Slipping through the open doorway, a pungent odor punches through me, like decay coated in chemicals. My stomach knots and I gag, having to cover my nose and mouth over a stench, but apparently live decapitation is quite alright with my guts.
I shake my head at myself, gripping the handrail and stopping on the third step. There’s a toxic, aquamarine glow soaking out from beneath the door. It’s both beckoning me and telling me to turn around.
Stuck, my weight tugs back and forth, my right leg moving to the fourth step and tensing, ready to propel my body toward the mysterious light.
“I need you.”
My heart lurches, signaling my receptors to move the necessary muscles to make it up the rest of the stairs.
“Who are you?” I whisper-cry, reaching out to the doorknob.
“Please?”
Against my better judgment, against the voice screaming at me for being stupid, I turn the knob and push the door open.
I blink against the nauseating glow, quickly stepping inside the illuminated office and closing the door behind me.
“Always so willing.”
Always?
My chest caves in, the heavy insult pressing against my heart and polluting my veins with a burn that feels cold. I step forward, taking it one foot at a time, hesitantly getting closer to what looks like a fish tank hidden within two parallel walls—all while scoping out the vacant office.
It’s so quiet. But I don’t feel alone.
There’s a presence not only in my psyche, but one scratching at my back, begging me to look for it.
Looking away from the desk, I flick over to my right, standing in the direct path of the aquamarine haze.
It doesn’t even take me a full second to process the preserved flesh and orange coat floating in the tank.
Horror strikes me, my stinging eyes wandering farther down to the black and purple face, his mouth agape and his bloodshot eyes pinned open, like his very last moment was spent fighting for a scrape of air.
Carl.
Acid slips up my throat, burning my chest and thickening my saliva.
“That’s what he does, Roslyn. He’s not a symptom. He’s an entire disease you’re foolishly catching.”
Anger trickles into my spine, the drips merging with the sensation of being violently sick.
I swirl around, panning over the office. “I don’t know who Roslyn is. And if you’re speaking about Carl, then you’re right. So, it’s a good thing the plague disappeared before too many got sick.”
“Carl saved you.” The masculine whisper sinks into my ear, as if he’s directly behind me, angled down enough to deliver his voice right where he wants it.
I wince, shooting around to get my back to the desk, and as I do, a drum manifests inside my throat, seeing the same man in the same black and white shirt standing where I just was.
Terror rattles my throat, whining and pressing my hip bones into the edge of the desk, my hands splayed back and inching for a pen, or a letter opener, or just fucking something I can use in case I need it.
His milky eyes aren’t looking at me. They’re looking through me, a sliver of disgust quirking his gray lip up. “Why did you do this to me?”
Tears instantly rain down my cheeks, craning away as far as I can, my lips wobbling to hold in the sob drawing taut in my chest. “W-w-what? Who are you?”
“It doesn’t seem to matter,” he says quietly.
I haven’t noticed a single blink. Or a lapse of concentration on me. Not even a rise of his shoulders to indicate he’s breathing.
He’s not human. At least not anymore.
