This couldn’t be happening for real. This couldn’t exist in reality.
Katherine suddenly stopped, listening intently. I tensed up and froze, barely breathing, but there were no sounds; I looked at the girl in confusion, but she just tried to smile. She took off her jacket and sat down on the floor next to me.
“Do you mind?” She asked, resting her head on my shoulder. “It’s getting chilly, don’t you think?”
“No, it hasn’t gotten colder,” I cautiously felt her forehead. “You have a fever.”
“It’s okay,” the girl smiled again, “Before the connection was lost, I managed to call my husband. He’s coming back from his business trip tomorrow and will take me out of here. Around eight in the morning. And everything will be fine.”
I looked at her with sympathy or condescension; did she really believe that everything would be fine? Or was it that I couldn’t believe those words? Katherine’s words, “everything will be fine,” didn’t comfort me. No, they sounded somehow doomed and eerie, as if they were harbingers of things turning out completely differently.
But I had to convince myself that it was just fear of the unknown that was fueling unbearable anxiety. I needed to calm down… And the only way to pull myself together was the simple act of self-suggestion, convincing myself that tomorrow everything would be better.
Because everything will be fine, right? Tomorrow Katherine will be taken away, tomorrow help will arrive. Tomorrow everything will go back to normal. Tomorrow we’ll get out of here. Tomorrow we’ll remember today with a smile, because tomorrow everything will be fine…
Heavens, give us the strength to survive this day and this night.
The feeling of emptiness and apathy. A state where emotionally you still can’t believe what has happened, while the mind coldly and cynically comprehends and weighs the outcome. As if neither alive nor dead, a piece of meat equipped with a brain that has lost the ability to think… In such moments, more than anything, you want to either lose yourself or scream, to howl, releasing what you can’t say out loud.
But we couldn’t scream. We couldn’t call for help, couldn’t help ourselves. I lost track of the time we spent in silence, sitting on the floor, glancing around nervously and afraid to breathe. Trying to escape by ourselves seemed impossible and insane, and passive waiting for the promised help, the mercy of the Heavens, or any resolution to this nightmare was the only option.
Resigned acceptance of our fate burned from within. The fear of unknown danger gave way to a monstrous anticipation of the end. The lights continued to flicker, and the lamps seemed to buzz louder.
The shelf with religious literature across from us. The Mother with outstretched arms.
Silence began to drive us all mad, and I spoke first in a halting whisper. About unrelated things. Anything to say something. Sam picked up the conversation. Katherine followed. We talked about books, about work, but not a word about what had happened, to avoid driving each other into even greater panic.
The girl soon dozed off.
The silence gave way to fear: what if salvation never comes? What if we have trapped ourselves in an even worse snare? What if we buried ourselves with our own hands? Closed the lid of the coffin with our own strength?
I jerked my head, pinched my wrist. Inside, everything tightened, and a chill wrapped around me.
Sam was fiddling with his dead phone – the battery had died – but that gadget was pointless anyway. The connection was gone. My legs had gone numb; I carefully stood up. Dort, flinching, looked at me in confusion.
“Where are you going?” he asked, but I didn’t answer, lost in my own thoughts. Sam’s handsome face had acquired a pained, tortured look, his golden hair seemed duller, and his favorite warm, bright hoodie with the little monster on it mocked all this madness.
The past was erased. The future had vanished. Political games, journalistic adventures, civic protests, ambitious plans – everything crumbled to dust in my hands, ash in my teeth. In the moment when death was breathing down my neck, even the State’s hell seemed like heaven, a place I wished to return to.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, took off my shoes, and tiptoed to the edge of the shelf, peering out from behind it.
The glass was smeared with dirty red streaks. In the grocery store – shadows of a few moving figures. Were they human? Their movements were slow, broken. There were no bodies of those attacked, those torn apart. Only blood. Its streaks. Shreds of flesh. Pieces of clothing.
I flinched. Where are they? Where are they?! It can’t be possible to get up and leave after that, can it? Could they have been eaten completely? With bones?! And, heavens forbid, eaten?! The rescuers hadn’t come, the medics hadn’t shown up; had the bodies been taken somewhere? But where? By whom?
I staggered, horrified by my own thoughts. Eaten. Impossible! … Bullshit, it's all bullshit – just gossip, fabrications, rumors woven from clouded minds and slander, schemes by customs barons and audacious mayors… This was a performance, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? So people would look for salvation in the government?
A wave of nausea hit me again, and I quickly turned away. Closed my eyes, holding my head. The ground seemed to slip away beneath my feet. I took a step back, stumbled.
Would salvation come? When would we be rescued? Would they rescue us? What if everything turns out differently?
I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the strength of my heartbeat.
Sam watched every move I made, his face a mask of feigned calm, as if trying to reassure me, but it only made me shiver. Instead of thinking of others or saying words, my mind was consumed by a torrent of thoughts in search of an exit, an explanation; trying to connect the past and present, trying to distinguish a future in the thickening darkness. Everything had blurred. All that existed now was the store. Silence. And primal fear, fueled by the unknown.
What if we had come a day earlier? What if our conversation with Givori had gone as originally planned? Would everything have been different? Would I have understood what was happening, even a little?
On the wall was an evacuation plan for a fire. I knew that sitting here was not an option. But it seemed there was no other way. Neither Sam nor Katherine could say anything useful to me, only confusing me further and fueling panic.
My stomach growled loudly. I turned around in fear…
“Are you hungry?” Sam asked with an expressionless face, though he was tense.
I shook my head, even though the only thing that had been in my stomach since the morning was a cup of second-rate coffee. At the mere mention of food, a sour taste filled my mouth, and my stomach turned. In front of me was the image beyond the glass. But the weakness in my body was undeniable. On the edge of consciousness, I knew I had to force myself to swallow something.
“Sam,” I said with some pleading in my voice, approaching him and sitting down beside him. “Sam, we will be saved, right? Did you hear Katherine’s conversation? Did you hear that help is coming?”
He cast a glance at me and clenched his teeth so tightly that the muscles in his face tensed; he remained silent for a few seconds. Then he let out a heavy breath and tried to force a semblance of a smile onto his face.
“Of course!” Sam nodded. “They’ll rescue us! I heard it myself. I heard it, Steph.”
“What exactly did they say?”
“Stephanie,” the guy shook his head. “Everything will be okay. Soon everything will become clear, and we’ll go back to living like we did before,” but before I could respond, Dort interrupted, more to himself, “But… live like before? How? With memories like these? I can’t imagine ever being able to sleep peacefully again. Or perceiving