Yanshuo stumbled back to his room, hands shaking so bad he could barely get his key in the lock.
Click.
The door swung open and he dove inside, slamming it shut and flipping every lock he could find. Deadbolt, chain, even the little latch at the top.
"Come on… come on…" he mumbled, yanking the curtains closed so no one could see in. His heart was hammering so hard it hurt and his mouth was dry as sand.
He grabbed a glass from the bathroom, filled it from the tap and chugged the whole thing down. Water spilled down his shirt, but he didn't care. Then he ripped open the mini-fridge, thank god, it was stocked, sandwiches, fruit, energy bars, even a bottle of juice. He grabbed a sandwich and tore into it with his bare hands, food shoving down his throat like he hadn't eaten in days.
"Stupid…all of them," he snarled, crumbs falling off his chin. "I tell them someone's getting attacked and they laugh? They think I'm drunk?!"
He paced the room, sandwich half-eaten in his hand. Was I hallucinating? he thought, pressing his palms against his eyes. Did I really see that?
His mind flashed back to work, endless meetings, clients yelling at him, his boss slamming a fist on the table. "You're seeing things, Yanshuo! Get your head straight or you're out!"
He'd heard that line so many times he'd started to believe it. Long days, no sleep, jumping from city to city, maybe his brain had finally snapped. Maybe the stress had made him see monsters where there were just people kissing.
But then he remembered the blood. The way it glistened under the fireworks. The sound of tearing flesh that still echoed in his ears.
"No," he whispered, dropping the sandwich on the desk. "I saw it. I know I did."
He grabbed the bottle of juice and twisted the cap off, guzzling it down. The room felt too small, the walls closing in.
"Maybe…" he muttered, collapsing onto the bed. "Too much work, too much pressure, I'm losing my mind…"
But then he heard it, a low growl from somewhere in the hallway.
Is that a dog?
His whole body went stiff. He scrambled off the bed and pressed his ear to the door, holding his breath.
The growl got louder. Followed by a crash and then a scream that cut off sharp.
What the fuck!
Yanshuo stared through the peephole. His heart hammered so hard it hurt.
Down the hall there was the staff guy. On the floor. White shirt dark with blood. The man from the deck was on top of him. Head down, biting deep.
Rip.
The sound made Yanshuo's stomach flip. Blood splashed the marble floor. Drop after drop.
plop… plop… plop…
The man lifted his head. Eyes were white. No color at all. Blood ran down his chin. He moved weird, shoulders hunched, arms twitching like they were broken.
Yanshuo bit his hand to stay quiet. I wasn't crazy. It's real. It's all real.
The man sniffed the air. His head snapped right, straight at Yanshuo's door.
There was a growl again.
Yanshuo's hair stood up on his neck. The man pushed up off the floor. Stumbled forward. Feet dragged through the blood, leaving red smudges everywhere.
He got closer. Closer. Yanshuo backed away from the door. Bare feet silent on the carpet.
Yanshuo pressed his back to the wall. Held his breath. Not a sound.
The man slammed his shoulder into the wood.
THUD.
The door shook. Yanshuo slid down the wall, landed soft on the floor.
Yanshuo scrambled backward, hands and knees on the carpet. He looked around the room fast. Where to hide? What to use?
The fridge. He'd seen knives in there. Small ones, but sharp. He crawled toward the kitchen area.
THUD.
Yanshuo grabbed the fridge door, pulled it open quiet as he could. His hand fumbled over the shelves. Found a knife and it tight.
When Yanshuo grabbed the knife, he knew it was small. Sharp, but small. His hand was shaking so bad it almost slipped.
He turned and ran into the bathroom.
He slammed the door shut. His fingers shook as he tried the lock. Once. Twice.
Click.
He leaned his back against the door. His chest moved fast. He held the knife in front of him, even though he knew it wouldn't help much.
THUD.
Something hit the door hard. The mirror above the sink rattled.
"Please… please…" he whispered. Stay the fuck out.
The hitting stopped.
Then he heard fingers scrape the door.
Slow. Dry. Wrong.
Something leaned against the door. Heavy. Through the small gap at the bottom, he saw hands on the floor. Dark skin. Broken nails.
His stomach twisted.
It doesn't know how to open the door.
The thought gave him a little hope. He breathed out slowly, his lungs burning.
He heard it sniff the door. Slow and close. Like it could smell him.
A low sound came from its throat. Angry. Frustrated.
Then it started hitting the door with its head.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The door shook. Wood cracked. Small pieces fell to the floor.
Yanshuo slid down until he was sitting on the wet tile. The knife slipped from his hand and hit the floor.
"What do I do…" he whispered.
He had planned his life carefully. Work. Travel. Money. Everything in order.
Now he was hiding in a bathroom on a yacht in the ocean. His only plan was to stay quiet.
The hitting stopped.
Footsteps dragged away.
Wet sounds.
After that, silence.
Only the engine humming. Waves hitting the side of the boat.
Yanshuo didn't move. He stared at the knife on the floor. Minutes passed. Maybe longer.
Then a voice came from outside.
"Hello?" it said. "Is someone there?"
Yanshuo jumped. His hand grabbed the knife.
"I'm not like them," the voice said, shaking. "I'm hiding too."
He pressed his ear to the door. The voice sounded scared. Human.
"If you're in there," the voice continued, "we can help each other."
Yanshuo swallowed hard. His heart beat fast.
For the first time that night, he felt something new.
Hope.