Rani leads the group through the winding alleyways of the city, devoid of all life other than their presence. Deserted cars litter the streets, abandoned shops and other structures collect dust within their walls, and broken traffic signals sway pitifully in the breeze. The emptiness of the place unnerves Sira.

  Like when they first laid eyes upon the dead forest, actual memories are absent, but there remains an inscrutable certainty that something terrible has happened. Something that they’re willing to bet has to do with the red fog and its twisted monsters.

  For all they know, it’s happened everywhere.

  Sira’s body whines from the day’s continued exertion. Pieces of debris and other things that are strewn on the ground dig into their bare feet, already raw after their desperate flight from danger. They begrudgingly endure it, keeping their head down and leaning against something for support whenever they can.

  It has to be worth it. It will be. They try to stay positive. They should feel a little positive since they’ve been rescued, but everything that’s happened so far has injected them with so much unease that the fact is a ripple in a vast lake of apprehension.

  There are several points where they feel like they’re about to collapse to the ground, but despite Rani’s request, they don’t mention it. The idea of someone physically hauling them to their destination makes them want to recede into themself. They know that’s impractical, and their body is punishing them for it, but trying to push against that insecurity is like trying to push their way through a brick wall, so they let it be.

  Mikael’s stare burns into the back of their head every so often, but they do their best to ignore it. Lionel glances back at Sira occasionally as well, almost like he still expects them to mutate into one of the monsters, but the look in his eyes is one of curiosity, not fearful anticipation.

  It’s still uncomfortable.

  “Oh man,” Lionel says, while they all make their way down a side street, his voice quiet enough that he could only be talking to himself. “I cannot wait to see the look on Karim’s face.”

  Sira is about to ask who Karim is when a red blur in the corner of their eye catches their attention. They whip their head around to spot a figure in an alley a fair distance away, still, and just barely visible from where the group is walking.

  Panic rising in their throat, they impulsively take a step back. An open hand against their shoulder blade stops them.

  Mikael’s monotonous voice comes from behind them, a lot closer than they’re comfortable with, “Relax. We’re too far from it.”

  He removes his hand. Sira assumes that it wasn’t meant as a comfort, but to prevent them from backing straight into him. Embarrassing. They keep their eyes locked on the creature. It’s statuesque, aside from the mist that continuously wafts off its body.

  "How can it not see us?” Sira asks him, without turning around.

  “They don’t have eyes. They sense heat instead,” he answers tersely. “Now keep moving."

  Rani and Lionel wait ahead – in a direction that doesn’t go towards the monster – looking back at the two of them expectantly. Sira staggers forward to catch up with the pair, the oddly quiet sound of Mikael’s boots following close behind.

  “Did you see something?” Rani asks Mikael. She tightens her grip on her gun.

  “Phantom over that way.” Sira hears the faint shuffle of fabric as Mikael gestures in its direction. “Not a problem for us.”

  “Good. This needs to go as smoothly as possible.”

  Phantom. That name is fitting.

  “…yeah,” Sira comments, voice unsteady and throat still dry. They’re unsure if their input is wanted, but they want to make it heard nonetheless. “I can’t survive another chase.”

  “There won’t be one,” Mikael states firmly – and a bit condescendingly, as if it should be obvious.

  “I wouldn’t worry,” Rani says. “I won’t pretend we’re invincible, and we definitely don’t want to attract the attention of any more, but we have a knack for what we do. Trust in that.”

  Sira nods, but they aren’t going to let themself believe they’re out of the woods just yet.

  Rani leans down slightly. It would come off as infantilizing if Sira wasn’t aware of how much they’ve kept their eyes lowered. “We’re basically around the corner. How are you holding up?”

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  “Yeah, uh, no offense,” Lionel adds, “you may not be infected, but you kinda look like you shouldn’t even be capable of standing right now.”

  So it’s that obvious. They squeeze where their hands are clasped around their upper arms. Infantilizing or not, this level of attentiveness is quickly becoming unbearable. “I’ll make it.”

  Rani hesitates, probably doubting their words, but then turns away. “If you say so.”

  * * *

  The group comes to a large building, five stories tall. The rusted, dark metal of a fire escape crawls up to frame the center row of windows, set in a grid pattern on its facade. Pale residue covers a significant portion of the brick exterior, making the building itself look sick.

  Mikael leaves his place at the back of the group to hold open one of the battered glass doors at the entrance. Sira quickly ducks inside behind Rani and Lionel. Mikael’s stare is less focused on them now.

  For whatever reason.

  When the doors fall shut, some of the tension leaks out of Sira’s body. The walls around them show the wear and tear of countless years of neglect, but they look solid and sturdy enough that they are very much still walls. Walls that are between them and more of the ‘phantoms.’ It’s not a definitive promise of safety – walls only did so much when they ran from the two that pursued them – but the illusion is enough to help them feel more relaxed.

  Two hallways extend out from the central, open room they just entered, lined with a series of wooden doors, some left ajar, while others are closed or missing entirely. The place is quiet and empty, aside from the group’s presence. Rani stops and scans the area, but nothing must be out of place, since she quickly motions for the group to head up a winding stairwell on the other side of the room.

  Once they all reach the third floor Sira catches a glimpse of someone – or something – peering out at them from one of the rooms towards the end of the hall. Panic almost hits them again, but it fades as soon as the figure steps fully out into view, revealing another person in the same full-body suit as Sira’s retinue. The stranger bounces forward to meet the group as they approach.

  "Thank goodness everyone’s safe.” Possibly female. It sounds like she’s beaming from behind the cover of her mask. “I started to worry something went wrong when the phantoms’ blips disappeared, and you didn’t contact me right awa–”

  She cuts herself off as she skids to a halt, staring directly at Sira.

  Therese, Sira assumes, has noticed the ‘problem.’ They retreat into the shelter of their raised shoulders. This is going to happen with everyone I meet, isn’t it?

  Therese emits a series of sputtering noises. Rani raises a hand to stop her.

  “I know. Just roll with it. We’re going to figure things out back at the base, so I need you to go ahead and call in an escort.”

  She hesitates, glancing erratically between Sira and Rani, then nods and swiftly turns on her heel to dart back to the room she emerged from. Everyone follows her down the hall in a much less urgent pursuit. There’s still tension hanging in the air, but not anywhere close to the amount there was when they all first left the department store.

  Peering through some of the open doors as they pass by, Sira notes that most of them are full of upturned furniture – beds, couches, chairs, and shelving. Some of it is broken or ripped to shreds. The tears in the wallpaper and dark, large stains on the walls and floors may not only be from age or mold. This was a residential building. Apartments. People once lived here.

  Sira avoids dwelling on what might have happened to those people as everyone files into the room, Mikael still in tow. Hearing a creak, they spare him a half-glance as he turns around to secure a thick metal bar over the door, barricading all of them inside.

  Metal chairs and folding tables are set up against the walls of the room, supporting an array of electronic equipment displaying lights, colors, and patterns. Sira is in no mental state to make sense of any of it. Therese is already bent over one of the devices, hitting a switch and leaning towards what looks like a microphone.

  Behind them, Mikael leans back against the door, arms tightly crossed.

  “Is that all there is? Seems like it would be pretty easy for one of those things to break in here,” Sira comments, turning back to the others.

  A short row of lockers is arranged alongside a wall that isn’t taken up by equipment. Rani pops one open and rummages around inside. “Not enough phantom activity in this area to justify it, and when it comes to ordinary people possibly breaking in, it’s meant to hide in plain sight. There hasn’t been anyone who’s not one of us around here for a long time, though. Until now.”

  Lionel sits himself in one of the chairs and quirks an eyebrow at her. “Didn’t expect you to be this talkative about that kind of thing with a stranger, Lieutenant.” His tone is teasing.

  Lieutenant, Sira notes. Are they actually military?

  Rani retrieves something from the locker before closing it. “It’s not exactly classified, and I mean, they’re already here. They could lead someone to this location if they wanted to.”

  "I wouldn’t do that,” Sira says quickly – perhaps too quickly. “I’m not sure who you guys even are.”

  Rani approaches them, holding the item she retrieved. It’s a smaller, simpler respirator that protects the whole face but isn’t built into a helmet like others.

  "We’re the CPC – the Counter-Phantom Corps. You can probably guess from there.” She holds the respirator out for them to take. “For now, put this on. It doesn’t seem like you need it, but you can never be too careful, and it will help you avoid attracting too much attention.”

  Oh, thank goodness. Sira eagerly takes it out of Rani’s hands as soon as she finishes the last part of her sentence – a little too eagerly, judging by the way she blinks in surprise. The rim of cushiony material on the inner portion of the mask fits itself firmly against the contours of their face as they place it on and try to secure the straps behind their head with unsteady fingers.

  “You got it?” Rani asks.

  Sira offers her a small nod. It’s more difficult than it should be, but the mental image of having one of them secure the straps for them is almost as bad as the one of being carried.

  Therese straightens, done with whatever she was using the device for. Upon closer inspection, it looks to be a radio system. They were too focused on Rani and getting the mask over their face to catch whatever she’d spoken into it.

  “Rani, the captain wants to talk to you.”