I stood by the purge gate, feeling little refreshed by the micro naps (or were they longer? So hard to tell). The world buzzed with static, reminding me of my last hours in that terrible place, and my newly regrown (had that really happened?) fingers throbbed. I tried not to show my misery, in case someone enquired about it and I was put into some monstrous headache research program. I really wouldn't put anything past them at this stage.

As I stood there, fighting against the urge to rub my temples, I thought I saw the lights flick on and off (or did my eyes simply close a little too long and reflexively?) and when the lights came on again I saw Red standing there at the end of the corridor wearing a white shift, her red hair long and wet, curls almost straightened by the wetness.

I tightened my grip on my gun (we'd all been given guns, apparently a new thing since the last incident) and resisted the urge to step forward. Was I hallucinating? This all felt so very unreal, as though the edges of my vision were curling inwards. But if it wasn't a hallucination … if she was really there … then surely I should help her?

I tried to call out to the Walrider, seeking it out with my conscious mind, but it wouldn't come.

Apparently I had no connection to it while awake.

My thoughts were jarred, disconnected with a static bloom that cracked within my skull, as a sudden twitch jerked her around until she stood side-on in the T-intersection, revealing one half of her incredibly smooth face. Her skin seemed so flawless, like a doll, that it was uncanny.

My heart pounded against my ribs, my fingers clammy on a gun I didn't really know how to work.

Was this due to some kind of experiment? Was this the opposite sort of facility to the last which mutilated bodies to make them hideous?

I tried to speak, to call out to her, but my mouth was dry and the air seemed to be pulling away from me, making it harder for me to draw in the air needed to speak. It was as though I were surrounded by a vacuum so intense it even curled the light around the edges of my vision.

The woman, Red, my saviour from before, turned her head toward me in a series of tiny jerks. Her eyes cold, near soulless, but when they latched onto me, and it felt almost physical enough for it to truly latch on, they seemed to warm and grow desperate. She reached out a hand toward me in a move so quick I didn't see the motion and her lips curled around the syllables: Help Me.

And then the lights buzzed on and off again and she was gone.

The door to the Purge Gate control room opened up and another guard stared out at me. "Y'see that?" he asked, face ashen.

I nodded slowly.

"I saw it on the camera," he murmured. "Best not mention it, I think."

I could only nod.

He paused. "You see more than a light flash on and off?"

I didn't say anything as I didn't know the right thing to say, but apparently I was a bad liar because he continued, "Not the first time something like that got caught on camera," he said in a low voice, looking both ways as though expecting the figure to reappear or perhaps a HR representative to jump out of a closet. "Most people only see them through the camera. I don't know why but it's rare to see them with your own eyes. I wouldn't let management hear about it. In fact, I ain't heard anything about that." And with a firm nod, he ended the conversation by shutting the door on me and leaving me out in that corridor.

I drew in a deep breath, released it, drew in another, but was saved from having to do anything by Thompkins arriving to relieve me at the end of my shift. I gave him an uneasy smile, but it must have come across as more ghoulish than intended because he physically recoiled a little from me, and then I walked back to the canteen to pick up whatever meal I was up to. In a world without windows, it was getting a little hard to tell, especially since my sleep was hardly what you would call peaceful and seemed to leave me almost as tired as before I hit the mattress.

When Green came in, he took a seat across from me at the table. For a moment, I could've sworn I smelled burning plastic and corpse-flesh (a flashback from that other place, maybe?) but I was too busy eating to mind much.

Only once I'd finished eating, did I ask Green: "You think we'll ever see Red again?"

"Yeah, she's due back tomorrow lunchtime," said Green.

That surprised me. "Really? You don't think she'll be disappeared?"

"Nah, we've been poked and prodded enough times but we always get released in the end," said Green. "Besides they wouldn't have told me she'd be back tomorrow if she wasn't. They would've simply said she'd been transferred or something."

I wished I shared his confidence. "Have they found Waylon yet?" I asked, changing the subject. I wasn't quite ready to play the hero yet by trying to save the damsel. Perhaps, what if he was right and she was simply getting some routine tests done? I'd feel like an idiot for the few minutes I had left before they stuffed me into some terrible machine.

"No, but I've heard they have brought in his wife."

So there was no easy way out. "Here?" I couldn't help but think of my mother and what would have happened to her had I leaked the information. Note to self: Make it fully anonymous. Or blame it on Waylon who was already screwed.

"I'm not sure," said Green. "I doubt it. There's probably a facility closer to her where they can keep her and trot her out whenever they need to do a press conference saying how insane he is and how good he was at doctoring video footage. I'll bet there'll be certificates in his name from a variety of video editing courses and subscriptions to the software."

What a depressing idea. "Oh."

Green shrugged. "David doesn't always beat Goliath in the real world." He paused. "You always so hungry? You just demolished a schnitzel and a slice of roast beef with all that salad."

I stared at the plate before me that had previously been piled high. If it were really that unusual it would draw attention. I'd best cut down on eating, though I wasn't sure how. I was really hungry and though I didn't notice it most of the time once I started eating I wanted to keep eating for awhile. I don't know whether it was the stress of the traumas I'd faced or something to do with the Walrider. I was willing to bet it was a little bit of both but either way I needed to stop.

"So what are the plans for the next week?" I asked.

"You and Blue are scheduled for D-Wing Laboratories tomorrow," said Green. "They're in charge of psychological testing and will likely be processing those patients picked up from Mount Massive. Don't look so glum, it's a good assignment. Since they normally get outpatients they're pretty close to the windows so you may get a chance to stroll the grounds once your shift is up. I know Blue intends to do so."

"That's something, at least," I murmured.

How many patients did I see on my journeys? And more importantly, how many saw me and could recognise me if I wasn't careful? What if the Twins were there? Could they hold their tongues? Or the various others who were involved in the burning of Father Martin? Static blared through my skull in response to the fear, so I bit my tongue, willing those little glimpses of black smoke itching around my eye sockets to pull back in case it, too, could be caught on the security cameras.

If only one or two of those patients said anything about recognising me then I should be fine as they'd be written off as nutters or I could justify seeing them on the grounds as I scouted around, but if several patients independently stepped forward I'd be done for.

What was I thinking? Even if only one mentioned it, it might be enough to get a closer examination of my situation and my situation wouldn't stand against a casual examination.

What the hell was I going to do?