The Typhon Project

Chapter Eighteen: Five Years Without Daylight

        I pushed aside the manhole cover and climbed out onto the street. I went straight to the house, my mission so different from last time when I was hoping to see ghosts. This time I wanted to see flesh and blood.

I stood on the front step, my hand on the door lever. Would he be here? My eyes thirsted to see a human again.

No. I couldn't get my hopes up.

And yet, bright, euphoric expectation filled me as I walked through the door. I listened for signs of life, but the house was silent as I hurried toward the kitchen. I wanted to find him in the same spot where I left him. Holding my breath, I stepped onto the vinyl floor. 

The kitchen was empty.

I searched upstairs, avoiding the baby's room, then searched the basement. Nothing. Emptiness—so empty that my insides seemed to drain so they were as empty as the house.

My chest tightened. Of course he wasn't here. Why would he be? It's not like he spent his nights resisting coming back to this house or thinking about why I'd been here.

Why did I come here?

Maybe I just wanted normal, familiar—home.

But I could never go home again. Even if I could there'd be no Dad or Mom or Lindsay. My house, if it hadn't been reduced to ash by a solar flare, would be as empty as this one. Just a shell that used hold everything important.

I shuffled to the living room, lay back on the sofa and draped my legs over the arm. Tears dripped down my temples. I combed my fingers through my hair and stared at the ceiling. I closed my eyes and conjured images of my family. They didn't seem as crisp as they usually were. Was I forgetting? No, no, no! I couldn't let that happen. I concentrated harder, and they came in to focus.

And the guy that was here last time? Maybe he wasn't even real. Maybe he was just a symbol of all that I'd lost. Maybe I made him up. Maybe he was a ghost. All I have are ghosts.

Especially now, after what happened with Dean. He said sorry, but it felt like there was this bubble between us now. I couldn't trust what was on his mind anymore.

When I first arrived at The Farm, I'd thought maybe I could honor Mom's request to save the world by working on the Tesla coil, but I was nothing more than a custodian or a barista there. I couldn't save the world by pouring coffee.

I should've been returning to The Farm, but nothing drew me back. Dr. Rail had been right—I didn't fit in. I couldn't accept what I was.

How could I love Dean when I couldn't even look at him?

Maybe I'd never go back. Maybe I'd just live here.

My body relaxed and I drifted.

###

A voice woke me. "Damn it."

My eyes shot open. A dark figure hovered over me. I gasped.

"What are you doing here?" The voice was familiar. I rubbed my eyes, and he came into focus.

His gun hung on his belt this time.

"I said, what are you doing here?" He spoke slower and louder this time.

A smile threatened to break through, but I held it back.

Say something! Don't just stare at him. "I just—I um . . . ."

He shook his head. "Didn't I tell you not to come back here?"