I reassemble my sandwich and keep eating.
Ashlynn stops eating and asks, "Is. That. An. EYEBALL?"
"You can have it," I say.
She vomits.
The sound is sharp and sudden. Too loud in the room. I pause chewing, but I don't stop.
"At least swallow the meat," I comment.
She drinks the cup of water already on the table. Some spills onto her shirt. She doesn't wipe it right away.
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" She yells.
Her voice cracks. She looks like she regrets shouting as soon as the sound leaves her mouth. Ashlynn removes the meat and the eyeball from her sandwich. Her fingers shake while she does it. She only eats the bread. She gags while eating. Sometimes she stops, breathes, then forces herself to swallow anyway.
I watch her throat move when she swallows.
Once.
Twice.
I don't know why I'm counting.
The counting doesn't calm me. It doesn't speed anything up either.
We finish our sandwiches. She lets me eat her meat. She doesn't look at it while I do. I leave the eyeballs on the table. I can be picky I think.
I press my ear to the door.
Listening. Silence.
"Unlock it," I say.
Ashlynn unlocks the door. I half open it and scan the surroundings outside the room. I come out first. Ashlynn second. The corridor is quiet.
"We came from that way," I say. "Let's try the other way."
We take a couple steps.
Creak.
A door ahead opens on its own.
I walk forward and take a quick glance. Empty room. Nothing.
I realize my shoulders are tight. I don't relax them.
I tell myself I don't need to.
We move on.
Creak.
Another door ahead opens on its own.
I take a glance. There's only a chair.
Creak.
A different door opens.
A faceless figure sits on a chair.
Ashlynn's fingers curl around my sleeve. Not tight. Just there.
I register the contact a moment late.
Creak.
Another door opens.
A faceless figure standing. No chair.
Creak. Creak. Creak. Creak.
All visible doors ahead open.
Faceless figures. Standing in the open doorways. Their bodies fixed toward us.
I grab Ashlynn by the hand and run.
We run through the curved corridor. Open a door to the next section. Close the door behind.
We stop and catch our breath.
My heart isn't racing. It's calm. Slow.
That feels wrong.
It feels like I missed the moment it should have started.
The leechsteel is cold. It maintains the hardened encased shape covering from my hand to forearm.
Ashlynn's face is pale. Sweat beads on her skin. Her eyes are watery but no tears fall. She hugs me quick and tight, like she's afraid I'll disappear.
For a moment, I don't hug back.
My arms hesitate. I don't know why.
Then I do. Late. Awkward.
She lets go first.
The corridor branches to the left.
"Let's see where left goes," I say.
"Len, are we fine?" she asks.
The question feels heavier than it should. Like it expects something specific from me.
My head feels thick. Pressed from the inside.
"Shhhhh," I say. "We're fine."
The words sound practiced. Like something I learned instead of decided.
She nods. She doesn't look convinced.
We go to the branch to the left. A door. We open it.
Third floor hallway. Big pillars and more liquid lanterns decorating the wall. This floor has more lighting. Every corner is visible. But it's smaller than the hallways from the upper level. It feels tighter. Controlled.
It has a T-shaped cross section.
An elevator shaft and a bell on the door.
My finger reaches for the bell button.
Ashlynn stops my hand. She says, "Wait."
Her hand trembles.
Cough.
Cough.
We both cough.
The sound scrapes my chest instead of burning it.
"Well, do you want to go back to the corridor?" I ask.
The words come out wrong. I know it after I say them.
Too flat. Too neutral.
Ashlynn lets go of my hand.
I push the button.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNGG
The bell ring echoes off the walls.
Creak. Creak. Creak.
Doors open from every existing door in the hallway.
Faceless figures come out. Their number many.
They walk slow.
But their direction is clear.
Us.
I untie the liquid lantern on my waist and give it to Ashlynn.
"Defend yourself," I say.
She looks at the lantern. Then at me. Like she's waiting for something else.
We stand with our backs facing the elevator shaft.
Cough.
Cough.
Ashlynn coughs harder than before. She bends slightly, one hand on her chest.
My heart still isn't racing.
I wait for it.
It doesn't come.
If I were faster—
if I reacted the way I was supposed to—
this wouldn't feel so quiet.
Faceless figures stop in front of us. Surrounding us. Motionless.
I approach the closest figure.
I swing leechsteel in my right hand like a blunt weapon.
BAM.
Its head crushes and spills black liquid as it goes down.
The other faceless figures remain motionless.
Cough.
Cough.
I crush another head. Black liquid spills.
Then another.
More black liquid.
Then more.
No end.
Cough.
Cough.
My knees weaken. My vision blurs.
My heart is too calm.
That bothers me more than the figures. It feels like something important isn't being released.
THUD.
I turn my head.
Ashlynn drops to the floor.
For a moment, I expect her to move.
She doesn't.
Something tightens in my chest.
Too late to matter.
Too slow.
Too late.
I try to move toward her.
My legs don't respond.
THUD.
I drop. Knee first. Then body.
My eyes close.
—
I'm standing on the edge of a building. A building as tall as a mountain. I look up. The sky is distant yet reachable. I look down. People look small like ants. Carts move without being pulled. A giant metal bird flies over my head with a deafening noise.
"Allen," a girl's voice from behind.
I turn.
Beautiful face. Sweet smile. Green eyes. Brunette.
I don't recognize her.
But my chest aches.
I loved her.
—
I wake up to cold pressing into my cheek. Cement—uneven, cracked, untended. I roll onto my side. Push myself upright until my back hits a wall. The impact knocks the air out of me.
Steel bars stand in front of me. Vertical. Evenly spaced. Bolted into the ceiling and floor. Beyond them, a corridor stretches left and right. Straight. Narrow. Lined with identical cells. Lanterns hang between cells at fixed intervals. Glass containers filled with pale liquid. They glow without flame. Without smoke. No oil. No wick. No heat. Just liquid and light.
Across the corridor, a man lies curled near his bars. His back faces me. His chest rises and falls shallowly. He wears the same blue uniform as mine. Different numbers stitched on the chest.
A familiar scene.
On my side of the bars. I look to my right.
A man. Bald. Blue uniform. Sitting. Legs crossed. Creepy smile. Staring at me.
He opens his mouth and says,
"Good morning, Dinner."