“We arrived when the police were already cordoning off the eastern residential neighborhoods. They were trying to evacuate as many healthy people as possible. Rumors spread through the city that the infected couldn’t be killed; the law enforcement refused to respond to calls or enter other people's homes. The Reapers were hastily abandoning their service quarters,” Robert paused briefly. He spoke with calm and focus, as if recounting a boring lecture, as though nothing extraordinary had happened; as if just minutes ago, one of his team members hadn’t died. I almost lost myself in it. The man's composure and calm were so intoxicating and contagious that, for a moment, all the nightmares of the past few hours flew out of my mind. “I’ll skip the details of the bureaucratic nightmare and the insanity of some untouchable officials, who issue reckless decrees and give orders devoid of any reason,” he smiled grimly with the corner of his mouth. "The Gorgon was sent to the home of the local mayor, whose daughter had contracted the plague. They confined her to the second floor, hoping to cover up the whole situation: they didn’t want to send their daughter to the hospital and tarnish the family’s white name. And when they realized they’d made a foolish mistake, it was too late. We were ordered to take the mayor and his wife out of the house and transport them to a safe location. Honestly, I didn’t expect things to be so bad and dangerously serious. I left some of the Gorgon team to assist the police, and took the others to carry out the order,” another brief pause. “When we arrived, we found the house in such a bloody state it looked like a slaughterhouse had been set up there. Out of the seven residents, four were torn apart and their bodies literally chewed up. And two were…” the soldier hesitated, tilting his head to the side, “I’d say alive, but that contradicts what we saw. The injuries weren’t fatal: one had a minor bite on the neck, the other had chewed hands. But alive, those… creatures were definitely not. First of all, you can tell a living person from a dead one; the basic smell is unmistakable. Secondly, when you empty an entire magazine into someone…” the man sighed heavily, not finishing the sentence.

Time seemed to stop.

I replayed what I had just heard over and over in my head, but it felt more like the ramblings of a madman than anything resembling the truth. Glancing at Sam, I shook my head as if to push away the dark thought or sticky memory. Dort looked completely lost. He stared at a spot somewhere beneath the soldier’s feet, nervously fidgeting his fingers.

“And… what happened next? Were you able to deal with those two?” I asked cautiously, hesitantly lifting my eyes to Robert.

“We were able to. Cracked open their skulls,” Robert said dryly. Sam’s head shot up, and a look of disgust and horror played across his face. “With the mayor, besides me, three other men arrived. Three fighters who would have walked through all the circles of hell unscathed. And one of them was grabbed by the creature – it jumped and tore a chunk of flesh from his collarbone. Again: a minor wound. Our Gorgon’s medic patched him up, but the guy started to deteriorate; we took him to the hospital, where an entire wing was already filled to capacity with the bitten. Another department had been completely taken over by the utterly deranged. My man lost consciousness as soon as he crossed the threshold of the medical room. He passed out from the most harmless wound he had received. I left him at the hospital. And on Wednesday morning, I got a call to say that he had burned up overnight from a high fever. But when they were moving him to the morgue, he woke up. Only, like many, many others, he woke up wild. Woke up after being declared dead.”

A second. Two.

“You’re saying,” I whispered, feeling my fingers turn cold and a chill run down my spine, “that he… came back to life?”

Robert did not answer right away.

“It’s hard to find another name for it,” he said cautiously. “I wouldn’t have believed such a statement myself if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Believe me, it’s hard to explain how a person, riddled with bullets, continues to move. And when they’re clearly dead, suddenly they get up and start attacking. But last night made me doubt many things I thought were impossible.”

“But not to this extent?!” Sam's voice trembled, half nervous laugh, half question. “The dead coming back to life? Those are images from the archaic beliefs of the Departed Gods, fairy tales and myths. It’s impossible. The dead don’t come back to life. It’s unnatural. It… There’s no logical explanation for this.”

“We have just as many questions as you do,” the soldier replied briefly. “Right now, I’m only sure of a few things. First, the past night was really difficult to survive. These creatures, whatever they were, attacked indiscriminately, ruthlessly tearing apart and killing; and there were only a limited number of ways to neutralize them. Universal panic and confusion, the frenzied actions of the special services created chaos and multiplied the casualties,” Robert exhaled loudly. “Thank the Heavens and the Mother Goddess for salvation. Second, we need to leave °22-1-20-21-14 as soon as possible. It’s better to think about our next steps and look for answers in a safer place. Now, if you'll excuse me,” Sbort, who had stood up, pulled out his radio and was about to step aside when I immediately jumped to my feet, raising my hand.

“One last question, please!” the Gorgon’s soldier nodded permissively. “Robert, can you take us with you? At least help us get to the hospital? Our trailer is there, and…” I choked on my own words. My breath caught, and my chest burned with anxiety. “We won’t be in your debt. Sam is a great tech specialist; he knows how to program, adjust things; he fixes everything he can…”

“Yes,” Sam chimed in. “On your way, when you were talking to…” Dort hesitated, nodding towards the Gorgon with dark, curly hair; it was only then that I noticed the man’s right eyebrow was deeply split, a scar running perpendicularly across it.

“Norman,” Robert supplied.

“Yes, him,” Sam nodded, a bit off-topic, “you said your radios were malfunctioning, and the receiver was buzzing and cutting out… I think I could do something about that.”

The commander of The Gorgons thought for a moment.

“We need to get to the northeast edge of the city, where we left our cars and belongings,” finally came the dry response.

“There’s a bypass route that goes right past the hospital.”

“Robert, I beg you,” I echoed Sam, my voice quivering. “We’re willing to accept any help and any decision you make. Trying to do anything for ourselves right now is beyond possible. Besides… You need to return with some kind of information, don’t you? I can share everything I have, maybe something will interest you,” Robert scratched his dusty, unkempt cheek. For a few more seconds, he looked thoughtfully into my eyes.

“Well… Fine. Let it be so,” I nearly cried from relief, my heart doing a flip and sinking; meanwhile, Robert continued. “I ask that you refer to me in a less formal manner. We’re not in the Directorate, nor do we fill out protocols, and comfortable communication is important. And also,” he glanced at me. “We’ll be traveling on foot. Most of the city… Is no longer suitable for vehicles. On foot, we’ll be much faster and more maneuverable; but jeans and high heels are absolutely not made for this. Change your clothes. Amanda has no use for her gear anymore; she would be glad if it served a noble purpose,” and before I could process what Robert had said and protest, he nodded to the second girl in their squad, “Sara, help her. Norman, you stay here. Everyone else – in the hall; John found a communication point near the stairs,” after these words, the man finally brought the radio to his face and hurried out of the book section.

The order was carried out quickly. Sam, not wanting to watch the grim scene, followed the departing Gorgons. Norman, the soldier with the split eyebrow, moved away to give me space to change, standing by the entrance with his rifle. I, meanwhile, hugged myself with trembling hands, watching in quiet horror as Sara pulled pants off the corpse. My legs were shaking, and cold sweat formed on my skin. The worst part was that I needed to put those clothes on. Luckily, I still had my top – a tank top and leather jacket – but it was little comfort; I felt as if I were in a terrible nightmare where reality and fiction had blended into a dark picture.

“Maybe,” I said with a strained voice, my words breaking, “is there any way we could avoid this…?”

“If Robert said so, then it’s necessary,” the girl replied; looking at me, she added softly, “just don’t think about it. Try to distract yourself.”

I responded briefly and nonsensically: nodded aimlessly and, tilting my head a few times, looked out the window. Could this really be happening? Is this really happening to me?

But it was happening. Moments later, Sara handed me a pair of plain, faded gray-green uniform pants. I looked at her pleadingly, uncomfortably thinking that she had a very pretty appearance – expressive, almond-shaped gray eyes and plump, pink-peach lips – and a perceptive, empathetic gaze. Then, helplessly and cautiously, I took the pants from her hands and was horrified to realize they were still warm. Shuddering and almost dropping them, I clenched my teeth, suppressing the urge to scream.

A mix of disgust, fear, and despair.

“Get dressed,” Sara’s voice, quiet and filled with sympathy, slipped into my ears. “There’s no other way. I’ll take off the boots now.”

I nodded almost imperceptibly. Thank the heavens that I wasn’t forced to strip the clothes off the corpse myself.

Shaking, I unbuttoned my jeans, kicked off my shoes, pushing them carelessly away from me. My legs quivered. Weakness washed over me, making me stagger and nearly fall, only managing to catch myself against the wall. It felt like I was choking; swallowing was unbelievably difficult and painful. When I started pulling off my jeans, my cold fingers refused to obey.

A persistent voice in my head kept telling me not to do it. To stay in my own clothes, to put on my shoes, and to grab a cup of strong coffee from my favorite café, bursting into the sunny, warm autumn day, wrapped in multicolored leaves and untainted by reality. The voice soothed me, whispered that none of this was real, that I just needed to close my eyes – and then I would wake up in my own bed, the scent of fresh chocolate cake filling my home. I’d open my eyes, and all the difficult years past would be just a dream, and today would be nothing more than the end of a nightmare before waking. I would stand up, hug the person who meant more to me than my own life, and sigh, choked but happy; because I hadn’t lost that person, and it was only a bad dream… The voice was so convincing, and the image so vivid, that I slid down the wall, tears choking me.

I desperately wanted to run away. To hide, to shut myself off. My mind replayed every detail of what was happening, torturing me…

No, today I wouldn’t give up. I had promised that I would never give up. And if that means putting on the clothes of a corpse to go with the Gorgons, then I will do it.

Whining and wiping my tears away, I finally tossed my jeans aside. For a split second, I froze, staring at the pants. Breathe in. Breathe out. I started putting them on, trying to think of something else.

The fabric was still warm from the body of its previous owner. A shiver of disgust and horror slithered down my spine. Her body hadn’t even had time to cool down yet.

The buttons were hard to fasten; I was sure the uniform was new. Unable to hold back, I covered my mouth with the back of my hand and bit down on my skin to stifle a scream.

At that moment, Sara approached.

“It’s almost over,” she said as gently as she could, placing a pair of high boots with heavy soles in front of me.” So… You work as a journalist, right?” The girl asked, crouching down. ”And your name is…?” The soldier was trying to distract me, to break through the oncoming hysteria with casual conversation. I swallowed, sitting down on the floor and pulling the boots closer

“Yes, I’m a journalist…” I replied haltingly, trying to put on the boots quickly to shorten the torment, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. I couldn’t manage to tie the laces. In frustration, I let the laces fall, embracing myself at the shoulders. “Stephanie,” I breathed out the name. “My name is Stephanie Shayer.”

The girl nodded heavily and, unexpectedly, knelt down, leaning forward and deftly tightening the laces on my now boots. Stunned, I couldn’t force out a single word.

“Steph, kitten, – can I call you “Steph?” She said, looking into my eyes, and my lips quivered into a weak semblance of a smile when she clarified the form of my name but not the way she would address me.” I know, this is pure horror, but we need to get out of here as soon as we can.”

I shook my head.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Sara winked and immediately stood up, offering me her hand. I grabbed her hand as if trying to keep from falling into an abyss. “My name’s Sara Karani, if you’d like to know. But let’s just go with first names, agreed?”

When we stepped out from behind the bookshelf, Norman shoved a backpack into my hands before heading to join the others.

“Here. She won't need this anymore. You’ll carry the gear.”

The backpack was packed to the brim and barely closed. I had no desire or curiosity to look inside. Maybe next time. Or better yet, I never want to look in it at all.

Somewhere inside, there was still a flicker of hope that the madness would soon be over. It felt as if I were outside my own body, watching the world through someone else's eyes. I tried to convince myself that it was all a lie, but…

The lamps hummed quietly. The stale, stuffy air – air conditioning wasn’t working – and the acrid stench of decay and damp made me feel nauseous. The lights flickered constantly, growing dimmer and going out for longer periods.

Sara helped shove my small personal bag into the Gorgon's backpack. Because when everything calms down and goes back to normal, and I finally go home, I will need my documents, phone, and everything else that was in my bag.

I tried not to look at the body of the deceased. I hurried out of the book section as quickly as I could, not turning in that direction.

“How are you?” Sam asked cautiously as he approached. I shook my head, pressing my lips together and lowering my chin to my chest, as if to say, "Not now." He nodded understandingly. “We’ll be leaving here soon. While you were…” he hesitated, “getting changed, Robert was trying to contact the rest of his people; it turns out he’s waiting for someone else.”

“And?” My thoughts were heavy and sluggish; I was processing Sam's words slowly.

“I think they’ll be here soon.”

I tilted my head back and blinked rapidly. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would break through my ribcage and burst out. I needed to pull myself together. Calm down. It would all end, everything would return to normal; this was temporary – and the weakness was temporary too, caused by total shock.

“I hope there’s a reasonable explanation for all this.”

“If only,” Dort said evasively. Something creaked, and Sam and I flinched, turning around in unison. Luckily, it was just the radio: Robert was trying to get a signal.

The soldiers had already returned from their patrol. Two, four, seven. I looked at their exhausted faces, feeling their pain and fatigue, and a cold shiver ran through me from the inside; I suddenly imagined what they must have seen that night – because if they had suffered so many losses, if they were scared, then our time underground was truly a gift.

The radio crackled again; Sbort muttered angrily to himself – no one was responding on the other end. The person they were trying to reach seemed to sense the commander’s displeasure. In a moment, through the static and noise, we heard a voice:

“What the fuck, damn it?!” A loud shout, almost a growl, was interrupted by a series of gunshots; followed by a stream of profanity. I, stunned, exchanged a frantic glance with Sam. The radio hissed and whistled. “You’re damn well timed, Sbort! Why call every minute?!”

“Where the hell are you?!” Robert hissed. “You should have been here a long time ago!”

“Well, sorry,” came the sarcastic reply, “I’m not able to arrive exactly on time for your little celebration!” Another gunshot. “I’m trying to fight off these bastards, not wandering the streets for fun!” The man on the other end exhaled hoarsely through the noise. “I’m almost there. I’ll be there soon.”

Robert was about to break into a tirade when he suddenly froze.

“I’ll be there”? Are you alone?” He blurted out urgently. The commander exchanged glances with the Gorgons; one of the soldiers, Stan, if I’m not mistaken, moved forward, his face contorted in a mask of panic.

“I’m alone,” came the short response. The man said something else, but no one could make it out: the connection cuts swallowed his voice.

“Chris?” Robert asked anxiously. No response. “Christopher?!”

The empty hall echoed with a rustling repetition, and then the room sank into an unsettling silence. Almost tangible. The soldiers froze in place. Robert continued to hold the radio close to his face. For a moment, his expression darkened and fell before he straightened with a determined movement and looked around at everyone with focused eyes.

“We're going up and out. Now. We'll pick up Chris on the way,” Sbort added before Norman, who had stepped forward, could speak. Robert's voice was quiet and firm. The commander glanced at Stan – the dark-haired man with cold blue eyes and a scar above his upper lip – who had lowered his chin to his chest, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Taren, I…”

Robert didn't have time to finish. From the first floor, we clearly heard the sound of rasping breaths and shuffling footsteps; slow, as if someone were dragging their feet. Everyone froze, listening. I didn’t even realize I had clamped my fingers into Sam’s hand, digging my nails into his skin.

No, there was no doubt those were footsteps; but not just one person's. And that horrible, chilling, raspy breathing… Sam’s face went ashen.

“R.. Rob.. ert?” Dort stammered. I felt my knees shaking. My whole body was trembling.

The commander of The Gorgons kept his eyes fixed on the stairs, while I, as if chained, couldn’t move to turn around.

Robert waved his hand a couple of times. Moments later, Sam and I were separated. Stan, holding a pistol, took Sam by the arm; Norman pulled me toward him. Sbort was the first to begin climbing up, and we all followed one after the other. The soldiers moved in unison, almost silently, while the entire room was filled with the sound of shuffling, groans, and other disgusting noises.

Step by step. Higher and higher. I could already see the growing shadows on the floor. I started to hyperventilate, everything blurred in front of my eyes, and I wanted to run back, but Norman held me tightly, dragging me along. The landing ahead was clear, we only needed to reach it and cross the hallway to the door…

And then, the last step. I turned around to take one last look down the corridor.

A scream pierced my ears. I didn’t realize at first that I was the one shouting. Coming out of the doors and pavilions, they filled the corridor.