He gave me a look. “Do not leave this room.”
I held up my hands. “Cross my heart.”
He lingered a bit longer, eyes sweeping over me, before grabbing his keys and stepping out, the door shutting behind him with that same quiet finality it always had.
I waited exactly seven minutes, and then I shoved my feet in my shoes and left the room.
The vending machine stood at the end of the second floor walkway, blinking half-dead like everything else in this place. I shoved a crumpled dollar into the slot and debated between a chocolate bar and potato chips. Chocolate won the internal poll, so I pressed A7.
The spiral turned, and the candy bar dropped, but it got stuck on the bottom right before it deposited into the tray where I could reach it.
“Shit,” I whispered, dropping to my knees to attempt to work it into a position I could grab it. Then I heard the crunch of boots behind me.
“You know,” said a voice that was low, smooth, and a little amused, “you’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, being out here alone.”
I turned, still crouched down against the machine. A man leaned casually against the railing ten feet away, one ankle crossed over the other, hands deep in the pockets of a weathered leather jacket. He wasn’t particularly tall, and he didn’t make any overt move toward me, but something about the way he stood so relaxed and so still made my skin crawl. He had a sharpness to him, like he noticed too much.
“Excuse me?” I asked, straightening.
“Not a lot of people stop at this place, that’s all.”
“Well, I’m just getting a Snickers,” I snapped, heart pounding nervously in my throat.
He nodded like that was fascinating.
“I’m not alone,” I insisted, giving the machine one good shake again with my shoulder. The candy bar fell, and I grabbed it, getting to my feet. “I just came out for a snack.”
He nodded again. “I know.”
There was no emphasis on the word ‘know,’ but it sent a spike of fear through my chest.
I grabbed my snack and stood up, facing him.
His gaze dropped to the candy bar in my hand, then slid up to my face again, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that might have been a smile.
“Sweet tooth?”
“Is this your version of small talk?” I shot back.
“No, no. I Just wanted to be sure you knew how unsafe it was out here.”
“I feel very safe.” I forced a smile.
He tilted his head. “Maybe… maybe you’ve just been lucky, or maybe someone’s been watching you this whole time and just hasn’t decided what to do with you yet.”
My spine went rigid, and I took a step back. He didn’t move.
“That sounds like a threat,” I said carefully.
“No. That sounds like advice.” His eyes narrowed just slightly. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.”
The wind picked up just then, blowing between the metal walkways with a low howl. The ice machine kicked on with a guttural hum. I blinked, turning to look towards the sound, and when I looked back, again he was gone. No footsteps. No sound. Just... gone.
The walkway was empty. The air felt heavier, like the moment had left a residue on my skin. I turned and hurried back toward the room, pulse fluttering in my neck. I locked the door behind me and kicked my shoes off. My palms were sweating. I peeled the wrapper off the candy bar and took a bite, but the chocolate was tasteless in my mouth.
Who the hell was that?
I sat on the edge of the bed, chewing mechanically, eyes fixed on the door, even though I’d locked it. I would have felt better with a deadbolt or chain. I replayed the encounter again and again, trying to figure out what I’d missed. Something about the way he watched me, like I was a piece on a board and he already knew the outcome.
