Past (7)
The moment the door slammed shut behind them, Roman's chest heaved as he braced himself against the cold steel. Caleb groaned in pain, his bitten leg dragging limply as he slumped to the floor. Jack leaned against the wall, his injured arm trembling as he pressed his back to the cold surface.
"Are they gone?" Jack whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his shallow breathing.
Roman didn't answer immediately. His ears strained to catch any hint of the chaos outside, but all he could hear was the faint, distorted echo of footsteps fading into the distance. The pounding on the steel had ceased, but the air felt heavier, like the shadows had seeped into the room with them.
The room was a stark contrast to the chaos they had just escaped. Rows of dusty bookshelves lined the walls, their spines cracked and faded. An abandoned desk sat in the corner, its surface littered with yellowed papers and rusted tools.
"This isn't over," Roman said finally, his voice low and grim. "They'll come back. They always do."
Caleb let out a bitter laugh, his head falling back against the wall. "What's the point of running anymore?" he muttered. "We're trapped. Lyn betrayed us. The hospital's alive. And now those things are hunting us like animals."
Jack scowled, his hand trembling as he clutched his bleeding arm. "You think giving up is going to help? If we're going to die here, we might as well fight for it."
Roman shot him a sharp look. "Enough," he said. "We're not dying here. Not today."
He began searching the room, his movements deliberate despite the exhaustion etched into his features. He pulled open drawers, rifled through papers, and examined the bookshelves.
"What are you looking for?" Caleb asked weakly.
"Anything that can help us," Roman replied without looking back. "Information. Supplies. A way out."
Caleb stared down at his bloodied hands, his mind replaying Lyn's betrayal over and over again. The way she had lured him into that hall, her eyes gleaming with malice as she offered him a choice: his memories or his soul.
"She knew," Caleb said suddenly, his voice trembling. "She knew exactly how to hurt us. How to break us."
Roman paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"She wasn't just a reflection," Caleb continued, his eyes wide with realization. "She knew about us. About our fears, our weaknesses. She knew everything."
Jack frowned. "What are you saying?"
Caleb swallowed hard. "I'm saying someone's been feeding her information. Someone close to us."
The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
Roman pulled a folder from the desk, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the pages. "This might be something," he muttered, his voice breaking the tense silence.
"What is it?" Jack asked, pushing off the wall to get a closer look.
Roman flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing. "Records. Old records. About the hospital, the patients, the experiments…" His voice trailed off as his eyes widened. "And the heart of the City."
Jack and Caleb exchanged a glance.
"The heart?" Caleb asked hesitantly.
Roman nodded. "It's all connected. The heart, the Anchor, the Nexus… it's what powers this place. What keeps it alive."
He turned the folder toward them, revealing a faded diagram of the City's structure. At its center was a black, pulsating shape labeled "The Heart." Lines branched out from it, connecting to smaller shapes labeled "Anchor" and "Nexus."
"This is what they're protecting," Roman said, his voice filled with quiet determination. "This is what we have to destroy."
Before they could process the information, a cold, echoing voice filled the room.
"You think you can destroy me?"
Roman froze, the folder slipping from his fingers. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, reverberating through the walls.
"Fools," the voice continued, laced with malice. "You are nothing but pawns in a game far beyond your understanding. Every step you take, every choice you make… it's all part of my design."
Caleb clutched his head, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. "He's watching us," he whispered, his voice trembling. "He's always watching."
The lights flickered violently, and the air grew colder. The walls seemed to close in, the bookshelves warping and twisting as if the room itself was alive.
Roman grabbed Caleb and Jack, pulling them toward the door. "We need to move," he said urgently. "Now."
As they stumbled into the corridor, the distant sound of footsteps echoed behind them—slow, deliberate, and impossibly loud.
Caleb's legs buckled beneath him, but Roman caught him before he hit the ground.
"Keep moving," Roman said through gritted teeth.
Jack limped ahead, his injured arm cradled against his chest. "Where are we even going?"
"Upstairs," Roman said. "To the others."
The footsteps grew louder, and a shadowy figure emerged at the end of the hallway. Its form was vague, shifting and writhing like smoke, but its presence was suffocating.
Roman's grip tightened on the golf stick in his hand. "Run," he said.
The trio bolted down the corridor, the shadowy figure pursuing them with an unnatural speed. As they reached the staircase, Roman glanced back, his heart sinking as the figure seemed to multiply, its form splitting into three distinct shapes.
"Go!" he shouted, shoving Caleb and Jack ahead of him.
As they ascended the stairs, the air grew heavier, the shadows closing in around them.
And then, a voice whispered in Roman's ear, cold and mocking:
"You can't escape me."
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