Ethan tried to scream, but only smoke poured from his mouth. The darkness crawled into his mouth, nose, and eyes, slowly dissolving him from the inside. He felt his body beginning to crumble into ash while his consciousness drowned in someone else's memories.
"Ah!" He woke with a sharp gasp, sucking in air.
His heart was pounding as if it wanted to tear itself out of his chest. His forehead was slick with cold sweat. The black lines on his arm pulsed with hot, painful heat, now climbing almost to his elbow.
"Hey… Ethan," Gideon called softly.
Gideon was standing over him, gently shaking his shoulder. In the dim light, his face looked exhausted and his eyes were grim.
"You were moaning in your sleep…"
"You were shouting something… about Maria. I thought it'd be better to wake you."
Ethan sat up, trying not to cry out. He instinctively clutched the stake to himself, like some cursed ring from Middle-earth.
"What time is it?" he asked hoarsely.
"Almost two hours have passed. Bruno's asleep. Flash is already packed. I think it's time."
Ethan nodded and slowly got to his feet. His legs felt like cotton, and the bitter, smoky taste from the dream still lingered in his mouth. He glanced at the black stake it seemed slightly heavier than before.
Flash stood by the door, already wearing his jacket and carrying a backpack. In his hand he held an old pistol with a suppressor. Bullet sat on his shoulder, ears alert and twitching.
"Ready?" Flash asked quietly.
"Ready," Ethan replied, even though everything inside him was tight with exhaustion and fear.
They left the apartment in silence. Gideon stayed behind with Bruno, who was too weak to go. Before they left, Gideon pulled Ethan into a one-armed hug.
"Don't play hero, you hear me?" he whispered. "Come back alive. We're already short on people."
Ethan could only nod; no words came.
They slipped out of Flash's apartment through the back door to avoid the main entrance.
Every step echoed dully, and Ethan unconsciously pressed the black stake closer to his body, as if afraid it might tear itself free and leave on its own.
Outside, the rain was coming down in sheets.
Cold drops instantly soaked their jackets and hair. Flash walked ahead, head lowered. Bullet had hidden under his jacket and only occasionally poked her wet little muzzle out.
They crossed the empty lot in silence and reached an old railway stop, an abandoned platform where freight trains used to halt.
Behind a rusty freight car sitting on a siding, Flash stopped and crouched, motioning for Ethan to do the same.
"From here we follow the tracks," he said quietly. "It's faster and there are fewer cameras."
"Stay close to me."
Ethan nodded, but didn't have time to answer.
The rain grew heavier. It now lashed at their faces like cold whips. Water ran down their necks and slipped under their collars.
The black stake in Ethan's hand became slippery.
And then the voices grew clearer.
At first it was just noise, a distant murmur, like wind in the treetops. But with every step along the wet rails, the words became distinct.
They spoke directly inside his head, bypassing his ears:
"Kill… Kill them all… You can."
"You're already ours."
"One strike and they'll become us…"
"Free us… we'll show you how sweet blood tastes…"
Ethan stopped abruptly.
His heart hammered. The voices were different male, female, old, young, hundreds of them, and all of them wanted the same thing.
They weren't asking. The voices were commanding. A vivid image flashed in his mind: Flash lying on the rails with his skull smashed in, the black stake protruding from his chest.
"No…" Ethan thought, clenching his teeth.
"You're lying. I'm not like that. I'm not going to kill innocent people! I'm not one of you…"
But the voices only laughed softly, almost tenderly.
"Ethan?" Flash turned around.
Water streamed down his face, making his gaze even sharper.
"You can hear them, can't you?"
Ethan nodded, unable to speak.
His throat had tightened.
Flash stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder. His fingers were wet and cold.
"Keep it together, kid."
"Hear me?"
"The most dangerous part is believing them. They'll whisper that killing is easy."
"That it's power, that it's freedom. No, it's a curse…"
He paused, then added more quietly, almost in a whisper:
"I've seen how this ends."
"One guy… he thought he could handle it too."
"And then he became like them."
Flash suddenly turned and pointed toward an old depot that loomed about twenty meters from the tracks.
Ethan looked.
There, under the shelter of the ruined building, stood people. Or what was left of them.
A whole crowd, thirty or forty. They stood completely motionless, like vegetables in a garden bed.
Their arms hung limply at their sides, heads tilted back, faces turned up to the black sky.
Rain poured straight into their open eyes, but no one blinked. They simply stood there without any movement.
Some wore rags, others were dressed in what had once been expensive clothes, now reduced to tatters. The same empty, blissful expression was frozen on every face as they stared at the sky.
"These are the ones who didn't make it," Flash said quietly.
"They released the souls… or the souls released them. I don't know exactly how they ended up like this."
"Now they just stand there. Not alive, not dead, just vegetables."
He turned to Ethan and looked him straight in the eyes.
"You can still get rid of this. It just takes endurance."
"You can still turn back. And unfortunately… we need this thing right now."
Ethan stared at the motionless crowd. Rain streamed down their faces like tears they could no longer feel. In his head, the voices whispered again, now almost tenderly:
"They're happy… they're free… join them… break us and you'll be free too…"
He gripped the stake tighter.
"I won't become a vegetable," he thought to himself.
"And I won't give in to you."