The footsteps never reached them.
At least not while the lights were out.
By the time emergency lighting flickered back to life, the tunnel stood empty.
No intruder.
No animal.
No explanation.
Just wet footprints leading into darkness.
And even those vanished a few metres later.
As though whoever made them had simply ceased to exist.
---
Aaron hated that.
Maya could tell.
The detective needed answers the way other people needed oxygen.
Every mystery had a solution.
Every puzzle had missing pieces.
Every footprint belonged to someone.
---
The reservoir wasn't behaving that way.
---
Neither was Blackwater.
---
And deep down, Aaron was beginning to understand that.
---
Three days later Maya found herself on a bus heading into the city.
A rare event.
She normally avoided crowded places.
Avoided strangers.
Avoided anywhere she might become trapped beside people asking questions she didn't want to answer.
---
But Eleanor had requested another meeting.
In person.
Urgent.
---
The word had unsettled Maya enough to leave the cottage.
---
Rain streaked across the windows.
The countryside rolled past outside.
Grey fields.
Stone walls.
Bare trees swaying in the wind.
---
Most passengers stared at their phones.
A few slept.
One elderly man quietly read a newspaper.
Normal.
Ordinary.
Safe.
---
At least it should have felt that way.
---
Instead Maya couldn't shake the sensation that someone was watching her.
---
The feeling had become increasingly common.
---
Sometimes she caught people staring.
Sometimes she thought she heard whispers.
Sometimes she woke convinced someone had spoken her name.
---
Maybe the dreams were affecting her more than she realised.
---
Maybe.
---
The bus stopped.
Several passengers climbed aboard.
---
Maya barely looked up.
---
Then she froze.
---
A woman had taken a seat near the rear exit.
---
Dark hair.
Black jacket.
Head tilted toward the window.
---
Something about her felt familiar.
---
Uncomfortably familiar.
---
Maya stared.
Trying to place the face.
Trying to remember where she had seen her before.
---
The woman turned slightly.
---
And Maya's heart stopped.
---
Zoe.
---
The world seemed to tilt sideways.
---
No.
Impossible.
---
Absolutely impossible.
---
Zoe Bennett was dead.
She had vanished into Blackwater.
Consumed by the swamp.
Taken by something ancient and hungry.
---
Maya knew that.
---
Yet the woman sitting three rows away possessed Zoe's face.
---
Not identical.
Not quite.
---
But close enough.
Far too close.
---
The same eyes.
The same smile.
The same slight curve of her jaw.
---
The same person.
---
Maya's pulse thundered.
---
The woman continued looking out the window.
Unaware.
Or pretending to be.
---
"Excuse me."
---
The words escaped before Maya realised she intended to speak.
---
No response.
---
The woman remained motionless.
---
Maya stood.
Ignoring the curious looks from nearby passengers.
---
"Zoe?"
---
The woman's head slowly turned.
---
For a single hopeful second Maya forgot everything.
---
Forgot Blackwater.
Forgot death.
Forgot grief.
---
Maybe somehow-
---
Maybe-
---
The woman smiled.
---
And the hope died instantly.
---
Because it wasn't Zoe's smile.
---
It was too wide.
Too fixed.
Too perfect.
---
Like someone attempting to imitate a human expression without fully understanding it.
---
The woman blinked.
---
Then blinked again.
---
Then again.
---
Too quickly.
Too many times.
Like a machine repeating an action.
---
"Do I know you?" she asked.
---
Her voice sounded normal.
Almost.
---
Maya took an involuntary step backward.
---
The woman continued smiling.
---
Without blinking now.
---
Not at all.
---
Something inside Maya screamed.
Run.
---
The woman tilted her head.
---
The movement reminded Maya of the figure in Amelia Carter's CCTV footage.
---
The same unnatural curiosity.
---
The same wrongness.
---
"You're dreaming again," the woman said.
---
Maya froze.
---
Several passengers glanced up from their phones.
---
Nobody seemed alarmed.
---
Nobody seemed to notice anything unusual.
---
"How do you know that?" Maya whispered.
---
The woman's smile widened.
---
For a moment her face seemed to blur.
---
Not physically.
Perceptually.
---
As though Maya's eyes couldn't properly focus on it.
---
And beneath Zoe's features-
---
Another face appeared.
---
Then another.
---
Then another.
---
Hundreds.
---
Gone almost instantly.
---
Maya stumbled backward.
---
A passenger bumped into her.
---
"Sorry."
---
When she looked back, the woman was standing.
---
Still smiling.
---
Still watching.
---
Then the bus stopped.
---
The doors opened.
---
And the woman stepped onto the pavement.
---
She never looked away from Maya.
---
Not once.
---
The doors closed.
---
The bus pulled away.
---
Maya rushed to the window.
---
The woman remained standing at the roadside.
---
Watching.
---
Smiling.
---
Then something even worse happened.
---
The people waiting at the bus stop turned toward her simultaneously.
---
Every single one.
---
Their heads moving together.
---
Like puppets responding to the same command.
---
Watching the departing bus.
---
Watching Maya.
---
The woman who wore Zoe's face raised one hand.
---
And tapped her wrist.
---
Once.
---
A gesture.
A reminder.
---
The time.
---
3:17.
---
Then the bus rounded a corner.
And they disappeared from view.
---
Maya sank back into her seat.
---
Shaking.
Unable to breathe properly.
---
Because she finally understood something.
---
The dreams weren't creating the Hollowed.
---
The Hollowed were already here.
---
And they knew exactly who she was.