Book I - ch 2. A Game of Cat and Suicidal Mouse

* * *

Sarah stopped in front of a puddle of water and watched her reflection shimmer as rain drops slowly turned what would have been a pond into a violent sea.

The day was almost over. Exhausted, she’d slept through most of it, huddled up in the corner of an abandoned building a couple of blocks from her house.

Wandering aimlessly now, she was unsure of where to go. She’d again thought of knocking on a neighbor’s house and asking them to call the police, but that was scary in its own way.

It was that phone call she’d answered. Unless her mind had been playing tricks on her, it suggested the New Nation—a terrorist group said to be trying to overthrow the government—was responsible for the attack on her family.

Whether overthrowing the government was their true goal or a smokescreen for whatever they were really after was anybody’s guess. But they didn’t usually target random people—did they? Sure, they blew up buildings sometimes, but even so…

Also, Dad had a gun.

Dad hated guns.

Her phone was likely still charging beside her bed, so finding a newspaper or somewhere where she could access the internet or watch the news seemed the safest way to get some idea of what was going on. She needed to find out what was being said about her family.

It wouldn’t do any good to go to the police or back to the house. She was afraid of getting locked up for suspicion of involvement with the New Nation. There were so many rumors about the police not bothering much with the sorting before they threw everyone down a deep, dark hole. Paranoia will do that to the world.

Getting to a pay phone and calling a friend would be an option, but the last pay phone she remembered seeing was quite a walk away, and she hadn’t the slightest idea if it was still working.

She brushed her hair back from her face, a few dark strands stubbornly poking her eyes. Between that and the rain, she could barely see where she was going.

The sun still had a few hours before setting, but the rain made it darker than it should be. And she was wet and cold and hungry, and she had no idea what she was supposed to do.

Sarah was fighting the urge to go home. There would be food there, at least, and a change of clothes. Most of all, there would be something familiar, even if the illusion of safety was probably gone. And if it wasn’t yet, it would be as soon as she saw the broken-down door and the blood.

The thought of blood brought back the images she’d been trying to keep out of her mind.

She was feeling faint, probably because she’d eaten hardly anything since yesterday. And what she had eaten of dinner, she’d thrown up later. She should have tried to food, but the thought of it made her feel like throwing up again.

At some point, she came to a bus stop; she didn’t pay attention which one. She sat down on the bench and closed her eyes, lifting her face towards the rain. It would wash away the filth and the blood, but no amount of downpour would take away her memories, and that was a shame, because they were the only things that really bothered her.

She realized she’d been sitting there for too long when she started dozing off. Better start moving. But moving where?

She opened her eyes and froze when she found a man staring at her. She stared back, not bothering to shelter her eyes from the rain. Did he know her? This was her neighborhood after all. He didn’t look familiar.

The young man looked away as if he’d only then noticed he was staring, but Sarah didn’t—she couldn’t even if she tried. She studied him. One more suspicious thing to cross her path.

He looked normal enough, just some guy waiting for a bus in the rain, even though she doubted anyone would be out in this weather in such nice clothes. And his clothes—though she wouldn’t be able to characterize them for her life—looked too nice for someone waiting for a bus in the rain.

He didn’t have an umbrella, but he was wearing a coat, not that it did him much good. His hands were in his pockets, but she couldn’t tell if that was because of the rain or because he was hiding a weapon.

Breathe, she told herself. Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe he was just some guy fresh out of university, trying to look nice for his first real job. She could see that being his story. Still…

She decided to move, but she didn’t want to run off and risk looking even more suspicious herself.

The man brushed his wet hair aside and took a tentative step towards her. “Hey, are you okay? Do you need some help?”

He seemed normal enough, and yet people didn’t normally stand out in the rain and offer strangers help. Especially not strangers who looked like they’d been through a garbage disposal, which is what she looked like at the moment.

She ignored his offer and walked away, putting some distance between them before looking back to make sure he wasn’t following. The rush cleared her mind enough that she realized she had instinctively retraced the streets that led her home.

As soon as she saw the yellow police tape on her front door, tears joined the raindrops on their journey down her cheeks. She forced herself to look away from the house and, as she did, she caught a glimpse of the man on the other side of the street, watching her.

Without a second thought, she ran. With the noise the rain created, she couldn’t hear his footfalls as he followed—if he followed.

Sarah ran with no destination in mind. All she wanted was to get away.

A van sped towards her, looking out of place in the empty streets. She cut across someone’s yard, and she recognized the sound of a sliding door being pushed open as the wind changed directions.

A familiar faded old wall waited for her around a corner. She’d circled back to the abandoned building where she’d spent the night.

Forcing what was left of the door open, she ran inside. A strange feeling overtook her as she crossed the threshold and she almost did a double-take. She felt she shouldn’t be back there, but now it was too late. There was nowhere else to go.

* * *

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Sarah woke up with a scream trapped in her throat, reaching out to hold on to the bed as if she were falling. The rain was getting louder; there was a full-blown storm out there now. She forced herself to lessen the grip she had on her sheets and lay back down. Outside, the rain was pounding on her window.

It was dark and likely much later than she wanted it to be. Her nap had turned into an impersonation of sleeping beauty. She wondered if her parents were home from work yet. This whole sleeping during the day thing was going to wreak havoc on her internal clock, if it hadn’t already. Robyn was noticeably absent, otherwise something would have found its way to being knocked over her head—her sister’s usual method to wake her up.

Sarah drew in a deep breath, trying to associate the feeling of panic—was it?—with whatever had been plaguing her in her dreams this time.

She’d been running…

Running fast and hard, but she couldn’t remember why…

Why she was running should matter, shouldn’t it?

She thought about getting up, but she was so tired, exhausted, as if she really had been out there, on the street.

Her eyes closed, and in the darkness, she was standing in the rain. She was hiding, but she didn’t know why. She wanted to know why…

Her feet were wet and hurting, and a cut on her shoulder stung when she pressed it against the wall.

She pushed the sheets away, eyes fluttering open in a moment of alarm before they closed again, for good this time.

She remembered enough to know she wanted out now, but the dream had gotten a hold of her, and it was not letting go.

As soon as she surrendered to it, the world regained form around her and it all came back. She should never have opened that door.

Footsteps were getting louder, closer. It was only a matter of time until they found her, so she ran.

* * *

Sarah ran up the stairs, cursing herself for making such a stupid move. But down and out was impossible now, so upwards and onwards it had to be.

The staircase that led to the first floor was partially intact and mostly dry. When she reached the landing, she looked back to see if she was being followed. With what little light came through the still-boarded windows, she saw the trail of water she was leaving behind among the pre-existing puddles.

A growing sense of desperation pushed her forward. She was starting to doubt she’d be able to escape whoever was chasing her. The first and second doors she tried were stuck or still locked. She insisted on the second, but it held. Fearing it would do no good to break it down—it would make too much noise even if she succeeded—she moved on.

The third door was no more than a hollow entrance, nothing but cracked walls and pooling water inside. There was no place to hide.

When the wind shifted, giving her a momentary reprieve from the hammering force of the rain against the boarded windows, she heard movement on the stairs.

She ran to the door at the end of the hallway. It was stuck, but the rotting wood might give if she pushed it a little harder. Sarah backed away to get some momentum.

Three figures, made up mostly of shadows, emerged at the top of the stairs.

“You need to come with us,” a woman shouted above the rain.

Sarah stared them down for a moment. They weren’t in a hurry anymore because she was trapped. There was nowhere else to go.

Well, there was that door, and on the other side, there would be a room. If there was a window in there, she could face the drop. It was only one floor and probably better than whatever was waiting for her.

She steeled herself for the impact and threw herself against the door. As she felt it give in to her weight, something in her screamed she go back. But it was too late.

The door gave in much easier than she expected and she lost her balance, tumbling into the room. In the split second before she fell, she saw the hole where there should have been a floor. Sarah flailed, reaching out to grab a hold of something, anything. She hit what was left of the floor and it gave in with a splintering sound.

Sarah braced herself for an impact that never came. There was a flash of pain followed by numbness. The world became a dark void made up of floating voices. They were coming from nowhere, and they said nothing. Then there was movement. Was it her? She wasn’t sure.

Screams disguised as whispers.

Was it raining? She couldn’t tell.

She couldn’t feel anything. There was darkness, just darkness. And then not even that.

* * *

“…take her back…”

“…medics…”

“…she’s losing too much blood…”

“…supposed… back alive…”

“… gonna kill us…”

The loose phrases danced around in her mind without her ever truly being aware of their meaning. They were like whispers from across a room. She couldn’t hear them even if she tried.

Sarah opened her eyes, squinting towards the window. It was still raining. Was that why she couldn’t hear them?

Shouldn’t she be asking them something?

She rolled over in her bed.

Had it been something in the dream? She wasn’t even sure who ‘they’ might be. She closed her eyes again, and that brought back the building, and the running, and the falling. And the whispers.

Eyes still closed, repeating the last phrase she’d heard over and over again lest it slip away like the rest, she reached over to where she always threw her bag and dragged it towards her, working the zipper without sitting up or opening her eyes.

The notebook came out, as did a pen. She jabbed her finger on it by accident and that brought her a little closer to fully awake and farther away from the dream. She opened the notebook on a random page, peeked at it long enough to make sure there was nothing already there, and started scribbling whatever she could remember. Whatever hadn’t been taken away yet.

She did it until she fell back into the dark, but this time, the dream was not waiting for her.

Sarah woke up again some time later. The pen was poking her shoulder, and the notebook was scrunched under her pillow.

She propped herself up on her elbows, reaching for the light. She cursed under her breath as it blinded her, staring at the reddish flare within her closed lids until it vanished.

When she could see again, she pulled the notebook closer and straightened out the page to see what she’d written. Strange how she couldn’t remember. It was gone, all of it. She was aware there’d been a nightmare, nothing more.

There was an almost illegible phrase occupying three lines and broken in half that read: Don’t open the door.

Underneath it, there was an even worse combination of letters, but she realized it said: back to?

She closed the notebook and shoved it dismissively into her bag on the floor.

“I am going to puzzle you together and you are going to go away,” she threatened her nightmares as she beat her pillow into submission.

Her bedroom door opened slowly. She expected Robyn to come in like a whirlwind and turn the place upside down, but it was Mom.

“Were you sleeping?”

“Kinda, I guess… Just dozed off.”

Mom sat by her bedside. “Are you feeling alright? You’ve been so tired lately.”

“Must be all the running and falling,” she mumbled, closing her eyes again.

“I’ll keep your sister busy so you can get a couple more minutes,” Mom promised with a smile, moving towards the door. “I’ll come get you for dinner in a bit.”

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”