Ancient Northern legends spoke of the Queen of the Gloom, the personification of death; of how she would come into the world on Judgment Day and shroud it with her sister, the Mistress of the Ice Marshes, with ice floes and cold. This was why it was believed that death's breath was frosty, and why the sense of her presence made one shiver.
And in that moment, I felt death's breath touch my neck, sliding down my spine. In that moment, I felt the presence of death beside me. In that moment, nightmares came to life.
The infected were undeniably dead. With such wounds, life was impossible. But the infected kept coming.
I screamed. I wailed, unable to be silent. Norman immediately pressed me to him, covering my mouth with his hand, and I felt how I was shuddering from within, how everything inside me was tightening; I was trembling, shaking as if in a painful fit. Darkness clouded my vision.
The horribly tormented bodies—torn, gnawed at, and reeking—moved toward us from all directions, gasping, delirious, their glassy, yellowing eyes staring.
“Run! We need to get out of here!” Robert's sharp voice snapped me out of my daze; Norman was already pulling me toward the exit… And we ran. “Faster! To the street, everyone!”
Those creatures had always been so close.
A second wind came. All exhaustion vanished in an instant; the instinct for self-preservation was stronger. The only thought spinning in my mind was: "Get out of here! Run! Save yourself!" I ran, not feeling the floor beneath my feet and not knowing if I was really running forward or standing still.
In one second, my entire life flashed before my eyes…
One of the creatures jumped – whether my inflamed brain perceived it that way or it truly happened – and nearly grabbed me. I swallowed a cry, feeling myself pulled backward. Later, recalling it, I could say with certainty: Norman saved my life in that moment. Norman, holding me tightly, saved my life. If he hadn't reacted, I would have died.
I could have died then, on the first day…
We burst outside. The cold air struck my face.
“Doors! Shut those damn doors!” Robert's deep voice echoed dully in my consciousness, striking my ears with a metallic resonance. “John, Steven, hurry!”
I didn't want to stop. Run! Run away from the building! But Norman kept holding me firmly by the elbow, and when I tried to break free again, he pulled me toward him.
Stan and Michael were pushing against the doors, preventing them from opening under the pressure from the other side, while two other Gorgons tied the door handles together with paracord. Sarah reloaded her weapon lightning-fast, while Sam, stepping back slightly, fell to the ground, covering his face with his hands and pulling his knees to his chest.
I stood bent over, trying to catch my breath. Gasping for air, I glanced around in fear, unable to understand: why weren't we running away? There wasn't enough air in my lungs.
They were close. They had been right there all this time.
Robert once again unsuccessfully tried to establish contact over the radio. No one responded. Only static and noise. I shifted my gaze down the avenue and saw more figures in the distance – their jerky, unnatural movements, their angular gait, as though they had lost control of their own bodies – silently, I opened my mouth, turned to Norman, trying to say, to show… He nodded briefly, then waved his hand towards the commander…
“Sbort, we need to leave now!” Stan said, breathing heavily as he adjusted the straps of his vest. Behind him, the infected slammed against the doors, leaving marks on the glass that were either bloody or purulent. “We can’t delay! We can't afford to be stupid!”
“You’re overstepping,” Robert shifted his gaze to Taren, who immediately paled and took half a step back.
Dark, coal-gray clouds had covered the sky. They swirled, clustering together. The city was shrouded in an impenetrable blanket. Blood. Smoke. Ashes. Emptiness. People were nowhere to be seen. I looked at a figure in the distance, moving slowly toward us, hearing the creaking and wheezing behind the doors, and the thought flashed instantly that things would never be the same. That the world we knew was gone.
“I should have told him to head straight to the cars,” Sarah said quietly to Norman, “and we would have met up there. You know he would have made it.”
“No, we can’t split up again. And not in this condition…” The Gorgon didn't finish. The echo of a couple of consecutive gunshots spread through the area. Shots fired nearby; the soldiers stood rigid, scanning their surroundings. At that moment, the first cracks appeared in the door.
“Robert,” I gasped in a voice that wasn't mine, watching as the spiderweb cracks spread across the glass.
A second. Two.
Another gunshot rang out very close, and I instinctively turned around. A soldier burst out of the alley, jumping over a body that had fallen at his feet. He seemed to be covered in blood.
“Sbort, over here! Hurry, before these things catch me!”
“Chris!” Sarah cried out joyfully, rushing forward. The next second, the rest of the Gorgons charged forward, and Dort and I followed them.
It felt as if just turning around would mean being grabbed. Breathing was painful – my chest felt as though it were being squeezed by iron clamps.
A blood-covered man lunged forward, pulling others with him. Robert shouted something. My peripheral vision captured an image that would stay with me forever – a mutilated body lying at the corner of a house: blood soaked the blue dress of the girl, her torn flesh covered with a film of whitish pus.
There was no need to ask questions. We just needed to run, to keep running… My heart pounded, and the panic from everything happening around us didn't let up for a second. It felt as if nature itself were aiding in this madness, lowering leaden clouds, pressing the thin bushes and grass down to the ground. The cold wind swept through the streetlights, buildings, and lonely trees beyond the road, picking up debris and scattering it from place to place.
A light, cold rain began to fall.
At some point, I realized that no one understood what was happening. Everyone was just running somewhere, running from someone. Past houses, across streets and alleyways. And I kept seeing the infected. They were multiplying.
How fortunate that I was wearing combat boots!
My breath caught. We ran through a narrow gap between two buildings. The air reeked of dampness and feces. We quickly emerged into an alley, turning around the corner of a house… I flinched and took a step back. The soldiers stopped abruptly, raising their weapons without hesitation. Dozens of people blocked the path. Infected people. I clutched Sam's arm.
“We need to go,” Robert said with a trembling voice, trying to remain calm, “quietly turn around…”
The infected noticed us. They heard us, sensed us. Their glazed eyes fixed on us. The triumph of nightmare. The triumph of death. Gurgling sounds, as if water or blood were in their lungs, erupted from somewhere deep within the creatures. They began to move toward us, some slowly, others too quickly.
Dead. Impossible. This couldn't be real.
"Let's go! Let's go!" Robert shouted quickly, and we tried to rush back… But they were here too. On the other side of the street, another dozen of these creatures. I realized with horror that we were surrounded… A wild panic surged inside me. I wanted to scream, grabbing my hair with both hands… "Up! Everyone to the stairs! Now!"
I looked around. On the building, in that foul passage, there was a fire escape leading up to a window on the third floor. Sam immediately pushed me toward it. Everyone rushed there, trying to avoid the infected. The stench was no longer noticeable. The first of the soldiers climbed up skillfully, one after another.
Growling and moaning came from all sides. They were getting closer and closer, and we were trapped…
“Shayer!” Robert barked; I nearly jumped out of my skin. The commander pushed me toward the stairs, "Come on! Move! Move!"
The wheezing and guttural sounds echoed through the alley.
I came to my senses as I was already climbing up, clutching the cold metal rungs. Step. Another step. I couldn’t feel anything beneath me. Sam climbed behind me. Then Michael. When I was near the top, I saw Robert being the last to climb the ladder, kicking away an approaching infected person.
Those seconds will remain in my memory forever, as some of the most terrifying – that feeling of overwhelming fear, cold and all-consuming, will stay with me.
Everything ceased to exist; the world around seemed like it had never been there… Only disbelief. Only the desire to climb higher as quickly as possible. Only the fear of being grabbed and pulled down.
I was even surprised when the ladder suddenly ended, and I was pulled up onto a sort of small balcony made of rusty metal bars and grates, covered with loose wooden planks. Horrified, I shrank away from the edge of the partition, pressing against the cold concrete wall. I breathed deeply; my head and ears felt hot and heavy. I could hear the creatures clinging to the rungs of the ladder, scratching it, shaking it like… What if they climb up now? Where would we run then?
But no one was climbing after us. The Gorgons stood at the edge of the partition, watching what was happening below, and Sam peeked out from behind them. I cautiously took a step toward Dort, touching his shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the soldiers approach the window, knock on it, and shine a flashlight inside. The infected continued to move around below.
The sound of breaking glass echoed, and I flinched and turned around. The Gorgons also turned.
A bloodied man – Christopher, as I understood – smashed the glass with his elbow and shook his hand.
“I think it’s better to wait there,” he said, glancing around at everyone. For a moment, his eyes settled on Sam, then on me. The man raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, that would be better,” Robert nodded, “check out the apartment. We’ll take a break. It’s been two days without sleep. We need rest. We can’t get through outside anyway – it’s cold,” the commander added, glancing down once more.
We began to climb inside in the order given by Sbort.
I approached the window, leaned on the frame, and carefully made my way inside the stuffy and dark apartment, trying not to cut myself on the shards of glass. It was damp. Chilly. A thick layer of dust covered all the surfaces; no one had been here for a long time. A lonely lightbulb hung from a wire from the whitewashed ceiling. The gray wallpaper rippled, and in the corners, it had peeled off and hung down.
"Clear," Michael's voice came. "Clear," Norman echoed him. I climbed onto the bed in the corner of the room, hugged my knees, trying to calm the shaking and stay out of the way. The tension in the air grew, palpable on a physical level. Something was brewing, evident in the looks and the sharp movements of everyone present.
Christopher returned from the other room, throwing three Gorgon backpacks onto the floor. The other soldiers turned to look at him as he cast a look toward Robert from beneath his brows; Chris’s arms were literally covered in blood up to his elbows. His entire face, neck, and clothing were caked in dried and cracked blood and dirt. His eyes were swollen and red. He breathed heavily, licked his upper lip as if to say something, but then Stan, throwing a backpack with force, turned directly toward Chris.
“You went back for the others, didn't you?” Stan spat through clenched teeth. “And Charles went with you. So why did you come back alone?” The muscles in his face twitched with tension. Christopher met his hard gaze but remained silent. “You couldn't get them out, could you?” Taren’s voice broke into a rasp; Chris's silence was driving him mad. “Where’s my brother? Where's Charles?! What happened?! Answer me, Lewis, this damn second!”
I glanced anxiously at the Gorgons, at Robert, expecting someone to step in any moment. But everyone remained still. Sbort tiredly covered the upper half of his face, pressing his fingers to his eyes.
“Pretty much what happened, I suppose, with Amanda,” Christopher finally retorted bitterly. “That was her uniform, right?” He nodded in my direction, and my breath caught with anxiety as the image of the girl’s lifeless body reappeared in my mind, her limp arm dripping with thick, crimson blood… Her clothes were still warm. “Fantastic, our plan to get out of the city quickly! So, sacrificing our own people is acceptable, but saving civilians is our sacred duty!” The words were no longer directed at Stan. Christopher, whose neck veins were bulging, turned to Robert. “So you gave me the order to return and leave the others behind. Not to take the wounded. Not to save the surrounded. You told us to leave,” Chris almost growled, enunciating each word. “You sacrificed us, your own people,” he punched his chest with force, “but goddamn it, you brought civilians with you?!
It seemed to me that even the Gorgons were looking at Christopher with some apprehension. But not Sbort. He placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head back slightly. Robert remained silent, looking tired and slightly concerned.
“You don't think that they,” Chris nodded in Sam's and my direction, “will be able to fend for themselves? Or that they can hold off the horde of monsters outside? No? Then who, in your opinion, will protect them?” The man gritted his teeth. There was a feeling that he was holding himself back with all his strength to avoid exploding. “Or do you want us to protect them? Risk our lives? How many more Gorgons do you need to lose here?” Chris spat the last phrase through clenched teeth, shaking with anger. For a few seconds, an uneasy silence settled, and then…
“And how many do you need, Lewis?” Stan asked quietly. “What happened? Why is it that no one but you returned?”
“You’re saying I left them behind?!” Christopher erupted, leaping to his feet like a hurricane; if anyone or anything had been in his way, he would have smashed through it without a second thought. The soldier caught up with Stan in just a few steps and loomed over him.
“You. Brought. Three. Backpacks,” Taren growled into his face. “Your own. And two more. That means you could take them. That means their owners weren’t surrounded, weren’t cut off from you. So why did you come back without them?”
“Because they were dead,” Chris rasped coldly through clenched teeth. “Your brother became just like the creatures outside. He attacked Isaac. And tore him apart.”
“You’re lying!” Stan suddenly snapped and grabbed Chris by his vest. “You left them and ran!”
For a couple of seconds, Christopher remained calm. Then, suddenly and forcefully, he struck Taren in the solar plexus, hitting him in the ribs, and in one quick movement twisted his comrade’s arms behind his back and pushed him away. Michael managed to catch Stan, who was flying toward the wall, and gripped him tightly to keep him still. I froze, watching the scene unfold and the soldiers’ reactions closely.
With a wild look, Lewis scanned the room; a smirk twisted his lips. He straightened up, spreading his arms out to the sides. Bloody arms.
“Does anyone else still think I ran away? Hm?” And Christopher laughed. It was so bitter and harsh that I physically felt pain in my chest. Pulling the corner of his lips into a sneer, Chris looked at Stan. “You weren't there. None of you were there,” the man shifted his gaze to Robert. “And you’re still silent. Do you also think I chose to save my own skin? Or are you thinking about how to punish me for breaking your orders? And I will break them again. I won't lift a finger for these,” he waved a hand in my direction, “if they’re torn apart next to me. If they attack them, whether they’re alive or dead, I won’t fire a single shot. If they beg for help – I’ll walk right by.” The words rang and whistled in my head, and the last words of the soldier echoed like a sharp clang. I looked around for protection, but the tired Gorgons stood, glancing between Christopher and Robert. “And you,” Lewis suddenly spun around to face Stan, pointing at him, “are a worthless bastard, Taren. And I’d be glad if it had been you instead of Charles. Since you didn’t die on the first try, know your place. Do you hear me? Know. Your. Place. If you come at me again, I’ll rip your spine out.”
“Chris,” Robert's voice was calm but firm. I shifted my frightened gaze from Chris to Stan, but he… remained silent. Lewis straightened up, turning his face toward the commander. “Check if the shower works. Wash up. And go to bed. No one will bother you until we leave,” Sbort said quietly and emotionlessly.
Lewis took half a step back, frowning:
“What?”
“Go rest, Chris,” the commander repeated in a restrained tone, looking almost fatherly into the Gorgon's face. “I need you alert and clear-headed.”
Lewis gave a final look to everyone in the room. He shook his head, slowly turned, and headed toward the doorway, where a dark wooden dresser stood. He paused for a moment. Then, with a wild, animal rage, he shoved the dresser to the floor; I gasped loudly, someone cursed, and the room was filled with the terrifying crash. And Christopher quickly disappeared into the darkness of the next room.
Robert showed absolutely no reaction.
The wind was howling outside, and the rain was intensifying. Sbort ordered everyone to rest. He assigned the watch duties and refused to answer questions or comment on anything. When Sam tried to protest, insisting that we needed to hurry to get to the Gorgon’s cars and then our trailer as soon as possible, Robert cut him off sharply: "My people will not take a single step until they've slept for at least a couple of hours. They've been on their feet for two days. They're exhausted both physically and mentally. But if you're in such a hurry to leave, no one is stopping you and the doors aren't locked." Sam probably expected me to back him up, but I nodded in agreement to Sbort, took off my boots, and placed them on the floor next to my bag. I knew well that we were now dependent on the Gorgons, and we had to accept the decisions of their commander. Besides, I felt like I wouldn’t make it anywhere; I simply didn’t have the strength.
The Gorgons went about their business in silence: some stayed in the same room, cleaning and reloading their weapons, while others moved to the next room. Robert, pulling out a map, studied it intently, making quick notes. One of the soldiers, if I wasn’t mistaken, his name was John, was trying to set up a mobile communication unit and connect with the nearest military bases or the capital. "Mukro, do you read me? This is The Gorgon, I repeat, this is The Gorgon, location °22-1-20-21-14, Isthmus Region. Urgent report of a critical situation. We need air support, do you copy?" – "Crap… H… hard to… hear… us… Pr…m…"
Steven was rummaging through the cupboard and drawers, searching for anything useful.
I tried to observe and analyze, focusing my thoughts only on that to distract myself and calm down. It was chilly. I tried not to think about being side by side with the privileged government military group; the danger of being near them was nothing compared to the apocalypse unfolding on the streets.
Sarah appeared in the doorway. She looked at me, then at Robert (who gave a short nod), and then quickly, on tiptoe, crossed the room in my direction.
“Why are you lying here? The window is broken, there’s a draft. And it’s pouring rain,” she said, but before I could answer, she continued. “In the next room, there’s a giant king-size bed. We’ve already made it up, come on. It’ll be warmer and more comfortable. There’s even a free chair there,” she said, turning to Sam. He reluctantly got up and shuffled toward the second room.
“Thanks, Sarah, but I think I’ll stay here, because…”
“Go to the other room, Stephanie,” Robert interrupted me without taking his eyes off the map and simultaneously adjusting the frequency switch on the receiver. “It’s getting too cold in here.”
A dark room with one small window boarded up with wooden slats. The confined space made my head spin, and my breath caught. Through the narrow gaps between the beams, cold, pale light streamed in – the thickening darkness of the street seemed bright compared to the gloom of the room. A bed, smelling of dust, took up most of the space. A non-functional television on the wall. A worn-out armchair in the corner. Sam, curled up in a ball and covered with some blanket.
I lay on the right edge of the bed; colorful spots danced in front of my eyes, and I tried to breathe more evenly to fight the tightness in my chest. Sarah was breathing quietly beside me. Behind her, Norman had already fallen asleep, instantly cut off. Another spot – on the left edge – remained unoccupied for now.
I wanted desperately to sleep; fatigue coursed through every part of my body. But on some unconscious level, I scolded myself: Steph, how can you want to sleep when there’s so much chaos around? How can you fall asleep peacefully when you don’t know if Andrew is safe, if he’s waiting for you, or even if you are safe right now? I couldn’t allow myself to rest. I felt guilty for wanting sleep when there was chaos and madness all around. Although I understood that it was the emotional rollercoaster, the fear, the horror, and the confusion – those were the reasons for my exhausted and shattered state.
Sarah was right: this room was warmer – the wind didn’t blow so freely here, and raindrops didn’t come in – plus, we were all lying close to each other, warming ourselves with our bodies. And I did feel a bit safer; it was, of course, an imagined, illusory safety – but a body drifting into sleep didn’t pay attention to the details.
The door opened and a man walked in. For a moment, he was illuminated by the dim light from the next room. At first, I didn’t recognize him. The outline of his face was defined by a strip of beard running from his chin to his lower lip. Dark hair of medium length, shorter on the sides. On the left side of his neck, dark tattoo lines extended to his shoulder and, apparently, across his back and chest. Snake-like lines covered his entire right forearm and part of his upper arm. On the back of his left forearm, an all-seeing eye within a triangle, riddled with lines and inscriptions. All these tattoos became visible when the man washed the blood and dirt off himself. There had been so much blood and dirt that it had obscured the designs on his body. Christopher Lewis. The man who said he wouldn’t move if someone attacked me or Sam.
The Gorgon's footsteps were almost silent; he lowered himself onto the spot he had left on the bed and exhaled quietly, covering his face with his forearm. I pulled the blanket tighter around me, instinctively seeking refuge. The man did not move. He lay on his back, one leg bent at the knee, breathing deeply. At first, I kept my eyes open. I watched Christopher closely, scanned the corners of the room, and listened for sounds. Without even noticing, I began to breathe in sync with Lewis. And then, without realizing it, I drifted off to sleep.
I could not remember what I dreamt. In fact, it would have frightened me to recall it, as those dreams were bleak and painful. I understood what days those images came from; I relived the past over and over, drowning in memories that tormented my heart. And then I faced the bloody present. I cried out in my sleep, screamed, pleaded for help – and jumped from a height in the hope of breaking apart, but I just kept falling, falling into the abyss, unable to find help or save myself.
…And I woke up, gasping and feeling that my face was wet with tears. I lay on my back, my hand pressed against my cold forehead. Disorientation. Depersonalization. I often woke up in that position after nightmares. For the first few seconds, I remained still, staring at the ceiling and trying to figure out where I was and what was happening. My heart thudded loudly in my chest. I carefully turned my head to the left and saw the girl peacefully sleeping, having pulled the blanket off me.
Sara Karani. The Gorgons. The infected from the streets of the Isthmus Region.
I struggled to sit up on the bed. All around me, there was the sound of quiet breathing and light snoring. Four more people were sleeping on the floor.
I was shaking a little. I was thirsty. The sense of time had disappeared. With effort, I stood up, put on my shoes, and made my way to the door, carefully stepping around the sleeping ones. The aching, burning sensation in my chest wouldn’t go away.
The second room was cool. Gray light filtered through the broken window; rain lashed against the wall. The weather made it difficult to even estimate the time. Everything was plunged into a blue half-light. It was very quiet, except for the sound of the downpour. I slowly shuffled to the broken window. The glass creaked under my feet. Carefully, I stepped outside, only now realizing why such a balcony had been made on a regular window, especially one that opened to such a dreadful alley. And why I needed to go out into the rain now. The slats under my feet quivered. I closed my eyes, tilted my face up to the rain, and realized I was still crying. I remembered the step I took from the height in my dream. It made me desperately want to go closer to the partition, but I stood still.
I felt myself sinking into the quicksand, which was pulling me deeper and deeper to the bottom.
“Stephanie?” A cautious voice called from behind me, and I still flinched before turning around. Robert stood by the window. He slowly reached out his hand, as if afraid to make any sudden movements, and looked directly into my eyes. “Come back, okay? There’s no need for you to get wet. Come on, take my hand.”
I nodded, hesitating for a moment, and took his warm, rough hand to pull myself back inside. He immediately drew me further in, grabbed the blanket from the bed, and wrapped it around me, covering my head. The Gorgon held me tightly by the shoulders.
“I didn’t see you,” I said quietly. My voice sounded hoarse. Robert remained silent, clearly searching for the right words. “I thought you were sleeping too.”
“Someone always has to be on watch, and my guys need rest and sleep,” he sighed. “Sit down,” he nodded at the bed and sat down beside me. “Honestly, you scared me a little. You came out crying, pale; when I called your name, you didn’t answer. Why did you go out the window at all?”
“I don’t know,” I answered simply and honestly. “Was I screaming in my sleep?” he shook his head. “Okay…”
My body felt limp.
“Dreams are just dreams, Stephanie. There’s no need to be afraid of them,” Robert said quietly, and I couldn’t suppress a bitter smile as I looked down at my hands. “Did you… dream about the happenings of these days?” He asked delicately, cautiously.
“Only towards the end, just a little.”
“Any memories?” Robert had a keen sense and understanding; I reluctantly nodded. “Did the events connected to those memories end well?” I shook my head negatively. Robert fell silent, exhaling loudly. He patted my back like a child and I looked up at him, meeting the attentive gaze of his gray eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered without sound; the Gorgon commander just nodded.
“For what? Let me tell you this: our past – the pain of what has happened, our memories, torment, and regrets – either makes us stronger or kills us. And there’s a very thin line between them, Stephanie, on which you cannot balance,” he leaned slightly towards me. “Don’t let yourself fall on the wrong side.”
I wanted to burst into tears. But I swallowed them and nodded. Then, I tried to put a calm expression on my face. For a split second, I believed it.
“What time is it? And… when will we be leaving?”
Robert glanced at his large wristwatch. It was around one in the afternoon. He explained that about an hour ago, a large group of people from the neighboring building had tried to break through to the cars and had attracted the attention of the infected. Shouts and gunfire had echoed throughout the area; I was surprised that I hadn’t heard anything, even when the Gorgons had exploded out of the neighboring room and then returned to sleep. Regarding the second question, Sbort thought it would be foolish to go outside anytime soon. The loud noise attracted the infected, and there could be even more of them; it was better to wait a bit and then go quickly and quietly to the Gorgon vehicle parking lot. Robert wasn’t willing to take that risk yet. Plus, the rain had only intensified, now reminding him, as he said, of the Western downpours.
Then the door cracked open. Half-asleep, Christopher looked at us, nodded to Robert, and disappeared again.
“He was worried you hadn’t come back yet,” Sbort smiled condescendingly.
“Does he really think I could be a danger?” The commander laughed quietly, scratching his stubble, and I hurried to explain. “Otherwise, I don’t see why someone who reacted so aggressively to our presence would be concerned about us.”
“Chris had a reason to react that way,” Robert frowned regretfully. “You shouldn’t hold it against him.”
“Should I be worried about him? He looks like a two-meter serious threat.”
“You’re exaggerating, Stephanie,” Sbort barely managed to hold back a smile. "Two meters of serious threat? He’s only one eighty-seven,” and I wanted to laugh, but the realization that Robert didn’t deny my concerns made me uneasy. “I can’t deny the obvious, can I? Chris is truly one of… the most effective people in my group,” Robert said evasively. “May Mother spare you from seeing him in true anger, but he isn’t the type to hurt someone on a whim, and I’m certain you have nothing to fear from him,” he paused for a moment. “Besides, let’s be honest. Lewis is emotional, undoubtedly, but he isn’t more aggressive toward you than Sam is toward us.”
Insightful.
“Sam has his reasons for reacting that way,” I said after a moment. “He’s always been a very peaceful and kind guy, negative toward violence in any form,” I hesitated for a second longer, wondering whether to explain Dort's reaction to Robert; he continued to wait patiently and attentively for me to speak. “When his younger brother wanted to pursue a military career, Sam tried to make him reconsider, begged our parents to influence the younger son’s decision. I don’t condone Sam’s actions, but I can’t blame him either,” I took a deeper breath. “Their parents supported the younger one and were immensely proud of him. He got a college degree, went to serve in the navy. And a year later, his body was brought back to our hometown in a black casket, “Robert exhaled sharply through his nose. “Their parents were inconsolable, Sam cried his heart out… He hasn’t spoken to them since, Robert, he blames them for his brother’s death. Sam has been even more opposed to the army and military matters ever since. And he was already negative about it before,” I paused, thinking over what I’d just said and recalling Sam holding a pacifist flag at one of the demonstrations. “To me, he made a terrible mistake cutting off communication with his family. And blaming the soldiers for what happened…” I left the sentence unfinished, shaking my head. “Life is damn unfair. Sometimes, the ones who deserve happiness, health, and a long life the most, suffer the most and die young,” my voice cracked, and my eyes filled with tears. I quickly looked down at my hands, which felt foreign to me. For a brief moment, I no longer felt like myself; for an instant, I stopped perceiving the world around me.
It felt as if all my life energy had drained away in an instant.
“Go, get some sleep,” Robert’s voice pulled me out of my daze. I looked at the man as if for the first time. His tired gray eyes, a deep crease on his forehead, thick, slightly wavy hair. On the right side of his neck, a thin white scar stretched from the base to his shoulder.
In the State, everything had always been built on symbols. Progressively repressive authoritarianism was founded on symbols. The maniacally narcissistic monarchy arose through symbolism and ideology.
And The Gorgon, despite its very practical work, was also a symbol. Its fighters were given the image of harsh and unyielding soldiers; strong, resilient, and unshakable warriors, fighters whom even death could not conquer. An image that was frightening even. But I never felt unsafe around them. And from Robert Sbort, there was such an aura of inner strength and confidence that you couldn’t help but absorb his calm.
I nodded, rising from the bed. Outside, a long, drawn-out rumble of thunder echoed, and moments later, a cold gust of wind burst through the window. The entire house whistled. Through the ventilation shaft came the shrill cry of nature, and the apartment grew darker than before: the outlines of objects merged together. The clouds outside, black and ominous, thickened the already gray sky. Another gust of wind struck the remaining glass, whistling through it. From outside came guttural coughs and eerie moans. Almost immediately, the next clap of thunder roared directly above us.