Page 23

I grimace, scooting around what I’m pretty sure is a human tibia. Why the hell weren’t they collected as evidence? Surely there would have been some kind of investigation.

If there were people left here…I don’t even want to think about it. Goes to show how easily some sick fucks can make the police turn a blind eye for the right price tag. This world is way fucked up.

As I walk deeper into a narrow passage, the ground becomes uneven, split open with large fissures, concrete jutting up in places. I wonder what caused it. It’s not like we get earthquakes here.

I continue, eyeballing the gouge marks in the walls. Some small, some much larger and angrier, smeared with that same rust color. Blood.

The sight of it is so distracting that I almost don’t see the lip in the ground. The toe of my boot rolls over the edge before I jerk to a stop, grabbing onto the wall for balance.

At first glance, it looks solid.

But when I pass the flashlight over it, I see it for what it really is: still water. A film of god-knows-what has settled on the surface, undisturbed, keeping the festering bacteria just below. The water itself is dark, yet still clear enough that I can make out the shape of a waterlogged teddy bear missing one eye.

The cavernous pool looks impossibly deep, the light eventually swallowed by the depths. I can’t stop staring at the surface, fascinated by the forbidden static of it.

Within the murky depths, I swear I see something move. I crane my neck to get a closer look, trying to see through the speckled film. There’s no way a fish or an eel could survive in that, right?

I’m too interested in the surface of the water to clock the telltale trickle of a nosebleed until it’s already started seeping out of my nose. I’m not quick enough to swipe away the first drop of blood that escapes, dripping into the biofilm. It blooms, creeping into the surrounding nastiness.

Lara’s voice filters down from the floor above, beckoning me to come back. I twist my head toward the sound, swiping my nose and grimacing at the metallic taste at the back of my throat. I’ve probably smeared it all over myself, but the blood is barely visible over the dark swirls of my tattoos. I open my mouth to call out to her, but a bubbling sound catches my attention.

I whip my head around. More blood trickles out of my nose, cascading over my lip. As I wipe it away, a shadow slips through the dark water.

A slither of fear wends its way through my intestines. Some deep, primal instinct in my brain tells me to run, but morbid curiosity anchors me in place. My breath stutters as something breaches the surface—several somethings, black and long and slimy⁠—

Fingers.

I reel back, but it’s too late. Quick as an asp, those dark prongs shoot out of the water and curl around the back of my neck, biting into my flesh and yanking me forward.

I try to catch myself on the edge, my hands scraping uselessly on the concrete before I’m dragged in.

I scream as I hit the water, my mouth filling with rancid liquid as I thrash, trying to breach the surface. No matter which way I turn, I’m met with endless blackness.

A sharp, high-pitched sound invades my ears, scraping over the surface of my brain. I thrash again, and my head connects with something hard. Pain blooms, black encroaches, and my consciousness recedes.

Chapter Eleven

Sunday

Drowning.

I’m drowning.

Hands grip my biceps and I’m dragged bodily out of the water, coughing and spluttering.

“That’s it, get it all out, you big fucking idiot,” a feminine voice says, thumping me hard on the back.

My body convulses, and I violently puke up a deluge of gritty, disgusting water. I shiver, my wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to my skin. It takes a minute for my brain to come back online and process what just happened.

No…it’s not possible.

Nothing grabbed me; I slipped. The light was playing tricks. Maybe the nosebleed made me lightheaded, or there’s a gas leak down here?

Lara rubs at my back as I heave again, the splatter of liquid on concrete echoing in the grimy corridor.

I sit up, throat raw and eyes watering from the strain. My lungs burn, every breath a baptism in fire.

“We need to go to the hospital,” Lara says firmly as she helps me to my feet.