Red Tide² ━ FTWD

CHAPTER 5: No Safe Harbor

RED TIDE

chapter five: no safe harbor

[ season 2, episode 2; we all fall down ]

DAY 18

Meghan wrapped her cardigan around herself tightly, the cool of the sea breeze making her wish she'd opted for a better shirt than the loose blouse she'd adorned.

In her defense, she didn't pack for an ocean voyage.

Eventually, Meghan situated herself on an outcropping of rock overlooking the shore, taking out her sketchbook and settling in. Her charcoal pencil hovered over the crisp ivory page, hesitant on how exactly to begin. Despite her practice, Meghan had never been good at warm-up drawing exercises — she preferred to start with a plan in mind. Automatic exercises only ended in tears.

But not a thing came to mind when she was determining what to do. She'd worked more on her portrait of Caitlyn the other day following Chris's outburst at the funeral, but no matter what she did, it never seemed quite right. Picking that up right now would only lead to her scrapping it and starting over.

She let out a sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as the wind tugged at it incessantly. Everything else had changed — maybe automatic drawing was something else she'd turn to be good at.

Meghan started with a simple sketch of the shoreline — speckled dots and creases where the dunes rose and fell, harsh lines where the surf crashed into itself. Soon afterward, there appeared a person — one, two, then three. Beachcombers, maybe.

She was so focused detailing out the camo of their uniform, it wasn't until she began on sketching the outline of an empty holster she realized what she had done.

She drew back the pencil, taking in a sharp breath as she focused in on the faces of the soldiers — or what she'd drawn in place of where their faces should be. She could see on the page the page had nearly ripped where the charcoal had pressed down, hard enough to tear through. The effect it left was haunting — concave hollows for eyes, and a gaping maw where their mouths should have been.

And beneath each of the orifices, a bloody trail.

"Who's that?"

Meghan nearly jumped out of her skin, flinching hard at the strange voice, head whipping towards the offending sound. Her pencil clattered to the dirt below, hand resting on her pounding chest as the stranger came into view. As her heart calmed, she was able to take her in. It was just a little girl — no older than six at the most, with long doe-brown hair and round eyes. Probably the ranger's daughter, she realized. One of the family members the Clarks had met last night. She seemed as startled by Meghan's reaction as Meghan was by her appearance.