The Tides That Bind Us [AfroFuturism]

Black Seas

Zaharah pulled out her phone and tried to tap the email icon, but her shaking hand betrayed her. The messenger app came up instead, displaying her exchange with Pharahdox. She swore, held her breath until her lungs were on the cusp of bursting and tried again, with slower, precise taps. Email services are temporarily suspended at this time, her screen read.

Great. Dwight may have deleted the email, anyway. She paced back and forth in front of the lift, the salty wind whipping her braids around. Unless... the video was archived somewhere on her phone. She scrolled through her files, through pictures and documents and more pictures, and there it was, in the gallery, time stamped with the date it landed in her inbox.

Zaharah swallowed and pressed play. The scene was the same as the one in front of her. Same container, same garage with its beat up roof and shutters. The figures ran in and hid under the container. So they came from the east. She walked to the container and crouched, though she didn't know what she was looking for. Any evidence of people being under there wouldn't have lasted long in the salty wind.

Zaharah bit her lip and paced towards the garage, stopping at the spot where the Creeper pounced on the figure. On her? Its laser eyes burned through the back of her skull, spindly form looming over her, closing in for the kill.

She pinched herself. Control the things you can. "Skorpi, can you save this video for—"

A hand landed on her shoulder, and she jumped so hard Skorpi had to pinch her hair to hang on.

Pharah retracted her hand and frowned, her brows knitted. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah." She smiled in a way she hoped was convincing, even with the twitch at the corner of her mouth. "Don't sneak up on me like that. I spook easily."

"I was trying to call you, but you weren't answering."

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was used to being put on the spot by Markus and Jade. They knew when to back off. Or she knew how to get them to back off, rather. But Pharah was a wild card, standing there staring at her like she'd sprouted a horn. "I... I was just in my head. It's been a while since I've—"

"Been outside. Yes, you said that." Pharah's expression warped, her frown deepened and eyes took on a shimmery cast, a face Zaharah got from Demarkus and Jade, when they worried but didn't know how to approach her.

She saw it often early in her recovery, when she would have episodes in the middle of the night. And of course she never wanted to talk about. Forgetting they ever happened was easier. So she lied. Lied about being okay, about getting better. It made her feel dirty at first.

Like every other skill, the lying got easier with time; it slipped from her tongue as easily as a daily "Good Morning." But unlike every other skill, it was tricky as it had to be adjusted on a case-by-case basis. The way one lied to family may not work on a friend or a stranger.

Zaharah knew how to lie to Jade and Markus, not Pharah, so she settled for a half truth. "But by a while, I meant since the accident."

"Oh." Pharah bit her lip, eyes widening briefly, but the worried look didn't leave her face. "Are you sure you don't want to go back down?"

Zaharah nodded. "I'll be fine. It's weird, not uncomfortable. Did you guys find a good spot?" she asked before Pharah could interrogate her further.

"Yeah. This way." She led the way through the maze of containers to the northern edge of the shipyard. The sun ducked behind the tufts of clouds dotting the sky, and the air held the bite of mid-November. The wind weaving through the containers gave a low howl and brought the scent of salt and rot.