The apocalypse is called the apocalypse precisely because it always arrives when people are least prepared for it.
November 29 , 2024.
Panchang calendar, the third day of the third month.
...
"Good morning, viewers. This is the morning news, and here are the latest updates."
"The global fog phenomenon continues. This fog, which has persisted for six consecutive days, has caused severe disruptions to transportation and daily life worldwide. Experts suggest it may be related to the recent solar flare activity."
"In South Korea, officials speculate that the fog might be connected to China's smog issue. A Chinese spokesperson immediately refuted these claims, stating that such remarks are baseless and urging South Korea to prioritize the shared interests of both nations by refraining from irresponsible comments and taking actions to safeguard bilateral relations."
"Here are the detailed reports..."
...
"Boring..."
Glancing at the morning news on the TV, Anirudh shook his head, stuffed the last piece of bread into his mouth, wiped his hands, and turned off the television.
"The fog seems thicker today than it was yesterday..."
While tidying up the table, Anirudh looked out the window and frowned slightly. "Damn it, if this keeps up, those troublemakers will definitely stir up more chaos."
Outside, everything was shrouded in dense fog, a white veil limiting visibility to just a few meters. Though it appeared poetic and dreamlike, for someone like Anirudh, who worked in a specialized field, this weather was nothing short of a disaster.
After all, Anirudh was a forensic pathologist, and in such foggy conditions, accidents were far more likely to occur.
What made things worse was that the world never lacked a group of people who thrived on creating chaos. Just like the Year 2000 apocalypse scare or the 2012 doomsday predictions, this unusual global fog had reignited the frenzy of doomsday theories, which had been dormant for years.
The essence of these doomsday theories was always the same—only the date changed. Yet, plenty of gullible individuals bought into them. In just a few days, several people had committed suicide because of these theories, which had significantly increased Anirudh's workload. Naturally, he had no fondness for the fog or the doomsday believers.
"Buzz, buzz, buzz!"
As Anirudh inwardly criticized the eerie fog and those damned doomsday fanatics, the phone on the dining table suddenly vibrated.
"I knew nothing good would happen in this weather."
Seeing the familiar number on the screen, Anirudh sighed, set down what he was tidying, and answered the call. "Let me guess, another murder or a suicide?"
"Boss, this time it's neither a murder nor a suicide. It's a major incident."
A youthful voice came from the other end of the line.
"Cut the nonsense. Get to the point."
Anirudh didn't have many friends, and the only one who dared to call him "Boss" was his semi-apprentice. Hearing the mention of a "major incident," Anirudh's mood worsened.
"Yes, Boss!"
The voice on the phone turned serious. "The fog is denser than yesterday. Even though the city bureau issued an advisory against driving, some people still risked it. And guess what? A massive accident occurred. A 13-vehicle pile-up on National Highway 44. Many fatalities. The bureau wants you on-site."
"Dammit!"
Hearing the news, Anirudh couldn't help but curse.
Contrary to what many people think, forensic pathologists don't only deal with homicides—they also handle suicides and accidental deaths. As long as there's a fatality, they must be present to conduct forensic examinations.
For Anirudh, nothing was more daunting than pile-up accidents. Such incidents often involved multiple fatalities, horrific injuries, and chaotic scenes, making forensic analysis a massive undertaking.
Still, it was his job, and he was obligated to fulfill his responsibilities.
"Got it. I'm heading over now. Bring my tools to the site."
After taking a deep breath, Anirudh hung up, walked to a shrine near the entrance, lit three incense sticks, placed them in the incense burner, and bowed. "Boss, your disciple is heading out. Watch over me and keep me safe, or you'll have no one to continue the family line."
With that, Anirudh put on his coat and stepped out.
...
National Highway 44, the longest national highway in India, spans across North, Central, and South India. Anirudh's city, H City, was situated along this route.
A 13-vehicle pile-up was a catastrophic accident. Coupled with the fog, which complicated rescue operations, the highway was still heavily congested when Anirudh arrived at the scene. Fortunately, Anirudh was experienced in dealing with such situations and had opted to borrow a small electric scooter instead of driving. Maneuvering through the gridlock, he finally reached the crash site.
As he approached, even before the fog-shrouded wreckage became visible, a sickening mix of burnt rubber, blood, and gasoline filled the air. Anirudh's frown deepened.
In their line of work, the most dreaded cases were pile-ups, particularly those involving vehicle fires. Such scenarios not only made forensic analysis more challenging but also posed safety risks.
And, of course, the victims' remains were usually gruesome.
The pervasive stench of gasoline and burnt flesh was far from a good omen for Anirudh.
"Boss, you're finally here!"
A young man in his early twenties, dressed in a white uniform, ran over. Lean and lively, he handed Anirudh a case. "This is your kind of battlefield."
"Let's get to work."
Without even looking at the overly cheerful junior, Anirudh took the tool case and strode forward.
As he got closer, the crash site came into view through the fog, and the smell grew even stronger.
Before him lay a scene of devastation: a dozen or so vehicles of various sizes had collided in a chain reaction. While the cars on the outskirts suffered minor damage due to timely braking, the seven or eight vehicles in the middle were mangled wrecks. Two of them were charred black, having caught fire during the collision.
Anirudh didn't need a detailed analysis to know that the occupants of those cars were beyond saving.
"Tell me what happened, Chandan."
Despite forming his own judgment, Anirudh went through the formalities, donning gloves and opening the tool case as he addressed his assistant.
"Around 7:15 AM, a Ford car with the license plate UP80AK0726 stopped suddenly because the driver needed to relieve himself. This led to a rear-end collision, which caused a chain reaction involving 13 vehicles. Two cars caught fire due to fuel leakage but were extinguished by bystanders. Preliminary reports indicate 11 fatalities. The injured have been taken to the hospital."
Upon hearing this report, Anirudh narrowed his eyes. "Eleven fatalities? That qualifies as a major accident."
In India, accidents resulting in over ten deaths were treated as special cases. This often led to underreporting in some places.
But such matters didn't concern Anirudh. He grabbed his tools and headed toward the wreckage, calling out to Chandan without turning back. "Start preliminary documentation. You're in charge of recording."
"Got it."
Chandan nodded, pulling out a voice recorder and a notebook.
"God, this stinks..."
Meanwhile, Anirudh approached the wreckage. The acrid smell intensified, and the charred, deformed bodies visible through shattered windows would have made most people retch.
Years of experience as a forensic pathologist had dulled Anirudh's reactions. Though still uncomfortable, he meticulously began his examination.
However, as he neared one of the cars, a corpse trapped in the twisted metal—a burned, unrecognizable figure—suddenly twitched and let out a faint groan.