Sharp, white-hot pain.
It tears through you before you can even understand it.
A quiet scream slips from your open mouth while your knee slams into the ground. Your hand flies to your side, your fingers clamping over the source before your mind could catch up with your body.
Your vision tightens, then widens. Tightens again. The edges blacken in uneven strokes, like someone dragged charcoal over a canvas and forgot to finish coloring it in.
For a second, the room refuses to settle.
The floor tilts when it should stay still. The broken racks leaning into one another, their outlines bending wrong. Bodies blur at the edges, dragging themselves into shapes that look almost human, then not, then human again.
You wrenched your hand out from your side.
You look down and find a small dagger protruding from your side, its hilt covered in soot.
Your fingers hook beneath your top and drag it up.
The fabric sticks for a moment before peeling away from your skin. Your gloves come off next, dropped without care onto the dirty floor while damp hair spills loose against your face.
You press two fingers gently along the wound.
A pained gasp leaves your mouth.
The dagger shifts slightly with the movement, sending another hot line through your ribs. Your teeth clamp together hard enough for your jaw to ache. You cover the length of the wound with your hand, forcing yourself to feel around it instead of pulling.
The kneading pressure pulses behind your eyes, weaker now, but still there. It comes and goes like somethings breathing against the inside of your skull.
You reach toward the your piece behind you, rummaging about.
Your fingers miss the first time.
Then hit something hard.
Pain snaps up your hand and you hiss through your teeth, curling your fingers once before forcing them open again.
You will it.
A medium sized compact rectangular bag slides across the floor, its rounded corners scraping softly over concrete and grit. It bumps against your knee and stops.
The red of the medical bag pulls at your attention, the zipper pulls itself open without warning.
Individual packages rise from inside, smeared with soot and dust, hovering unsteadily in front of you. A thin film of water forms around them, first a sheen then a harsh, clear layer. It clings to the plastic, pulling the nastiness away and washes it off in swirling ribbons until the packages turn mostly clean.
You opened your palm and water thickened above it, coagulating into a trembling mass before spilling down your fingers.
You washed your hands the best you could.
Your breathing shakes through your teeth while you tear one floating package open.
You pull out the gauze and press it against your side.
The first touch nearly folds you.
Your shoulder hunches while your vision pinches. For one stretched second, the room becomes nothing but amber light, humming machinery and the dagger sitting inside you like the mistake of your life.
A bottle of saline solution uncaps itself above your hand and tips.
Clear fluid spills over the surrounding skin, it burns hot enough it makes your wound seize. It soaks through your attire and paints your clothes pink.
For every inch pressed in, it stung, your ribs protesting every touch, forcing you to take shallow breaths.
More.
And more.
Until a pad is pressed over the wound, wrapped tight with cloth around your waist as you breathe through your teeth, keeping the pressure constant and firm.
Your hands are painted red.
Black minerals contract across your fingers and the back of your hand.
You take a moment to catch your breath before ripping out a cleaner strip of cloth, using it to wipe yourself down, finding yourself shivering from the cold.
You reached to your right side, inside a stuffed white pouch.
Two bright blood pills rise into the air from it, hovering in front of you.
The lingering taste of copper and salt permeates your senses, so you wipe your lips with the back of your hand.
You tossed them into your mouth, the dull flavor dragging over your taste buds.
You lift your left hand and see your silver bracelet bouncing the broken light. The time and date glow white across the small screen.
You stare at it then cup your hands.
Water fills them from below, a kneading sensation coming and going behind your eyes until the bowl is full.
"glup!—Hahh..."
Water spilled from your mouth and ran down your chin, soaking into your top.
You closed your eyes for a moment, your head leaning back.
The empty medical packaging ignites into flames mid-fall before collapsing inward, snuffing into black tar that splatters against the ground.
You shook your head and opened your eyes once more, throwing a glance toward the entrance.
Leaning forward, you stared at the mess made in the room, your eyes cast down for a few seconds before the pockets of the dead moved like hands were running through them.
A sigh leaves your mouth.
You willed them closer.
One by one, the contents of their pockets were laid bare for you to see, yet it amounted to nothing more.
Your gaze ran over them and landed on one before their phone rose into your hand.
Their lock screen appeared and glared back at you. The end of their life had come just as quickly.
With a sigh, you grabbed their hand and used their finger.
Nothing. Three more times, then you swiped up and punched in a random assortment of numbers.
It worked.
tap...tap tap.
The lock screen dissolved and the home screen slid into place, its background glaring at you.
You sifted through the apps for several seconds, sending everything you could to your bracelet. A small red bell rang on the bracelet's screen for each transferred file.
Ding~!
A notification dropped from the top.
Hesitantly, you tapped the message and a group chat took over.
Another message. Or notice, in this case.
「XXX has left the chat.」
A cluster of nine people hovered near the top, losing one the next moment, then again.
Not even a second later, a small time code appeared above the phone inside a red box, the counter ticking up.
00:00:03
00:00:04
00:00:05
It was you, recording just in case.
whummm…
The group conversation faded away, leaving you alone with your thoughts while you scrolled up. Again, the fan bearings stifled everything, drowning out the depot and your breathing.
「Change of plans. We're meeting at XXX instead.」
Your finger paused over the past message, tracing the address with cold eyes.
Ding~!
A new message slid in.
「Chat unavailable.」
You switched apps and opened the map. You punched in the location and watched the route calculate, noting the distance and the turns you would need to take from the main street.
whummm…
You stayed seated for a few more seconds, listening for footsteps, anything and everything. Meanwhile, every remaining file transferred to your bracelet until the red bell went silent.
With everything set and done, you planted a hand on the ground and pushed yourself up, pocketing the phone.
Only to stumble for a moment.
A second became several, and those bled into three long minutes.
In the far corner, away from the scattered supplies, the fallen lay beneath a harsh tarp. Damaged crates and rusted, bent rods had been dragged over them in a crude attempt at concealment.
The air returned to its stale stillness, dust floating through it.
You threw one last look at them, then turned and walked the way you came.
With a small flick of your fingers, your piece slid back to your side. You glanced at it once and its outline blurred. The obscured silhouette began to shimmer more and more, warping like heatwaves on a summer day.
And.
When you crossed the doorframe.
tzrraak!
Lightning split the sky.
Rain crashed down in sheets.
Cold droplets slid down your hood, souring your mood and weighing your clothes against your skin.
Garbage littered the pavement in soggy heaps. Plastic bags torn open near bins. Paper flattened into pulp on the sidewalk. A shopping cart lay on its side near the curb, one wheel spinning lazily with the wind.
You raised your head to the sky and drew in a breath for every thump pulsing from your side.
Then back down.
Your gaze followed the lonely figures staggering through the ruined street.
Even the one getting beaten on the far side of the metal fence.
You stepped down the heavy street while distant red and blue lights painted the horizon, where high-rises littered the sky.
More.
Then more.
The closer you got, the faster they scurried off, harsh coughing filling the air with blight. Their eyes ran over you before fading away.
A man hunched beneath a broken station, hacking into his sleeve until his shoulders shook. Beside him, a child sat on an overturned crate, both small hands wrapped around a steaming paper cup with no lid.
Broken light cast between their gazes.
You followed where the child stared and found an armored vehicle crawling lazily down the dilapidated road.
It spewed out something and nothing at once.
Dissolution.
Death.