Michael felt sick.

He opened his eyes, rolled on his back and rubbed his forehead. The smell was horrifying – after five seconds it reached the level of mildly disgusting – after ten seconds it was gone again. Michael looked around, lazily caressing the golden ring on his ring finger while trying to locate his cell phone. Turned out it was resting on the floor behind him – the floor on which Michael had been lying for who knows how many hours.

He stood up, concentrated on steady breathing and turned on the flashlight – how was it so dark all of sudden? Michael couldn't remember why he had been lying on the floor, but he did remember visiting the bathroom – yet this made no sense, as the bathroom's door was boarded shut. Then again, Michael had no memory of the apartment being in such terrible condition: the wallpaper was torn and filled with greasy stains. There were couple of smooth, black holes in the walls, surrounded by metallic rings with diameter of roughly four centimeters.

Orange light swept through the apartment again – yet there was no source for it. Michael started seriously questioning his mental health, but he had to keep moving – whatever all this was about, it would only get worse by staying still. Therefore, he returned to the corridor and proceeded to the crossroads, passing some rusty pipes running between the floor and ceiling. Michael opened the door next to him, which led to a large courtyard between the apartment buildings. He stood there in mild shock, since the weather had changed completely: it was raining through the darkness. There were several pools of dirty water around the yard; temperature had risen notably – all snow had already melted away.

Michael forced himself to start walking. He followed a narrow path between some ornamental bushes and lawns, noticing a swimming pool in the middle of the yard. Interestingly enough, there was a police car parked next to it, even though the courtyard was completely surrounded by metallic fences – how was the vehicle driven there? It seemed to be in clean, working condition, yet the doors were naturally locked, plus its lights weren't on. Michael looked around the yard, and noticed an ambulance on the other side of the fence – again with no lights.

Michael followed the road to another door, which led to a small lobby – a rectangular staircase ascended on his right. There was a rusty matrix of mail boxes hanging on the wall; one of them was left open. Michael inspected its contents, and picked up a black C-cassette. There was something written on the label with black marker:

Your part in the gathering.

Michael cursed; nothing made sense to him anymore. He took out the player and put the tape inside, afraid of what he might hear. Soon, an unfamiliar voice appeared:

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I need an...ambulance here. And police too."

"Okay. What is your address?"

"Cloverfield Avenue 10. Between the...Kings Street and..."

"I got it; paramedics and police are on their way. What is your emergency?"

"I'm fine myself but my neighbour is...he says his wife is dead."

"Do you know what happened to her?"

"No, he just met me in the...met me in the hallway. I think his wife is still in their apartment, but the door is locked."

"Is your neighbour present? Can I talk to him?"

"He...went downstairs. He just told me to call you."

"Do you think your neighbour hurt his wife?"

"..."

"Sir?"

"I don't think so. I mean, his clothes were clean. Nothing like...I don't think he had been fighting with anyone."

"Okay. In which floor is the apartment?"

"In fifth. It's...number 48."

"Okay. Don't hang up the phone, help is there soon."

Only distorted crackling remained, until faint sounds of rain emerged. Two men were talking.

"Sir? Can you hear me? Do you know where you are? Hm?"

"...he okay? No injuries?"

"Yeah, nothing...and pupils are fine. Didn't you go up there?"

"I did, but...the smell..."

No more words. Michael took the tape out and stared at it for a while – until dropping it on the floor. He proceeded to the staircase.

Michael reached the second floor of the building, which was even more nonsensical than the first: the corridors were completely covered with black, shiny plastic – every square inch of every surface. Michael felt how the plastic got stuck to his shoes, warping and twisting every time he took a step. The stale, warm smell made him nauseous again, so he tried to move as fast as possible. Most of the apartments' doors were under the black wrapping, but one was left visible – that of room 209, so Michael entered.

The interior was left without black coating, which Michael appreciated greatly. He passed a closet and a small kitchen, arriving in a huge, mostly empty room – it was just like apartment 104 in first floor, with one massive difference: a gaping chasm in the floor. Michael froze in place and stared at the circular mouth of a black void, with at least 20 meter diameter. The inner walls seemed to be made out of flaking, dirty concrete. The whole thing made no sense at all, since the first floor should have been visible – instead, the pit seemed (or rather felt) extremely deep.

"Watch your step."

Michael got startled – Barber was sitting on a chair again, staring at the chasm. His eyes were red.

"What the hell is this?" Michael uttered.

"So you see it...the hole. I think I have to..."

Barber stood up and started walking towards the edge. Once he reached it, he stretched his arms horizontally and looked down, towards the void.

"...are you going to jump there?" Michael asked. He sure as hell wasn't going anywhere near the hole; even looking at it made him feel sick.

"Yes, I think I have to. He is calling me – you can't hear it, right?"

"What? Who is calling you?"

"I'm not sure myself..."

Barber moved his feet forward, setting the tips of his shoes above complete darkness.

"Michael, I get it – why this...what all this means. So I have to ask something."

Barber's voice was filled with tension – as if he was about to cry.

"What have you done?" he asked. Michael thought about the question for couple of seconds, assuming that he had understood Barber's intentions.

"I have done nothing...I have done nothing wrong. But I take it that you have."

"More than you could know" Barber said. He took a pause until finishing:

"I'm sorry."

Barber stepped forward and dropped his body in the chasm. Michael turned around and cursed, yet there was nothing he could have done to help – actually, he wasn't sure if he had even wanted to help. Michael returned to the corridor, hoping that he wouldn't meet Barber again.

Michael followed the black, glittering corridors, yet it seemed useless – all other apartments were sealed. However, an access to another staircase was partially visible, due to a long vertical cut in the plastic. Michael tore his way to the door's handle and entered the stairs. He ascended to third floor, which was covered in plastic just like the second one. Michael turned left and reached a crossroads. He looked along the dark corridor facing north, noticing a distant glimmer of light at the opposite end. Michael started approaching its unclear source, until the light suddenly grew stronger.

Michael stopped, as warm, orange shine filled the hallway, turning every surface into black gold. A humanoid was sitting on the floor – it resembled a naked, slim female with grayish, almost blue skin. However, it had no head – instead, just a large pile of flesh, with a round light bulb screwed inside. A curved horn-like appendage rose in front of it, dividing the shine in two. The creature placed its hands on the bulb, immediately pulling them away – a muffled, howling scream emerged, and forced Michael to take couple steps backwards.

The humanoid stood up and turned at Michael – it started walking towards him, taking long and fast steps. Michael raised his gun and pulled the trigger: walls compressed the gunshot into hellish whistling. Bullet roamed through the creature's upper body, spitting blood on every surface behind it. Michael was about to fire again, as the humanoid fell towards him – the sharp, calcified tip of its horn cut Michael's left arm open. He shouted a string of curses, kicked the creature and emptied the cylinder. One bullet broke the bulb; a cloud of red dust got free, reacted with air and ignited – red flame was born for half a second.

Michael stepped away from the corpse while holding his arm – the wound didn't seem too deep, and weirdly enough, it wasn't too painful either. After recovering from the shock, he loaded the gun and continued south, reaching apartment 309. It was missing its door and most of furniture – nothing but a lonely shelf was left in the living room. Michael entered the bathroom (its dislocated door was resting on the floor) and started washing the wound, feeling dizzy. He did notice the empty bathtub, partially covered by a blue curtain, yet didn't pay closer attention to it. Michael returned to the living room, leaning against walls in order to stay on two feet.

Orange light swept across the room, casting blurry shadows everywhere. Once again it had no proper source – it seemed to be a hallucination. Michael inspected the shelf and noticed a small object in front of him – a silver key with numbers 107 engraved on it. Michael picked it up, wondering where room 107 was located. Deducing by the numbers, it had be in the first floor, and by assuming all the floors had identical layout, Michael had an idea where to go.

Michael's phone started ringing – the caller was unknown. Michael had no reason to believe that the call was even real, but he still answered it. He heard the voice of a woman – it was rather deep yet pleasant. However, she sounded distressed:

"...Mike, you know...you know what the pills do to me? They make me sick, so that I had something else to think about. That's all they do, I can't take – "

Michael disconnected and returned to the hallway.

Michael reached the staircase and descended to the eastern lobby. There was a distant, sweet and revolting stench in the air, forcing Michael to cover his nose every now and then. He had two options: a door leading to the eastern corridor, and the front door of the apartment building. Of course, as the front door was locked, Michael had to enter the hallway.

He turned the door open – a mixture of disgusting smells hit him. The whole corridor reeked, yet this time there was a practical reason: Michael entered a horrified shock, as his flashlight revealed several body bags left along the corridor – all of them containing corpses, twisted in various positions, leaning against each other. At the opposite end, Michael saw a glimmer of orange light, which morphed into strong shine: another bulb-headed creature was sitting among the cadavers, seemingly caressing one of them with its hands.

Michael realized he had no choices left: he had to enter the hallway. So he did, fighting against the nausea and every natural instinct. The creature twitched and stood up; it let out a whiny, muffled howl. Michael reacted fast and shot it twice – it fell on its back and shattered the bulb against the floor. Bright, red flame clung on the black plastic, yet didn't seem to spread further. Michael jumped over the fire and opened the door number 107. He stormed inside and shut the door behind him, leaned against his knees and gasped for cleaner air.

Michael entered the living room, which contained a sofa and two armchairs set around a glass table – nothing particularly useful. He checked the bedroom, yet there was no bed – just some rusty pipes running between floor and ceiling. He also visited the bathroom: it contained a toilet, a sink and a bathtub covered with blue curtain, all crammed close to each other. There was a small cabinet above the sink, which contained couple of medicine bottles – one of them caught Michael's attention, as the label stated Exit – rather unusual name for medicine. Michael stared at the bottle for a while until turning the cap open. Inside the bottle there was another silver key with numbers 107 imprinted on it.

Confused Michael put the key in his pocket and washed his face with cold water, trying to relax. He dried himself and inspected the blue curtain – it seemed a bit dirty. Michael pulled the curtain aside, revealing the bathtub. He stared at the empty tub for a while, sighed heavily and followed the whirls of water vapor created by his exhaling – now that he thought about it, it was rather cold in the apartment. He swiped his glasses with a piece of paper and stepped back into the living room, feeling extremely tired. Michael sat on one of the armchairs as his phone started ringing. He ignored the call, turned off the flashlight, closed his eyes and eventually fell asleep.