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11 Response to the Prognosis

last update publish date: 2026-05-10 09:02:29

Gabe twisted in his sleep, sheets half-kicked to the floor, breath catching on a word he never finished.

Six Months Ago

Two response boats hammered out of the police shed, bows knifing the bay toward a black-blooming smear of smoke. Sirens didn’t carry over water; urgency did. Gabe helmed the lead with Joanne beside him, headset on, eyes narrowed against glare. In the second boat, Andrew drove while his younger brother, Tim, rode shotgun, scanning the horizon.

Andrew keyed the police band. “Hey
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  • The Rip   32 The final battle

    Behind the main school building, near the water mains, a low, unnatural vibration hummed from beneath the ground. The pipes began to shudder, rattling violently as unseen pressure built within. Joints strained, bolts groaned, and then—CRACK!Water exploded from the connections, gushing out in high-pressure bursts as something surged through the system and forced its way into the building.All at once, the school’s watering systems flared to life—spraying jets of water high into the air, their trajectories eerily aligned, all aimed in the direction of the gymnasium.Inside every school building, sinks, toilets, and utility rooms erupted. Faucets blasted open, showers turned into geysers, and pipes burst in fountains of chaos.Windows shattered outward as entire classrooms were gutted by forceful blasts of water, sending glass and debris into the air.The school was vomiting water in every direction—The demon had arrived.And it was hunting.Inside the gym, rock and roll blasted from

  • The Rip   31 To face your demons

    The Zodiac finally hit the sand with a jarring thud. Gabe and Nick clambered out, boots sinking into the wet shoreline. They both turned and watched in grim silence as the remains of Zodiac One were dragged beneath the surface in a tremendous splash.Gabe glanced at his son, whose wide, vacant stare betrayed the utter shattering of everything he thought he knew.“Now… do you believe me?”Nick didn’t speak. His face said it all.Gabe followed the ripple on the surface—watched as the monstrous current began shifting, creeping slowly away from the wreckage.“It’s moving,” he muttered.They both stared as the rip surged inland, crawling like a living thing toward the town… toward the high school grounds.Nick’s eyes went wide.“Oh, no… the formal!”He could see it clearly now: the school gym packed with over a hundred people—his friends, Rachel, Prue, Dean… all of them.Gabe caught the urgency in his son’s voice.Nick turned to him. “We’ve gotta go. We have to warn them—Rachel and Dean… t

  • The Rip   30 What could have done it?

    Nick didn’t answer. He just stared at Gabe, jaw tight, breathing through his nose like he was bracing for a punch.Susan laid the satellite printout on the bench between the kettle and the fruit bowl. Glossy paper slid over stray droplets Nick had splashed when he’d rinsed his mouth. She pinned the corners with whatever was close—an empty mug, a salt shaker, her phone, a sealed evidence pouch with a single hair inside.“Look,” she said.It wasn’t just a map. It was layered—shoreline, sewer grid, stormwater, mains. Over that: heat blooms, IR traces, EM spikes. A dotted thread began at Crescent Cove, curled past the wharf, then split like veins—one toward the school, one along the apartment blocks that climbed the hill.“These aren’t random hits,” Susan said. “They’re recency-weighted. Last forty-eight hours, brightest to oldest. School pool lights up like a Christmas tree—Jasmine, Nathan. Then this building—fifteen minutes before the call came in. Two signatures. They move through the

  • The Rip   29 Gabe’s Apology

    The shrill ring of Nick’s mobile phone shattered the stillness of the bedroom.The room was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of a streetlight filtering through the blinds. Boxes of clothes still lined the walls—half-unpacked, a sign of a new life in motion. A queen-sized bed sat at the centre, flanked by mismatched bedside tables. It was a modest space, but it was theirs.Nick stirred, groaning. His left arm was draped across Rachel’s waist. He shifted carefully, reaching for the phone on the bedside table.“Hello?” he mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.Gabe’s voice came through the speaker—quiet, but alert beneath the gravel of sleep.“Nick… it’s me. I just got off the phone with Dean. He sounded… off. Something’s happened. Something bad. The message was scrambled, but he mentioned Travis and Lisa. I’m on my way—I’ll be there in half an hour.”Nick blinked hard, forcing his brain to catch up. His father’s tone stirred something uneasy in him. He didn’t trust easily—not Gabe, n

  • The Rip   28 Lisa and Travis

    The apartment was a showroom of curated comfort—Scandinavian minimalism softened by warm tones and plush textures. Whitewashed walls, pinewood finishes, and strategically placed throw cushions made the living space look like something torn from the pages of an IKEA catalogue. It was practical, stylish, and exactly the kind of place that Lisa had always dreamed of.In the bathroom, the hiss of water filled the tiled room. Steam clung to the mirror above the basin, swirling in slow, lazy coils. Behind the fogged glass of the shower, Lisa moved beneath the steady stream, her silhouette ghosted by condensation. The hot water soothed the ache in her shoulders, easing away the tension of a long day. She lathered the scented soap between her hands and ran it over her arms and torso, methodically and without rush, indulging in the ritual of it.The water coursed down her back, and rivulets of soap traced the curve of her spine. Her long blonde hair, wet and darkened, clung to her skin as she

  • The Rip   27 A birth of a hero

    Phil closed the folder and tucked it back under his arm. “You’ve got ten minutes before CSU locks the pool side again,” he said. “Stay behind the tape, don’t touch anything. Swallow—” he threw Andrew a sharp look “—you play nice.”Andrew smirked without humor. “Scout’s honor.”“Yeah,” Gabe muttered, “you always were a shit scout.”They moved as a knot—Phil leading, Susan at Gabe’s flank, Andrew dragging his feet just enough to make it annoying—down the long corridor toward the POOL doors. The smell hit first: chlorine and copper and something sour that crawled right up the nose and set up camp. Two techs were packing a rolling cart with sealed tubes and swabs. One, a young guy with sharp cheekbones and a too-clean lab coat, lifted a hand.“Careful with the threshold,” he said. “Wet floor’s patched with drying compound.”Gabe looked. The tiles glistened like they’d been iced. A line of white grit ringed the joint where tile met metal drain.“Salt,” Susan said softly, crouching. She did

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