The ghost at the table – Draft 03 – Chapter 10
Stephanie
The gentle clinking of glasses and the murmur of contented conversation enveloped my husband and I as we sat in the warm glow of a Melbourne eatery, a rare oasis of calm amidst the relentless pace of our lives. A soft amber light played on the white tablecloth, casting elongated shadows of the wine glasses that held remnants of an expensive Cab Sav from the Coonawarra, its rich aroma still lingering in the air.
“Perfect evening, isn’t it?”, an enigmatic and sensual smile brushing my lips as I reached across the table to caress my husband Brett’s hand. I was miles away from the dark web of Adelaide’s cyberscape where my mind usually lingered, chasing shadows and code through the virtual mazes crafted by elusive criminals like Logan.
“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” my husband replied, his voice low and steady, eyes reflecting the quiet joy of a man content with the simplicity of the moment, and yet with one eye on the King size hotel bed we will later occupy.
Our conversation ebbed and flowed, an undercurrent of shared dreams and whispered laughter, the world beyond the restaurant’s walls momentarily forgotten. We talked of tomorrow, of hope, of little things that mattered most—the kind of talk that keeps the fabric of lives intertwined.
Then, without warning, normalcy shattered into chaos.
A deafening explosion tore through the stillness, a monstrous roar that eclipsed all sense of reality. The restaurant trembled, windows burst inward in a shower of glass, and screams cut through the din—a cacophony of terror.
For a fraction of a second, my training kicked in, senses on high alert, but the shock rooted me to the spot. My ears rang with the echo of the blast, the sound of my heartbeat thundering in my chest. Around me, people scrambled, a mad scramble for safety, for life.
My mind raced, thoughts fragmented, scattering like the debris around me. Cyber threats, faceless enemies, lines of code—they all paled in comparison to the tangible horror that now gripped my reality.
“Get down!” someone yelled, words barely audible over the ringing in my ears.
I felt Brett’s firm grip, pulling me away from the epicentre of destruction, seeking refuge beneath the sturdiness of a fallen table, its legs jutting out awkwardly like the limbs of a toppled giant.
“Stay with me,” I whispered, my voice a stark contrast to the bedlam that had usurped our peaceful dinner, my hand finding his in the darkness that descended.
As dust settled and the initial panic receded into groans and the shuffling of feet, I remembered this was just the beginning. The tragedy that unfolded before us would not go unanswered. I would stand again; I would seek justice, not just in the clean-cut edges of my digital world, but in the very real and present danger that had now touched my life so violently.
But for now, I clung to the remnants of a peace now lost, heart heavy with the knowledge that innocence, once shattered, could never truly be reclaimed.
Instincts took over. My arms flung out, a protective shield around Brett. The shockwave hit us, an invisible fist, as debris became airborne missiles in the chaos. Glass shards rained down, sharp and merciless. My hands felt the sting of cuts, but I barely registered the pain.
“Are you okay?” I choked out, my voice rough against the dust that now filled the air, tasting like fear and ruin.
“Here,” he gasped, his own arm thrown over mine, our bodies a tangled fortress against the carnage.
I dared to look up. Horror seized me. Tables overturned, glasses shattered. A child’s shoe, small and incongruous, lay among the rubble. Smoke billowed, a serpent slithering through broken dreams. The air was filled with screams, the sound of terror itself.
“Help!” Desperate voices cut through the haze. People stumbled, their silhouettes ghostly figures in the murky aftermath.
“Stay close,” I urged him, my voice barely above a whisper, every instinct screaming to flee yet frozen by the sight of what lay beyond our makeshift shelter.
The devastation before us was complete, ripping through the fabric of what had been moments of joy. Red stained white tablecloths, the colour of life ebbing away. Bodies lay still or writhing in agony, their cries a symphony of despair.
“God…” My husband’s breath hitched, his words lost in the smoke.
This was no cybercrime, no anonymous attack from behind a screen. This was raw, brutal reality—a stark reminder of vulnerability in the physical world.
“Steph,” he murmured, gripping my hand tighter. There was a plea in his eyes, seeking solace in the midst of hell.
“Stay with me,” I replied, strength willed into my voice. “We survive this.”
The restaurant that had been full of laughter and clinking glasses was now a war zone. But amidst the destruction, something within me hardened. Grief would come later; for now, there was only the need to endure, to bear witness to the tragedy that had befallen us all.
“Let’s move,” I said, pulling us both to our feet. We leaned on each other, stepping over debris, moving through the remnants of a night turned nightmare.
An ember of resolve sparked within me, fuelled by the scenes of horror etched into my memory. They wouldn’t know it yet, but whoever was responsible for this atrocity had just made a relentless enemy.
We pushed through the chaos, my heart a hammer in my chest. The air was thick with dust and screams. Tables upended, glasses shattered. My mind flashed to our boys, their laughter echoing in my memory, now drowned out by the terror of this moment.
“Lucas! Aiden!” My husband’s voice was ragged as he called for our twins. His eyes darted frantically, searching for the familiar faces of our children and parents amid the turmoil. Fear gnawed at me, icy and sharp.
“Where are they?” I choked on the words, my voice barely audible over the cacophony of destruction and panic. We stumbled past a woman sobbing, cradling someone close. I couldn’t look. Couldn’t stop. Our family needed us.
“Over there!” He pointed towards a crushed corner of the restaurant, where a once intimate booth lay in ruins. We ran, debris crunching beneath our feet, each step an eternity.
And then we saw them.
“God, no…” The words escaped my lips before I could catch them. There, amidst the broken wood and twisted metal, lay our boys. Still. Too still. Their grandparents beside them, guardians even in death.
The sight stole the breath from my lungs. Lucas and Aiden, our beautiful boys, their faces etched with shock, lives stolen in an instant. Their grandfather’s arm lay protectively over them, a final act of love. Beside him, their grandmother, her expression one of disbelief.
“Steph…” My husband’s voice broke. He reached out, fingers trembling, touching the cold cheek of his mother. I fell beside him, my hand finding the lifeless hand of my son. The boys were here with their grandparents, enjoying each other’s company because there was such love between the generations that Brett and I were constantly both amazed and exceptionally grateful for that. So while Brett and I dined on our own separate table on our 25th wedding anniversary, we would all sit together after the main course and try all the different desserts the restaurant was famous for. Well, at least that was the plan.
“Boys,” I whispered, tears burning my eyes. The world spun, reduced to this single point of pain. My children, my heart, gone.
“Lucas… Aiden…” My husband’s grief was a raw wound between us. But this wasn’t the end. Not for us. Not for them.
Survival meant more than breathing, more than standing. It meant fighting for those who no longer could. For Lucas, for Aiden, for the generations taken without mercy.
“Find them,” he said, voice steady with newfound resolve. “Find who did this.”
“We will,” I replied, hands clenched into fists. Together, we stood. Together, we would face the abyss.
We reach the street. Flashing lights blind us. Red and blue paint our pain in stark relief.
“Mrs. McBride?” A uniform approaches. Concern etched deep in his features. “Are you able to—”
“Later,” I cut him off. Not now. Not yet. We have something to do. Someone to find.
“Steph,” he murmurs. He pulls me close. Our footsteps echo on the pavement. Lead-heavy. Sorrow-laden.
“Never forget,” I whisper against his chest. “Never forgive.”
“Never,” he agrees. His voice is a growl. Low. Dangerous.
We move through the throng of uniforms and flashing cameras. Reporters swarm like vultures. They want a story. We want retribution.
“Steph,” someone calls out. Andy’s voice. I don’t stop. Can’t stop. Friendship will come later. Survival first. Justice next.
“Mrs. McBride!” More insistent now. I ignore it. Focus. The fire burns brighter.
“Steph,” he squeezes my hand. “Together.”
“Always,” I affirm. Together in grief. United in purpose.
We leave the chaos behind. Our shadow stretches long on the asphalt. Two figures, side by side, stepping into an uncertain future. But one thing’s certain.
We’ll make them pay.
The screen glowed. A beacon in the dark of my home office. Data streamed across it, a matrix of chaos I was trained to decipher. Cybercrime—the silent, faceless enemy. I’d hunted it before, but now it was personal. Australia’s underbelly had taken more than data; it took my heart and smashed it with one violent act.
“Steph.” His voice was hoarse. He stood in the doorway, a shadow against the dim light. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“Have to be.” My fingers danced over the keyboard. Click-clack. The sound of pursuit.
“Logan.” A name. A target. Adelaide’s own cyber phantom. My focus narrowed. The hunt intensified. Grief fuelled me. Rage drove me.
“Could be dangerous,” he warned. His eyes, hollow from loss, met mine. They understood.
“Everything is.” I didn’t look up. Couldn’t. The screen demanded all of me.
“Reckon the twins would want this?” Doubt tinged his words.
“Justice, not vengeance.” I corrected him, though my heart screamed both.
“Fair enough.” He nodded, resigned. Knew there was no stopping me.
“Can’t let others suffer.” I paused, a rare moment of stillness. “Won’t.”
“Righto.” He moved closer. Solid. Present. We were a team.
“Promise me, Steph.” Urgency laced his voice. “Promise you won’t get lost in this.”
“Promise.” The word was steel. Unbreakable. My mission clear.
“Good on ya.” Relief softened his features. He believed in me. In us. That mattered.
“Watch your back.” A simple warning. He knew the stakes as well as I did.
“Always.” My reply was automatic. Muscle memory.
“Then let’s do this. For them.” His hand touched my shoulder. Brief. Reassuring.
“For them.” I echoed. The screen’s glow reflected in my eyes—a flame that wouldn’t be extinguished until justice was served. Not just for Lucas and Aiden. But for every soul threatened by the shadows lurking in the cyber alleys of Australia.
“Let’s save some lives.” The determination was a living thing between us. It was more than a vow. It was a lifeline thrown into the future, a chance to pull something pure from the wreckage.
“Let’s.” Together, we turned back to the screens, our crusade against the digital darkness just beginning.
