The calm before the storm.
The small phrase echoed in Mary's mind as she stood before the Reveal News Channel building. It was not only the dark, heavy clouds smothering the sky that gave the impression, but the silence, a deep and unnatural quiet that pressed against her ears.
No cars. No pedestrians. Nothing except the restless wind sweeping through the street with long, hollow whooshes.
Mary scanned the deserted road, then the ten-storied building rising in front of her. After trailing her gaze from the rooftop antenna down to the revolving doors, she stepped inside.
The silence followed her.
Employees moved about in hushed concentration, greeting her with quick nods before sinking back into their workstations. Their quietness only made the tension in the air more obvious.
Mary headed toward the staircase tucked into the corner. She clapped her hands sharply.
Heads turned.
"It's not a nice weather outside," she said, her voice carrying across the floor, "but it is a busy weather for us. People trust us to keep them updated about the world outside, for their safe today."
The room stirred to life. In an instant, the quiet hive erupted into motion, papers flying, chairs scraping, voices rising. It was chaos, but purposeful chaos. Their eyes burned with determination; their expressions looked ready for battle.
Mary continued up the stairs.
Every floor was the same, a flurry of focused activity. She paused briefly on each level, scanning the rooms, then moved on. By the time she reached the tenth floor, a long stretch of minutes had gone by.
Here, everything felt different.
It was not the décor, though the top floor did have sleeker panels and better lighting. It was the crowd gathered in front of a door, stiff with worry. A strange tension hung over them, thick enough to taste.
Mary approached quickly.
A woman her age turned and greeted casually, "Good morning, Mary."
The others straightened at once. "Good morning, ma'am," they chimed with practiced respect.
Mary barely acknowledged them. She craned her neck toward the studio door and saw the empty chair behind the news desk.
"Where is the reporter?" she asked.
A man replied, "She just sent a message. She's taking sudden leave."
Mary's eyes flared red with anger. "What were you all doing? Contact her right n—"
The woman beside her interjected, "Her son fainted. Right in front of her."
Mary's anger ebbed instantly, replaced by worry. "How?"
"He was sick for two days, but she didn't see the signs. Too much work, I suppose."
Mary's face tightened with concern.
The woman added gently, "He is fine. They say he'll be discharged tomorrow."
Mary released a breath she did not realize she had been holding.
"Nothing to worry about the boy," the woman continued, "but the situation with the morning news is another story."
"I will do it," Mary said without hesitation.
She strode toward the desk. People scattered out of her path.
Before sitting, she called, "Magi."
Magi turned at once.
"Tell her I am granting three more days of leave," Mary said. "She can make up the hours next week with one extra day."
Magi grinned. "Yes, ma'am."
Mary allowed herself a thin smile and took her seat. A man stepped forward with a tissue and held up a small mirror. She wiped her face quickly, smoothed her hair, then nodded at the camera.
"Let's start."
The crew rushed aside. The operator switched the camera on.
Mary began reading the scrolling text. "Good morning, Briston. It's not a nice weather outside, but we at The Reveal will do our best to keep you update with the outside world for your safe today. With that same motivation, I, Mary, am reporting the morning news, in place of our regular reporter. Now, getting into the morning news; her majesty has announced—"
The words froze.
Mary blinked. The text had stopped moving.
She gestured toward the person behind the monitor, but he was staring at the keyboard, unmoving. She turned to the cameraman and whispered, "Call Len," but he did not respond. He did not even blink.
A sound rose in the stillness. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.
Her heartbeat, impossibly loud in a world gone mute.
Panic prickled up her spine. She pushed back her chair and stormed toward Len.
"Why aren't you scrolling the screen?" she demanded.
Then she saw it.
Len was frozen. Fingers pressed against the keys mid-stroke. The cameraman was frozen, eye stuck to the viewfinder. Magi stood at the door motionless, water suspended in mid-air as it dripped from her bottle. Beyond the glass wall, every worker sat or stood like statues. Even the man who had held the mirror for her was trapped in place.
Everything, every person, every sound, every current of air, had stopped. Even the hands on the wall clock stood still.
The frozen air made Mary's chest tighten. She fought for breath. A wet cough tore from her throat, and blood splattered on the floor.
Her handbag on the desk began glowing blue.
Mary dropped to her knees as blood streamed from her nose, then from her pores, hot and sharp as fire. She trembled beneath the agony.
Her pounding heart shifted, transformed into a husky male voice.
"Pick me to live."
Mary tried to speak, her words broken and faint. "Wh-what should I pick?"
"Bag."
She stared at the glowing bag and dragged her numb, blood-soaked body toward it. The floor smeared red beneath her. She tried to reach the bag but she couldn't and her legs didn't had the strength. She slammed her head against the table leg in a desperate attempt to make the bag fall.
The table shook, but the bag did not move.
She kept striking her head, weaker each time, until finally the bag wobbled, tipped and fell on the side.
Mary collapsed, unconscious.
The blood stopped its furious flow. The heartbeat, the voice, the pain, all faded, leaving only silence behind.
Her head slid off the table leg and she slumped to the ground, jarring the table slightly.
The small shiver from her fall made the bag's flap open and the glowing chess piece rolled from the bag toward her. At the edge, it hesitated, as if nudged by a small invisible breeze, and dropped into her open hand.
The moment it touched her skin, it flared with bright light.
When the glow faded, Mary was gone.