Chapter 9

Location: Old Tunnels, Far from Arbatskaya

Date: March 13, 2032

Time: 08:12

Entry 9

There's nowhere left to run.

I don't know how long I've been walking. Hours? Days? Time doesn't mean anything down here anymore. It feels like I've been moving forever, and yet the tunnel stretches on and on, winding deeper into the bowels of the Metro. The air is colder now, and the walls are closing in around me, suffocating. I can't tell if I'm still going in the right direction, or if I've been walking in circles this whole time.

The whispers started again not long after I left Arbatskaya. Soft at first, barely noticeable, but now they're louder, constant, like a voice in the back of my mind that won't shut up. They're not just in my head. I can hear them in the walls, in the cracks, echoing through the tunnels like a distant scream.

I stop for a moment, leaning against the wall, trying to catch my breath. My legs are shaking, my body heavy with exhaustion. I haven't slept since Kurskaya. I don't know if I can sleep anymore. Every time I close my eyes, I see it. The dark. The thing that let me go. The thing that's still following me.

I can feel it. Watching. Waiting.

I pull my revolver from its holster, checking the cylinder. Four bullets left. I used two back at the station, firing into shadows like a fool. It doesn't matter. The bullets wouldn't help me now, not against whatever's out there.

I have to keep moving. I have to stay ahead of it.

But my body is starting to fail me. My muscles ache with every step, my lungs burn with each breath. The cold has settled deep into my bones, making me feel like I'm freezing from the inside out. And still, the whispers won't stop.

They're clearer now, more distinct. I can almost make out the words. They're calling me. Whispering my name. Telling me to stop. To give in.

Just rest. Just sleep. It's easier this way.

I shake my head, trying to clear the fog in my brain. But the voices don't go away. They never go away. They've been with me since Kurskaya. Since I was marked. And now, they're all I have.

I keep walking. One foot in front of the other. The tunnel is darker here, the lights long since burned out, leaving only my flashlight to cut through the gloom. The beam flickers, weak, threatening to die at any moment. I don't have much battery left. I should have brought spares, but I wasn't thinking clearly when I left Arbatskaya. I was just running.

The sound of my footsteps echoes through the tunnel, too loud in the silence. Every noise feels amplified, every small movement a potential threat. The dark is alive here. I can feel it breathing, shifting, waiting.

I can't stop. If I stop, it'll catch me.

I press on, my heart pounding in my chest, my breath coming in shallow gasps. The tunnel feels endless, stretching on and on, like it's swallowing me whole. The whispers are louder now, more insistent, pulling at my mind, twisting my thoughts. I can hear the thing behind me, its footsteps soft but deliberate, matching mine perfectly. It's always there, just out of sight, just out of reach.

I can't see it, but I know it's there. Watching.

I round a corner, the tunnel narrowing even further, the walls pressing in on me from both sides. I feel trapped, like the Metro itself is trying to swallow me, to drag me down into the depths. My flashlight flickers again, and for a moment, everything goes dark. When the light comes back, I see something ahead.

I freeze.

A figure. Standing in the middle of the tunnel, its back to me.

It's not moving. It's just standing there, hunched over, as if waiting for me to come closer. My heart skips a beat, and I raise the revolver, my hands trembling. I take a step forward, then another. The figure doesn't move. It doesn't react.

I can feel the fear crawling up my spine, cold and sharp, like ice in my veins.

I stop a few feet away from it, my finger hovering over the trigger. The light from my flashlight flickers again, casting long shadows on the walls. The figure is still there, still unmoving. I take another step forward, my breath catching in my throat.

Then the figure turns.

I stumble back, nearly dropping the flashlight. It's not human. Its eyes glow in the darkness, burning into mine, and its face is twisted, distorted, like a nightmare given form. It doesn't speak, but I can hear the whispers louder now, coming from it, filling my head with its voice.

It's the thing from Kurskaya.

It's found me.

I fire. The gunshot echoes through the tunnel, deafening in the confined space. But the figure doesn't move. The bullet passes through it like smoke, like it's not even real.

I fire again. And again. But nothing happens. The thing just stands there, watching me, its eyes burning into my soul. The whispers grow louder, overwhelming, drowning out everything else.

I can't take it. I turn and run.

The tunnel seems to twist around me, the walls closing in, the darkness growing thicker. I can't see where I'm going. I just run, blind, my footsteps echoing through the tunnel, the whispers following me, chasing me, dragging me down.

My legs are giving out. I can't breathe. I can't think. All I can do is run.

And then I trip.

I hit the ground hard, my flashlight skidding away, plunging the tunnel into total darkness. My revolver slips from my hand, clattering across the cold stone floor. I scramble, reaching for it, but the darkness is all-encompassing. I can't see. I can't hear anything but the sound of my own panicked breathing.

I'm going to die here.

The whispers are all around me now, pressing in, filling my head, my heart, my lungs. I can feel the thing getting closer, feel its presence wrapping around me like a noose. I claw at the ground, desperate, trying to find my gun, my flashlight, anything.

It's coming.

I hear a low growl, deep and rumbling, like the sound of the earth itself cracking open. My hands finally close around the revolver, and I pull it close to me, gripping it like it's the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.

This is it. I can't run anymore.

I push myself to my knees, my back pressed against the wall of the tunnel. The darkness is total now, suffocating, and I can feel it moving, shifting, crawling toward me. The whispers are deafening, and I realize they're not just in my head anymore.

They're real. They're here.

And then I see it. Those glowing eyes, burning through the darkness. The thing from Kurskaya, the thing that's been following me, the thing that marked me. It's here. It's right in front of me.

I raise the revolver, my hands shaking so badly I can barely hold it steady.

The whispers stop. The tunnel falls silent. And for a moment, everything freezes. I hold my breath, waiting, watching those eyes, waiting for it to make the next move.

And then it speaks.

"You can't escape."

The voice is low, guttural, and it sends a wave of cold terror through me. I don't understand it. I don't know what it is, what it wants. All I know is that it's here, and there's no running from it.

I close my eyes, my finger on the trigger.