Snippet #2487150

Stevie Darden


Stevie crouched low inside the lifeguard shack, still trying to make sense of what she had seen. She clutched her shoulder bag close. She knew that the car wasn't far away at all; in fact, if she looked around the corner of the building, she could have even spotted it at about three hundred feet away.

Dean had flown down with her to Los Angeles, opting to visit college friends during the day while she studied away for five days straight at seminar after seminar about the ethics and expected behavior of campaign staff, particularly media liaisons. She'd always loved almost every subject under the sun, and the unique opportunity to break away from music writing and branch into politics was irresistible. The gig would last less than a year, decent pay plus a victory bonus, and getting this trip approved was a pretty good deal. A fun way to try her hand at this career without a long-term commitment.

Before she'd taken the job, things were getting pretty serious with Dean. The handsome Berkeley graduate turned record producer was very different from her, but still a lot of fun. For several months, he'd been the perfect companion to go to shows with almost any night of the week, even waiting patiently for her to fix her hair before heading out. He listened to her when she became frustrated, and cheered her on when she enjoyed victories, no matter how small. She felt comfortable around him, comfortable enough to share long-held thoughts or even silly secrets that still needed to be guarded. They'd moved in together. He met and exceeded the standards of her hard-to-please family, while she impressed his. They started to talk about a life together.

Things were going really, really well.

Until, that is, he got dragged away by some awful... person, thing? She hadn't gotten a very good look at it.

The night before had been the first in many nights that didn't require her to be up at dawn the following morning. Instead, they slept in until 11 and decided to go for brunch on the beach after checking out of the hotel.

But brunch didn't happen. Instead, they decided to take a detour out on the beach to stick their feet in the water. Some cute thing to do while waiting for a nearby restaurant to empty out a little.

She watched a few surfers hulk up behind him. At first she thought they were messing around and being funny. "Hey, Dean," she said teasingly as they ambled closer, "you've got a couple of jerks behind you trying to—"

One grabbed him around his head, digging fingers into his eyes. Another sunk its teeth into his forearm, the other took a hold of his opposite shoulder. Dean let out a scream. "St—GO!" he spat out loudly as the three large figures pulled him away, momentarily focusing on him.

Stevie stood there for a nanosecond, trying to size up what she could do to help him. Her gut told her that there wasn't anything she could do. So she obeyed—and ran.

The beach was clear at the moment. She ran along as best as the sand would allow, hoping for dear life that maybe Dean had wrestled himself free and was right behind her.

She spotted the lifeguard shack in the distance, working her way toward it. She still didn't see anyone around, not even a lifeguard. This was not normal. Not one single bit.

Hours later, she was still crouched there, occasionally peering through the crack of the door to check on the activity outside, which had picked up considerably. She heard screams in the distance, but not up close. She saw figures similar to the surfers who had attacked Dean walking in and out of the ocean, dragging their feet by the shack. Walking right by it.

No sign of Dean. Not for hours.

Her adrenaline had been rushing for a while, preventing her from wrapping her head around what had happened to Dean. She frowned, noticing that no bars were on her phone, as she continued to crouch out of sight.