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 distract themselves, but instead they only pushed themselves deeper into the traps set by the tension gripping the hospital. The strain hung in the air like a dense shroud, pressing down on my chest. For a brief moment, a chill ran down my spine, and fear tensed my nerves, making them vulnerable to a cruel game. I felt my fingers grow cold, noticed myself glancing around and listening more intently – was that gunfire echoing somewhere in the distance? Were the screams real, or was it the acoustics of the space and the pounding of my heart playing tricks on my perception? But the overall confusion only urged me to keep moving forward.

The steadfast conviction that the rumors were not just tales and that the infection from the North had truly reached here, to °22-1-20-21-14, strengthened in my mind.

The gathering of security forces behind the hospital, the military vehicles in the city, the blocked roads and neighborhoods – there could be no doubt left. The fact that we had managed to get in was truly a miracle. It felt as if fate itself had intervened.

The corridor seemed endless. A series of closed doors, staircases, and passageways… When the right office finally came into view, I exhaled quietly, releasing the tension. I knocked. Without waiting for an answer, I opened the door and took a cautious step inside.

A man, around forty years old, was putting papers into a small safe beside his desk.

“May I?” I whispered as I gently closed the door behind me. The doctor turned around, adjusting his square glasses in their neat frame and quickly shutting the safe's door. “Dr. Givori, if I’m not mistaken?”

“Good morning,” He nodded, tossing the key onto the desk and settling into a tall leather chair. “How can I help you?”

“I’m Stephanie Shayer. An independent journalist, correspondent, and simply an interested party.” I gracefully took one of my most recent business cards from my pocket and stepped forward to hand it to him. “I wanted to ask you a few questions.”

“I was given a different description of you…” He muttered to himself, studying the card closely and thinking intently about something in parallel. “But it doesn’t matter.” He carelessly flicked the card aside and nodded to the chair across from him. As I examined the office, my attention was caught by Givori’s hand: his palm was bandaged, the cloth already soaked with blood.

“Thank you,” I said, settling into the chair under the man’s intense gaze. I looked straight into his eyes.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly. Snippets of ordinary conversation drifted in from the street through the open window.

“Medical ethics prevent me from disclosing my patients' secrets,” Givori said curtly. “I trust you’re aware of that.”

“Oh, certainly,” I replied, letting the corner of my lips twitch up. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in specific individuals. I came to you for a different reason.”

“I remember,” The man let out a short, humorless laugh. “Unfortunately, I was informed this morning that all materials regarding the outbreak of the unknown disease must not be disclosed.” He cast a quick glance toward the corner of the office, where I noticed a small camera with a green light blinking, and then at the safe. That was enough to understand what was being kept locked away. “As you can imagine, this directive came from the local Inquisition department of the Reapers, and it was by no means a request. Disclosing any information would have serious consequences,” Givori paused for a moment. “I’m afraid to disappoint you, but aside from the existing, already-circulated theories and assumptions, you won’t learn anything new.” His voice took on an air of feigned disappointment, but in the expressive depths of his eyes, there was a profound weight to his words.

“So, the incidents did happen, and the patients’ madness isn’t just stories and ghost tales but a real outbreak of a disease brought from the North?”

Givori nodded almost imperceptibly.

“You’re not the first to try and find out what’s really going on.”

“Well, in that case, I’ll just have to be the first to find answers to all the questions,” I said with undisguised determination.

A chill ran down my back, while my neck and face burned with heat. All or nothing. Because taking this kind of reckless risk had two outcomes: on one hand, it could land me by evening in a cell facing a Reaper interrogator. On the other, the fact that the intelligence service was actively working to prevent any information leaks only confirmed its existence here.

We didn’t endure four grueling days on the road, braving barriers, restrictions, and traffic jams, for nothing.

Givori remained stubbornly silent, and I clicked my tongue:

“Do you really think I’d reveal the name of my informant?” He raised an eyebrow, casting a meaningful glance toward the camera in the corner. “Dr. Givori, the country is in panic, and it won’t be long before that panic escalates into uncontrollable chaos. Do we really want another scenario like the southwestern territories?” I said it more to the small, flashing camera in the corner than to the doctor. “Or another situation with aggressive opposition groups? People are terrified. Rumors of an epidemic are spreading everywhere. Loyal citizens need at least some concrete answers, not scraps of gossip that only grow into more horror stories and fabrications. If you know something, it’s a chance to help others. Besides,” I added, “You won’t deny that your patients are in a state teetering on the edge of death and are attacking others, trying…” I paused briefly, taking a deep breath and exhaling almost silently, “…to bite them.”

His response didn’t come immediately. The ticking of the clock seemed louder, and I flinched again, now certain I could hear gunshots in the distance.

"I won’t," the man nodded. "And I can tell you one thing: this is clearly not a psychiatric disorder, as many believe," he continued, his voice feigning boredom. Quickly, I pulled a battered leather notebook and pen from the inner pocket of my jacket, ready to jot down every word as he spoke. "First of all, mental illnesses cannot be transmitted from person to person. Second, it’s impossible for so many people to develop the same mental disorder practically at the same time. And third," he continued, "as you rightly pointed out, the carriers are in a state that teeters on the edge of death. And I’ll tell you," Givori’s face twisted with an expression of terror and panic as he pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe the sweat beading on his forehead, "the term ‘on the edge’ is an extreme understatement. Can the equipment really lie to us?"

His face contorted further, reflecting his horror. His voice became hoarse, breaking as he spoke. His fear seeped into me; I could feel it building inside, scratching and twisting.

“A sudden outbreak. One day, everything’s calm, and the next, we have an entire ward full. By the third, police and military are cordoning off entire neighborhoods and districts. Rumor has it special units have arrived in the city. They’re saying… very special units.” He spread his hands, a helpless gesture. “And we, we can’t even take proper samples from the infected… They’re extremely aggressive,” Givori muttered, rubbing his bandaged hand. ”And bloodthirsty. A significant portion of the medical staff has contracted the infection. Five died on the spot from patient attacks. We managed to isolate the infected wing, and now the best specialists and military forces are working there…”

The silence lingered, and the background noise grew more distinct, forcing me to turn toward the door.

“Well… That sounds like a headline story,” I replied with effort, looking at Givori intently and seriously. “If you could call me when anything unfolds, I would be immensely grateful. Of course, any information shared would be within the bounds of your medical oaths,” I added, raising my hands with open palms.

“I’d really tell you more, but I’m concerned for my safety and that of my family,” the man admitted suddenly, his voice surprisingly candid. “Besides, this borders so much on pure madness that your headline might be dismissed as sensationalist.”

At that very moment, the door to the office burst open, and in the doorway stood a nurse whose coat was noticeably soaked… in blood. She was breathing heavily, her wide, panicked eyes staring past us.

“Dr. Givori!” She cried. “The patients from the third wing are trying to break down the doors! It’s almost impossible to hold them back!”

“What?!” The man exclaimed, leaping to his feet. He shot me a glance and gestured firmly toward the door without saying a word, while my gaze momentarily caught on the keys lying on his desk. “Leave my office!” Givori barked, and I sprang from my chair, nearly knocking it over as I slipped past the nurse. “Where…? Never mind! Let the office stay open! What are the security forces reporting? Will the Reapers step in to manage the situation? Has there been any directive from the mayor’s office?…”

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.