Page 102
Story: Our Last Echoes
A footstep scraped behind us. I jumped—and then I laughed in sheer relief and joy.
Abby.
“Hey, guys,” she said. She stepped forward into the light of our flashlights. “What did I miss?”
VIDEO EVIDENCE
Recorded by Sophia Novak
JUNE 30, 2018, TIME UNKNOWN
Abby drops down to one knee at the top of the stairs. From her pocket, she pulls out a pale crystal and brushes white dust from it. Salt, perhaps. She sets it on the top step, and then opens a small knife. She cuts the side of her hand, letting the blood drip onto the crystal.
ABBY: An anchor. It should hold a little while.
Abby starts down the stairs. Footsteps ring on the metal steps.
LIAM: Where are you taking us?
SOPHIA: To my mother. Right?
Abby stops. She half turns and looks at Sophia, and perhaps it is the light of the flashlights, but she looks weary and worn, as if she’s spent a month in this place, not a day.
ABBY: She isn’t what she was, Sophia. This place has changed her.
SOPHIA: But she’s alive.
Her voice breaks on the word. As if it’s a dangerous notion to voice. Abby looks grim.
ABBY: I don’t know if that’s the right word for it.
She continues down the stairs. At every landing she stops and sets out another crystal, and relinquishes another measure of blood.
Abby begins to pant, as if from exertion, though their pace is not strenuous.
SOPHIA: Are you okay?
ABBY: Something’s wrong. We should have reached the bottom by now.
LIAM: Do you hear that? Someone’s singing.
SOPHIE: It’s coming. It’s found us.
Metal creaks above them. Sophia trains the camera on the dark above, and the flashlights shine along the underside of the metal steps. Down the walls comes a rush of dark mold.
ABBY: Come on!
They clatter down the stairs, but only keep going down and down and down.
ABBY: The blood and the salt. It’s supposed to keep the way open. Keep it the same. It isn’t... it isn’t working. The Six-Wing isn’t supposed to be able to stop us like this, but—
SOPHIE: Living blood. It requires living blood.
ABBY: Sorry, do you know something I don’t? Because I don’t remember dying.
SOPHIE: No. But you carry the dead. You’re haunted.
LIAM: Aren’t we all?
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102 (Reading here)
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114