Michael woke up.

It was cold in the living room – his hands were freezing. He stood up and moved around in order to warm himself. Just now he realized, that the room was filled with dim, snow-filtered light, which passed through the dirty windows. Michael remembered the darkness well enough, but couldn't tell how long he had been sleeping. He picked up the phone and walked to the door – it was locked. After a moment of utter puzzlement, Michael applied the key he had found – the door turned open.

It was rather dark in the hallway, but not pitch-black. No more plastic, dead bodies nor those creatures – everything was just abandoned and sleeping again. Michael walked to the lobby and opened the front door – gust of wind threw some snowflakes on his face. He stepped outside, enjoyed the clean, cold air and rubbed his hands together. Suddenly, his phone started ringing. Michael answered (despite not really wanting to do so); once again the familiar voice of a woman appeared.

"Mike? Have you seen Amy?"

"...no."

"I'm not sure where I am myself...but I just passed a hospital. I thought I saw her around –"

"Who are you?"

"...what...I'm sorry, what was that?"

"..."

"Michael, I'm your wife. Why would ask something like that? Is something wrong?"

"..."

"Mike, we have to find her. I'll check the hospital, she could be in there. And...after that, we can do it – I promise. Wherever you – "

Michael disconnected. He stood still for a moment, following snowflakes. Eventually the low temperature forced him to move, so he started walking around. While doing so, Michael noticed a set of footprints in the snow, which had to be left recently – someone else had walked past the apartment building and continued west.

Michael started following the footprints. He reached a crossroads, and turned north. There were couple of abandoned cars on the street – one of them was covered with a white tarpaulin. Because of the weather, this wasn't too illogical, but Michael nevertheless found it unnerving. He kept walking until a high brick wall appeared on his right, with some barbed wire left on top of it. There was a large, gloomy building behind said wall, yet its purpose was left unclear to Michael.

The footprints led him to a motel's parking lot – Jack's Inn, stated the sign. A figure appeared through the fog, taking the form of a young woman. Jessica was wearing a large, dark green coat, whose hood was thrown over her head. Her movements were slow and stiff – she seemed exhausted.

"Michael..." she started.

"You look terrible" Michael said, surprised by how easy it was to talk to her.

"I always do" Jess responded; a faint hint of smile visited the healthy side of her face. Her hands were shaking.

"Hey, I...found these" Michael continued and pulled out the painkillers. He handed them to Jess, who picked up the bottle with distant, puzzled expression – as if she couldn't believe someone would help her like this.

"Wh...where did you..." she started.

"They were in this empty apartment – all kinds of medicine were stored there."

Jess stared at the bottle, then at Michael. Eventually, she opened the cap and dropped one tablet on her hand. She swallowed it, seemingly already relieved.

"...hey, come with me" she said and started walking. Michael followed her to a door, which led in one of the motel's rooms. Jess shut the door behind them and placed the coat on an armchair. She sat on a small bed (interestingly, there were two such beds in the room), and started inspecting a black handbag left on the nightstand.

"I take that the pills helped" Michael said, almost smiling.

"Is it that obvious?" Jess replied. "Hold on, I'm trying to remember where I put it..."

Michael stayed quiet, wondering what Jess wanted to show him. He looked around and examined the room's dim, sleepy colours. There was a TV on his right, yet it wasn't turned on. Michael stared at its black screen and saw his own reflection – it was warped, twisted and distant.

Michael turned a bit – now he saw Jess' reflection too, but there was something wrong with it. Michael saw needles – irregular, bone white needles with length of half a meter. They were protruding from Jessica's head, sticking on the bed sheets and the wallpaper, fighting against her every movement. Some of them were burrowed in her shoulders, locking her body in one position. Her eye was wide open, yet there was no real expression on her face – nothing but passive and waiting, empty stare.

Michael turned around, almost shouting her name – but Jess was fine. He swept cold sweat from his forehead, taking a shocked look at the TV. However, there was nothing peculiar about the reflections anymore.

"Hmm? What is it?" Jess asked.

"...no, nothing. I think I'm...becoming insane..."

Michael sat on the other bed and took off his cap. Jess was investigating the nightstand's drawer, from which she pulled a small mirror.

"Oh, here it is. Look."

Michael turned around – Jessica wasn't wounded anymore. Every cut and burn was gone; her small and round face was completely restored.

"What the hell..." Michael uttered.

"I really don't know how, but this place heals me. You see it, right?"

Michael stood up and tried to think, while Jess was examining her face through the mirror. Things started to make more and more sense to him.

"Jess, I...have seen and heard things, which make no sense...and this is one of them. There is something wrong with this town. I get these phone calls, and the caller is someone who I know should be dead...they can't be real."

Jess put the mirror on the nightstand and turned towards Michael.

"Yeah, I know. I mean, without the pills, I...wouldn't want to believe any of this either. But it's all real enough. Too real."

"What is it like without them?"

Jess crossed her feet.

"...tension and ache. Just very simple pain, really. I can't overcome it and I can't distract myself from it. At worst, it's unbearable."

Jess became quiet; Michael didn't know what to say. Eventually, she continued:

"Say, Michael...could you stay here with me?"

Her tone made it quite clear what she was implying – still, Michael got confused.

"...wait, what do mean by that?"

"I think you know."

"...I don't...no, I can't. Why are you even asking that? You told me you are married."

It was her turn to get confused.

"What? No, I...was, but my husband is dead. He died...when I got injured."

Michael stared at her, realizing they both were losing it. He stood up and walked to the door.

"I'm sorry, there's something I have to do" Michael said bluntly and stepped outside. Truthfully, he actually had no idea what to do, but spending time with Jessica seemed to be the worst possible choice. Because of the previous phone call, he thought about visiting the hospital – even if such idea was anything but pleasant.

Michael pulled the cap over his hair and looked around – nothing but snow and snowy fog. He checked the map, walked through the parking lot and crossed Nathan Avenue, spotting a fenced area on the opposite side. Michael turned left and spotted another abandoned vehicle – yet this one was familiar: a black, angular sedan. It seemed to be the very same car whose owner Michael had tried to reach. This time the doors were locked, which could have been due to a map gone missing.

The car was left next to an area with many ornamental bushes and lawns. It was covered in red and blue tiles, giving a rather warm expression. Michael decided to do some investigation. Soon, a small building appeared on his left, yet its door was locked. He passed more bushes, some trees (he had no idea about their species), brown brick walls and benches – the area seemed to be a park. If Michael's situation hadn't been so distracting, he would have admired the intricate architecture and layout.

Michael arrived in front of nothing – or rather, it just looked like nothing, as it actually was a lake. Snow and fog dropped visibility under five meters; weak yet cold wind was blowing towards Michael. He walked at a fence, next to a binocular stand (usage required small payment). It did make sense to build a recreational park next to a lake, yet surely the weather kept its true potential hidden. Michael started following the lakeside, until a precise shape appeared on his right – a sort of monument was standing there. It was a stone tablet, with the following engraving:

In memory of the sixty seven

who died of illness and now sleep

beneath the lake.

Since Michael still had no idea where he actually was, this text gave him first hint of insight. It seemed that this wasn't just about him; the town in general was somewhat broken. Michael wondered how an epidemic was connected to his experiences, yet a direct connection would have been absurd. He left the monument alone, thinking that he wasn't as mentally ill as he had previously thought – which wasn't actually reassuring.

Michael stopped, as he spotted someone next to the fence – a man was standing there, staring at the lake while holding something in his hands. He had very short, black hair, a black leather jacket and deep blue jeans. Turned out that he was holding a camera.

"...you own that car? The black car on the street?" Michael started rather impatiently. The man turned around – his eyes were confusingly green.

"Yeah, I do" he said. Michael thought about his plan for couple of seconds, until continuing:

"Listen, I need help – I have to get out of this town. My car broke down, so I'm out of options."

The man stared at Michael for a while – he seemed interested, yet not confused.

"Were you in an accident?" he asked. His tone was a weird combination of complete indifference and some kind of receptiveness.

"...yes, one of the tires got punctured."

"What's your name?"

"...Michael."

The man nodded.

"You ask for a lift while wearing a bloody jacket...and you certainly knew that I can see the blood – it's right there. So, what else happened to you?"

Michael sighed.

"I...don't know. If I did...I would still want to get the hell out of here, but I don't know. These creatures attacked me – they are not animals, they are not people, but something else. I see things that shouldn't be real – and I have had this very same conversation with three other people, who are equally stuck in this place."

The man was quiet.

"Haven't you...seen anything unusual? Haven't you met anyone besides me?" Michael asked.

"No, I have not. I thought there is no one in this town anymore – thought it's just abandoned."

"So did I, until I saw you driving through it. I couldn't reach you back then."

The man stared at the lake, seemingly realizing something. He examined the camera for a while until continuing:

"I'm sorry, Michael, but I can't help you."

Michael processed this for two seconds. Then, he responded with a very tired and impatient tone:

"Why?"

"I'm not done here – and I won't leave until I'm done. Lots of pictures to take."

Michael stared at him hopelessly. As his last option was taken away, he decided to create another:

"I'm sorry, but I need your car. Right now."

Michael pulled out the revolver. He wasn't ready to hurt a fellow human, but perhaps threatening would be enough. Unfortunately, the man didn't even flinch – he just opened his coat and revealed a black handgun.

"I need my car too" he said. Some slow seconds passed, until Michael turned around and started backtracking to the park's entrance. He was confused – given the circumstances, he wasn't acting nearly as desperately as he should have been.

Michael returned to Nathan Avenue – his only remaining plan was visiting the hospital. He turned right and kept walking until reaching a crossroads. He passed a worn gas station (with another deceitful OPEN-sign) and took left, arriving on Carroll Street. There were some residential buildings on right side of the road, while left side had nothing but tall pine trees, bushes and fences.

Eventually a large, gray building appeared, with small set of stairs leading to its front door – above said door was title Brookhaven Hospital. All the building's windows were just black rectangles; as if they had been boarded shut from the inside. Michael checked the door – it wasn't locked. He turned on the flashlight and stepped inside.