The official on the front page of the newspaper – Ivanko Horst – was one of the few who had started speaking out openly for the right of the Cold Calm to secede; he had also sought to shed light on events and the situation in the North. Now, after being removed from his position and stripped of his title as Marquess of the Northern Lands, he was behind bars on charges of treason, allegedly committed a decade ago.
The trailer suddenly braked sharply, and I lurched forward, barely managing to keep my balance and hold onto the folder of documents. Sam swayed, instinctively grabbing the couch as he woke up, eyes wide. The vehicle started moving again.
“What’s happening? Where are we, Steph?” Sam rasped, peering out the window, “oh, right… I fell asleep. I hope we’ll be done quickly today.”
“If there’s no material, we’ll get some sleep,” I replied, then nodded toward his bright green hoodie with the strange orange monster on it. “We’ll be there soon, change your top.”
Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, while I, turning back to the window, leaned against the back of the seat.
We passed a few boulevards and turned onto the bypass road where the hospital we needed was located.
The town of °22-1-20-21-14, located in the northern part of the Isthmus Region. Small, provincial. One would think, what could possibly happen in such a quiet place? But I had been assured that this was exactly where I needed to go. I just had to trust. What did I have to lose? Time? I didn’t think the political police of the Three and the main enforcers of the totalitarian regime – the Reapers – were currently pursuing minor defectors and journalists with particular diligence; there were enough problems without publications that fancied freedom of speech, buried under the weight of years, had returned.
One thing I knew for sure: I simply couldn’t miss the meeting with the chief physician of the local hospital, a doctor of medical sciences who had left the North just over a year ago.
When the hospital appeared outside the window, I noted with surprise that it was quite a large building, towering over the surrounding structures; the new addition to the medical facility stood out, making its size even more disproportionate for such a small town. Around it was an incredible number of cars; Sam stared out the window in confusion, looking at the crowded parking lot. Andrew didn’t find a spot to park right away.
The trailer’s engine rumbled hoarsely before falling silent.
“We've arrived!” Andrew turned to us. “You can get out.”
Birds hovered close to the ground, and the stifling heat outside seemed saturated with sweet, smoky smells, as if the wind had vanished altogether. The air carried the scent of an approaching storm.
Beyond the hospital building, where tall fences loomed, soldiers and a police convoy stood guard. A black helicopter flew overhead with a loud roar; the emblem of the Three had been covered by a design of coiling serpents, but I didn't get a chance to fully make out the symbol.
“Are you coming with us?” I asked Andrew, standing by the trailer door as I watched the helicopter pass by. “Or will you be waiting?”
“Go ahead, I’ll catch up in a bit,” Andrew said. “I want to stretch my legs and get a look around. We haven’t been this far before…”
I nodded in agreement, concealing the slight nervousness I felt. Sam, hurriedly grabbing the equipment bag and throwing on a more or less decent windbreaker over his favorite hoodie, darted out of the stifling trailer and slammed the door behind him. I shot a quick glance at Dort, then, taking a deep breath, looked around.
We needed material. And we would get it. Or create it.
I nudged Sam in the side and hurried toward the hospital doors, still surveying the scene behind the building. Everything looked unsettling and serious, which, in some way, was reassuring – it increased the chances of finding something valuable, a big story that could truly tarnish the godlike image of the Three. Perhaps confirmation of the epidemic in the North could not only open people’s eyes but spur them to action.
And, thank the heavens, there were no Reaper vehicles in sight.
Sam caught up with me on the stairs, muttering something under his breath as he opened the door for me and motioned me through.
The hospital smelled of various medications, and an almost tangible sense of sadness and despair hung in the air. I flinched, pausing for a moment and trying to steady the tremor in my body. My legs felt like stone, and my palms grew clammy; there are things that leave a mark on our lives forever – things you can learn to live with, but never truly erase. I forced myself to push away those intrusive thoughts and remind myself why we were here and what we hoped to accomplish. I stepped forward, casting a quick glance around the room: yes, it was just another hospital, like hundreds of others. Flustered medical staff in sterile uniforms hurried past, each with their own bag of tools, each lost in thoughts about patients, difficult cases, hopes, and fears. Patients either lay in beds or stood by the windows, gazing enviously at the people outside those cursed walls. Someone was always crying; someone was always celebrating and leaving the hospital, determined never to come back. In the corners were large white pots with tall plants, their green leaves meant to be calming. And all this silence, broken only by soft voices, moans, cries, and the hum of machines, was slowly starting to drive me mad…
Horizontal ultraviolet lamps, casting a bluish light, hung from the ceilings. Some were burned out, plunging sections of the long corridors into an unsettling, eerie half-darkness.
Sam continued to yawn, lazily holding his dark bag under his arm, completely indifferent to his surroundings; he was so tired that he either didn’t notice my fleeting pause or chose not to comment on it. But I was sure that if I offered him to sleep right there, on the cold hospital floor, Dort would agree without hesitation.
“All right,” I waved my hand at Sam, “Go take some footage. I need to hurry to the meeting – we’re already way behind schedule; we’ll have to push hard to make up for the day’s delay. I’m afraid it might come back to haunt us; it was too difficult to arrange this conversation…”
“Did you really find an informant here?” Sam squinted, and I theatrically rolled my eyes and spun around to move forward. “What’s there to film?” Came his voice from behind.
“As if you don’t know,” I smirked in response.
Dort either exhaled loudly or let out a groan of pure disappointment.
Neither Sam nor Andrew knew for certain who our unnamed assistant and influential patron was – certainly not the person whose name had signed off the passes for the customs officers – who had helped arrange the meeting with the doctor. Both of them understood perfectly that sometimes it was better not to ask unnecessary questions. The less you know, the less the Reapers could find out if it came to that.
“We’re going because it aligns with our worldview and our position,” Andrew said before we left, “The rest doesn’t matter. You know what you’re doing, and it’s not our place to doubt you.”
I asked the administrator where the chief physician’s office was – most of the corridors and passages were blocked, emergency crews were leading people out of the hospital, and security forces had cordoned off two wings – and when she heard my last name, the young woman at the counter said they were expecting me. She pointed me in the right direction and suggested I hurry, glancing nervously at the uniformed officers. I didn’t hesitate; I wanted to leave this place as quickly as possible and made my way to the chief physician’s office. Fortunately, his office had been temporarily moved to the first floor of this wing – was it some kind of divine blessing?
The medical staff was in a nervous, restless state. The faces of many showed the aimlessness of running back and forth down the corridor, as if trying to shake off their anxiety, to