“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