Sira’s thoughts are a mess of disjointed words and signals from their nervous system. It’s been that way since the creature gave chase and they crossed from the dead forest into the limits of the city.

  In some ways, this feels worse than the case.

  Gun. Danger. Move.

  None of it has any effect anymore. Their body has frozen over. Consequently, they can’t bring themself to look fully away from the end of the shotgun shoved in their face, but they’re still able to make out the trio that surrounds them. All donning elaborately armored black suits, all with guns in their hands, and all staring like Sira just sprouted a pair of wings – or, judging by their exact reactions, they’ve done something worse than that.

  As far as Sira can tell, though, the strangers are normal people. The suits they wear leave nothing uncovered, but nothing suggests another one of the monsters hiding beneath. Each of them has a black armband that Sira would have missed if it weren’t for the white stripes embroidered on the material. Their helmets have a clear visor over the upper portion of the face, permitting the wearer to see, and some kind of breathing apparatus takes up the rest.

  ‘Respirator’ is the word that pops into Sira’s mind, like ‘casket’ did before.

  They’re armed to the teeth, too. Are they…soldiers?

  “What the fuck.” The one who came into view last, the shortest of them, drops his gun to the floor to instead clasp the sides of his head with both hands. “What the fuck.”

  “Who…are you?” The second one who entered asks, who Sira assumes is a woman, even with her height and build. She has three white stripes on her armband. Her tone is almost accusatory.

  Sira wants to speak, wants to ask what just happened, what is going on, and why there’s a gun pointed at them, but it’s as if that part of their brain decided to shut down. They continue to sit in motionless silence, doing as the man with the gun instructed them.

  The same man also remains silent, his gun still level with their head. He’s taller, with more bulk to him than the rest, and the one eye that’s visible from behind his helmet has a piercing quality to it. He would be intimidating even if he didn’t have a weapon aimed directly at them.

  A long moment passes. No one moves or says a thing until the tall woman exchanges glances with the short guy, who drops his hands from his head. She takes a cautious step towards Sira.

  More gently this time, she asks: “Can you speak?”

  They still can’t get the words out. Without turning their head, Sira meets eyes with her and hopes the expression on their face is frightened and confused enough to get the point across.

  “Mikael,” the woman says, her voice becoming firm again. “Lower it.”

  The man with the gun jerks his head sideways to look at her. “Are you serious?”

  “They’re likely in shock and that’s not going to make it any better. If they were going to turn, it would’ve happened long before now.”

  Turn?

  Mikael returns his attention to Sira, wordlessly observing them for a few more seconds. Then, he takes a step back and does as he’s told, rather reluctantly, but keeps his firearm ready in his hands. Most of his face might be hidden, but Sira feels his glare on their skin like a nasty burn.

  They audibly gulp. Swallowing causes more pain than it’s worth, especially after running as much as they did to get where they are now.

  “Hang on.” The shorter man’s voice is as unsteady as his walk when he also elects to take a step toward Sira. “Let me check—”

  “Lionel,” the woman warns.

  “Hey, I got this. Listen,” ‘Lionel’ continues to slowly approach Sira, hands held up like they might lunge at him at any second. “I’m a doctor. Just wanna take a look at you real quick to make sure you’re okay. That should be fine, right?”

  “He is not a doctor,” Mikael states dryly.

  “Look, I’d be a doctor if I got the chance. My point is, I’m the person here with the most medical expertise.” His hands start to lower as he gets close to them, his posture becoming more confident. “I’m not gonna touch you or anything, just need to get closer to make sure you’re okay.”

  Sira can do little to stop him as they still can’t manage to move or speak. There’s only a slight flinch of their legs as Lionel crouches in front of them, close enough for them to see the pair of bright eyes behind his mask. He has a much more easygoing air about him than the other man.

  He tilts himself forward. Sira instinctively leans away, the only voluntary movement they can manage. He doesn’t react to it. His eyes scan over them several times, giving a cursory examination of their arms, legs, and facial features.

  It doesn’t give off perverse intent in any way, instead seeming like genuine intrigue, but it’s still uncomfortable and Sira can’t help but feel exposed. Then, his eyes stare into theirs for what seems like a solid minute.

  “…nothing.” Lionel gets back to his feet with a shake of his head, turning to face his two companions. “No weird veins on the skin. Not a trace of discharge from the nose, eyes, or ears. Eyes are bloodshot but if it was from infection, it’d look a lot different. They’re totally clean…externally, anyway.”

  The woman’s wide-eyed stare swaps between Sira and Lionel. “That’s impossible.”

  Tightness builds in Sira’s chest and their fingers clench around something hard in the broken pieces of shelving beneath them. Impossibly hot pain from pushing themself far past their limit burns through them with ferocity. Their head, once again, feels like it’s on the verge of splitting open, and these people aren’t helping.

  This is too much. This has to be some kind of joke. Or a bad dream.

  They wake up with no memories. Red fog is everywhere. Monsters exist. And now these people that they first thought were coming to the rescue are gawking at them and talking about them as if they aren’t here. After one almost put a bullet through Sira’s skull.

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  Cold panic sinks downward in favor of the irritation bubbling up in their throat. The mental block keeping them from speaking releases some of its hold on them:

  “…what are you talking about?”

  The trio all jerk in surprise, despite the neglected state of Sira’s throat making it come out as a pitiful rasp more than a fed-up demand for information. Mikael’s grip tightens on his gun, but he doesn’t move to raise it.

  Sira shuts up again, immediately thinking they’ve done something out of turn.

  “You don’t have any kind of facial protection,” the woman says, matter-of-factly.

  The answer is so nebulous and unhelpful that Sira almost chokes. “What?”

  The trio all look at each other before looking back at them with wide eyes. Sira curls in on themself as a means of defense from the sense of shame and embarrassment creeping up on them, but they don’t know what exactly they’re feeling shameful or embarrassed about.

  “…did you crawl out from under a rock or something?” Lionel is the first to speak again, making broad, sweeping gestures to the area around them. “Breathing in this much fog? You should’ve become one of the monsters like, yesterday.”

  “This can’t be because of a delayed onset, correct?” The woman asks him.

  “That’s only if you inhale a tiny bit of the mist. So, like you said–” He points at Sira with his thumb, “–this is supposed to be impossible.”

  Gaining back more of their ability to move, Sira reaches a shaking hand up to clutch their head as the room spins a little. Their thoughts twist into a whirlwind. Those things used to be people?

  “I…okay,” the woman says. “I’m officially saying that we’ll figure it out back at the outpost."

  Sira stiffens as the woman moves to approach her. Her posture becomes more relaxed. Non-threatening. Much like Lionel did, she crouches down in front of them, getting to their level. As confused and scared as Sira is, something about the way she carries herself seems solid. Real. It snaps some of their thoughts back into coherence.

  “Listen, you must be pretty freaked out right now, but you’re going to be okay. I promise. We’re not here to hurt you, we’re here to help. This is just…new to us.” She places a hand over her chest. “My name is Rani Parekh. What’s yours?”

  Sira briefly studies her. The cordiality seems practiced, which is off-putting, but at the same time, it doesn’t come off as dishonest, exactly. It’s an offer of help, and that’s what they wanted to find in the first place, even if they ended up being pursued by those creatures in the process.

  And these people dealt with said creatures more quickly than Sira would have thought possible if they hadn’t just witnessed it.

  This is it. What else can they do? Where else can they go? Sira’s throat is tight, but they push the words out, “It’s Sira. I think.”

  “You think?”

  "Honestly, I-I can’t remember much.”

  The gentle look in Rani’s eyes turns to concern. “What do you mean?”

  Sira tucks their knees to their chest and timidly stares at the floor. Aside from mostly being a blur, the events of the past few hours are too much for them to summarize. Especially not when they still struggle to think clearly. “It’s a lot to explain. I don’t know how I got here, or what’s happened, or…who I am."

  “Well, shit.” Lionel clicks his tongue. “This keeps getting better.”

  Mikael remains silent. Sira doesn’t look his way, but they still feel the intensity of his gaze, like being watched by a hawk. They avoid affording him any visible acknowledgment. As far as they’re concerned, they have nothing to hide, but it still makes their skin crawl.

  “Maybe it’s temporary and it’ll come back to you. As I said, we’ll sort out the details later.” The way Rani’s eyes wrinkle past the visor of the helmet makes them think she’s smiling. “You look like you’re in pretty rough shape, so how about we work on getting you somewhere safe first?”

  She extends her hand. Sira meets her eyes again. Somewhere safe.

  They assume that means away from the monsters, perhaps even away from the fog, regardless of how it doesn’t affect them the way these people expected it to. They assume it means food, water, and a place to properly lie down and rest. There’s a small chance that isn’t the case, but Sira doesn’t think they have much of a choice. Or much to lose.

  With a hard swallow, Sira places their bare hand in Rani’s gloved one. She tugs them upward to help them to their feet, but their trembling limbs and the collection of debris beneath them cause them to stumble. She catches them, grasping their shoulders tightly and holding them steady.

  “Sorry,” Sira stammers out, heat rising in their cheeks.

  “It’s alright.” Rani releases their shoulders and takes a careful step back to give them space, but she keeps her arms extended like she expects Sira to topple over. “Are you able to walk on your own?”

  “I th-think so.”

  It’s partially a lie. They did get this far, even outrunning the monsters, which they aren’t sure how they accomplished outside of a pure flight response. Sira would rather not have to walk for much longer, but the image of being carried or leaning on a shoulder makes them cringe internally.

  “The outpost is just a little ways away. If you start feeling faint or like you can’t make it, then one of us will help you, okay?” She turns back to the two men. “Lionel, between me and Sira. Mikael, take up the rear.”

  Mikael hasn’t taken his attention off Sira throughout the exchange with Rani. “I don’t like this.”

  “Tough. If something happens, you’re capable of handling it, aren’t you?”

  Sira folds their arms around themself, shoulders curling inward as they stare at the ground again. These people are still half-convinced that they’re going to transform into one of those horrible creatures at any second, but as far as Sira’s case is concerned, the only thing the mist does is make their lungs feel a bit odd – which has since become unnoticeable unless they think about it.

  At least Rani, the most insistent on bringing Sira with them, appears to be in charge.

  Mikael seems to consider, before heaving a sigh. “Fine.” However, he does not holster his gun.

  “Great, now that’s settled, so can we start heading back now?” Lionel goes over to retrieve his own weapon from where he dropped it on the floor. “After all that, I’m freaking starving, and no offense to our new friend, but you look like you’re in desperate need of a meal yourself.”

  Sira slowly nods. His casual attitude feels so out of place, but no one comments on it.

  Rani gestures for them to follow as she and Lionel turn to leave. Sira is all too aware of Mikael’s presence looming behind them. They hazard a half-glance backward as Rani leads everyone towards the nearest exit – a side door with its windowpanes long since shattered.

  Sure enough, he’s still staring at them.

  His visible eye narrows once their gazes meet. Sira turns their head away immediately. All they can picture is him drawing his gun again and aiming it at their back, like a hostage. Part of them feels like a hostage, even though that’s not how the situation is playing out.

  Sira pointedly directs their attention to their feet and carefully steps around the broken bits of everything scattered across the ground as the group exits the building.

  “One second. Let me check in with Therese.”

  They lift their head at the sound of Rani’s voice to see her and Lionel with their guns back in their hands, the latter fitting fresh rounds into his rifle. They both stand with the husk of a rusted van as cover. Rani unhooks a round, dark shape from her belt and turns a switch on the top.

  “Eta-12 Heron to Robin. We’re headed back. Zero casualties.”

  The voice from the other side has a lilt of relief: “Roger that.”

  A two-way radio, with call signs and everything. These people don’t look like military per-se, but whatever they are, it seems official nonetheless. Sira takes it as a good sign.

  Rani turns to them and, again, does what they assume is a smile.

  “We’re going to try to be quick, but we still need to move carefully,” she explains. “We want to avoid another fight with one of those things if we can, so I just need you to stick close to us and follow our lead, understand?”

  Sira nods. Their legs are still unsteady, but they can manage. Hopefully. With that, Rani continues forward, signaling as she directs the group to another point of cover.

  The pain and exhaustion haven’t left Sira’s body, and it’s bound to get worse before they’ve arrived wherever they’re going. Sira forces themself to suppress it and falls into the rhythm of Rani’s instructions. Somewhere safe, they mentally repeat to themself.

  They recall the underground chamber they awoke in, with its vein-like growths and maddening disorientation. They haven’t seen any of those veins in the city so far. For some reason, that observation makes them worry more than it brings them relief.

  But, with any luck, they’ll never have to go back and see any of it again.