Chapter 4 — The People Who Handle Things
Run.
The word appeared in Victor's mind with such certainty that he almost obeyed it immediately.
Almost.
Then the lights went out.
The gas station disappeared into darkness.
Mara cursed under her breath.
The old man moved first.
"Stay down," he ordered.
Victor heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being loaded.
"Who are you?" Victor whispered.
The old man didn't answer.
Victor couldn't see him.
He could only hear his breathing somewhere to the left.
Mara spoke from behind the counter.
"Victor, don't move."
"Why?"
"Because we don't know where it is."
Victor swallowed.
"Where it is?"
A sound came from outside.
A dull impact.
Thump.
The old man whispered:
"Back door."
Mara immediately understood.
"How long?"
"Maybe ten seconds."
Victor's heart began pounding.
"What's happening?"
Mara answered quickly.
"It's moving around the building."
Victor heard her opening a drawer.
"What are you looking for?"
"Keys."
"Keys to what?"
"The storage room."
Another impact came from outside.
Thump.
This time, closer.
The old man whispered:
"Five seconds."
Mara found the keys.
"Victor, follow me."
She grabbed his arm.
Victor nearly stumbled.
They moved through the darkness.
The old man remained behind them.
Victor heard the shotgun being raised.
They reached a narrow door.
Mara unlocked it.
She pushed Victor inside.
"Get behind the shelves."
"What about you?"
"I'm going to lock the door."
Victor grabbed her wrist.
"You're staying out there?"
"I'll be fine."
"You don't know that."
Mara stared at him.
For a moment, she looked almost angry.
Then she whispered:
"Neither do you."
She pulled her arm free.
The door closed.
The lock clicked.
Victor stood in darkness.
He could hear his own breathing.
Then—
BOOM!
The shotgun fired.
Victor flinched.
A scream followed.
Not human.
The sound was so deep that Victor felt it in his chest.
Another gunshot.
Then another.
Something crashed against the front of the store.
Shelves fell.
Glass shattered.
Victor pressed himself against the wall.
He wanted to help.
But he had nothing.
No weapon.
No plan.
No idea what he was fighting.
He heard Mara shout.
"Get away from him!"
Another roar.
Then silence.
Victor waited.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Twenty.
"Mara?"
No answer.
"Mara!"
Still nothing.
Victor looked around the storage room.
His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.
Boxes.
Cleaning supplies.
A metal shelf.
An emergency exit.
He found a small flashlight.
He switched it on.
The beam flickered.
Weak.
But enough.
Victor moved toward the emergency exit.
It was locked.
He tried the handle.
Nothing.
He looked back toward the door.
Silence.
He opened it.
The store beyond was destroyed.
Shelves had been overturned.
Food covered the floor.
Broken glass glittered beneath the emergency lights.
The shotgun lay near the counter.
Mara was gone.
Victor stepped forward.
"Mara?"
A voice answered.
"I'm here."
Victor turned.
Mara stood behind the counter.
Blood covered her left shoulder.
Victor rushed toward her.
"You're hurt."
"It's nothing."
She pressed a cloth against the wound.
Victor looked around.
"Where is it?"
"Outside."
"Did you kill it?"
"No."
"Then where did it go?"
Mara looked toward the rear door.
"I don't know."
Victor stared at her.
"You were shooting at it."
"Yes."
"And?"
"And it left."
Victor looked at the shattered window.
"Why?"
Mara didn't answer.
The old man slowly emerged from behind a fallen shelf.
He was holding the shotgun.
He looked at Mara's shoulder.
"You've been bitten."
Mara's expression hardened.
"It's a scratch."
The old man shook his head.
"It isn't."
Victor looked between them.
"What does a bite mean?"
Neither answered.
Victor's patience broke.
"What does a bite mean?"
The old man looked at Mara.
Then at Victor.
Finally, he said:
"It means we don't have much time."
Mara glared at him.
"Don't scare him."
"I'm not trying to scare him."
The old man pointed toward the blood on her shoulder.
"I'm telling him what happens next."
Victor looked at Mara.
"What happens next?"
She didn't answer.
Victor took a step closer.
"Mara."
She finally looked at him.
"If that thing bit you..."
She interrupted him.
"I know."
"You know what?"
"I know what happens."
Victor's eyes narrowed.
"Then tell me."
Mara looked toward the broken window.
"When I was seventeen, my brother disappeared."
Victor said nothing.
"Three days later, we found him in the woods."
Her voice became quieter.
"He was alive."
The old man lowered the shotgun.
Mara continued.
"But he wasn't himself."
Victor felt a chill.
"What happened to him?"
Mara looked directly at him.
"He killed our father."
Victor stared at her.
"Then he disappeared."
The old man added quietly:
"We found him again six months later."
Victor looked at him.
"Where?"
The old man hesitated.
"Outside town."
"What happened?"
"He was dead."
Victor looked at Mara.
"Your brother?"
She nodded.
"He had been dead for months."
Victor's stomach tightened.
"Then who killed your father?"
Mara didn't answer.
The old man did.
"Your question is wrong."
Victor looked at him.
"What?"
"The question isn't who killed her father."
He looked toward the shattered window.
"It's what came back wearing her brother's face."
Victor felt the hairs on his arms rise.
The old man continued:
"People like to believe monsters are obvious."
He looked at Victor.
"They aren't."
Victor remembered the voice outside.
Please help me.
He remembered how human it sounded.
His stomach turned.
"What was that thing?"
The old man stared at him.
"You really don't know?"
"No."
"You don't remember anything?"
"No."
The old man studied Victor for several seconds.
Then he looked at Mara.
"He really doesn't."
Mara nodded.
"I told you."
The old man looked back at Victor.
"Then you're in more trouble than I thought."
Victor frowned.
"Why?"
Before the old man could answer, headlights appeared outside.
Three vehicles.
They approached the gas station slowly.
Victor stepped toward the window.
Mara stopped him.
"Don't."
"Who are they?"
"I don't know."
The old man walked toward the front entrance.
Mara whispered:
"Don't open the door."
He ignored her.
He looked through the broken window.
Then his expression changed.
"They're ours."
Victor frowned.
"Who are 'ours'?"
The old man opened the door.
Three black SUVs entered the parking lot.
No markings.
No police lights.
No sirens.
The vehicles stopped in front of the station.
Four people stepped out.
All wore dark clothing.
Two carried rifles.
The other two appeared unarmed.
The first man to enter was tall, perhaps in his forties.
His clothes were immaculate.
He looked completely out of place among the broken glass and blood.
His eyes immediately went to Victor.
He stopped.
For several seconds, he simply stared.
Then he said:
"That's him."
Victor's stomach tightened.
Mara stepped between them.
"Who are you?"
The man looked at her.
"Agent Elias Ward."
He reached into his coat.
Mara raised the shotgun.
Ward stopped.
"I'm not here to hurt you."
The old man lowered his weapon slightly.
"You took your time."
Ward looked at him.
"Traffic."
The old man stared at him.
"Out here?"
Ward almost smiled.
"Bad joke."
He looked at Victor again.
"Is he injured?"
Victor answered before Mara could.
"I'm fine."
Ward's eyes moved over him.
"No."
Victor frowned.
"Excuse me?"
Ward pointed at Victor's neck.
"You have bruising."
Victor touched his throat.
The marks were already fading.
Ward noticed.
His expression became serious.
"How long ago were you attacked?"
Victor hesitated.
"I don't know."
"Approximately."
"Maybe an hour."
Ward looked at one of the people behind him.
The man checked a device in his hand.
Ward asked:
"Did you encounter a Class-Two?"
The man shook his head.
"No confirmed identification."
Ward looked back at Victor.
"What did you encounter?"
Victor stared at him.
"I don't know."
"Describe it."
Victor thought about the creature.
"Large."
"How large?"
"Like a man."
Ward waited.
"That's not what I mean."
Victor swallowed.
"It was bigger than a man."
"How much bigger?"
"Maybe two meters."
Ward's expression remained unchanged.
"Hair?"
"Yes."
"Claws?"
"Yes."
"Eyes?"
"White."
Ward exchanged a glance with one of his agents.
Victor noticed.
"What?"
Ward ignored the question.
"Did it bite you?"
"No."
"Did it scratch you?"
Victor looked at his arm.
The cut was there.
He hadn't thought about it.
"Maybe."
Ward immediately stepped backward.
"Show me."
Victor hesitated.
Ward's tone changed.
"Show me the wound."
Victor held out his arm.
Ward looked at it.
His face became completely still.
"That's not a scratch."
Victor looked down.
The wound had almost disappeared.
Ward stared at Victor.
Then at Mara.
Then back at Victor.
"Who are you?"
Victor almost laughed.
"I was hoping you could tell me."
Ward didn't smile.
He pulled out a small tablet.
He looked at the screen.
"Victor."
Victor froze.
Ward continued.
"Victor Hale."
Victor's heart stopped.
He stared at the man.
"What did you call me?"
Ward looked up.
"Victor Hale."
The name struck him differently.
Victor.
That sounded familiar.
Hale.
That didn't.
His mind searched.
Nothing.
"That's not my name."
Ward frowned.
"You don't remember?"
"No."
Ward looked at his tablet again.
"Interesting."
Victor stepped toward him.
"Where did you get that name?"
Ward didn't answer.
"Who am I?"
Still nothing.
Victor's frustration rose.
"You came here knowing my name."
Ward finally looked directly into his eyes.
"Because your disappearance has been an active investigation for nine years."
Victor stopped breathing.
Nine years.
The room seemed to tilt.
"What?"
Ward continued calmly.
"You disappeared nine years ago."
Victor stared at him.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because I..."
Victor stopped.
He didn't know what he was about to say.
Because he was twenty-six?
Because he remembered yesterday?
Because he remembered nothing?
He had no answer.
Ward studied him carefully.
"You appear to be approximately thirty years old."
Victor frowned.
"Approximately?"
Ward didn't answer.
The old man stepped forward.
"Enough."
Ward glanced at him.
"We need to leave."
Victor looked at the vehicles outside.
"Where are you taking me?"
Ward answered immediately.
"To a medical facility."
Victor shook his head.
"No."
Ward raised an eyebrow.
"You've been unconscious in a mass grave, attacked by an unidentified creature, and you've apparently lost nine years of your life."
He pointed toward the vehicles.
"You need medical attention."
Victor stared at him.
"Why should I trust you?"
Ward smiled faintly.
"You shouldn't."
That answer caught Victor off guard.
Ward continued:
"But right now, you have very few alternatives."
Victor looked toward Mara.
She was watching him.
He could see uncertainty in her eyes.
But also something else.
Concern.
Mara spoke quietly.
"Go with them."
Victor looked at her.
"Why?"
"Because if they wanted you dead..."
She glanced toward the shattered window.
"...they wouldn't have come here with doctors."
Victor looked at the three vehicles.
Then at Ward.
Then at the dark road outside.
He still didn't trust them.
But Mara was right.
He had no money.
No identification.
No memory.
No idea where he was.
And something in the darkness knew his name.
Victor took a slow breath.
"Fine."
Ward nodded.
One of the agents opened the rear door of the middle SUV.
Victor started walking toward it.
He stopped beside Ward.
"One question."
Ward looked at him.
"Ask."
Victor lowered his voice.
"What was in that grave?"
Ward's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But Victor noticed.
"How much did you see?" Ward asked.
"Thousands of bodies."
Ward remained silent.
Victor continued:
"Who were they?"
Ward looked toward the burning horizon.
Then back at Victor.
"We don't know."
Victor frowned.
"You're lying."
Ward's eyes hardened.
"No."
He paused.
"We know exactly who they were."
Victor waited.
Ward's voice dropped.
"That's the problem."
He opened the SUV door.
"Get inside."
Victor stepped into the vehicle.
Before the door closed, he looked back toward the darkness.
For a moment, he thought he saw something between the trees.
Two pale eyes.
Watching.
Then they disappeared.
The door shut.
The vehicle began moving.
Victor leaned against the window.
The gas station became smaller behind him.
Mara stood outside.
The old man beside her.
Neither waved.
Victor looked down at his hands.
His fingers were still covered with dried blood.
He closed his eyes.
And immediately—
he heard a woman's voice.
Not the creature.
Not Mara.
Someone else.
A voice from somewhere buried deep inside his missing memories.
A voice trembling with fear.
"Victor, if you're hearing this..."
His eyes opened.
The voice continued inside his head.
"...then something went terribly wrong."
Victor stared into the darkness outside the window.
And for the first time since waking in the grave, he felt something worse than fear.
He felt recognition.
He knew that voice.
He just didn't know from where.
Or why hearing it made him want to cry.