Page 36 of Our Last Echoes


Font Size:  

“Ms. Hayes?”

I spun with a yelp and blinked. Fluorescent light bathed the hall. No screaming birds, just the faint hum of the lights and my own scattered breathing. Dr. Hardcastle stood a few feet away, a look of caution and concern on his face. Fresh fear lurched up:Runrunrun.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I cleared my throat, thinking fast. Dr. Hardcastle didn’t appear aware of anything out of the ordinary. Other than me—and I couldn’t afford to stand out. Which meant I had to shove myfear and my confusion and my utter disorientation as deep as I possibly could as quickly as I possibly could, and never mind how much worse it would be later, and—

Smile. “You scared the crap out of me!” I declared. Just the right touch ofsilly me.Just the right shake of my head. “Oh, hey, check this out. I found it in the specimen room. I was going to ask Kenny about it, but I guess I got turned around.” I held out the skull.Get him focusing on anything except just how out of breath I am.

“May I?” He took it from me, and I was so intent on stitching together this mask of cheer over my face that I didn’t even flinch when his finger nudged against mine. “Huh. It looks like a tern, but I couldn’t tell you specifically. You found it in the specimen room?”

“It was in the back of a drawer,” I said.

“Part trash heap, part treasure trove. It’s probably been here longer than I have, and that’s saying something.” He handed it back to me. “You can keep it, if you’d like.”

“Really?” I didn’t have to fake surprise this time.

He gave me a winning, empty smile. “Whoever it belonged to is long gone, and the LARC doesn’t need it. Call it a souvenir. Since Bitter Rock doesn’t have a gift shop.”

I mimicked his expression, beaming vapidly at him. “Thanks,” I said. “Everyone here is so great.”

“We take care of each other at the LARC,” he said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

“Of course.” The last stitch of my mask cinched into place. My anger would wait. I would let it out later. When it was useful. Right now, I needed answers.

His footsteps faded. I put a hand on the door, but I didn’t open it. I listened, straining for the sound of shrieking birds or rolling thunder. There was only silence.

I eased the door open. The sky was gray but the sun was bright even filtered through the clouds. No man, no storm, no twisted, broken birds. I let the door swing shut again, and stepped away.

“Sophia!” Liam called. He and Abby were running toward me, faces frantic with worry. I all but staggered toward them, relief hitting me hard.

“Where did you go?” Abby and I said at the same time, and stared at each other a beat.

“You disappeared,” Liam said.

“So did you,” I replied, a touch accusatory. But no—I was the one who had gone somewhere. I strode past them, back the way I had come. The door to the specimen room was closed. Abby and Liam trailed behind me, as if understanding that I needed to see for myself. I punched in the code and pushed open the door.

I expected chaos. I expected ruin and there wasn’t any. The birds stood still in their stiff poses, stuffed and sewn up tight, watching me with glass eyes and not the slightest hint of a twitch or a cry. I looked down at the skull in my hand. And at the tacky smudge on my palm: blood, half-dried, and three bright green threads from a rain shell stuck to it. There was no sign of that black liquid.

“There was a man,” I said softly. His face nagged at me. I’d seen it before. Where?

I whipped around, had to stop myself from sprinting all the way to the foyer.

“Where are you going?” Liam asked, but I shook my head, forcing them to follow. I ran to the entryway, searching the photos that hung there.

There. From last year. A man in a bright green windbreaker, standing between Kenny and Lily in front of the LARC, smiling broadly with his hands in his pockets.

I pressed my fingers against the glass beside his face. The same eyes. The same jacket. But that smile—this was a smile of joy, not that leering, twisted grin he’d flashed at me.

“Daniel Rivers?” Liam said, reading the caption over my shoulder.

“He was here,” I said. “Or not here. Wherever I was. He was...” I swallowed, trying not to picture it. And then, my movements urgent, I stalked along the wall. 2016. 2015. Back and back. The faces changed, the numbers waxed and waned, but there was a sameness to every group. And then—

2004. 2002. “She’s not here,” I said. I laid my palm flat against the wall between the two photos. “2003. There’s no picture.”

“Maybe they took it down because of the accident,” Liam said.

“You don’t hide the photos of people who died tragically; you memorialize them. Make themmoreprominent,” Abby replied. “Unless you’re trying to hide something. Erase the fact that they were ever here.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like