The past was erased. The future had vanished. Political games, journalistic adventures, civic protests, ambitious plans – everything crumbled to dust in my hands, ash in my teeth. In the moment when death was breathing down my neck, even the State’s hell seemed like heaven, a place I wished to return to.
I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, took off my shoes, and tiptoed to the edge of the shelf, peering out from behind it.
The glass was smeared with dirty red streaks. In the grocery store – shadows of a few moving figures. Were they human? Their movements were slow, broken. There were no bodies of those attacked, those torn apart. Only blood. Its streaks. Shreds of flesh. Pieces of clothing.
I flinched. Where are they? Where are they?! It can’t be possible to get up and leave after that, can it? Could they have been eaten completely? With bones?! And, heavens forbid, eaten?! The rescuers hadn’t come, the medics hadn’t shown up; had the bodies been taken somewhere? But where? By whom?
I staggered, horrified by my own thoughts. Eaten. Impossible! … Bullshit, it's all bullshit – just gossip, fabrications, rumors woven from clouded minds and slander, schemes by customs barons and audacious mayors… This was a performance, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? So people would look for salvation in the government?
A wave of nausea hit me again, and I quickly turned away. Closed my eyes, holding my head. The ground seemed to slip away beneath my feet. I took a step back, stumbled.
Would salvation come? When would we be rescued? Would they rescue us? What if everything turns out differently?
I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling the strength of my heartbeat.
Sam watched every move I made, his face a mask of feigned calm, as if trying to reassure me, but it only made me shiver. Instead of thinking of others or saying words, my mind was consumed by a torrent of thoughts in search of an exit, an explanation; trying to connect the past and present, trying to distinguish a future in the thickening darkness. Everything had blurred. All that existed now was the store. Silence. And primal fear, fueled by the unknown.
What if we had come a day earlier? What if our conversation with Givori had gone as originally planned? Would everything have been different? Would I have understood what was happening, even a little?