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