Several concrete pillars, similar to those at the entrance, were scattered across the large space of the mansion's hall. Another staircase led up to the second floor, ending on the upper floor.
The quartet found themselves in a place similar to a large living room, where several people hurriedly walked around, though not without eyeing them out of the corner of their eyes. Hallways led off from every corner of the room, and others connected to them. Everything was brightly lit, as the skylight was made of glass, but the remnants of wood in the center of the room and the torches mounted on the walls made it clear that it was fire that illuminated the nights.
A man, the size of a child, literally with a child's body and an adult's head, came out from one of the side paths, walking toward the group.
"You must be the Crows" he said in a child's voice, and from his tone, there was relief. "Thomas has been waiting. If you can follow me..."
Without waiting for a response, the small figure turned and went back the way he came. Naomi, seeing that there was little choice, followed him immediately. They walked down a long hallway that reminded Livya a lot of the Nest. There were fewer rooms here, and the ones that did exist seemed much larger than those in the Crow's quarters.
Doors stood wide open, revealing people working with papers or sleeping on bunks. Livya understood that everyone here was connected to the workings of the Pit. Moving into a larger hallway, the guide led them to a large arched entrance, turning just a few steps ahead.
"He's waiting for you" he said, and once again, without expecting a response, the man walked away.
Naomi was the first to enter the room where Thomas was in the center. A skeletal man, covered in wounds, with a head five times the size of an adult's, had Thomas's face, but also an eye, two noses, an ear growing directly from his forehead, and two mouths. One of them had a fixed smile with no lips, just teeth, gums, and a grin formed by raw flesh, and the other was located just below the left ear, with large teeth stacked together, and part of a tongue that occasionally moved between the pulled lips.
Gabriel peeked at Livya's reaction and wasn't surprised to see the shock on her face. He had heard rumors about why Thomas looked the way he did. It was said that when his mother was expecting him, she was actually going to have triplets, but only one managed to develop a body. The brains of the other two fused into one, along with pieces of their faces. Some said that there were three distinct people living in Thomas's head, and only he could hear and talk to them.
After the initial shock, Livya scanned the rest of the room, and unlike everything else, there was only the man sitting in a strange chair with a neck support to bear the weight of his head. A slight movement in the back revealed one of the brutes, who, like the others, wore a large knife at his waist.
"Sorry for the delay" Naomi said.
All three of the man's eyes, including the one in his forehead, fixed on her.
"I was expecting you to be much later" said Thomas. "I'm surprised at how quickly you came."
"Hello, Thomas!" Gabriel greeted.
" And they brought the funny one again." The mouth just below his ear moved as if speaking only to Thomas, who stayed silent before smiling. "Did you hear about our problem with the S.L.?"
"Exactly" Michel retorted. "We would like as much information as you can give us."
"I understand." Again, Thomas seemed to be listening to something only he could hear. "I have some interesting information. You must have questions too."
"Why…?" Livya gathered enough courage to ask. "Why would someone use a drug that kills so quickly?"
Finally, something other than the eyes or strange mouth moved on Thomas's body. His fingers tapped the chair a few times, and he stared at the other. Livya held his gaze, trying not to be distracted by the sinister smile on the lipless mouth.
"They're bringing children this time" —Thomas spoke with a voice that seemed like someone else's. "What's your name?" This time, his voice returned to the same one as at the beginning of the conversation.
" Livya."
"You saw how things are here, didn't you? You walked through the streets and saw it yourself! And what if I told you there's a way to escape all this, a way to be whoever you want, to not feel like you've been thrown away by your own family, or left to rot by a society that treats us like trash? All you need to do…" With one hand, Thomas grabbed a small plastic container with something white inside, holding it out to the young woman. "Is sniff this."
Naomi immediately lunged for the bottle. The brute in the corner made a move as if to go after her, but stayed in his position. Thomas tossed the drug to the Crow, who caught it in midair, and continued:
"But how is this possible? You must be thinking, Livya. The S.L. puts you in a trance-like state, letting you live your dreams, and this reality becomes the dream. As long as your brain doesn't melt, you can live in this false world. Now tell me, after everything you've seen, don't you think that the desperation and desire for a real life are strong enough to make you use it? So what if it only lasts a week, because in that time, you'll be alive, unlike all the rest of your life.
Livya had to agree; it was a drug driven by desperation. She felt her wrists tighten with anger. Anyone capable of this was a true monster and deserved to die.
Gabriel approached the partner, who was still analyzing the bottle, looking at it for a few moments. He reached into his medicine bag and pulled out something similar that also contained a white powder.
"How do you know this drug isn't like this one?" He asked, shaking the bottle at Thomas. "It has the same color, and from what I can see, the same texture as well."
He carefully returned the bottle to his bag. The Crows called that product Last Resort. A drug capable of giving energy and increasing reflexes for a short period, but using it shortened one's life expectancy and was extremely addictive. It was only possible to get one bottle before an important mission.
— "That's the problem, Gabriel" Thomas replied without taking his eyes off the drug. "We can't know, because it's exactly the same, if not identical, to a huge number of others. Some even tried to sell these others as S.L., passing them off as the real thing. Only the traffickers know for sure."
"About that…" Naomi cut in, returning the bottle to Thomas, who immediately put it away. "You said you couldn't catch any of them alive?"
Thomas shifted uncomfortably, and again, the mouth near his ear started making sounds. He said:
Here's the translation of the provided text to English:
"We captured some of them, but they always killed themselves. They all said the same thing: 'We will not betray the Big Brother.'"
"A cult?" Michel asked, feeling a chill run down his spine.
"No, I've had to deal with those cultists a few times. It's something like absolute loyalty, almost brainwashing. Before I say more about it, I need to show you something."
With a hand gesture, the man who had been standing in the corner left, carrying something wrapped up. He passed by Thomas and extended his arms, handing the package to Naomi, who reflexively took it. The man then slowly returned to his post.
Naomi looked at Thomas, who met her gaze, and without wasting any time, she unwrapped the fabric to reveal a piece of iron that made her sweat cold for a moment. It was a thick pipe with a piece of wood attached to it, serving as a handle—a makeshift weapon.
Gabriel took it from her cold hands and brought it to his nose, smelling gunpowder. It was very difficult to acquire firearms in the world, and without the help of the Bunker, that became even rarer. But pure gunpowder was impossible to come by.
"Naomi," Michel whispered, "there's something else in the bag."
The Corva reached back into the wrapping and pulled out a long nail with a small plastic bag attached to it, its tip missing. She examined the object and realized that the nail fit perfectly into the pipe of the weapon. On the smooth side, inside the bag, was gunpowder.
"They have these weapons," Thomas suddenly said. "They fire these nails at high speed when the gunpowder explodes. I lost good men to this."
The situation had escalated quickly. It wasn't something as simple as Michel had thought before. They were facing something big, perhaps very big.
"Anything else?" Gabriel asked, still looking at the makeshift weapon.
"Not much," Thomas replied. "They barely had anything besides the drugs and these weapons, but we got lucky and managed to get this pamphlet from the last one."
All four turned to the man sitting down. Gabriel walked over to him immediately, securing the strange weapon on his belt as he moved and took the pamphlet. It was pink paper with a drawing of a glass with a drink and an olive. At the top, in pink, the name "Moment of the Traveler" was written. He let out a muffled laugh.
"I know where this came from," he said, folding the paper delicately and storing it with the weapon. "This is from the Oasis."
"Interesting," Thomas muttered, seeming to listen to someone. "Doesn't help much, really. The Oasis is one of the free communities."
Gabriel felt obligated to agree. The free communities were exactly what their name suggested: cities or villages outside the Bunker's influence, where they created their own rules. In such places, there were no Nests, but the Crows always kept an eye on them.
"We have a place to go," Michel said. "At least a starting point."
"Yes," Naomi whispered.
Seeing that the group was getting ready to leave, Thomas interrupted them one last time:
"Would you like to see the users?" He scanned all four with his eyes, watching their reactions. "We have rooms with them. Of course, some only have the bodies too."
Without waiting for an answer, the man signaled to the brute, who came at his call, and pulled two wooden wheels from behind the modified armchair. He attached them to the sides of the chair.
The leader of the Vale was now in a wheelchair, being pushed across the room to an entrance.
"This way!" he called, without turning around.
Not seeing much of an option, the group followed down the same path. Unlike what they'd seen until just before, the corridor they were in was dark, lit only by torches on the walls. The sound of the wheels echoed through the long, cold hallway.
"So that's why we didn't see anyone on the streets," Naomi commented.
"Clever," Michel agreed.
Livya looked from one to the other, not understanding what they were talking about. Through the light of one of the torches, she saw that Gabriel, unlike her, had followed the logic.
"What are they talking about?"
"There were no bodies," Naomi replied. "If the situation is as bad as we've been told, then it would be more than normal to see the bodies."
"They took the dying and hid them," Gabriel said. "Thomas, what did you do with the dead?"
The wheelchair continued to glide ahead of the group. The sound of the man's fingers tapping on the armrest echoed, and without turning around, he answered:
"We buried them, and every day that passes, we have to dig more graves."
Thomas stopped in front of an iron door. The brute maneuvered the wheelchair, positioning it in front of the entrance. He then walked to the door's mechanism and with effort turned it, causing the sound of metal scraping to echo down the hall. Without removing his hands from the latch, he pushed the door open.
The stench of feces, vomit, and blood flooded the area. Delirious voices whispered or screamed. Naomi approached and looked into the entrance, paling.
Dozens of people were sprawled on the floor, some writhing violently, while others seemed to sleep peacefully, if not for the blood leaking from their orifices. Half a dozen workers tried to help, but their faces looked exhausted.
"This is just one of the rooms," Thomas said. "I have eight others in similar conditions."
Michel approached the man nearest to the door, pressing his thumb to the back of the man's neck, but found nothing. He was dead.
"It's almost funny," Thomas commented, his voice hollow. "They're dying in terrible ways, yet they're living the best moments of their lives. Beautiful lucid dreams."