Anchors in the Shadows

Smoke and Silence

Damien couldn’t move. The pool of blood beneath Henry’s body shimmered with a chemical sheen, the smell sharp and metallic. The hiss in the background grew louder, curling through the air like a whisper he couldn’t ignore. It sounded like water. His breath caught. His chest tightened. The flashlight slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor, the beam spinning wildly across the walls. Water. The lake. The crash. The silence. Damien staggered back, his vision tunneling. The room tilted. His lungs refused to fill. Nyx’s voice cut through the haze. “Damien. Hey Damien.” She stepped toward him, her face tense, eyes scanning the room. “It smells like gas. We need to get out of here.” But Damien didn’t hear her. The hiss was everywhere now, drowning her out. His knees buckled. He dropped to the floor, hands clutching his head, breath coming in short, ragged bursts. Nyx crouched beside him, grabbing his shoulders. “Damien. Look at me.” Nothing. She hesitated for half a second then leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t soft. It was urgent, grounding, real. Damien’s eyes snapped open. His breath hitched, then steadied. The hiss faded just enough for her voice to break through. “We need to leave. Now.” The smell of gas was stronger, thick and choking. They were standing over a dead body in a basement full of scattered files and leaking chemicals. Damien nodded, still shaking, and grabbed the flashlight. Together, they ran. As they reached the top of the stairs, a new smell hit them smoke. Nyx yanked the door open. Flames licked across the main floor, swallowing the wallpaper, the curtains, the wood paneling. Heat blasted into the hallway. Damien stared, frozen again. Nyx grabbed his hand. “Move!” They bolted through the back door, the fire roaring behind them, the night air sharp and cold against their skin. Outside, the funeral home glowed orange, smoke curling into the sky like a signal. Damien didn’t look back.