What Lies Beneath the Water » Places

         

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"Hello?"

He was wearing little else than flip-flops, a pair of well-worn shorts and a shirt– not made for the grass and ground of the woods, much less so in the middle of the night as he tried to hurry after the ghostly woman who was no well ahead of him. She seemed to walk without much regard for the branches on the ground, despite being barefoot. Frederick had to find a balance between walking hurriedly, but carefully– he was losing precious time, and his phone refused to make the call he tried so desperately to make.

"Excuse me?" he shouted again, but she was on her way down the hill now, and he lost sight of her for a while. Panic growing in his chest, he broke into an awkward run after her. His speed wasn't greatly increased by this feat, especially as the plastic strap of his flip-flops was pulled tight into the sensitive skin between his toes, forcing him to break as he went down, finally standing behind the small businesses on the dock of Newport.

There was no sign of the girl. He was breathing heavily now– sobered up, but still dulled by the alcohol, from his recent nap, and from the general state of his health. Hands on his hips, he took a deep breath, looking for signs of where she might have walked. Eventually he decided to run out into the street from between two buildings. There was no way she wasn't headed to the docks– though how he knew that, he wasn't sure. Instinct, perhaps– a gnawing premonition starting at the edges of his panic, creating red-hot flashes across his face.

Before he knew it he was standing on the precipice of the asphalt and the wooden docks. He couldn't see a soul– scantily clad young women or otherwise, except a boat pulling up towards the harbour. He didn't recognise the boat, but he soon recognised the face behind the staring wheel as he waved her down.

"Miss Pierce!" he shouted, hoping she could hear him. "Did you see a girl walking by here?"

He was standing on the docks, catching his breath while he looked feverishly around, his eyes eventually drifting to the waterfront. It was impossible, however, as the Exodus came in, creating small waves that would have erased any signs of a jumper. He wiped at his mouth, drawing his hair away from his face as he looked up to Laurel, waiting for her reply.