The voices dissolved into the noise. My heart pounded in my throat, making it hard to breathe; I was deeply worried about Sam. The corridor filled with a cacophony of screams, groans, and an ominous humming sound, which made my head spin slightly from anxiety. I hurried toward the exit, and the closer I got, the clearer the shouting, pounding, and incomprehensible growling – accompanied by harsh swearing – became. The flickering lights continued to pulse erratically, and fear slithered up my neck, tightening like a noose.
But when I stepped out of the corridor, the scene before me made me stagger. Police officers, holding shields in front of them, were forcing patients back through doors while the latter struggled to break free. The patients clawed at the officers, emitting inhuman howls.
And blood was everywhere. The stench was acrid, suffocating, sickening. It reeked of decay, fetid dampness, and the sickly-sweet rot of death.
At that moment, I couldn’t process much, but the image seared itself into my memory with striking clarity: disfigured faces and bodies, bite wounds unlike anything the rumors described – not just bites, but chunks of flesh and muscle torn away, a grotesque spectacle of gore.
Everything around me felt distorted and sinister, as if I had stumbled into a nightmarish dream.
I should scream, run away as fast as I could, or at least turn away… But all I did was stand there, frozen in a state of shock, staring, feeling the nausea rise in my throat. The ground beneath me seemed to tilt, frantic screams ringing in my ears. And everything inside me clenched. Acid filled my mouth…
“Please evacuate the building!” A police officer came up behind me, almost knocking me over. He shook me by the shoulders. “Leave the building! Now! It’s not safe here!”
I don’t remember if I mumbled something in response or ran straight for the doors. All I know is that the suffocating heat outside made it impossible to take a full breath, as if all the oxygen had been drained from my lungs. I barely managed to hold back the urge to vomit and probably would have collapsed right there, rolling down the stairs, if Dort hadn’t caught me.
“Sam!” I grabbed him by the collar of his hoodie, unable to say anything else. Suddenly, a violent chill overtook me. I was shaking. A heavy weight sat in my stomach. And… fear. Paralyzing. Sticky and cold. With the smell of blood and decay. It clouded my vision, shrouding the world in a dark haze.
“Let’s go,” he nodded, and steadying me by the arm, helped me make it back to the trailer.
Not once did I look back at the hospital. I couldn’t hear anything over the noise ringing in my ears. The police reinforcements seemed to have helped calm the chaos inside the hospital, at least a little, but the turmoil that had ignited within me erased every thought about the things I’d cared about for months and years.
Shock.
It was stuffy outside. Unbearably stuffy, and there was not enough air. The heat rose from the asphalt, and it seemed like everything around me was shimmering in this yet-to-erupt hell.
I had no idea what the future held. I didn’t even realize that the day we arrived at °22-1-20-21-14 would forever change my life.
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