Afterglow. The Justification of Chaos

“Steph, kitten, – can I call you “Steph?” She said, looking into my eyes, and my lips quivered into a weak semblance of a smile when she clarified the form of my name but not the way she would address me.” I know, this is pure horror, but we need to get out of here as soon as we can.”

I shook my head.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Sara winked and immediately stood up, offering me her hand. I grabbed her hand as if trying to keep from falling into an abyss. “My name’s Sara Karani, if you’d like to know. But let’s just go with first names, agreed?”

When we stepped out from behind the bookshelf, Norman shoved a backpack into my hands before heading to join the others.

“Here. She won't need this anymore. You’ll carry the gear.”

The backpack was packed to the brim and barely closed. I had no desire or curiosity to look inside. Maybe next time. Or better yet, I never want to look in it at all.

Somewhere inside, there was still a flicker of hope that the madness would soon be over. It felt as if I were outside my own body, watching the world through someone else's eyes. I tried to convince myself that it was all a lie, but…

The lamps hummed quietly. The stale, stuffy air – air conditioning wasn’t working – and the acrid stench of decay and damp made me feel nauseous. The lights flickered constantly, growing dimmer and going out for longer periods.

Sara helped shove my small personal bag into the Gorgon's backpack. Because when everything calms down and goes back to normal, and I finally go home, I will need my documents, phone, and everything else that was in my bag.

I tried not to look at the body of the deceased. I hurried out of the book section as quickly as I could, not turning in that direction.

“How are you?” Sam asked cautiously as he approached. I shook my head, pressing my lips together and lowering my chin to my chest, as if to say, "Not now." He nodded understandingly. “We’ll be leaving here soon. While you were…” he hesitated, “getting changed, Robert was trying to contact the rest of his people; it turns out he’s waiting for someone else.”

“And?” My thoughts were heavy and sluggish; I was processing Sam's words slowly.

“I think they’ll be here soon.”

I tilted my head back and blinked rapidly. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would break through my ribcage and burst out. I needed to pull myself together. Calm down. It would all end, everything would return to normal; this was temporary – and the weakness was temporary too, caused by total shock.

“I hope there’s a reasonable explanation for all this.”

“If only,” Dort said evasively. Something creaked, and Sam and I flinched, turning around in unison. Luckily, it was just the radio: Robert was trying to get a signal.

The soldiers had already returned from their patrol. Two, four, seven. I looked at their exhausted faces, feeling their pain and fatigue, and a cold shiver ran through me from the inside; I suddenly imagined what they must have seen that night – because if they had suffered so many losses, if they were scared, then our time underground was truly a gift.

The radio crackled again; Sbort muttered angrily to himself – no one was responding on the other end. The person they were trying to reach seemed to sense the commander’s displeasure. In a moment, through the static and noise, we heard a voice:

“What the fuck, damn it?!” A loud shout, almost a growl, was interrupted by a series of gunshots; followed by a stream of profanity. I, stunned, exchanged a frantic glance with Sam. The radio hissed and whistled. “You’re damn well timed, Sbort! Why call every minute?!”

“Where the hell are you?!” Robert hissed. “You should have been here a long time ago!”

“Well, sorry,” came the sarcastic reply, “I’m not able to arrive exactly on time for your little celebration!” Another gunshot. “I’m trying to fight off these bastards, not wandering the streets for fun!” The man on the other end exhaled hoarsely through the noise. “I’m almost there. I’ll be there soon.”

Robert was about to break into a tirade when he suddenly froze.

“I’ll be there”? Are you alone?” He blurted out urgently. The commander exchanged glances with the Gorgons; one of the soldiers, Stan, if I’m not mistaken, moved forward, his face contorted in a mask of panic.

“I’m alone,” came the short response. The man said something else, but no one could make it out: the connection cuts swallowed his voice.

“Chris?” Robert asked anxiously. No response. “Christopher?!”

The empty hall echoed with a rustling repetition, and then the room sank into an unsettling silence. Almost tangible. The soldiers froze in place. Robert continued to hold the radio close to his face. For a moment, his expression darkened and fell before he straightened with a determined movement and looked around at everyone with focused eyes.

“We're going up and out. Now. We'll pick up Chris on the way,” Sbort added before Norman, who had stepped forward, could speak. Robert's voice was quiet and firm. The commander glanced at Stan – the dark-haired man with cold blue eyes and a scar above his upper lip – who had lowered his chin to his chest, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Taren, I…”

Robert didn't have time to finish. From the first floor, we clearly heard the sound of rasping breaths and shuffling footsteps; slow, as if someone were dragging their feet. Everyone froze, listening. I didn’t even realize I had clamped my fingers into Sam’s hand, digging my nails into his skin.

No, there was no doubt those were footsteps; but not just one person's. And that horrible, chilling, raspy breathing… Sam’s face went ashen.

“R.. Rob.. ert?” Dort stammered. I felt my knees shaking. My whole body was trembling.

The commander of The Gorgons kept his eyes fixed on the stairs, while I, as if chained, couldn’t move to turn around.

Robert waved his hand a couple of times. Moments later, Sam and I were separated. Stan, holding a pistol, took Sam by the arm; Norman pulled me toward him. Sbort was the first to begin climbing up, and we all followed one after the other. The soldiers moved in unison, almost silently, while the entire room was filled with the sound of shuffling, groans, and other disgusting noises.

Step by step. Higher and higher. I could already see the growing shadows on the floor. I started to hyperventilate, everything blurred in front of my eyes, and I wanted to run back, but Norman held me tightly, dragging me along. The landing ahead was clear, we only needed to reach it and cross the hallway to the door…

And then, the last step. I turned around to take one last look down the corridor.

A scream pierced my ears. I didn’t realize at first that I was the one shouting. Coming out of the doors and pavilions, they filled the corridor.

4

Ancient Northern legends spoke of the Queen of the Gloom, the personification of death; of how she would come into the world on Judgment Day and shroud it with her sister, the Mistress of the Ice Marshes, with ice floes and cold. This was why it was believed that death's breath was frosty, and why the sense of her presence made one shiver.

And in that moment, I felt death's breath touch my neck, sliding down my spine. In that moment, I felt the presence of death beside me. In that moment, nightmares came to life.

The infected were undeniably dead. With such wounds, life was impossible. But the infected kept coming.

I screamed. I wailed, unable to be silent. Norman immediately pressed me to him, covering my mouth with his hand, and I felt how I was shuddering from within, how everything inside me was tightening; I was trembling, shaking as if in a painful fit. Darkness clouded my vision.

The horribly tormented bodies—torn, gnawed at, and reeking—moved toward us from all directions, gasping, delirious, their glassy, yellowing eyes staring.

“Run! We need to get out of here!” Robert's sharp voice snapped me out of my daze; Norman was already pulling me toward the exit… And we ran. “Faster! To the street, everyone!”

Those creatures had always been so close.

A second wind came. All exhaustion vanished in an instant; the instinct for self-preservation was stronger. The only thought spinning in my mind was: "Get out of here! Run! Save yourself!" I ran, not feeling the floor beneath my feet and not knowing if I was really running forward or standing still.

In one second, my entire life flashed before my eyes…

One of the creatures jumped – whether my inflamed brain perceived it that way or it truly happened – and nearly grabbed me. I swallowed a cry, feeling myself pulled backward. Later, recalling it, I could say with certainty: Norman saved my life in that moment. Norman, holding me tightly, saved my life. If he hadn't reacted, I would have died.

I could have died then, on the first day…

We burst outside. The cold air struck my face.

“Doors! Shut those damn doors!” Robert's deep voice echoed dully in my consciousness, striking my ears with a metallic resonance. “John, Steven, hurry!”

I didn't want to stop. Run! Run away from the building! But Norman kept holding me firmly by the elbow, and when I tried to break free again, he pulled me toward him.

Stan and Michael were pushing against the doors, preventing them from opening under the pressure from the other side, while two other Gorgons tied the door handles together with paracord. Sarah reloaded her weapon lightning-fast, while Sam, stepping back slightly, fell to the ground, covering his face with his hands and pulling his knees to his chest.

I stood bent over, trying to catch my breath. Gasping for air, I glanced around in fear, unable to understand: why weren't we running away? There wasn't enough air in my lungs.

They were close. They had been right there all this time.

Robert once again unsuccessfully tried to establish contact over the radio. No one responded. Only static and noise. I shifted my gaze down the avenue and saw more figures in the distance – their jerky, unnatural movements, their angular gait, as though they had lost control of their own bodies – silently, I opened my mouth, turned to Norman, trying to say, to show… He nodded briefly, then waved his hand towards the commander…

“Sbort, we need to leave now!” Stan said, breathing heavily as he adjusted the straps of his vest. Behind him, the infected slammed against the doors, leaving marks on the glass that were either bloody or purulent. “We can’t delay! We can't afford to be stupid!”

“You’re overstepping,” Robert shifted his gaze to Taren, who immediately paled and took half a step back.

Dark, coal-gray clouds had covered the sky. They swirled, clustering together. The city was shrouded in an impenetrable blanket. Blood. Smoke. Ashes. Emptiness. People were nowhere to be seen. I looked at a figure in the distance, moving slowly toward us, hearing the creaking and wheezing behind the doors, and the thought flashed instantly that things would never be the same. That the world we knew was gone.

“I should have told him to head straight to the cars,” Sarah said quietly to Norman, “and we would have met up there. You know he would have made it.”

“No, we can’t split up again. And not in this condition…” The Gorgon didn't finish. The echo of a couple of consecutive gunshots spread through the area. Shots fired nearby; the soldiers stood rigid, scanning their surroundings. At that moment, the first cracks appeared in the door.

“Robert,” I gasped in a voice that wasn't mine, watching as the spiderweb cracks spread across the glass.

A second. Two.

Another gunshot rang out very close, and I instinctively turned around. A soldier burst out of the alley, jumping over a body that had fallen at his feet. He seemed to be covered in blood.

“Sbort, over here! Hurry, before these things catch me!”

“Chris!” Sarah cried out joyfully, rushing forward. The next second, the rest of the Gorgons charged forward, and Dort and I followed them.

It felt as if just turning around would mean being grabbed. Breathing was painful – my chest felt as though it were being squeezed by iron clamps.

A blood-covered man lunged forward, pulling others with him. Robert shouted something. My peripheral vision captured an image that would stay with me forever – a mutilated body lying at the corner of a house: blood soaked the blue dress of the girl, her torn flesh covered with a film of whitish pus.

There was no need to ask questions. We just needed to run, to keep running… My heart pounded, and the panic from everything happening around us didn't let up for a second. It felt as if nature itself were aiding in this madness, lowering leaden clouds, pressing the thin bushes and grass down to the ground. The cold wind swept through the streetlights, buildings, and lonely trees beyond the road, picking up debris and scattering it from place to place.

A light, cold rain began to fall.

At some point, I realized that no one understood what was happening. Everyone was just running somewhere, running from someone. Past houses, across streets and alleyways. And I kept seeing the infected. They were multiplying.

How fortunate that I was wearing combat boots!

My breath caught. We ran through a narrow gap between two buildings. The air reeked of dampness and feces. We quickly emerged into an alley, turning around the corner of a house… I flinched and took a step back. The soldiers stopped abruptly, raising their weapons without hesitation. Dozens of people blocked the path. Infected people. I clutched Sam's arm.

“We need to go,” Robert said with a trembling voice, trying to remain calm, “quietly turn around…”

The infected noticed us. They heard us, sensed us. Their glazed eyes fixed on us. The triumph of nightmare. The triumph of death. Gurgling sounds, as if water or blood were in their lungs, erupted from somewhere deep within the creatures. They began to move toward us, some slowly, others too quickly.

Dead. Impossible. This couldn't be real.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Robert shouted quickly, and we tried to rush back… But they were here too. On the other side of the street, another dozen of these creatures. I realized with horror that we were surrounded… A wild panic surged inside me. I wanted to scream, grabbing my hair with both hands… "Up! Everyone to the stairs! Now!"

I looked around. On the building, in that foul passage, there was a fire escape leading up to a window on the third floor. Sam immediately pushed me toward it. Everyone rushed there, trying to avoid the infected. The stench was no longer noticeable. The first of the soldiers climbed up skillfully, one after another.

Growling and moaning came from all sides. They were getting closer and closer, and we were trapped…

“Shayer!” Robert barked; I nearly jumped out of my skin. The commander pushed me toward the stairs, "Come on! Move! Move!"

The wheezing and guttural sounds echoed through the alley.

I came to my senses as I was already climbing up, clutching the cold metal rungs. Step. Another step. I couldn’t feel anything beneath me. Sam climbed behind me. Then Michael. When I was near the top, I saw Robert being the last to climb the ladder, kicking away an approaching infected person.

Those seconds will remain in my memory forever, as some of the most terrifying – that feeling of overwhelming fear, cold and all-consuming, will stay with me.

Everything ceased to exist; the world around seemed like it had never been there… Only disbelief. Only the desire to climb higher as quickly as possible. Only the fear of being grabbed and pulled down.

I was even surprised when the ladder suddenly ended, and I was pulled up onto a sort of small balcony made of rusty metal bars and grates, covered with loose wooden planks. Horrified, I shrank away from the edge of the partition, pressing against the cold concrete wall. I breathed deeply; my head and ears felt hot and heavy. I could hear the creatures clinging to the rungs of the ladder, scratching it, shaking it like… What if they climb up now? Where would we run then?

But no one was climbing after us. The Gorgons stood at the edge of the partition, watching what was happening below, and Sam peeked out from behind them. I cautiously took a step toward Dort, touching his shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the soldiers approach the window, knock on it, and shine a flashlight inside. The infected continued to move around below.

The sound of breaking glass echoed, and I flinched and turned around. The Gorgons also turned.

A bloodied man – Christopher, as I understood – smashed the glass with his elbow and shook his hand.

“I think it’s better to wait there,” he said, glancing around at everyone. For a moment, his eyes settled on Sam, then on me. The man raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, that would be better,” Robert nodded, “check out the apartment. We’ll take a break. It’s been two days without sleep. We need rest. We can’t get through outside anyway – it’s cold,” the commander added, glancing down once more.

We began to climb inside in the order given by Sbort.

I approached the window, leaned on the frame, and carefully made my way inside the stuffy and dark apartment, trying not to cut myself on the shards of glass. It was damp. Chilly. A thick layer of dust covered all the surfaces; no one had been here for a long time. A lonely lightbulb hung from a wire from the whitewashed ceiling. The gray wallpaper rippled, and in the corners, it had peeled off and hung down.

"Clear," Michael's voice came. "Clear," Norman echoed him. I climbed onto the bed in the corner of the room, hugged my knees, trying to calm the shaking and stay out of the way. The tension in the air grew, palpable on a physical level. Something was brewing, evident in the looks and the sharp movements of everyone present.

Christopher returned from the other room, throwing three Gorgon backpacks onto the floor. The other soldiers turned to look at him as he cast a look toward Robert from beneath his brows; Chris’s arms were literally covered in blood up to his elbows. His entire face, neck, and clothing were caked in dried and cracked blood and dirt. His eyes were swollen and red. He breathed heavily, licked his upper lip as if to say something, but then Stan, throwing a backpack with force, turned directly toward Chris.

“You went back for the others, didn't you?” Stan spat through clenched teeth. “And Charles went with you. So why did you come back alone?” The muscles in his face twitched with tension. Christopher met his hard gaze but remained silent. “You couldn't get them out, could you?” Taren’s voice broke into a rasp; Chris's silence was driving him mad. “Where’s my brother? Where's Charles?! What happened?! Answer me, Lewis, this damn second!”

I glanced anxiously at the Gorgons, at Robert, expecting someone to step in any moment. But everyone remained still. Sbort tiredly covered the upper half of his face, pressing his fingers to his eyes.

“Pretty much what happened, I suppose, with Amanda,” Christopher finally retorted bitterly. “That was her uniform, right?” He nodded in my direction, and my breath caught with anxiety as the image of the girl’s lifeless body reappeared in my mind, her limp arm dripping with thick, crimson blood… Her clothes were still warm. “Fantastic, our plan to get out of the city quickly! So, sacrificing our own people is acceptable, but saving civilians is our sacred duty!” The words were no longer directed at Stan. Christopher, whose neck veins were bulging, turned to Robert. “So you gave me the order to return and leave the others behind. Not to take the wounded. Not to save the surrounded. You told us to leave,” Chris almost growled, enunciating each word. “You sacrificed us, your own people,” he punched his chest with force, “but goddamn it, you brought civilians with you?!

It seemed to me that even the Gorgons were looking at Christopher with some apprehension. But not Sbort. He placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head back slightly. Robert remained silent, looking tired and slightly concerned.

“You don't think that they,” Chris nodded in Sam's and my direction, “will be able to fend for themselves? Or that they can hold off the horde of monsters outside? No? Then who, in your opinion, will protect them?” The man gritted his teeth. There was a feeling that he was holding himself back with all his strength to avoid exploding. “Or do you want us to protect them? Risk our lives? How many more Gorgons do you need to lose here?” Chris spat the last phrase through clenched teeth, shaking with anger. For a few seconds, an uneasy silence settled, and then…

“And how many do you need, Lewis?” Stan asked quietly. “What happened? Why is it that no one but you returned?”

“You’re saying I left them behind?!” Christopher erupted, leaping to his feet like a hurricane; if anyone or anything had been in his way, he would have smashed through it without a second thought. The soldier caught up with Stan in just a few steps and loomed over him.

“You. Brought. Three. Backpacks,” Taren growled into his face. “Your own. And two more. That means you could take them. That means their owners weren’t surrounded, weren’t cut off from you. So why did you come back without them?”

“Because they were dead,” Chris rasped coldly through clenched teeth. “Your brother became just like the creatures outside. He attacked Isaac. And tore him apart.”

“You’re lying!” Stan suddenly snapped and grabbed Chris by his vest. “You left them and ran!”

For a couple of seconds, Christopher remained calm. Then, suddenly and forcefully, he struck Taren in the solar plexus, hitting him in the ribs, and in one quick movement twisted his comrade’s arms behind his back and pushed him away. Michael managed to catch Stan, who was flying toward the wall, and gripped him tightly to keep him still. I froze, watching the scene unfold and the soldiers’ reactions closely.

With a wild look, Lewis scanned the room; a smirk twisted his lips. He straightened up, spreading his arms out to the sides. Bloody arms.

“Does anyone else still think I ran away? Hm?” And Christopher laughed. It was so bitter and harsh that I physically felt pain in my chest. Pulling the corner of his lips into a sneer, Chris looked at Stan. “You weren't there. None of you were there,” the man shifted his gaze to Robert. “And you’re still silent. Do you also think I chose to save my own skin? Or are you thinking about how to punish me for breaking your orders? And I will break them again. I won't lift a finger for these,” he waved a hand in my direction, “if they’re torn apart next to me. If they attack them, whether they’re alive or dead, I won’t fire a single shot. If they beg for help – I’ll walk right by.” The words rang and whistled in my head, and the last words of the soldier echoed like a sharp clang. I looked around for protection, but the tired Gorgons stood, glancing between Christopher and Robert. “And you,” Lewis suddenly spun around to face Stan, pointing at him, “are a worthless bastard, Taren. And I’d be glad if it had been you instead of Charles. Since you didn’t die on the first try, know your place. Do you hear me? Know. Your. Place. If you come at me again, I’ll rip your spine out.”

“Chris,” Robert's voice was calm but firm. I shifted my frightened gaze from Chris to Stan, but he… remained silent. Lewis straightened up, turning his face toward the commander. “Check if the shower works. Wash up. And go to bed. No one will bother you until we leave,” Sbort said quietly and emotionlessly.

Lewis took half a step back, frowning:

“What?”

“Go rest, Chris,” the commander repeated in a restrained tone, looking almost fatherly into the Gorgon's face. “I need you alert and clear-headed.”

Lewis gave a final look to everyone in the room. He shook his head, slowly turned, and headed toward the doorway, where a dark wooden dresser stood. He paused for a moment. Then, with a wild, animal rage, he shoved the dresser to the floor; I gasped loudly, someone cursed, and the room was filled with the terrifying crash. And Christopher quickly disappeared into the darkness of the next room.