Chapter 9
Lionel and Mads stood there in shock for several long minutes. Lionel could hear the buzzing of the lights above them alongside the pounding of his pulse in his ears. Once the silence stretched too far, Mads finally spoke up. “Should we go after him?”
Lionel didn’t answer as he pulled open the door and peered out. Derek had disappeared entirely, most likely running out the front door that had swung shut behind him. Everything was quiet in the rest of the apartment.
Lionel shook his head and pressed a hand to his temple. “I don’t know what just happened.” He turned around again and walked to the walls behind Mads, pressing his hand against the soundproofing boards. “Was there a creature? I didn’t see anything, but maybe one was trying to come through?”
“Maybe,” Mads nodded, lips pursed as he considered it. “Or maybe he was having a nightmare, or a hallucination. Stranger things have happened to us so far in this place.”
Lionel groaned and put his forehead to the wall, shutting his eyes.
He couldn’t get his heartbeat to slow; the image of Derek’s face, filled with frantic panic, was seared into his eyelids.
He wasn’t sure if it was because he was startled out of sleep or something else that was pressing on his chest and making it difficult to breathe.
He felt a hand on his back a moment later, the touch soft against his shirt. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Lionel muttered and straightened up.
“I don’t want to risk our lives going out after him.
” Mads nodded, taking Lionel’s answer in stride.
Just as Lionel was about to suggest they try to go back to sleep—and maybe Derek would come knocking again once he calmed down from whatever nightmare he’d had or seen—Lionel heard the faint sound of thunder in the distance.
He blinked and strode over to the window, pulling back the curtains.
The city was still embraced by the darkness of night, but it seemed somehow even darker with the addition of the clouds that were quickly rolling in.
They looked angry and menacing as another distant rumble of thunder echoed.
“Shit,” he murmured. “It looks like a storm is coming.”
“At least we’re inside,” Mads said. “Hopefully it’ll just be a quick thing that passes.”
Lionel nodded and groaned as he flopped onto the couch. “We really need to find a way out of here, though.”
“Does the storm scare you that much?” Mads asked, tilting his head to one side. Lionel thought he looked a bit like a dog when he did that—or maybe an owl. “Are you scared of thunder or something?”
“No,” Lionel muttered. “Derek just… freaked me out a bit.” He looked up at Mads, who came to sit beside him. “What if we all go insane in here?”
“You think the building is what made him run away?” Mads asked.
“What else could it have been?” Lionel asked. “He was screaming like he was seeing something—why else would he be having hallucinations if this place wasn’t purposefully trying to drive him crazy?”
Mads sighed and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
“To get out of here… I don’t have any ideas.
The windows don’t break or open, the doors are locked, and this place keeps making the floors…
wrong.” He glanced back at Lionel and smiled; something in Lionel’s chest relaxed slightly. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out, though.”
“How?” Lionel’s eyebrows furrowed. “It seems like an all-around lose situation—there’s nothing to even try.”
Mads shrugged. “You’re smart. I believe in you.”
Lionel was about to respond when thunder, much closer this time, seemed to rattle the entire room.
The lights above them flickered threateningly, and the instruments around them all hummed with the vibrations.
Lionel looked up, watching until everything settled again.
He stood up. “We should go fill up the bathtub with water.”
Mads blinked at him. “What?”
“If the electricity goes out, so does the water,” Lionel said, walking over to the door and opening it a crack.
“Well, we have several water bottles,” Mads pointed out. But, he still trailed over beside Lionel, close enough that Lionel could feel the press of him against his back.
“As we just pointed out, we don’t know how long we’ll be here,” Lionel said.
“And if we’re here for more than a few days, water is going to be the first thing we have to worry about.
” He grabbed the mallet out of the bag of tools and stepped out into the apartment after making sure there was nothing there.
He stayed close to the walls, mallet half raised in anticipation, as he and Mads made their way over to the bathroom.
The moment they got there, he shut the door tightly and turned the knobs of the tub.
After stopping the drain, he stood there, watching the water cascade out of the faucet.
The sound was loud, echoing in the small space.
“Maybe we should also take some stuff into the room,” Lionel suggested.
“If that room really is the only safe spot, we might as well make it comfortable.”
Derek’s apartment was almost too normal, truly untouched by the situation happening around it, besides the skeletons they threw into one corner.
Lionel propped the door open to the room and started working to pull out all of the unnecessary stuff—the instruments, Derek’s desk with all of his computer hardware, and the uncomfortable chairs neither of them wanted to use.
Mads helped him drag the mattress off of Derek’s bed frame and into the room.
With the couch pushed to one side, it was able to fit comfortably alongside their bags of supplies, leaving plenty of room to spare.
Once he raided all of Derek’s closets for extra bedding and pillows, Lionel started digging through the contents of their food.
“Should we make dinner?” Lionel asked when Mads finally emerged from the bathroom. The sounds of the bathtub draining had stopped a while ago, and Mads had changed into a loose sweatshirt and soft, slightly faded pants he’d found in Derek’s closet.
“Dinner?” Mads repeated, running a hand through his damp hair.
Stray strands stuck up in each direction, and with the dark hoodie framing his face, his pale skin and bright eyes stood out even more starkly.
It startled Lionel for a moment—he had grown so accustomed to that unusual coloring that seeing it anew, against normal clothes, was like being struck all over again.
“What should we make?” Mads added, tilting his head just slightly.
While Lionel ducked into the bedroom to change into fresh clothes that didn’t reek of sweat and blood, Mads rummaged around the kitchen.
When Lionel returned, pulling his shirt down over his ribs, he found Mads standing at the stove with an old dented pot, carefully stirring a mixture of canned soups together.
Mads was humming under his breath, something tuneless and gentle, like he was trying to soothe himself. The sound wrapped around Lionel’s chest, easing a tight spot there he hadn’t realized was clenched.
“That smells amazing,” Lionel said, voice soft as he sidled up next to him. He couldn’t believe how good plain canned soup could smell, and his stomach gave a painful twist that reminded him it had been far too long since he’d eaten.
Mads glanced at him with a crooked little smile and gave his shoulder a playful bump. The gentle press of their bodies startled Lionel with how warm and real it was. “Grab us some bowls?”
Lionel nodded quickly, ducking his head to hide the slight flush he could feel building on his face. He rifled through the cabinets until he found two mismatched bowls and a couple of spoons. When he turned back, Mads was still stirring slowly, shoulders relaxed, humming again.
Lionel lingered nearby, clutching the bowls against his chest just to have something to hold.
He watched Mads, taking in the way he moved—careful and deliberate, almost tender.
It was strangely comforting, seeing Mads so at ease doing something so normal.
When Mads finally looked over at him, Lionel felt a jolt at the soft smile on his face.
How could he still smile like that, even in the middle of all this? Even after everything they’d seen?
Their eyes caught for a moment too long, and Lionel’s heart gave a helpless flutter. He stepped closer, setting the bowls on the counter, and felt Mads’ hand graze lightly against his back—just a small touch, but enough to send warmth spilling through his chest.
Together, they filled their bowls, shoulder to shoulder, spoons clinking lightly against the pot. Mads chuckled under his breath when Lionel nearly overfilled his and made a teasing comment about bottomless stomachs.
For a few precious minutes, it felt like they were somewhere safe. Like they could be just two tired people in a cramped kitchen, sharing soup after a long, ordinary day. After basking in the quiet, Lionel couldn’t help asking, “Aren’t you scared?”
Mads shrugged. “Sure I am.” He turned to Lionel, their faces slightly too close. “But you’ve done pretty well protecting me so far, so I think we’ll be fine.”
Lionel flushed and ran a hand through his hair. He opened his mouth to tell Mads that he had also saved Lionel from plenty of creatures and had been the one to help with so many of the situations they had encountered. But just as he found the words to say, the lights went out around them.
Both of them raised their heads, looking at the ceiling as though to check if it had truly happened.
Mads sighed as he lifted the pot and saw that the flame beneath it had also gone out.
Lionel fumbled to get out his phone to turn the flashlight on, pointing it so they could both see.
“Well,” Mads said. “Maybe we should find some candles to light before we eat.”