurine’s shoulder.

  It was a human female, slightly less crude than his prior carvings but nothing like the detailed trinkets he’d seen one of the fishermen, Wade, produce. Kronus had carved dozens of creatures — most of them sea dwellers — to pass the time here. The other kraken socialized with one another frequently, and children’s playful shouts and laughter often sounded from the nearby homes, but Kronus was content with his solitude.

  No, not content. Perhaps comfortable was the more accurate word.

  Holding his palm flat, he studied the little figure atop it, forcing himself to note all its flaws, all the spots requiring refinement.

  For years, Kronus had dismissed another kraken, Arkon, as being foolish for pursuing similar creative endeavors. All the kraken had, save for Jax the Wanderer, the one who’d changed everything by rescuing a human female during a storm. What would Arkon think if he knew Kronus had been shaping blocks of wood into crude figures?

  Arkon’s opinion wouldn’t have made a difference, but Kronus had a feeling the other kraken would’ve been enthusiastic and supportive despite Kronus’s past behavior. That was a hard truth to accept.

  Every truth revealed over the last two years had been hard to accept.

  Kronus had spent his time in The Watch clinging to whatever distractions he could find — working with the fishermen, venturing into the outskirts of the jungle to find suitable wood for burning and carving, and cooking food; they were all things he wouldn’t have done were it not for the humans. Each task was a little escape from the memories ceaselessly roiling just under the surface. Every task granted a brief reprieve from the hardest truth of all — the truth of himself.

  He adjusted his hold on the wooden figure and set the knife to it again. It was best not to follow those paths of thought, best not to reflect upon why he’d shaped the wood into the form of a human female.


  He’d done his part already. There was no reason for further concern, no reason to think about her anymore.

  Gritting his teeth, he slid the blade along the outside of the figurine’s thigh, slicing away a tiny ridge left by his prior shaping. He continued to smooth the imperfections along the leg, frowning as he found new ones to correct. The gradually building tension in his hands was lost to him until it was too late. The blade sank deep into the wood, splitting off a large chunk. He halted the knife and tried to ease it back before causing further damage.

  The blade slipped. With a snap, the figurine’s leg broke off at the knee.

  Kronus stilled but for his trembling hand. After seeing to the dead razorback on the day of the attack, he’d given in to Breckett’s gruff insistence and gone to the clinic to have the gashes on his back tended. While Aymee had sealed Kronus’s wounds, she’d mentioned that they’d had to amputate Eva’s leg just below her knee.

  The deaths of the three humans and the grievous wound Eva had suffered crashed down on him again, as they had so many times over the last five days. He released a harsh breath through his siphons as his chest constricted. Dropping the carving and setting down the knife, he grasped the edge of the table and shoved it away before taking his temples between forefinger and thumb.

  All he’d wanted in The Watch was a fresh start, a chance to distance himself from his past mistakes, an opportunity to move on from his guilt. What had happened to Eva and her companions was not his fault, and he had no reason to feel responsible for it. He had no reason to care beyond three of the four victims being females.

  And yet Eva had remained a steady presence in his head. Images of her flashed through his mind constantly — her steady stare, brimming with barely restrained curiosity before the attack; her panicked, wide-eyed expression as Kronus had taken hold of her; the contrast of crimson against pale sand. Sometimes, he thought he still felt her cold, weak, desperate grip on his wrist and tasted her blood on his suction cups.

  He looked at the one-legged figurine again. He’d never meant for it to be Eva, but it had become her despite his efforts and intentions.