"What if I do?" - he challenged me. "Huh? What if I do? You see with your very own eyes that it's not just another crazy cult - it's all real and happening! They've known it was going to happen, and they've prepared! It's not us, it's the world that's crazy! You hear me?" - he shouted at me. "What, are you going to say that you're happy with where you live? That you're happy with how people around you have turned out after living in this world? You've always wanted to leave - but did you ever stop and think whether you should have such desires? Maybe if they didn't mess up the country, the town would be an alright place! They've taken everything - you hear me - everything from us! We're just taking it back!"
"Don't play hero with me" - I scowled at him. "Do you even have a clue how many people have died because of your actions?"
"And how many were shot by the military?" - he countered, not intending to give up. "Huh? The military that's supposed to protect us, the military that is following the orders of a government we supposedly chose! As soon as you're not wanted - you're wasted! What a nice world to live in, right? Fricking great! You're nobody in this country - all of us are! And if you can't do anything about it - don't stand in my way!"
"Again with this..." - I shook my head. "Why do you keep saying that this world is so bad? Haven't you had a great life here? You've had it all: a girlfriend, a place to live, friends..." - my voice suddenly gave out on the last word: I wasn't aware that some part of me still considered the mutated piece of flesh in front of me my friend, but apparently, that was the case.
"I..." - he took a deep, hateful breath and locked eyes with me, but no answer followed. He was struggling to pick the right words - or wasn't sure if he even had them.
"You don't know a thing!" - he finally said. "It could be so much more. Have you ever asked the people around you how their life was back in the day?"
"What does it matter…?" - I started before he interrupted me: "It does matter! It does because if you were paying attention you'd know that. Everyone who had lived there kept talking about that. It was a paradise. Have you ever bothered to ask your mother about that time? I have! My parents have told me all about it, and my grandparents, too! And they've taken it away from us! We've been waiting for three generations for the King in Rags to come, and he didn't abandon us. He'll make things right" - Nikita said with a scowl on his face.
"Wait, so your parents are involved as well?" - I inquired. My head was heavy. Nikita nodded. "Who do you think has initiated me to the Order? Do you think they just walk around the town and invite everyone willing? We've survived for so long because we've kept it personal. We've kept this secret close to home, close to family."
"And you didn't think about leaving it all? Can't you see that they've been using you?" - I asked him. How could he be so oblivious to such a thing?
He sent me a crooked smile as if one of the nails it was hanging on fell off. "Better to be of use to your family than to be used by others like a slave. It was nothing short of fate that I was born into this family and in this town."
"Hindsight is twenty-twenty" - I interrupted him. I felt sick. "You say that it's your fate only because you've decided to roll with your family's plans for you."
"I decided to join them because it was my purpose. I was born with it. To carry their mission forward. Can you say the same?" - he gave me a prideful look.
I looked at his twisted arm. At the growths on his face. At the wound that was bleeding more ooze than blood.
"No" - I said. "I guess I have to think for myself" - I told him.
"That's the problem with people" - Nikita smiled, letting another spurt of black liquid out of his mouth. "They don't want to listen to experience. Don't worry. You'll come around."
"So, what now? You're going to kill me? Kill Natasha? Is that your cause?" - I questioned him.
"I was ready for such things. This new world order has had you all brainwashed. I can't change who you are if you resist it. I can only fight you" - he told me.
He was dead serious. He was ready to tear us all down for the sake of the cause he was born into.
And in a way, by voicing that, he lent me some of his strength and determination. For the first time since I'd seen him like that, he said something we could agree on.
"Yes" - I said, stepping closer and squeezing the hatchet in my hands. "I guess you're right."
"Come on" - he urged me. "Do it. I'm ready to become a martyr for the cause. One day you'll see. You'll be living happily in a world that I've built, remember what you've done here, and then hang yourself in your guest room from guilt. I'll have the final laugh" - he told me, smiling.
"I doubt it, since you won't be around" - I told him. Why did I answer him? Was I trying to postpone the moment I'd have to kill him for good?
"Oh, maybe I won't. But you will be. And you'll see things from my point of view - I guarantee it" - he smirked and winked at me. He wasn't just being coy - he was insinuating something.
"What do you mean?" - I asked him, stopping in my tracks.
"You've felt it, haven’t you?" - he asked me. "His message, coursing through your veins?"
I knew what he was referring to. The horrible, head-splitting headache when the sirens were sounded for the second time. The voice deep within me when he was pushing me against the door. I was harboring something - I just didn't know what yet.
"He is in the ground. He is in the water. He is in the air" - Nikita quoted me the words from the very first transmission of his cult, stressing the last word. "And he will be the fire that will burn you down" - he finished with a satisfied smirk on his face.
So, it wasn’t just in the water, then. Just as I had suspected, it was indeed in the air, too. The infection – or whatever it was – was not just in the pipes, it was airborne, too. We all have been breathing it in, but judging by the fact that Nikita couldn’t control me, the concentration of it within my body hadn’t reach the critical point yet.
Of course, it could very well be rising as we spoke. Perhaps Nikita was breathing that filth, the tiny particles of his so-called messiah into the air, and at any moment I’d suddenly find myself a slave to his will.
I could cut him down right there and then. I could make him the martyr for his cause, and he probably wouldn’t even object. Now was the time.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I hated him for betraying my trust, for betraying the very humanity that nurtured him… And yet, I couldn’t go through with it. At that moment, when our eyes met and I saw him ready to die on his cross – or whatever their cult prayed to – I felt a strange sense of pity for him.
For his entire life, he had been groomed for his role. Raised on the stories how he would become a hero, a savior of the neglected. A man who’d carry the torch that his parents had lit. He had been told that he was exactly where he needed to be.
Just like I had been.
He never saw himself as something more than what his parents had intended for him. He had never had the chance. I had spent my entire life punishing myself for that by putting myself down, and now, when I finally saw the truth about the matter, I couldn’t find it in myself to punish him for it, either.
I had to go. I had to keep my goal in mind and focus only on it. We were very close to finally leaving the town for good. All I needed was his tools.
"Where are your welding tools? I know you have them here somewhere," – I asked him, looking around the room.
"Why? I’ve already sealed all of the doors, no need to worry" – I heard Nikita’s taunting voice. I ignored the question and kept looking. I looked into every corner. Looked under the table where a small radio rested – no doubt the one Nikita used to receive his instructions from his cult’s leaders. Opened the closet.
"Yura, why do you need them?" – he asked me again, this time a little bit more seriously.
I kept on ignoring him. He wasn’t answering my questions, so I saw no point in humoring him.
"Yura, why? What are you planning?"
Th
ere it was. A heavy duffel bag, behind the bed. I put it on the bed, opened it. Took out all the welding equipment.
It was there. A gas torch, at the very bottom of the bag. When I felt its weight in my hand, felt the gas inside the canister, I couldn’t resist but let out a sigh of relief.
"What are you going to do with it?" – I heard Nikita carefully inquire, although at that point I was sure that he had already guessed that.
"I'm leaving" - I told him.
"Leaving?" - he wheezed, trying to laugh. "Leaving where? Do you think anyone waits for you there - outside of this town?"
Such familiar words. Words from the previous life.
"I'm leaving" - I repeated myself. "And I'm taking Natasha with me" - I told him with sudden ferocity. I thought I couldn't feel angry at him anymore, but the thought of her ignited the remains of anger within me, lit a spark in the fumes of adrenaline.
"You're not going to see her ever again. We'll find a way out of here. And you'll just rot in this town" - I promised him. I wanted to believe what I was saying.
For the first time since the beginning of our conversation, his expression changed. The facade of calmness and arrogance that he was trying to maintain finally crumbled and fell away. Not in the face of his own mortality – he had clearly embraced it and was ready for whatever was coming. But the moment I mentioned Natasha his entire demeanor changed.
"No one waits for you there, Yura!" - he cried out. Was it me or did his voice really sound desperate? "You think they care about the people here? They kill us! They kill us without hesitation, Yura! Our people come with the banner of peace over their heads and they mow them down with machineguns! They kill anyone, just to be sure! Do you think they left us electricity because they cared about the people here? They don't give a damn about you!" - Nikita was getting worked up. I wasn't sure what it was: his religious fervor or genuine disdain for the actions of the military. Perhaps both. "They left us electricity because they heard our transmissions! The only reason they keep feeding us energy is because they're gathering intel from us! That's it! The needs of hundreds of stranded people are less important to them!"
"I know" - I lied to him. It would take too much time to explain to him what I did and didn't know - and I didn't want to be around him for another second.
"You'll get her killed!" - he shouted at me angrily. He tried to get up from the floor but the wound I dealt him was too severe. "Don't leave! You have a home here! We can put this all behind us, and if you see what we stand for you might even come around!" - he kept on trying to convince me.
Home. Such a painful word. Was it really my home? A monster-infested, cultist-ridden spot in the middle of nowhere? Sure, I could get a bullet through my brain without even realizing it on my way out - but did it mean I had to agree to how things were here?
"Goodbye, Nikita" - I told him.
"Don't take her there!" - he begged me as I was leaving. "Please, just…let her stay. I…My people will take care of her."
It finally became clear to me what he was so afraid of. The only thing he feared, even as he was lying on the ground bleeding out. He wasn’t scared of his own death. He was scared for her.
"Oh yeah?" - I shook my head but didn't turn around. It was tough to face him again. "Where were you when this all started? Why didn't you come to her?"
There was a pause. For the first time since I had arrived, he was struggling to pick his words.
"I just…Didn't want to scare Natasha with…this" - there was a shuffling sound. I didn't see what he was doing but from the sound of it, he lifted his disfigured arm off the ground before weakly putting it back down.
I silently nodded and leaned on the door. Hearing nothing on the other side, I stepped outside. I knew that the creature could be lying in ambush, but I didn't let that stop me. If I stayed afraid of it I could as well never step outside, and I didn't want to spend another hour together with Nikita.
I didn't want him to see the weakness glittering in the corners of my eyes.
CHAPTER 20 – Outside
The door closed soundlessly behind me - luckily, the hinges and the lock seemed to be lubricated well, so they didn't announce my presence to anyone willing to know. For the next thirty seconds, I stood there in silence, straining my hearing, and too scared to take a step. In such a perfect silence, it would be easy to forget that it wasn't just an ordinary stairwell of Khruschyovka at night, that things weren't as they had been a week before…if not for the trail of blood leading from the floor below to the upstairs.
I was in a strange state of equilibrium: as long as I didn't move, I stayed near the door, and if I heard anything coming I could quickly hide inside. Yet at the same time, if I stayed where I was, I would inevitably be found. I needed to traverse the unknown to get back to the safety of familiar walls. Damned if I do, damned if I don't.
I made the first step. Then another one. Quickly descended down the flight of stairs and looked down at the second floor.
What used to be a lookout was now a place of massacre. Red and black fluids were mixing together, running down the steps, staining the walls… If I were to touch it, I was sure I would find out that it still retained the warmth of the bodies it used to run through. I knew that the thing that had done it was still around, but to see it with my own eyes, to smell it, to feel it make the floor slippery under my feet was a completely different thing.
The men whom I had passed while escaping the creature were still there – frozen in poses no living thing would rest in. Their deaths had been quick and merciless – when the creature had sunk its teeth or whatever it had into them that was it. It seemed that only Nikita was valuable enough to their deity to be kept on this side indefinitely – the rest died like usual, with their god not even caring about that.
I noticed that one of them still clutching a pistol – it seemed that the man had decided to stand his ground instead of running away. I wasn't thinking about my survival at that moment, but I thought that it could still come in handy in the future.
I grabbed the gun and pulled it, only to realize that the hand holding it was not yet dead.
The man I thought to be dead opened his eyes and looked at me. He was too weak to form words, but he had enough strength to form a scowl.
He recognized me. He knew it was me who let the crawling creature in.
A shot rang, and I tumbled down the flight of stairs, clutching my side.
The pain instantly snapped me back to reality, my survival instincts coming back online. I wanted to live. I wanted to live no matter how bleak my future looked.
"What if that crawling thing heard it? What if something else heard it? I'm losing blood. I need to hurry!" - my brain was producing one rushed thought after another.
I descended into the basement, squeezing my wound. I could barely see in the darkness, but luckily, I was alone in there.
I pulled the handle of the door that led to my stairwell. Nothing.
I pulled at it again. It still didn't budge.
It wasn't that I was too weak to open it. It was locked. They must've locked the door behind them as they were fleeing, or maybe the tenants locked it when they heard the sounds of struggle.
I looked back at the windows lining the wall and knocked on the door. I was too scared to shout for someone to open.
I knocked again and heard some noises. But they weren't coming from the other side of the door.
They were coming from the apartment where I left the bait. It seemed that the ape finally took it.
I heard its roar, heard the noise with which the grates were separated from the wall, and shuddered. I had nowhere to run. I was cornered. If it could smell the blood on me…
I could feel that my palm was full of blood, and there was probably a trail of blood drops behind me. My only hope was that it would be drawn toward the bloodbath on the second floor.
I sat down near the door and closed my eyes. There was no point in staying alert - if anything, I had to make sure
I'd make as few sounds as possible. The sounds were starting to get quiet.
The last thing I heard was its footsteps as it entered the stairwell and sniffed the air.
***
The first thing I saw when I woke up was Natasha's eyes. I spent a good minute looking into them, seeing tiny wrinkles in their corners form when she smiled at me with relief, before looking around.
I was back in my apartment. It seemed that someone had found me, after all, and dragged me there. The clothes were gone: I was wearing nothing but my underwear, and my midriff was covered in bandages, with a brown spot of dried, soaked up blood on the left. I poked it with my finger and hissed from pain: the wound was like a tiny, irritated creature that wanted to be left alone. Natasha gently held my hand to stop me from causing myself more pain.
"Who found me?" - I asked her.
"I did" - she said. "I was worried sick about you, and when I heard gunshots I didn't know what to do. I wanted to go there, but I didn't know if I'd be a help or a hindrance. When I finally opened the door you just…lay there, right next to it."
I felt grateful to that tiny girl. How hard it must've been to pick me up and carry wounded me all the way up to the third floor! How scared she must've been of something from behind her catching up to us…And yet she had done it. She went in there alone and when she found me like that she didn't abandon me.
There was something she wasn't telling me though, and I could see. A suspicion crawled up into me, rearing its ugly head - a suspicion that something horrible had happened. I didn't want to confirm it, but I knew I had to.
"And what about the rest?" - I wondered. She averted her eyes.
"Everyone else, they were…gone."
Gone. I was the last man in the militia. Everyone had died doing what I had suggested. Could I predict that the creature would show up? Could anyone else see it coming? Was I supposed to shoulder all of that guilt alone?
I was too weak to think about that.
"Did…Did Nikita do this?" - I wasn't looking at her, but I knew what she was referring to. My wound.
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