Age of the Deluge

The cold wetness on his finger was proof. This wasn't a nightmare. He wasn't hallucinating. This was real.

He stared at his own blurry, terrified reflection in the water, feeling himself zone out.

Standing there alone in the dead silence, with zero sign of life or hope, Liam felt a crushing weight in his chest. It was the feeling of being totally abandoned by the universe.

Splash.

A sound from the water broke his trance.

Liam jumped back, heart hammering. "Who's there?"

He scanned the dark water. Instinct screamed at him to run. He stared for a solid minute, but the only thing moving was a plastic basin rocking gently in the gloom.

After another minute of silence, Liam crept back to the edge. He leaned over, squinting into the murk.

That's when he saw it.

Down at the corner of the submerged landing, a dark shadow was floating. The angle of the stairs blocked most of it, but something black and stringy was drifting in the current.

Liam's heart tried to batter its way out of his ribcage. It looked like a human head.

He was sure that shadow hadn't been there before. Or maybe he'd just been too panicked to notice?

That… that looks like hair, he thought, horror gripping him. Long hair. Spreading out like seaweed. Is that a woman?

A chill shot down his spine, freezing him in place. The creepiness was too much. He stumbled backward, nearly tripping over his own feet, and scrambled out of the stairwell.

He didn't stop until he was back in his apartment, slamming the door and locking it. Safe. Familiar. His panic dialed down a notch, giving his brain space to work.

Okay, think, he told himself. That was probably a body. A drowned neighbor from the twenty-ninth floor. If that's true... it means not everyone evacuated. People didn't leave me behind; they got caught by the Deluge. I'm not rejected; I'm a survivor. Maybe there are others trapped like me.

It was twisted logic, but it made him feel better. He wasn't the only one on Earth.

He had to know for sure.

Liam tore through his closets until he found an old flashlight. He clicked it on—weak beam, but it worked. He grabbed a long laundry pole from the balcony and headed back out.

The hallway was still dead quiet. He pushed through the stairwell doors again.

He stood at the edge of the water and clicked on the flashlight.

Even though it was day, the stairwell was dim. The beam cut through the gloom and hit the water.

He looked closer this time.

There was no doubt about it. The dark shadow caught in the corner was a head. The hair was fanned out in the water, eerie and ghost-like. It was straight-up nightmare fuel.

But Liam was ready for it this time. He took a deep breath, stashed the flashlight, and gripped the laundry pole with both hands. He was going to fish it out.

Standing alone in a dark stairwell with a corpse... his palms were sweating. His throat felt like sandpaper. He gritted his teeth and lowered the pole.

It was too short.

Liam frowned. He couldn't reach. He looked at the black water, then at his sneakers.

Screw it.

He stepped down. The water soaked into his shoe, icy cold against his skin.

He was committed now. He just wanted to see who—or what—was down there.

He took another step. Then another. The water rose past his knees, numbing his legs. Finally, the hook of the laundry pole snagged the floating body.

Liam gave the floating head a tentative poke with the laundry pole. It bobbed in the murky water, sending out little ripples that distorted the reflection.

The body was stuck. The head had popped out from around the stairwell corner, but the shoulders were wedged against the ceiling of the submerged floor below. Liam jabbed at it a few more times. Thanks to the buoyancy, he didn't need much muscle. A few nudges, and physics took over—the corpse drifted free.

As the body floated closer, the reality of it hit him. Liam sucked in a sharp breath and scrambled backward, retreating up the stairs to the dry landing.

He knew it was just a dead body, but his gut didn't care. A cold dread washed over him. Still... curiosity is a dangerous thing. Who is it? he wondered. Someone I know?

Logic said it was probably someone from the twenty-ninth floor. The math didn't really work for it to be anyone else.

Liam switched the pole to his left hand and clicked on his flashlight. He needed to see.

The beam cut through the gloom and hit the floater. Liam shuddered, terror spiking in his chest.

The water had done its work. The body was bloated, swollen like a grotesque balloon. He couldn't recognize the face at all. The only clue was the long hair fanning out in the water—a woman.

But the swelling wasn't what made Liam want to scream. It was what was missing. The corpse wasn't whole. The flesh was a shredded mess, and jagged white bone poked through the thigh and chest meat.

She hadn't just drowned. She'd been eaten.

Liam was twenty-seven years old, and he'd never seen anything that gnarly in his life. His knees buckled, and he stumbled back two steps. The dark, muddy water suddenly seemed a lot more menacing.

What did that? His mind raced. Fish? Or something... else?

He didn't want the answer. His skin crawled. A heavy, suffocating anxiety crushed down on him. He couldn't stay there staring at the half-eaten woman a second longer. Clutching his laundry pole like a weapon, he sprinted back to the corridor and slammed the stairwell door shut, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.