2
Andrew and Sam were settled on folding chairs by the trailer, while I, wrapped in a blanket, sat on the step at the entrance to our motorhome. My gaze was fixed on the horizon, where enormous chimneys spewed dense, grayish-brown smoke in a continuous stream. The trembling still hadn’t stopped; my ribs felt tight, haunted by gruesome images and the lingering echoes of screams and noise in my head.
Yes, I wanted a sensation. I had dreamed of the rumors being true. We all did, knowing how pivotal information like this could be in shaking the power of the Three.
But when I saw the truth with my own eyes, I was terrified. No, not terrified – I was horrified. The thought of being pursued by the Reapers or thrown into the damp confines of their dungeons seemed almost childlike by comparison.
The men were intently reviewing the footage Sam had captured, occasionally exclaiming or exchanging comments. As for me… I couldn’t move. I hadn’t expected it to be like this. What I saw in the hospital was genuinely horrifying, forcing me to see everything happening in the State over the past few months in a stark new light. Tightened customs controls on the roads, disrupted broadcasts, power outages, the constant shuffling of political positions, and the general atmosphere of tension – all now painted a far more sinister picture. The voices of opposition had grown louder, but the government’s political police had seemingly become less aggressive in suppressing them. Now, in hindsight, it all made sense. My imagination wove living nightmares from the pieces.
Still, those dreadful phantoms felt distant and unreachable, while the madness in the hospital seemed more like the feverish delirium of a bad dream. If it weren’t for the sheer number of people in uniform, the flashing emergency lights, and the occasional blaring of sirens, I might have convinced myself that, after a sleepless night, I had simply drifted into an unconscious state and imagined it all.
I cast a cautious glance toward the hospital. A tall, fair-haired officer was shouting through a megaphone, urging everyone to maintain their distance. Shots rang out sporadically, and I flinched, dreading what might be happening inside the building. Although Andrew and Sam were eager to return (or sneak) inside, I had no desire to go back until the chaos subsided and the situation became clearer.
Besides, for the first time, I didn’t feel like risking another confrontation with law enforcement. First, I was too shaken and frightened for calm negotiations. Second, our reputation – already tarnished by breaking into private offices, stirring up controversy in heated debates, and exposing the dirty dealings of influential figures – was teetering on the edge. We had only just managed to smooth over the fallout from a report made over a year ago about the collapse of a dam on the Voluntas River, which had been sabotaged by the Terracotta organization. One misstep now, one careless move or word, could spell a death sentence.
It wouldn’t take much for government forces to dig deeper into our records or listen more closely to our questions…
Just half an hour earlier, courage and recklessness had clouded my judgment. Now, fear and the brush with death had sobered me.
I glanced at Sam and Andrew. The latter smoked a cigarette, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger, practically sucking the smoke out of it. Dort, meanwhile, was ruffling his hair and staring intently at the video on his laptop screen, practically unblinking.
We had never hesitated to push past plastic shields to get to the heart of the action, and I had often dragged the guys into questionable adventures. But now, I was absolutely unwilling to start yet another clash with the authorities, because this time, given certain factors, the outcome wouldn’t favor us. I couldn’t risk Sam’s and Andrew’s lives.
Because, apart from the factors I knew and was involved in, there were others. For instance, why had my file disappeared from the Reapers’ database? The memory took me back to the cold night of our journey here, to °22-1-20-21-14. Midnight. A checkpoint. A stack of verified documents and a half-asleep customs officer. A Reaper standing nearby was reviewing our papers. I was ready to recite my rehearsed lines – my record was checkered enough to attract the political police’s attention, but my time with «Crimson Skies» had taught me how to deflect and play roles convincingly. But then, unexpectedly, my file was nowhere to be found in the database. Should I have been relieved? Or terrified? Any attempt to analyze the incident was chased away by the morning’s horrifying images.
To hell with it. First, let's deal with the hospital, gather the materials, and then we'll act according to the situation… But at this moment, risking my safety by trying to get back into the medical facility was utterly reckless. So much so that even I wasn't daring enough to do it.
A queasy ache spread through my stomach. Coffee, my lone companion for days now, remained the only tenant in my stomach. On the edge of consciousness, I knew I needed to force myself to eat something… But the clash between thoughts of food and the memory of mangled bodies made me nauseous.
Suddenly, a phone rang. Sam and Andrew both turned their heads simultaneously, while I flinched, exhaling loudly as Andrew darted into the trailer to rummage through the clutter for the phone. The annoying automated ringtone continued to chirp cheerily as he searched. Sam and I exchanged glances, and he gave me a tight smile, slightly lifting the video camera.
In his eyes, there was fear, and his face was unnaturally pale. But Sam didn't betray himself – still the same 'immortal operator,' never letting go of the camera. I knew he would capture everything on video, even as the threat loomed over us like an avalanche.
When the endlessly ringing phone was finally found, I flinched again, this time at Andrew’s sudden, loud voice. He wasted no time boasting about the promising footage to his wife. Momentarily forgetting himself, he excitedly described what Sam had filmed and the sheer number of police and military personnel surrounding the hospital. I motioned for him to watch his words – our call could easily be monitored – and shivered slightly as I muttered a quiet curse. Andrew’s skepticism had vanished, and he didn’t seem remotely disturbed by what he had seen.
Relief and anxiety were battling within me, and it was still unclear which one would prevail.
Andrew then began talking about his daughter, which meant the call would drag on. For all his gruffness and reticence, dear Andy was a devoted father and exemplary family man who never missed a chance to ask me if I’d found someone special. Honestly, I always admired his ability to balance family, work, and hobbies, especially considering how different and disconnected those aspects of his life were.
I pulled off the warm blanket and tossed it somewhere deeper into the trailer.
“Andrew,” I called out to the man, and he turned around. “I'm going to the store.”
He gave a short nod, and I grabbed a small bag hanging on a hook near the trailer entrance, heading off with determination. Sam gave me a concerned glance, but without saying a word, he began disentangling himself from his cocoon of equipment. A few minutes later, Dort caught up with me and trailed alongside.
I had to admit: despite everything – my state, the nightmare, and the horror – I understood perfectly well that the material we had would cause a sensation. If Givori provided additional, extended information, it would trigger a massive wave, erasing any lingering doubts that the rule of the Three had run its course. That the monarchs had deliberately concealed an epidemic in the North. That their words could no longer be trusted. That people had become expendable tools in their hands…
I kept walking forward, lost in thought, paying no attention to the unfamiliar city around me. Instead of greedily taking in the sights, I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I completely forgot we were no longer in the Central Lands but had arrived in the Isthmus Region. Still, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the unusual layout of the winding streets, the distinctive, more refined and angular architecture, and the abundance of carmine and purplish-black stones in the buildings.
The echo carried the wailing siren from different parts of the city. Road workers in uniforms were patching a pothole in the asphalt; their work truck hummed, and its orange beacon light flickered intermittently. My feet ached terribly from my heels, my head throbbed, and the clamor and commotion didn’t let up for a moment. The loud voices blended into a singular cacophony, ringing in my ears. It was then that I realized just how out of sorts I was. I had lost track of time and barely noticed or comprehended what was happening around me.
Abruptly, I stopped and looked around. I had no idea how long it had been since we left the trailer – twenty minutes, maybe thirty? A loud chime from a tall red-brick building's clock tower marked the hour. Ten o’clock. In front of us lay a bustling intersection. On a small square in front of what appeared to be an administrative building stood a proud pedestal displaying three identical, faceless figures. The only thing that distinguished these shadows were their characteristic attributes: the crown of two rings on the head of the Ruler, the sword in the hands of the Commander-in-Chief, and the Book held above the head of the Heavenly Ambassador.
“Unity is the key to immortality” – the central paradigm of the rule of the Three.
And anyone who dared to criticize this paradigm, who questioned the Three or their divine right to power, would vanish – becoming just another sudden victim. If you stood against the monarchs, you’d disappear, erased by the Reapers.
“Are you okay?” Sam spoke for the first time during this entire walk. I felt his attentive gaze on me, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sculptural representation of the immutable monarchs. Which of our Three are they? The Eleventh? “You don’t look great, to be honest.”
“Thanks for your honesty,” I replied with a smirk, turning toward a modest but long building with walls made of darkened glass.
A cyclist whizzed past, nearly knocking Sam and me over. Dort, swearing loudly, flipped the guy the bird, to which I just sighed heavily and shook my head.
“They’ve lost their damn minds!” Sam growled, adjusting his hoodie. “Let’s go!”
The building, consisting of a basement and a first floor, was larger inside than it appeared from the outside. Scattered throughout were various shops, from pharmacies to souvenir stores. The basement housed a hypermarket and a luxurious bookstore (at least, the sign reading “Best in the City” set certain expectations). Air conditioners hummed at every turn, and I greedily inhaled the cool air. The shopkeepers, not quite fully awake, yawned lazily behind the counters, enjoying the sparse number of customers and visitors.
What had happened in the hospital was fading away, beginning to seem like a fabrication or a feverish delirium, and although I still clearly remembered every second, every sound, everything was gradually sinking into a smoky haze of memory, becoming less and less real. The mundane rhythm of life here, outside the hospital walls, dulled the anxiety, allowing certain details to slip away, but…
But for a moment, it was as if I was thrown into a dead loop of old and new memories. My heart painfully slammed against my ribs, fluttering wildly, and it took a considerable effort to push back the creeping panic and suppress the pain. I shuddered slightly, shaking my hair. Unconsciously, I squeezed my left wrist. Sam glanced at me, concerned, but without saying anything, he headed toward the staircase leading to the basement. I followed him.
“Come on, get a grip, Steph,” Dort said quietly over his shoulder. “I agree, it wasn’t a pleasant sight… But still, it’s for the better, right? We found some great material. We can turn it into gold. Isn’t this what we wanted?”
“Yeah, I guess so…” I muttered hesitantly, frowning. My gut was screaming at me, but I couldn’t figure out what exactly it was trying to warn me about. Glancing at the grocery store, I felt a lump rising in my throat. “You go ahead and grab some snacks. I think I’ll check out the bookstore instead.”
“What do you want?”
“Just some sparkling water. Maybe some cookies. I’m not really hungry.”
Sam nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets, and, turning around, disappeared behind the counters. A plump cashier in her forties gave me a disapproving look; I raised an eyebrow and gave a slight tilt of my head, and the woman, catching the unspoken "directional cue," turned to the cigarette rack.
On the other side of the hypermarket, behind the panoramic windows, neat rows of bookshelves came into view.
My thoughts kept jumping from one thing to another: sleepless nights ending in strong coffee at gas stations, midnight packing sessions, this long journey, the bumpy ride in the trailer, the broken equipment. Mazes of houses, the yellow sliver of the moon in the sky. Clouds, the chilly morning, the hospital. Givori’s bandaged hand, the patients, the police.
Without realizing it, I found myself among the bookshelves. I quickly glanced around, then wandered between the racks, glancing at the new spines.
I felt nauseous. I must have been too on edge, and even now, I couldn’t stop overthinking. Deep down, fear had buried itself in my chest, straining my nerves. It had been a long time since I’d felt this out-of-control panic.
“Are you feeling unwell?” The woman at the checkout asked anxiously.
“No, I’m fine,” I replied with a short nod. For some reason, everyone seemed overly concerned about my health today. Did I really look that awful? “Thanks.”
I smiled tautly and quickly disappeared into the labyrinth of shelves, escaping her watchful gaze. I spent the next ten minutes wandering aimlessly and browsing through books. Pulling one volume after another from the shelves, I read the blurbs, flipped through the pages, and skimmed the first lines that caught my eye… Yet I was certain I didn’t retain any of it; I was simply trying to drown out the endless cycle of overlapping thoughts.
In my mind, I was already drafting the article, visualizing the layout of the online publication’s page, and working out which phrases should be highlighted in bold. Despite this detached state, I still managed to select about seven books for purchase – simple paperbacks that were easy to carry due to their compact size and light weight. Among them were a couple I had already read.
It was hard to predict how long we would be staying in °22-1-20-21-14. Much depended on how talkative Givori would be, the general state of the city, and the activities of the Reapers. With that in mind, I figured it was wise to prepare something to occupy myself with beyond work.
I chuckled to myself, feeling a dull ache of melancholy spreading through my body. If I had the chance, I’d definitely explore the city – walk around, try the local cuisine, visit some landmarks… After all, it was rare for loyal citizens of the State to leave their assigned territories, where everyone was essentially "tied" from birth.
I cast a fleeting glance toward the local guidebooks. A shelf of those could just as well be labeled "cruel irony" everywhere.
Without thinking, I picked up a couple of pens and pencils.
Sam was probably right. We had come here for a sensational story, striking visuals, and information – and we got plenty of them. The trip wasn’t in vain, and that alone was worth so much. If I were religious, I might have offered heartfelt thanks to the Heavens.
I hadn’t heard Sam approach, so when his voice suddenly sounded by my ear – "Steph, I’m here" – I nearly dropped the books.
“You scared me,” I exhaled tightly, shaking my head. “Just give me a minute, and we’ll go.”
“You can't be left alone in a bookstore,” the guy winked.
And why would he have a reason to be down? Sam was holding a bag of food; we had the material we came for, plenty of work ahead, and no chance of getting back into the hospital today. Givori wasn’t likely to agree to an evening coffee chat, either. This day was shaping up to be a well-deserved break after a grueling trip and a morning filled with unpleasant moments.
Besides, nothing was stopping us from talking to the locals in °22-1-20-21-14. Who knows, we might even manage to speak with some military personnel – maybe luck would favor us there, too.
For a moment, I froze, replaying the journey here in my mind. The documents we’d prepared were impeccable; we’d passed all the customs checkpoints with ease. But…
How had my file disappeared from the investigation database? Why hadn’t the Reaper found me in their system? Where had my name gone? The memory of that night at the checkpoint resurfaced, chilling me to the bone.
“Steph?”
“Ah? Yeah… You’re right,“ I replied with a forced smile. Slowly, we began walking toward the checkout, glancing around.
Upstairs, the noise was growing louder: the sirens, which my ears had gradually gotten used to, blared more frequently; I thought I could hear echoes of gunfire reverberating through the streets – or perhaps it was just the confusion caused by the sound of cash registers and arcade games on the upper floor.
The small queue at the checkout barely moved; the cashier, half-asleep, scanned purchases without any sense of urgency. We waited with melancholic patience; Sam even had time to dash off to the philosophy section. Meanwhile, outside the bookstore, a commotion began. Voices grew louder.
I felt my insides tighten and freeze, my senses sharpening as if on high alert.
The customer in front of us left the store, studying their purchase intently. Sam paid first and stepped aside, flipping through a book, while I kept glancing out the glass panels. The confusion outside was thickening. People were hastily leaving the grocery store and heading toward the stairs.
There were no siren sounds. There was no smoke. Visually, nothing seemed to have changed – yet panic had clearly gripped the crowd.
“Miss, your purchases!” The cashier's insistent voice snapped me back. I nodded distractedly, quickly stuffing the books into my bag. I exchanged a worried glance with Sam, but he merely shrugged.
“Let’s get out of here and head back to the trailer,” I said firmly, grabbing Dort by the arm just above the elbow and practically dragging him toward the doors.
A second. Two. Just as Sam and I were nearly out of the bookstore, a piercing scream shattered the air – a scream filled with icy terror and desperate pain. For a moment, déjà vu yanked me back to the hospital, flooding my senses with the stench of antiseptics and spoiled blood.
I tightened my grip on Dort’s hoodie, holding him in place, and then I saw it…
It wasn’t violence in the usual sense. It was something far more sinister. Time seemed to slow, and every detail of the horrific scene seared into my vision.
There were two of them – just regular people, not patients from the third ward – disfigured, frenzied, rabid. They had attacked someone – a man or woman, it was impossible to tell now – and pinned them to the floor. Screams, inhuman shrieks. Words choked in a throat filling with blood. A dark pool spread across the marble under the body.
Everything blurred. Paralysis set in. Noise, chaos, panic erupted. People rushed toward the exits, trampling over one another, knocking others down, and crushing them underfoot. Screams, crashes, wailing. A horrible guttural growl echoed through the air. Then I realized there weren’t just two of them. My gaze caught more attacks in the crowd – new ones, and more still. The entire scene lasted mere seconds, though it felt like an eternity. A shop assistant nearby darted toward the door to shut it.
“No!” I shouted, trying to step back, but Sam stood frozen in place, pale as a sheet.
“Get inside or get out!” The girl screamed.
“Sam!” I shouted, shaking Dort hard. We bolted back.
What would have happened if we hadn’t gone back? If we’d hesitated for another moment? If we’d let panic drive us toward the staircase, into the city? What then?
The girl’s trembling hands managed to shut the doors. The sounds outside grew muffled… I stood there, staring blankly through the glass, watching as a group of people toppled a young man to the ground. They crowded around him, preventing any chance of escape. He flailed his arms, struggling to push them off, to get up. But they held him in a tight circle. Within seconds, his arm stiffened with convulsions.
The next moment, a man in shredded clothing slammed into the glass. My heart plummeted as I staggered backward. He turned awkwardly, his hands and face pressed against the glass. His lifeless, yellow-tinged eyes locked onto mine. Devoid of lips and cheeks, his jaw dropped to his neck, exposing his larynx.
A loud scream filled my ears, and I didn't immediately realize it was my scream. Everything went black in front of me, and I felt myself falling.
A dim sky, heat rising from the ground. Stifling. A flock of birds on the horizon. Screams. Rivers of blood, filled with snakes. Falling snow, spiraling down. A black sun, with an eye opening at its center. Columns. A forest. Damp earth underfoot. Graves. Givori. His bandaged arm. The bookstore.
And then a half-sigh, half-scream escaped my unconsciousness.
I jolted awake, gasping for air. My throat was dry, my chest felt like it was being crushed in a vice – breathing was unbearably hard, painful. My head throbbed, and my heart pounded violently against my ribs. Fear coursed through me, raw and unrelenting, brought on mercifully by nothing more than a dream.
A dream?
Sam, leaning over me and placing a finger to his lips. His frightened, red eyes. He was speaking a lot, quietly, and I couldn’t make out his words. Inside, everything felt cold, frozen, icy, but I could clearly feel that I was sweating terribly.
“Steph?” Sam whispered anxiously. “Are you okay? Oh heavens, you scared me so much!”
I sat up abruptly, and the room swam before my eyes. We were still in the bookstore.
“How long…” My voice faltered as I gripped my head. “How long was I out?”
“No more than a minute, Steph.”
“Felt like a hundred lifetimes…”
“We need to stay here,” Dort said, his words slow and deliberate as he studied my face. He tried to sound as calm as possible, but the deafening chaos outside chilled my blood. “Wait until it quiets down. Katherine called for help. They’ll come for us.” I nodded without fully absorbing his words. The hellish cacophony outside drowned out everything else. “We need to hide now,” Dort continued, his voice low and steady. “Stay very, very quiet. No sound at all, okay?” I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms around them, and buried my face. Sam sat next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders and holding me close. “We’re safe here for now. Everything will make sense later,” he reassured me softly. “We just need to wait, stay quiet, and not draw attention…”
I don’t know how long I stayed like that. The bookstore grew quieter; the noise was coming mostly from above, from the streets. A strange, drowsy sensation pulled me downward. My body begged me to sleep, to shut out the sounds and the thoughts. But on the edge of consciousness, I still reacted to the screams, recognized the gunfire, and heard the wailing of sirens. Explosions rocked the street above us. The bookshelves trembled, the floor shook, and I trembled too, helplessly engulfed by the vibrations.
I kept drifting into sleep, overwhelmed by exhaustion and strain. A semi-conscious state. My head drooped, my body felt unresponsive, heavy as lead… Everything around me blurred into an ethereal haze.
When I opened my eyes again, the world was shrouded in a dark greenish-blue twilight. Across from me, by a bookshelf, sat the girl who worked in the bookstore and had locked the doors. She rocked side to side, hugging her shoulders. Her mascara had run, her face was swollen, and her neat bun had unraveled into a disheveled mess. Katherine? Feeling my gaze, she lifted her eyes to meet mine.
“How much time has passed?” I whispered.
“Over five hours,” she replied softly.
I heard Sam exhale heavily and turned to look at him.
“What’s happening?”
For a moment, he was silent, carefully choosing his words.
“I… I don’t know how to describe it,” he said hoarsely. “It’s like hell itself broke loose.” His voice was rough. “We can’t let them see us. I tried to approach the exit to get a look outside. Those things noticed me – they started moving toward the doors, piling on them. I retreated to a blind spot, and luckily, something outside distracted them. I could hear the sirens from the street, then a repeated announcement over the loudspeakers.” Sam swallowed hard, his wide, glassy eyes staring at me, almost unblinking. “Don’t you remember? Didn’t you hear it?”
I shook my head.
“They were urging people not to panic, not to go outside, and to avoid contact with the infected. The infection broke loose in the city. They escaped the hospital…” Sam licked his dry lips. “About two hours ago, everything in the center suddenly went silent. But I didn’t risk going out again. There’s still noise from the street, but it feels farther away now, not directly above us. Then, about forty minutes later, there was a massive explosion, and after that… we lost all communication.”
“They’re outside,” Katherine said suddenly, her voice trembling. “The infected. They’re searching for something. We decided to wait here for help and not do anything rash for now…”
“You need water,” Sam said gently, coming over and touching my shoulder.
I shook my head, even though I was thirsty. My mind was a whirlwind of chaos, my thoughts tangled and confused. Every attempt to orient myself or analyze the situation felt futile. I was utterly terrified, and the fear was blinding, paralyzing – a viscous, relentless dread that wouldn’t let go.
Dort didn’t say a word. He simply hugged me, pulling me close. I hadn’t even noticed the tears streaming down my face. My thoughts turned to Andrew – he was still out there, near the hospital – and I worried for his life, for mine and Sam’s. The walls and ceiling seemed to press down on us, suffocating, yet beyond this confined space lay even greater uncertainty and danger.
What if we couldn’t get out? What if this was a trap? Or what if we ended up sealed in here forever?
Ironically, almost mockingly, a shelf of religious books stood directly across from us. In the center was a crimson Book of Scriptures, its cover adorned with intricate golden lettering that read: “We Are Under the Protection of the Mother Goddess.”
“Steph,” Dort whispered softly, stroking my hair, “Calm down… It’s going to be okay, do you hear me?
I nodded, clutching at his sweatshirt, silently repeating a single word – impossible – trying to comprehend why no help was coming, why people had turned savage, becoming bloodthirsty monsters, and why we were trapped in this surreal parody of horrific legends from the past. I tried to understand what would happen next – or if anything would happen at all.
Breathe in. Breathe out. The most important thing was to stop the panic. Panic was the enemy, the dagger in your back, the most dangerous thing in moments of chaos. It was a miracle we’d stayed in the bookstore, avoiding being trampled in the confusion of the crowd.
Everything felt like a fog… Like a lousy production, a bad show.
I didn’t know what was happening outside the shopping center. I didn’t want to know and couldn’t even bring myself to think about trying to break out – though I told myself that sooner or later, I’d have to take that risk – because the world had frozen, shrunk, and I too was paralyzed, bound by fear. Could this night ever end? Could the darkness ever pass? Or were we doomed to stay in this cage of the suffocating store, forever losing the chance to step outside? It felt as though we were trapped in an endless cycle of a small hell, woven from primal fear, confusion, and long, blue shadows stretching their claws toward our hearts. As if we were doomed to remain forever among the bookshelves, under the watchful gaze of the figurine of the Mother with outstretched arms.
The lamps, emitting a dim light, hummed and flickered incessantly. In those moments when the bookstore was swallowed by darkness, it felt like they were about to emerge from behind the shelves, and it would be the end for us. I had no idea what they actually were. I just feared them. I feared the unknown and the danger that I couldn’t explain or comprehend. Each time, my heart would freeze, and I would gasp for air, pressing tighter against Dort. Katherine took off her shoes and paced back and forth near us, apparently trying to calm herself; Sam breathed heavily and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath.
I was horrified by the grim realization that we were trapped in a cage. And even more so by the fact that we had no idea what was happening upstairs. What if it was just as bad outside as it was here? What if it was worse?
The isolated North now seemed truly different. As did the attempts to hide the spreading epidemic. So, the contagion was already here? How soon would it reach the Central Lands? How soon would it be in the capital, engulfing Mukro? Would it reach The Cold Calm? How soon would it consume the entire State? From the Ice Sea to the Great Ocean? And why was nothing truly being done to stop it?
The shop lacked a ceiling, so when I looked up, my gaze caught on the pipes and wires. The lamps reminded me of those in a hospital, which only drove me deeper into a mad, agonizing fear. The absolute silence, broken only by the constant hum of the lamps, induced unbearable anxiety.
This couldn’t be happening for real. This couldn’t exist in reality.
Katherine suddenly stopped, listening intently. I tensed up and froze, barely breathing, but there were no sounds; I looked at the girl in confusion, but she just tried to smile. She took off her jacket and sat down on the floor next to me.
“Do you mind?” She asked, resting her head on my shoulder. “It’s getting chilly, don’t you think?”
“No, it hasn’t gotten colder,” I cautiously felt her forehead. “You have a fever.”
“It’s okay,” the girl smiled again, “Before the connection was lost, I managed to call my husband. He’s coming back from his business trip tomorrow and will take me out of here. Around eight in the morning. And everything will be fine.”
I looked at her with sympathy or condescension; did she really believe that everything would be fine? Or was it that I couldn’t believe those words? Katherine’s words, “everything will be fine,” didn’t comfort me. No, they sounded somehow doomed and eerie, as if they were harbingers of things turning out completely differently.
But I had to convince myself that it was just fear of the unknown that was fueling unbearable anxiety. I needed to calm down… And the only way to pull myself together was the simple act of self-suggestion, convincing myself that tomorrow everything would be better.
Because everything will be fine, right? Tomorrow Katherine will be taken away, tomorrow help will arrive. Tomorrow everything will go back to normal. Tomorrow we’ll get out of here. Tomorrow we’ll remember today with a smile, because tomorrow everything will be fine…
Heavens, give us the strength to survive this day and this night.
The feeling of emptiness and apathy. A state where emotionally you still can’t believe what has happened, while the mind coldly and cynically comprehends and weighs the outcome. As if neither alive nor dead, a piece of meat equipped with a brain that has lost the ability to think… In such moments, more than anything, you want to either lose yourself or scream, to howl, releasing what you can’t say out loud.
But we couldn’t scream. We couldn’t call for help, couldn’t help ourselves. I lost track of the time we spent in silence, sitting on the floor, glancing around nervously and afraid to breathe. Trying to escape by ourselves seemed impossible and insane, and passive waiting for the promised help, the mercy of the Heavens, or any resolution to this nightmare was the only option.
Resigned acceptance of our fate burned from within. The fear of unknown danger gave way to a monstrous anticipation of the end. The lights continued to flicker, and the lamps seemed to buzz louder.
The shelf with religious literature across from us. The Mother with outstretched arms.
Silence began to drive us all mad, and I spoke first in a halting whisper. About unrelated things. Anything to say something. Sam picked up the conversation. Katherine followed. We talked about books, about work, but not a word about what had happened, to avoid driving each other into even greater panic.
The girl soon dozed off.
The silence gave way to fear: what if salvation never comes? What if we have trapped ourselves in an even worse snare? What if we buried ourselves with our own hands? Closed the lid of the coffin with our own strength?
I jerked my head, pinched my wrist. Inside, everything tightened, and a chill wrapped around me.
Sam was fiddling with his dead phone – the battery had died – but that gadget was pointless anyway. The connection was gone. My legs had gone numb; I carefully stood up. Dort, flinching, looked at me in confusion.
“Where are you going?” he asked, but I didn’t answer, lost in my own thoughts. Sam’s handsome face had acquired a pained, tortured look, his golden hair seemed duller, and his favorite warm, bright hoodie with the little monster on it mocked all this madness.
The past was erased. The future had vanished. Political games, journalistic adventures, civic protests, ambitious plans – everything crumbled to dust in my hands, ash in my teeth. In the moment when death was breathing down my neck, even the State’s hell seemed like heaven, a place I wished to return to.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, took off my shoes, and tiptoed to the edge of the shelf, peering out from behind it.
The glass was smeared with dirty red streaks. In the grocery store – shadows of a few moving figures. Were they human? Their movements were slow, broken. There were no bodies of those attacked, those torn apart. Only blood. Its streaks. Shreds of flesh. Pieces of clothing.
I flinched. Where are they? Where are they?! It can’t be possible to get up and leave after that, can it? Could they have been eaten completely? With bones?! And, heavens forbid, eaten?! The rescuers hadn’t come, the medics hadn’t shown up; had the bodies been taken somewhere? But where? By whom?
I staggered, horrified by my own thoughts. Eaten. Impossible! … Bullshit, it's all bullshit – just gossip, fabrications, rumors woven from clouded minds and slander, schemes by customs barons and audacious mayors… This was a performance, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? So people would look for salvation in the government?
A wave of nausea hit me again, and I quickly turned away. Closed my eyes, holding my head. The ground seemed to slip away beneath my feet. I took a step back, stumbled.
Would salvation come? When would we be rescued? Would they rescue us? What if everything turns out differently?
I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the strength of my heartbeat.
Sam watched every move I made, his face a mask of feigned calm, as if trying to reassure me, but it only made me shiver. Instead of thinking of others or saying words, my mind was consumed by a torrent of thoughts in search of an exit, an explanation; trying to connect the past and present, trying to distinguish a future in the thickening darkness. Everything had blurred. All that existed now was the store. Silence. And primal fear, fueled by the unknown.
What if we had come a day earlier? What if our conversation with Givori had gone as originally planned? Would everything have been different? Would I have understood what was happening, even a little?
On the wall was an evacuation plan for a fire. I knew that sitting here was not an option. But it seemed there was no other way. Neither Sam nor Katherine could say anything useful to me, only confusing me further and fueling panic.
My stomach growled loudly. I turned around in fear…
“Are you hungry?” Sam asked with an expressionless face, though he was tense.
I shook my head, even though the only thing that had been in my stomach since the morning was a cup of second-rate coffee. At the mere mention of food, a sour taste filled my mouth, and my stomach turned. In front of me was the image beyond the glass. But the weakness in my body was undeniable. On the edge of consciousness, I knew I had to force myself to swallow something.
“Sam,” I said with some pleading in my voice, approaching him and sitting down beside him. “Sam, we will be saved, right? Did you hear Katherine’s conversation? Did you hear that help is coming?”
He cast a glance at me and clenched his teeth so tightly that the muscles in his face tensed; he remained silent for a few seconds. Then he let out a heavy breath and tried to force a semblance of a smile onto his face.
“Of course!” Sam nodded. “They’ll rescue us! I heard it myself. I heard it, Steph.”
“What exactly did they say?”
“Stephanie,” the guy shook his head. “Everything will be okay. Soon everything will become clear, and we’ll go back to living like we did before,” but before I could respond, Dort interrupted, more to himself, “But… live like before? How? With memories like these? I can’t imagine ever being able to sleep peacefully again. Or perceiving the world like I did before,” he faltered and looked at me, long and seriously. Katherine shifted and froze again; she was tossing and turning in her sleep, coughing, and moaning. Sam and I exchanged worried glances.
“Yes,” I said hoarsely and dully, as if it wasn’t my own voice. “What happened will change everything.”
My stomach growled unpleasantly, and we barely managed to eat a couple of crackers. Then, to distract myself, I grabbed the first book I could find from the shelf and began to read, stopping every minute to listen to the silence; however, I had grown accustomed to the hum of the lamps and the endless flickering of the lights. After a while, Sam started reading too, to kill the dragging minutes.
I scanned the sentences with my eyes, not understanding what was written. I looked at the letters but couldn’t read the words. My head hurt. A feeling of anxiety buzzed in my chest. Unnoticed by myself, I tapped my foot on the floor, tense. Time stretched on, and my emotions gradually dulled.
I spent the night in a state similar to oblivion. I remember how Katherine woke up a few times, how she had hysterics, and Sam and I tried to calm her down; how the light went out completely, and fear surged again. How I was afraid to open my eyes when those monsters started pounding on the door of the bookstore; how I sat, hugging my knees and trying not to cry. How distant sirens wailed above us. How the echoes of explosions resonated. How I wanted to run from this place. How Sam first slept while I kept watch, thinking I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. How Dort then took over my watch, and I lay on the floor, curled up, staring at one spot.
And I became that spot. A tiny grain of sand among billions of stars in the endless, cold sky.
And I didn’t know how long it had been before the anxious and painful sleep overcame me. I don’t remember when exhaustion overtook me so completely that it swallowed me into oblivion. I dreamed that I was running somewhere, and someone was chasing me, but I couldn’t see his face. I ran, not feeling the ground beneath my feet, stumbling, falling, getting back up. A mountain loomed in front of me, but I didn’t have the strength to reach it – I kept running and running, unable to move forward. I dreamed of the dead attacking the living… In the dream, I was sure those creatures were the dead. I dreamed of blood. Lots of blood. My hands were covered in someone else's blood. And I cried in my sleep. I cried uncontrollably, gasping, choking on my own tears. I pleaded for help, screamed into the sky, and got no answer. And I felt the pain tearing me apart from the inside… And I dreamed of snow. I lay on the ground, looking up at the gray sky, and large snowflakes fell on me. It was so cold that I couldn’t feel my body. But I felt something cold and slippery constricting my throat, like snakes. The snow fell. And the terrible fear…
I woke up suddenly, breathing heavily and quickly turning from my back to my side. My heart was pounding wildly. There was a dull thud at the door. Darkness. A monotonous echo. Helplessness.
“Sam?” I whispered, shivering uncontrollably and looking around. “Sam?!”
The guy appeared from behind the shelf, armed with a long mop. His hair was disheveled, his reddened eyes were inflamed.
“Shh,” he hissed. “They’re there. Four of them. And…” Sam swallowed the rest of the sentence. He couldn’t finish. There's no escaping reality.
I wanted to scream to drown out the external sounds, but I only nodded to Sam, sinking back down to the floor and staring up at the ceiling.
The realization of my own helplessness in the face of the circumstances was suffocating. There was a way out. The only way. And it led up, through the doors.
But outside, behind the glass, the infected were waiting for us. Were they even alive? It was impossible to survive with such wounds. Could it be that monsters from ancient legends and forgotten tales had emerged into our world? Could those terrifying creatures spoken of in the ominous prophecies of religious texts become reality? Ghosts from nightmares. Phantoms from the worn myths of distant icy lands. What else could those dreadful entities be? Madmen? Cannibals? Was it all just a harbinger of the impending end, as the Goddess Mother sang about in the scriptures?
All we could do was wait. And we didn’t even know what or who we were waiting for. Inaction clouded our minds, painting horrific images of the imminent future that awaited us. If it even existed for us. Who knew what was happening above right now?
We had come for materials, but had ended up in a trap. Why hadn’t the news from the past few weeks stopped us? Why hadn’t the widespread city closures scared us? Why had we taken it so lightly and let the seriousness pass us by? Why had we so easily pushed aside the memory of those patients in the hospital who bit, tore, and growled? Why had the people on the street become just like those patients?..
And most importantly.
Why hadn’t the Three disclosed the information about the Northern Plague? Why hadn’t they shed light on what was happening in the North and taken preemptive action?
Sam continued to stand a little way off, peering through the gaps between the bookshelves at the door. Holding the mop. Wearing a T-shirt with a caricatured monster. The absurdity and horror of the situation were overwhelming. Could anything be so funny when blood freezes in your veins?
What was happening had engulfed us completely, like a sudden wave knocking an unsuspecting person off their feet and throwing them onto the hot sand. It was hard to gather our thoughts and think everything through logically, but that was exactly what we needed to do. But could we?..
We were too scared. Too lost.
Snow was falling. Large flakes drifted down. Another dream, where there was only an endless white field and a gray sky… but the ground was soaked with blood.
I don’t know when I dozed off. I just fell into unconsciousness for a couple of hours – vague, blurred dreams woven from eerie visions and equally frightening memories – and when I opened my eyes again, hoping to see my room or, at the very least, the ceiling of the trailer, a groan of disappointment escaped my chest. For the first few seconds, I lay there, curled up in a ball, unable to summon the strength to get up. I heard Katherine speaking quietly to Sam.
Alienation. As if my body didn’t belong to me, as if the hours of captivity were not mine, not experienced by me, not lived through by me.
“What time is it?” I finally managed to say.
Katherine flinched, and Sam turned to look at me with concern.
“Almost eight,” the girl replied, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear; I nodded briefly as I sat up and glanced at Sam. “And… they’re gone.”
For a brief moment, I felt an overwhelming lightness, relief, and Katherine's naive words seemed to lift a weight off my shoulders. It was the fraction of a moment when I allowed myself to believe that the infected had left and that we could leave the store and finally escape this terrible place – deciding to do so was frightening, but waiting for an illusory help was even scarier – to step outside and finally find out what had really happened. Then I could forget this entire day, wipe the nightmare from my mind forever!
But such a bright and perfect fantasy suddenly frightened me. Even disoriented me. And a vague doubt gripped my lungs with panic. No one was washing the blood-stained floors. No one was going to work. No one was trying to save us. My back was already damp with sweat, and it took extraordinary effort to breathe in and out, trying to push away the confusion and think coldly.
I desperately wanted to hope that everything would soon return to normal. It had to return. I still believed that. And faith was the only thing we had left.
“Steph?” I flinched and looked at Sam. He must have called me more than once.
“We have to leave here. Now. While we have the chance,” I stated firmly.
“Leave?” Sam looked bewildered, and his voice was full of undeniable worry.
“What if they… are still out there?” Katherine clutched at the large wooden buttons of her jacket. “Help is supposed to come for us. Maybe we should wait?” She added with hope, but I shook my head stubbornly.
The exit seemed non-existent, the existence of the world outside the bookstore unnatural; but staying here and waiting for the outcome meant only a temporary lull before the inevitable end. I had no plan, I didn't understand what was happening, I didn’t know what to do. I knew nothing, and the only conviction that was growing stronger was the dulled realization that I needed to save myself.
A quick, terrible end was better than endless horror. But I didn’t know then…
“We need to go,” I repeated insistently. “Think, what if help never comes?” My voice was soft, emotionless; I glanced sideways at Sam, whose face showed doubt and strange notes of bitterness and disappointment. “How long will we stay here? How much time do we have before it's no longer safe? We can't be sure who they are or what they’re capable of. Who will guarantee that we’re protected from the threat?” A short pause. “We are without information, without knowledge; only one thing is certain… I won't stay underground.”
“And who will guarantee that we’ll be safe above? And what will we do when we get out?” Katherine, taking a shaky breath, did not back down.
“Sam,” I ignored her question, looking into Dort’s face, “don’t forget, Andrew is still out there. He wouldn’t have left without us, I’m sure of it. We need to go back. We have to go back. While there’s still a chance to escape.”
Dort continued to stand silently, staring at me, but then hesitantly nodded, glancing briefly at Katherine.
It all felt like some kind of nonsense, a dream, hallucinations.
“Alright,” I pushed my hair back, “fine, let’s try.”
Sam reached out a hand, helping me to my feet, and handed me a bottle of water; then, without saying a word, he walked behind the shelf to check the situation outside the glass. Katherine immediately got up, holding her bag and handing me my backpack. She was swollen from crying and barely stood, looking as though she could only take a few steps before collapsing unconscious.
“Let’s go,” I whispered, taking her arm, “we’ll catch up to Sam.”
He was already waiting for us, clutching that ridiculous mop and watching the darkness of the hall outside the glass with suspicion. We paused at the door for a few moments. The dreadful darkness seemed to crawl across the floor, intermittently illuminated by flashes of light. Thick darkness. Tar-like. I looked ahead and didn’t want to cross the threshold of the bookstore. Yet, I didn’t break my desperate gaze at Sam, catching his reflection and mentally commanding myself to be brave.
Katherine took out the keys and approached the door…
“Let’s go!” I said hoarsely as soon as the girl threw it open; a sharp, nauseating stench of decay hit my nose, and a sour taste filled my mouth. I covered the lower half of my face with my hand, trying to fight the urge to vomit. Hastily, but cautiously, we made our way to the stairs, glancing around and nervously looking over our shoulders. The floor was dark with traces of blood, scraps of clothing, chunks of meat… Somewhere in the depths of the darkened grocery store, a shadow flickered. “Sam!” I whispered quickly, tugging at the back of his hoodie, “Sam!” He turned, holding the mop in front of him. “Faster! To the stairs!”
Katherine grabbed my hand, and we sprinted together. My heart pounded in my throat, and my ears filled with a whistling, droning sound. Sam followed us. The landings passed in what seemed like a few steps, although my legs felt like jelly. At the very top, I stopped abruptly, holding Katherine and Dort back, and peeked over the railing into the hall – it was empty. Only blood, shattered glass, an overturned coffee vending machine… and a lifeless, torn body in the corner.
It felt like I had been struck. I gasped for air, unable to tear my gaze away. My chest tightened, and a chill wrapped around my spine. Sam tried to pull me, but I still stood frozen.
Fear. Fear. Fear. It poisoned, bound, chained.
“Stephanie, we need to go, – Dort pulled me forward; now he was cautiously and carefully leading us to the exit. Katherine still gripped my hand tightly, trying to stay as close as possible, and we looked around nervously, feeling neither the floor beneath us nor the strength in our legs. I could clearly hear some noises.
What’s happening, Heaven? What’s happening?! There was no feeling of life, only the breath of death slipping out of every corner.
“Let’s go!” Sam opened the door to the street. “Faster, ahead, faster!”
We burst out into the street. First, the blinding light – just for a second, only because we had been in the dark for so long – then the breeze carrying the smoky scent of burning and blood. After that, a silent scream ripped from my chest and my vision cleared. Sam froze, looking around in shock. Katherine covered her mouth with her hand… And I, taking an uneven step forward, swayed.
Overturned, smoking cars, houses scorched with soot. Nearby, a crashed helicopter with a twisted body, flames flickering on its tail. Silence. Deep, dead silence. People’s bodies. Torn apart, heads shattered. In the distance, a lone car sped by, wheels screeching, knocking everything in its path.
The strong, cold wind burned my face, ruffling my hair in an instant. The sky was dark and heavy with clouds, and no light worked. Around us was destruction, chaos, mayhem. It felt as if we had been cast into a completely different world. We had lived in one world; just yesterday, we had lived in that world, and today, we had been transported into an even more terrifying, twisted reality. I couldn’t think, let alone breathe properly… And even after seeing all the bodies below, after witnessing a person being torn apart before my eyes. I couldn’t believe this was real. Especially when I saw even more bodies outside.
Katherine, collapsing to the ground, whimpered softly to avoid crying out loud. I wanted to scream, but I remained silent. I wanted to wake up, forget, go home. But this was not a dream.
“Carlos!” Katherine suddenly cried out, and I almost screamed in surprise. I quickly turned around, seeing the girl throw herself around the neck of a young man who had a huge backpack slung over his shoulders. Katherine was sobbing uncontrollably, unable to calm down, while the stranger held her close, running his hands through her hair and urgently whispering in her ear. Then he looked at Sam and me and nodded.
“Thank you,” the young man rasped tiredly, “for being with her…”
“What happened?” Sam asked, almost interrupting.
“No idea, really,” Carlos replied anxiously. “At first, they told everyone to stay home, barricade ourselves, and wait for further instructions. They spoke about the danger of crossing paths with those creatures… Many didn’t follow the instructions, and by the afternoon, mass panic had started. Reports began coming in about a city-wide evacuation, and then the city was hit by airstrikes,” the man shook his head. “I can’t explain or describe it. Everything became a blur… But the city is a trap. We need to leave. There are no customs checkpoints. There’s nothing left here. My advice to you – take a car and leave as quickly as possible; staying here is pure madness. We’d take you with us, but all the spots are filled.”
“It’s okay,” Sam said, swallowing hard and nodding. “We have people waiting for us too.”
Katherine turned to us without saying a word. In her eyes was a silent farewell. She wiped her eyes and reached into her pocket, and in the next moment, she threw me the keys to the store.
“If you ever need to come back,” Katherine sniffled, and I thought that I never wanted to set foot in that place again. “Goodbye! Good luck!”
Carlos, still holding Katherine close, led her across the street.
Suddenly, a shiver of thunder rolled through the air; it felt as if the sky above us shook. I flinched and grabbed Sam’s hoodie, and we unsteadily moved away. He supported me, whispering something, while I could barely move my feet. Step by step, each one more painful than the last.
Dark. Chilly. Quiet. Everything around was anthracite-gray, smoking, lifeless. The world seemed to absorb the soft sounds of our footsteps, echoing in the emptiness. And the bodies. Blood and bodies.
In all my life, I had never seen anything like this.
After what felt like an agonizingly long few minutes, Sam suddenly froze. His eyes widened, he squeezed my hand so hard it hurt, and he muttered frantically:
“Steph, look!”