The Affair

Chapter 17.1 - Blood in the Sand

Monday, July 4, 2022, 00:00am

William's eyes flick open in the dark room. Lines of orange light breathe along the wall, vertical, like glowing prison bars. Something is burning outside, and the light is spilling in through the plastic curtains across the sliding door.

He sits up in bed, massaging his neck with his hand. His head crooks right. Fallon's missing. Her absence is odd, but he doesn't ponder too hard on it. He taps his phone on the nightstand to check the time.

00:00

"The fuck?" he murmurs, staring at the screen.

Why was his phone set to military time? Was it part of some random update he wasn't aware of? He's too tired for it to make sense, so he lets it be.

He kicks his legs over the bed's edge, feet padding against the cold floor as he stands. Wearing only his briefs, he struts towards the doorway. The beach house is too dark. He toggles his phone's flashlight and tilts it to the floor.

He stops.

Just outside the door's frame sits Fallon's wolf stuffy. His heart flutters at the sight—its beady little eyes glinting against the phone's beam.

"What's she up to?" he wonders, picking it up. He looks it over for a second, then tosses onto the bed.

In the hall, his hand finds the light switch. He flips it but there's no effect. He mutters a curse as he tries again, getting the same dead response. Giving up, he walks on towards the living room. There's a breath of light trembling there. Something faint, but a warm orange, same as the bedroom. He rounds the corner, spotting the patio door ajar.

Outside, a fire rages in the distance.

"Fallon? You out there?" he calls.

Silence answers. He steps out onto the deck, eyes sweeping the boards but finding nothing out of place. Towards the shore he can see the fire burning. Its flames dance, dressing the air at least seven feet high, savage and bright against the black horizon.

His feet find the first stair at the deck's edge, and soon his toes dig into sand.

The sandy path ahead is dark, flanked by large dunes with coarse shrubbery. A warm orange glow radiates above them, casting strange, tangled silhouettes like gnarled fingers trying to scratch at him.

He grins, but it's nervous. "That weirdo," he muses in his head. "What's she doing out here? There's no way that girl can start a fire on her own..."

He pauses, letting his senses roam a bit. Ahead, the tide's push and pull carries on like normal, but there's no wind nipping at his skin. His nerves pinch, hairs rising at attention.

His head swivels around, then up. No birds. Nothing flutters in the sky. Not one cloud drifts along.

And no stars.

Only the moon. His eyes pause on it for a minute, straining at its brightness. It's huge, sitting in the sky like a celestial ornament, dangerously close to earth.

It's beautiful. His feet move on their own, taking him closer. He doesn't even register it.

Crackles from the flame become audible. That pulls him from the moon's spell. The path winds left, the view swallowed by tall brush. His hand flexes, but it's empty.

"Shit," he hisses. His phone is gone—lost somewhere in the dark.

He looks back but sees nothing in the sand. The fire rages on, tugging back his gaze like a leash. It's so pretty to look at. He fixates on it. He needs to get close.