LOST FREQUENCY - PART 1

 

Antoine felt the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him as he contemplated the night ahead. Despite the late hour and the urgency of his duties, his eyelids drooped with a heaviness he couldn't shake. Tonight, the fatigue seemed to grip him tighter than ever before, leaving him grappling with a weariness that seemed to seep into his bones.

The root of his exhaustion traced back to the restless hours he spent during the day, battling against the relentless tide of sleep deprivation. His girlfriend, Amber Taylor, entrenched in her role as a Marketing Consultant, inhabited their shared space with a constant stream of phone calls, each one a noisy reminder of her dedication to her work. While their conflicting schedules typically allowed them to coexist harmoniously, lately Antoine found himself caught in a cycle of sleeplessness, unable to find respite even in the quiet hours of the day. He couldn't help but wonder if the recent uptick in insomnia was a symptom of a deeper unease, a question he skirted around rather than confront head-on.

The topic of parenthood loomed large in Antoine's mind, a topic that had been broached by Amber just the week before. Though the idea of starting a family had always held an allure for Antoine, lately it had morphed into something altogether more daunting. The mere mention of children sent a shiver down his spine, awakening a wellspring of anxieties he had long sought to bury. When Amber had tentatively raised the subject, Antoine's knee-jerk reaction had been to blurt out his unfiltered fears, the words tumbling from his lips before he could halt their momentum. "What the hell do we know about being parents, Amber?" The question hung in the air, heavy with implications, as Antoine watched the hurt flicker across Amber's face, a consequence of his own inability to articulate his inner turmoil.

As he sat at his desk, staring down at CCTV monitors, absently nibbling on the steak sandwich lovingly prepared by Amber, Antoine's thoughts churned with self-reproach. "Stupid," he muttered under his breath, the word laden with self-condemnation. With a sudden surge of determination, he pushed himself upright, the chair scraping against the linoleum floor in protest. It was time to shake off the fog of exhaustion, to confront the challenges that lay ahead with a newfound clarity of purpose. With a deep breath, Antoine embarked on his daily rounds with a steadfast determination, every stride a testament to his unwavering resolve to resist the seductive grasp of sleep that constantly beckoned to him. Each footfall echoed his commitment to fulfil his duties despite the persistent temptation to succumb to the comforting embrace of slumber. With a deep breath, Antoine embarked on his nightly rounds with a steadfast determination, every stride a testament to his unwavering resolve to resist the seductive grasp of sleep that constantly beckoned to him.

As per standard procedure, it was incumbent upon him to inform his fellow colleagues prior to commencing his rounds. Thus, he swiftly retrieved the radio from its holster on his belt, ensuring clear communication. Upon transmitting his announcement, the airwaves remained silent save for the response from the newest member of the team, Fred.

"Roger that, Fred," Antoine acknowledged, a faint smile playing on his lips at the camaraderie. "It's reassuring to know we're synchronising our efforts."

Fred's voice came through the radio, crackling with energy and enthusiasm. "Absolutely, buddy," he responded, his tone laced with excitement. "Let's keep our operation tight and efficient. And oh, don't you dare forget about that beer you owe me." Antoine couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of their competitive game of billiards last weekend. The bet they made added an extra layer of thrill to the already intense match. Antoine, fuelled by a bit of alcohol-induced bravado, had dared Fred to a game. The stakes were clear: the loser would be obligated to buy a six-pack of their favourite Peroni beer for the victor.

Antoine's eagerness was palpable as he spoke into the radio. "Next weekend," he declared eagerly, his competitive spirit undiminished. "It's all or nothing this time. You got lucky last time, Fred."

Fred's response crackled through the radio, carrying a hint of anticipation. "You're on," he affirmed confidently. "Over and out." The stage was set for another thrilling showdown, and both Antoine and Fred were ready to bring their A-game to the table.

A sense of solidarity pervaded the exchange, reinforcing their shared commitment to their duties and their friendship. With a nod of affirmation, he clipped the radio back onto his belt, ready to embark on his rounds, buoyed by the reassurance of a capable ally in Fred.

***

As Antoine trudged through the dimly lit corridors of the towering office building, his footsteps echoed against the sterile walls. The hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seemed to intensify the eerie silence that enveloped him. It was well past midnight, and the city of London outside lay shrouded in darkness, oblivious to the solitary figure patrolling the 21-story structure.

Tonight, however, something felt off. The usual background noise of the building-the faint sounds of traffic that usually penetrated the closed building windows, the distant but comforting hum of the air-con-was conspicuously absent. Antoine couldn't shake the feeling that he was not alone, despite knowing that his two colleagues, Rob Wicker and Fred Garver, were somewhere else within the building.

Rob, always assigned to the lower floors, might as well have been worlds away, while Fred, the enigmatic newcomer, roamed the upper levels. Antoine couldn't help but feel a pang of unease at the silence, but quickly decided that it was probably just in his head. Crazy did, unfortunately, run in his family and he was determined not to succumb by fear born from years of witnessing his father struggle with schizophrenia. "I'm not my father" he found himself muttering under his breath and felt a pang of shame.

An hour crept by, silent and uneventful, and Antoine's shoulders gradually relaxed from their tense hunch. He traversed the 16th floor, his footsteps echoing faintly against the polished marble floors. Yet, despite the quiet hum of the building, an unsettling sensation crept upon him, wrapping around his senses like a constricting serpent.

As he made his rounds, Antoine couldn't shake the prickling feeling that unseen eyes followed his every move, an intangible weight pressing down upon him. The air seemed charged with an unspoken threat, thick with the scent of aged wood and disinfectant.

The corridor stretched ahead, bathed in the sterile glow of fluorescent lights. Yet, even in the illumination, shadows lurked in the corners like sinister demons, dancing at the edge of his vision. Antoine's skin prickled with apprehension as he approached those dim recesses, where the light faltered and darkness held reign.

His ears strained against the quiet, catching every subtle creak and rustle, amplifying the eerie silence of the night. The sound of his own breath seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness, each inhale and exhale a reminder of his solitude in this vast, empty space.

With each step, the weight of dread settled deeper into Antoine's bones, dragging at his movements like invisible chains. Every corner turned seemed to lead to another abyss of uncertainty, each twist in the corridor a step closer to the unknown. But these corridors were well-known to him. He had traversed them countless times before. Yet tonight, they seemed strangely unfamiliar.

Antoine's fingers brushed against the cool metal of his flash-light, a reassuring presence in the unnatural growing darkness. Yet, even its beam faltered in the face of the encroaching shadows, casting feeble streaks of light into the murky depths.

As he continued his patrol, Antoine couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of unseen eyes boring into his back with malicious intent. The hairs on his neck stood on end, a primal instinct warning him of imminent danger.

With each passing moment, Antoine's unease grew, a gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach. Though he longed to flee from the oppressive atmosphere, duty anchored him to this desolate expanse, forcing him to confront the strange darkness that enveloped him.

The crackle of his radio suddenly pierced the silence, causing Antoine to jump. It was Rob, his voice tinged with nervousness. "Hey, Antoine, you there?"

"Yeah, Rob, what's up?" Antoine replied, trying to mask the tremor in his voice.

"There's something weird going on down here. I keep hearing strange noises, like whispers. You experiencing anything like that?"

Antoine's blood ran cold. He hadn't heard anything, but the idea of whispers echoing through the empty corridors didn't sound good at all. "N-no, I haven't heard anything," he stammered, his grip on the radio tightening.

Before Rob could respond, static filled the airwaves, drowning out his voice. Antoine tried to raise him again, but all he heard was an eerie silence. Panic began to rise within him like a tide, threatening to overwhelm his senses.