Michael took out his flashlight, but it turned out this wasn't necessary: fog-filtered light entered the house through windows, creating a sleeping atmosphere and providing enough visibility. However, Michael was standing at the back door, while said windows were in the opposite end, next to the front door – because of this, it took a moment until his eyes got adjusted.

On Michael's right, there was a small kitchen and a dining table. On his left, there was a staircase, which led to the second floor. In front of Michael, there was a narrow corridor which led to the front door. Michael started his exploration from the kitchen by inspecting the fridge. Its door was left slightly open; a cold ray of orange light escaped and landed on the steel-covered kitchen table. There was some beer inside (Avery's Grand Ale was written on the label) plus a can of soda (Cherryshed, stated the docket). Michael had no use for refreshments, so he closed the fridge and left the kitchen alone.

Michael took a look at the dark staircase, yet he decided to check the front door before ascending. There was a small area right next to the said door; a sort of a living room with two armchairs pulled in front of a TV. Three small vertical windows provided dreamlike lighting, plus a convenient way to check the weather: it was still snowing through the fog, maybe even more than a moment ago. Michael rubbed his forehead and stared at the black TV screen – his reflection was warped, twisted and distant.

Michael started wondering if he had made a wrong move: clearly no one was present in the apartment. He still wanted to visit the second floor, yet a small object next to the TV caught his attention. It was a C-cassette, with stark blue colouring – nothing was written on the title sticker. Michael got confused: not too long after finding a tape player he finds such fitting use for it. In addition, the looks of the cassette were in strong contrast with everything else in the house. Michael took out the recorder and set the tape inside. He heard distant crackling, until a distorted, shattering sound emerged. Michael recognized his own voice:

"B?"

"I...I'm sorry, I dropped it..."

"...shit, don't step on the shards. Ahh...okay, just one of them broke."

"..."

"B? Don't worry, still seven bulbs left. Hey, it's fine. I'll clean this...can you help Sean with the printer?"

"...yeah."

Crackling remained for several minutes until the tape ran out. Michael stared at the player for a while, unable to comprehend what he had just heard. Existence of such recording made no sense. First the phone calls, now this tape – Michael didn't know what to think. He put the recorder in his pocket and proceeded to second floor.

Michael ascended the stairs and and entered a narrow corridor with one small window at both ends – thus the middle section was strikingly dark. Michael inspected the first door he encountered, yet it was (less surprisingly) locked. The second one though, wasn't – behind it, a small (and very dark) storage filled with seemingly useless junk: carpets, clothes, glass jars, a worn baseball bat plus a bowl filled with lighters. Michael picked up one of them and spun the wheel – sparks morphed into small flame, creating rather atmospheric yet practically weak lighting.

A sound emerged – it was extremely unusual; like some kind of muffled fluttering. Then, a loud and violent crash – it came from the neighbouring room. Michael grabbed the baseball bat and stood still; what could create such noise all of a sudden? Michael had been quite certain about the house being empty. He returned to the corridor, but it was quiet again. Michael checked the locked door – now it was open. He entered a bathroom, squeezing the bat and expecting the worst (whatever that would have been).

The room was empty, yet the opposite wall was broken: a large vertical hole ran across it. There were pieces of white tiles lying everywhere; whoever (or whatever) went through the wall had done so with really strong intent. It seemed that the hole led to the neighbouring building – Michael wondered if he should go through it. In general, it seemed that things were taking all the more absurd turns, which made Michael all the more willing to get out of the town. In addition, this was the first clear sign of danger. Michael decided to enter the hole, just to get some kind of understanding about his situation.

Michael arrived in a staircase – it felt familiar. He took couple of steps downwards, and came to simple conclusion: the houses' interiors were pretty much identical. There was a similar kitchen and dining table in this building too. Michael left the first floor alone and went to the second floor corridor. According to the similarities below, a storage room and a bathroom were placed next to each other. Michael tried to hear something, but it was still quiet as ever. He approached the bathroom door, when he heard the fluttering sound again – it came through the door. Michael grabbed the handle and turned it, but didn't get any further.

Something threw itself against the door; one of the hinges gave up. Michael stepped back, holding the bat with both hands. Another hit on the door, and it fell down. So did Michael, as some kind of humanoid leaped past him and bumped into the wall. It stood up and ran to the staircase, leaving shocked Michael behind. He jumped up and followed the creature – there was a sweet, horrible stench in the air again.

Michael reached the first floor. The creature was at the front door, trying to open it in very unpractical ways. It turned around towards Michael, who froze in place. The humanoid's gray body mimicked that of a skinny woman, yet it had no breasts. Its hands were extremely white; like pure snow. However, Michael couldn't even notice these details, as he concentrated on the creature's face: it had a small mouth, but no eyes nor nose – above the lips, there were two adjacent pairs of leaf-like wings. They were transparent, with thin veins running across them. Every now and then, the wings twitched rapidly and almost hit against each other, pulling and twisting the facial skin.

Michael stepped backwards; the humanoid stepped forwards. It started leaping towards him, yet couldn't stay in balance: it fell and hit its body against the dining table, sweeping towards Michael with its arm. The wings started fluttering as the creature pulled itself up and grabbed Michael's jacket. Michael panicked and kicked the humanoid in stomach – he landed the baseball bat on its shoulder. It fell on the floor, its upper body twitching like an insect. Michael hit its head twice with the bat, crushing the skull and seemingly killing it – a pool of blood formed under its body. Michael was coughing heavily; he dropped the bat and leaned against the kitchen table – he felt sick. The smell was horrendous. Nausea took over, forcing Michael to vomit. He let out a string of curses and sat on the closest chair, staring at the gray corpse and counting the long seconds.

Michael stood up, unable to tell how long he had been in a passive state of mind. The dead creature was still lying on the floor. Since understanding all this seemed impossible, Michael had given up – all he had to do now was leaving the town. He picked up the blood-stained baseball bat and walked to the front door – it was locked. However, the back door was open, so Michael entered the backyard. Snow had already covered most of the ground, plus the temperature had dropped heavily.

Michael walked into the third house in the row, which again was almost identical to the previous ones – however, it was a bit dirtier, with dried leaves, dirt and moisture around the floors. Of course, the front door was once again locked. Michael looked around for a while, inspecting the living room, but couldn't find any keys. He considered breaking the door with the bat, when footsteps emerged from the staircase. A middle-aged man appeared, wearing black jeans, brown leather shoes and a dark sweater.

"Oh. Good day" the man said. He seemed extremely tired, yet his appearance was still rather assertive. Michael stared at him, until he realized: this was the man he had given his map to in the diner.

"Who are you?" Michael asked. A brief, worried expression visited the man's face.

"Brian Harding. I guess it's my turn: what the hell happened to you?"

Michael knew his own appearance was sort of hard to explain: blood splatters, carrying a baseball bat and seemingly utterly confused.

"I'm...some kind of creature attacked me. I had to..."

Brian changed his stance. He seemed to wait for Michael to continue.

"...I had to kill it. Some kind of...monster."

"A monster? And...you killed it with that bat?"

"Yes. I did."

Brian walked past Michael and sat on one of the armchairs. It seemed he didn't consider Michael a complete lunatic.

"So who are you?" Brian asked.

"...Michael" said Michael. He started getting worried because of the man's precise and calm nature.

"It's all wrong" Brian uttered. He took a pause until continuing:

"I don't know what this is, Michael. But – as you have already clearly noticed – what you just said isn't surprising to me. I hear sounds. I see things inside the fog – things I can not explain."

Michael didn't know whether to feel a bit relieved or much more worried.

"That creature you mentioned – what was it like?" Brian asked.

"It was gray...or white. It resembled human, but it had wings..." said Michael, realizing how weirdly difficult it was to reminisce.

"Brian" Michael started. "I have to get out of this town. Where's your jeep?"

Brian turned his face towards Michael, staring at him in confusion.

"How d...oh, I see. Indeed, we met at the diner last night. You gave me the map...I'm still grateful for that. Even if the map didn't help that much. I had to abandon my car."

"Why? What happened?"

"...it was an accident. They..."

Michael waited, but Brian didn't continue – instead, he just stared at the black TV screen.

"So...you don't live here" Michael said with questioning tone.

"No, no. Truth be told, I don't even know where we are. I don't think this place was even on your map."

Michael started thinking: both him and this man were lost in a ghost town and experiencing something unnatural.

"Brian…besides me, have you met anyone else?"

"I did, actually. A young man – dark hair, pink shirt and black vest. He seemed...well, I got the impression he had his own problems. Told me that he was a barber, but that's all I got out of him – didn't even tell me his name."

Michael got just more confused: three people lost in the same abandoned town was too much for coincidence.

"What about you? Have you met anyone else?" Brian asked.

Michael shook his head, yet Brian didn't give up:

"Your wife isn't with you?"

Michael stared at Brian, realizing that he had seen the golden ring on Michael's finger.

"No" Michael said with such sharp, lifeless tone, that Brian didn't ask further questions. Michael changed the subject:

"I saw a car parking on the street...right outside these apartments. I couldn't reach the driver, but I thought they entered one of these houses."

Brian looked puzzled.

"Really? I haven't heard or seen anything like that."

"I thought that maybe the driver lives here, but...seems to me no one lives here anymore. There was a map of this town in the car. We're close to the road which should lead out of here" Michael said, hoping that Brian would help him.

"So we would walk out?" Brian asked.

"We could. But if we can find the driver, maybe they can help us."

Brian stood up and sighed heavily.

"Okay, let's do that. I found this, it should fit in the..."

Sharp beeping noise stopped Brian. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a small, black box – a pager. He stared at its narrow screen for a while, looking extremely worried.

"…Brian?" Michael asked.

"I'm sorry, but I have to do something. I...here, take this."

Brian gave Michael a small, golden key with several dirt stains on it.

"What's wrong?" Michael asked.

"My boys need me" Brian replied while staring at the closest wall. He walked to the back door and stepped outside, leaving confused Michael behind.

Michael used the key on the front door – the lock turned open.