Michael followed the snowflakes landing on Lindsey Street. According to the map, he was very close to Nathan Avenue – couple of steps north and that would be it. However, without a vehicle, Michael's situation seemed hopeless: he had no idea how far away the closest less logically broken settlement was. Therefore, he returned to the position of the black car, but it was gone – the driver had already left. Michael let out some quiet curses and headed north, checking every abandoned car along the way.
Only one of the vehicles wasn't locked, but the keys were nowhere to be found – yet there was something else of interest: a small, black revolver left in the glove compartment. Michael had very little knowledge of firearms, but he decided to be brave and try new things. The chamber was filled with six bullets – if he were to face any more of those winged creatures, the gun could give a clear advantage. Therefore, he put it in his pocket.
Michael reached a crossroads and took right, hoping that he could hitchhike soon enough. This option was deemed useless rather quickly: it took Michael several seconds to understand what he was seeing, since he saw basically nothing. Turned out that the road had collapsed: there was nothing but a seemingly endless chasm opening in front of him. Michael stared at the void for a while, slowly realizing that the creature, the phone calls and this phenomenon were connected – they meant something, yet Michael was unable (and reluctant) to see that meaning.
He turned around and passed the crossroads – then, another slamming sound, right behind him. Michael backtracked and saw another string of footprints in the snow: someone else had ran along the Lindsey Street, straight into a local medical clinic. It was a gray, two-storied building with an ambulance parked next to it (in a very imprecise manner). Michael walked to the front door, which was left partially open – it really seemed there was a fifth person strolling in the town, which had to make it the most active ghost town Michael had ever heard of.
He took out the gun and stepped inside.
Michael arrived in a white (yet dark) lobby, given two options: right or forwards. Before choosing, he took out the flashlight in order to examine the reception's desk. It was filled with all kinds of appropriate items: files, papers, phones, computer screens, pencils, fliers and so on. Michael picked up a small brochure, which advertised a post-abortion organization – it seemed they provided help for dealing with the experience. Michael stared at the picture of a fetus on the front, until he flipped the paper around – something was written behind it with white marker:
I, II, III.
Michael stared at the text for a while, wondering who could have written it. Since he was getting used to feeling so confused, he left the brochure on the desk and continued forward, following a wide corridor. There were many (locked) doors here and there, but no sign of presumed human activity.
Michael reached an elevator, which naturally didn't work. He was forced to take the stairs, kicking down a group of small objects – candles. There were white candles placed on the sides of the staircase, ordered neatly in small groups. Michael smelled strong hints of stearin and smoke, coming to the conclusion that the candles had been burned recently. The whole idea was insane, but it did give him some equally insane ideas about his situation.
Michael reached the second floor – lighting was better thanks to couple of big windows. More candles were left in every corner, some of them still emitting smoke. Michael kept walking along the hallway until he heard something – muffled, soft sounds came through the door at the opposite end. Michael turned the door open and entered a rather large room – or just a spacious room, since there was nothing but a worn sofa and a small wooden shelf lying in the corner (plus more candles). Michael counted the amount of small windows this room had, reaching a total amount of twelve – more than enough, he deduced.
"Can I help you?"
Michael got startled – a young woman appeared through another doorway. She was rather short, wearing a dark red hoodie (it was bit too oversized) and blue jeans. She had no shoes; just red socks. Her long hair was strongly yellow and formed a precise ponytail. Her facial features were quite round; especially her small nose, which seemed to curve a tiny bit upwards.
These were the elements of her appearance that got no attention from Michael – he concentrated on the right side of her face, which was utterly broken. The skin around the cheek got violently pulled towards her ear; it was mangled by burns, covered with oval-shaped patterns and contained couple of small black holes. There were several cuts here and there – one of them was absurdly sharp and wide; almost horizontal wound running across her eye socket, which contained no eye. Every movement of her face made the torn skin twitch systematically; as if there was something moving under it.
Michael stepped back, which in light of his late experiences was quite understandable. However, the woman laughed and responded with her bright voice:
"Heh, I'm hideous."
Michael stared at her for a while; neither of them said anything. Eventually, Michael made his move:
"So...who are you?"
"Jessica – or Jess, whichever you like. And you?"
"Michael."
"Well, Michael...since you carry a gun, it is lucky we met here in clear daylight – and not in the conference hall" said Jess with a bit playful tone, pointing at the dark room behind her. Michael put his gun away, willing to find more about the woman. Still, his priority was leaving the town.
"Listen...Jess...do you have a car?"
"My husband does."
"...okay, so...where is he?"
"At the hospital. He's looking for medicine."
Michael got confused – in general, there was something very wrong about Jessica's relaxed and open behaviour.
"Okay...alright, so could you and your husband give me a lift out of here?"
Jess stopped smiling – it seemed like she was getting curious.
"You ask such questions and carry a gun...and there's blood on your jacket."
"I don't...I got attacked by something – some kind of animal. I had to kill it."
Jess was quiet for a while, analyzing Michael's presence. Eventually she started nodding.
"Yeah...sure, you can come with us once Jack returns. Shouldn't take long now."
Michael sighed out of relief – he didn't even consider the broken road nor the fact that this woman could have been somewhat insane. It was, in the first place, quite weird how she trusted an armed bloodied stranger. Michael decided to find more about her.
"Jess, I have to ask: why are you here?"
"...you mean..."
"Why are you in this town? It's clearly abandoned; I got here by accident when my tire got punctured."
"Well, you could say we are on a road trip – I really enjoy moving around, so Jack takes me to all kinds of places. Yet we don't make any precise plans, so...yeah, I guess like you, I just happened to arrive here. Hmh."
Michael tried to think, which was difficult due to looming headache. He rubbed his forehead and started doubting his short-term memory.
"Headache?" Jess asked. She walked to the sofa and picked up a white plastic bottle left on it.
"These are pretty strong...should help with headache too" she said, and gave the bottle to Michael. There was a red triangle imprinted on the label, next to the title Neosolorin.
"These are...painkillers?"
"Mm-hm. I use those, but Jack will bring more. You can have that last one."
"...you need these? Then you should keep it."
Michael gave the bottle back to Jess, who was staring at him with her head slightly tilted. It was evident that whatever had destroyed her face had left her in pain too. Even so, Michael wanted to hear it from her.
"...Jess, why...do you need those?"
"I was in an accident some years ago – bet this surprises you. I don't really remember that day at all, but I do remember how it felt. It's easy, since I can still feel it."
Jess stared at the floor, holding the bottle with both hands. For a while, neither of them said anything, until Michael continued:
"Jess, I think...I have to close my eyes for a while. Is it okay if I wait here until...until Jack returns?"
Jess didn't answer right away; she was lost in her thoughts.
"...oh, sure. You can use the sofa. Just look out for the candles."
Michael sat on the couch, sweeping one of said candles with his feet.
"Why are there so many of these? They are everywhere..."
"I'm not sure. They just appear sometimes...and burn for a moment. I'm going through some books in the conference room, so you just rest."
Jess disappeared in the dark hallway. Michael didn't know what to think, yet there seemed to be certain logic to everything – insane logic, but still. He leaned against the sofa, closed his eyes and fell asleep while smelling the scent of stearin lingering in the cold air.