They Are the Tide by Tash McAdam

Author:Tash McAdam [McAdam, Tash]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: NineStar Press, LGBT, cliffhanger, espionage, spies, military, futuristic, alt universe
Publisher: NineStar Press
Published: 2019-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

THE BATHROOM IS spacious, but with no lights on, it feels small and unwelcoming. A single, translucent window covered in some kind of pattern provides a little illumination, filtering the strip lights from the street. A soft, plush rug hits my feet as I inch forward, relying on a read of the room to bolster the poor visuals. The ceramic tiling of the bath is set low into the floor, and after yanking my clothes off, I barely have to step up to climb in. There’s a transal sheet that unfolds once I'm in, and a small panel on the wall beside me flickers to life, making me jump. It’s creepy in here, the dark and my nakedness reminding me of the Tank.

Gooseflesh springs up on my chilled skin, and I click the temperature display to a nice, hot level before selecting “On” and bracing myself for the spray. It’s freezing for a split second as the pipes clear, and I can’t help letting out a slight squeak, but it rapidly warms to a deluxe heat that permeates my skin, feeling like it is rinsing the chill off my very bones. I can’t figure out which bottle of liquid is which, so I guess, lathering my body with something bubbly.

The luxury of the actions makes me grin, alone in the dark. I can count the number of wet showers I’ve had in my life on one hand, and it is a simple, direct sort of pleasure. But I'm mindful that the pipe noise may draw attention, so I shut off the shower as soon as I’m clean. I was so filthy that I can make out the waterline on the base of the bath, a faint rim of scum so clear that even in the dark it’s visible now my eyes have adjusted. Self-conscious, I drag my foot around to scuff it away before climbing out. A soft towel is waiting for me, on a rack that would usually be heated, but has been turned off by the house’s occupants. Shame.

Wrapping myself in the fabric, pinning it over my chest with my forearm, I scoop my clothing off the floor with one hand and exit the bathroom, leaving the door open for Kion. I find a bedroom to the left at the end of the short corridor that is stamped all over with teenage boy. The kid whining about his video games, it must be. He looked around my height, and so with my shirt wrapped round my hand, I poke through his clothes until I find some cozy sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt to pull on. We’ll launder everything we touch before we leave for good, or at worst, set the whole place on fire, but I’d rather not leave more traces than necessary, so having sleeves that can cover my hand is a good idea. I take a moment to steal a mouth-cleaning capsule from beside the bed before sliding in. The airy duvet and cool pillow nearly send me into a paroxysm of delight.

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