Chapter 4 : Cornered Choices

I hung around the docks for a while, waiting for the locals to leave—hoping, foolishly, that they'd somehow overlooked burning at least one boat, anything that could work. I didn't expect to be that lucky. I was desperate enough to settle for a rowboat, but even those had been burned down.

The locals didn't stay long after that. The flames were still raging when they left. I walked the entire shoreline, looking at every possible opportunity, but nothing was left.

I just knelt there, staring at the flames reflecting off the empty, ash-streaked water. How could this be real? Is it really that hopeless? I didn't want to believe it. But what else was left?

I was already entertaining the idea of swimming to the nearest island when I spotted a familiar figure—the girl from my first day here. The one who sold me that piece of rock.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I found myself walking toward her. She sat on one of those steel containers, looking bored, casually watching the sunset like nothing scary was happening around her.

But as I got closer, I realized she wasn't the girl I'd seen before. They looked alike—almost identical—but this one was older. Not quite my age, but close.

"Well, you look different," the girl said out of nowhere. Her voice was almost the same as the little girl's from before—just a little older. Was she related to her or something?

"Uh… Do I know you?" I asked awkwardly. "What do you mean I look different?"

"Nothing," she answered with an amused smile. "I just mean you look different from the locals. You're not like those people, are you?" Her tone shifted, like she wasn't used to talking.

"No, I'm not, but… uh, anyway," I said awkwardly. "It's not safe here… you're not safe here." I glanced around, terrified the locals might return. "You should come with me," I added.

Her smile widened, as if talking to me was somehow amusing to her. "And how is being with you safer?" she asked as if trying to challenge me. "How are you going to keep me safe?" 

"I think, sticking together is better…" I paused trying to think of something to add. "And I have…This axe?" 

She let out a sweet, melodic laugh. "And I have this gun," she said, brandishing a small firearm. "Maybe I should be the one keeping you safe." as the girl returned her gaze to the sunset. Her expression changed to a more serious one.

Ariane's gaze widened at the sight of the gun in the girl's hand. "That's... good... I mean, useful..." She shifted awkwardly, glancing back and forth between the girl and the horizon. "You're armed, that's great... I guess."

I've never been comfortable around firearms. Sure, I'm curious about them, but being near one is a completely different story. Especially in this situation—something like that can make such a big difference. But having one also makes everything much more dangerous. Still, turning down her help doesn't seem logical right now.

"Maybe… we can keep each other safe," I offer hesitantly. 

"Yeah… maybe…?" the girl answered, her gaze fixed on the horizon. She's giving off some really weird vibes right now—maybe similar to that receptionist?

"Why are you even here?" I asked trying to fish for more information

The girl shrugged. "Waiting, just waiting."

"Waiting for what?" I asked, getting more confused. 

"For an opportunity," the girl said flatly, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. The response was so random that it caught me off guard.

"What opportunity? To escape?" I was getting more convinced that she is just traumatized like the receptionist. Maybe… I should really help this girl… Maybe it can make me feel a little better. 

"I don't really need to do that right now," she answered, her amused smile slowly returning.

"What are you saying? We can't stay here" I said while looking around, being out in the open is really making me paranoid, every noise I hear feels dangerous. "We should at least uhmm…get away from here," I added, trying to sound firm.

She looked at me wearing her amused smile. "I'm not worried," her tone was calm.

"Not worried? Aren't you afraid? Of those locals? Being trapped here? Being killed?" I snapped. "Can you even protect yourself?" I asked her condescendingly.

The girl's expression darkened, it became stiff - serious. "I don't need your help, okay? I'm not the one who's out of options – you are" the girl snapped back.

My mouth hangs open, I wanted to snap back but I got nothing.

The girl sighed, regaining her composure. "Someone's coming for me in a week. If you want to make it off this island, you'd better not anger me and just follow what I say. Got it?"

'Just kill her' another random thought. I shrug it off immediately.

I really wanted to argue and I don't know if I can even trust this girl. But the truth is, if what she's saying is actually true. Then that's the best chance that I got.

"Okay, I'll listen." I answered reluctantly. 

"Good," the girl answered, ignoring our previous tension. "You see, I'm a collector, and there are certain things around this island that I…need" I noticed her emphasis on the last word. "Now, I want to retrieve those things, and you're gonna do that for me," she added.

"What? Are you serious? That is suicide" I complained. Maybe I should find another way to escape. 

"Yes, one-hundred-percent serious," she said, "and I'm telling you this now, there's no one coming, except for my people," she added. "I'm your only bet in getting out of this place, so decide now,"

Her words hit me like a slap—serious, unwavering. No one else was coming? Just her people? I couldn't tell if that was supposed to be comforting or terrifying. She was offering me a way out, but at what cost? Was she even trustworthy? My gut twisted with uncertainty, but I didn't have many options left. The locals weren't going to stop, and I couldn't swim to safety. I hated feeling backed into a corner, but maybe this was the only way forward.

"Alright… where do we start?" I reluctantly agreed. Compared to just sitting around, this is better…right? I just need to be careful, play things smart. 

The girl's smile returned—cool, self-assured, and just a little too pleased. "Follow me," she answered after jumping from the container.

"So… what do I call you?" I asked her as we walked towards the warehouse near the docks. 

Her face shifted as if thinking seriously how to answer my question, "I guess you can just call me Nixie,"

"Okay… Nixie," I said, "where are we exactly going?" I asked.

"Hmm, somewhere safe. Somewhere you can rest," she answered. I followed closely behind, carefully making a mental note of how to find my way back here if I was ever alone.

"Hey, we're in trouble," Nixie said, rounding a corner. I ran to her side and saw dozens of locals, all armed with an assortment of weapons, their expressions blank as ever.

Nixie immediately raised her gun, aimed at one of the locals, and fired. The bullet struck a large, 50-ish man square in the chest. He dropped to his knees before collapsing to the ground.

Before I could fully process what had just happened, Nixie fired twice more—one shot struck a local in the stomach, the other hit another in the shoulder. Both wounds looked fatal.

She fired a few more times, while I remained dazed by how easy it was for her to take another person's life.

"Hey! Make yourself useful!" she shouted. I looked over to see her reloading her gun. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a local charging toward me. Panic immediately set in. I readied my axe and swung, the blade striking his legs and bringing him down, incapacitated.

Still dazed by what was happening, I readied myself to handle the ones Nixie couldn't. How can a girl younger than me be this cold-blooded? I wondered.

We moved while fending off the locals—Nixie kept shooting, and I handled anyone who got too close. She was too good with that gun, barely missing, her shots almost always fatal. It was like she wasn't new to this kind of situation. Her composure made me look like a kid in comparison.

"Just fucking kill them," she shouted when she saw me incapacitating another local.

"Uh… no…" I answered, trying to catch my breath.

"Well, it's getting annoying cleaning up after you," she shot back, reloading her gun. "These people are gone. They're not people anymore," she shouted, firing her gun. "Killing them is mercy," she added.

"No… I refuse!" I shouted, pushing a local away. "These people are just possessed, mind-controlled or… I don't know."

"Let's say they're just being controlled like you say," Nixie replied, annoyance clear in her voice. "Are you just going to let them get us killed?"

"That's why I'm just hurting them, enough so that they can't harm me anymore," I answered, catching my breath.

"That's dumb," Nixie shot back.

We didn't talk much after that; we just kept moving. Nixie must've killed a few dozen by now, but the locals just kept coming. There was no end to them. I was about to reach my limit, feeling like I could pass out right there. My body was aching, especially the wounds on my shoulder and leg. But… Nixie, I don't know if she's getting tired, she was not showing any signs at all. 

"This is pointless, we need to run," she shouted, pulling me along. "Run to that building, we'll lose them there." She ran ahead of me, and I was running slow. She covered for me until I reached the door.

We managed to get inside, but the locals were still right behind us. "We need to close this door, buy us some time," I said, pushing with my arm while Nixie pressed her whole body against it. The door was heavy, and it took us a few moments before we could get it almost closed. Just as we were about to succeed, a local wedged himself in the gap, effectively preventing us from fully closing it.

"Hey! Do something about that," she shouted, still pushing as hard as she could. "We won't lose them here if we don't close this door."

"But… What should I do?" I asked, frightened by the decision I was about to make.

"Just kill it," Nixie shouted.

"Just kill it," a voice in my head repeated.

"But… No… I can't do that," I whispered.

"Are you being serious right now? I swear to God I'll fucking shoot you and leave you as bait for the locals?" Nixie threatened, and I didn't think she was bluffing.

"But–"

"I'm serious, you know," Nixie's voice was cold and terrifying.

Left without any choice, I reluctantly raised my axe and swung at the local with all my strength. I could feel his bone break, flesh tear as my axe hit his body, blood spraying everywhere and drenching me in the process. I hit him a few more times before kicking him out of the way.

Nixie successfully closed the door after that.

I slumped against a nearby wall, unable to feel anything. The feeling of killing someone on purpose was far more terrifying than what happened with Linda. This time, I was directly involved. I felt that guy losing his life with my own hands.

I was about to break down when Nixie shook me, snapping me back to reality.

"Hey! You did what you had to do, okay? You had no choice. It's either him or us," Nixie said in a soft voice, trying to calm me down. "Now, I need you to focus. That door won't hold them off for long," she added, her voice turning commanding.

"We need to move," Nixie said while offering her hand. I grabbed her hand and stood up, my legs felt like lead. The emotional trauma was weighing on me, making my already fatigued body feel even heavier. 

Still dazed by what happened, I just followed Nixie around the building. She was making different noises around the building, breaking windows, shooting randomly, breaking different decors. Hoping to distract the locals with the noise before leaving the building.

When Nixie was satisfied with her distraction, we went outside an alternate door and sprinted away from the building. I can feel my chest pounding, My breathing shorts and sharp. Every step feels heavy, like my legs were made of steel, but I tried hard to keep moving. Luckily, Nixie kept her pace with me.

I really wanted to rest, just pass out from the pain and fatigue. but Those locals were relentless, they didn't even notice that the people around them were dying. They have one goal, and that goal is to kill us. we can't afford to slow down.

Nixie led the way more carefully now. her movement was precise, how those military people I saw in movies move, there was no wasted movement. She checked everything before moving on, every corner, every shadow, everywhere that someone might come from. I was trying to keep up with her as best as I could. I never once lightened my grip on my axe, my mind was too alert, scanning our surroundings as best as I can. Everything feels like a threat now, every creak and groan of the building around makes me tense.

Eventually, after what feels like hours, Nixie gestured to stop. We were standing outside an industrial looking building, I was quite large. I was blending perfectly to the surrounding area. But this one, if you inspect it properly, seems more... secured. The windows look reinforced, and the door looks solid enough to withstand heavy explosives.

"This is it," Nixie said, voice low but steady. "My warehouse."

"What do you mean warehouse? this is a fortress." I was really amazed.

Nixie took what looked like some sort of a tablet from her bag and pressed some button on it. I heard mechanical wiring all over the place, the warehouse door opened slowly, revealing two more thick metal doors behind it.

We went inside, And I'm telling you, I've never felt more secure in my entire life. The interior of the warehouse was as secure as the outside. Steel beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and barricades were in place, though I doubt those locals with basically pitchforks can even get inside. A couple of lamps hang all over the place, making the place look much livelier compared to outside. 

and when I see it... them... I can't believe my eyes. an actual community of survivors, not just survivors, locals who are normal… unlike the one's outside. There were also some tourists, most of them looked too traumatized to communicate, most of them were just slumped on the wall, or beds ,literally anywhere that they can rest.

A few people were moving around, taking stock of supplies, and setting up makeshift beds along the walls. They looked up as Nixie and Ariane entered, but no one seemed too surprised to see them.

"Why didn't you tell there were others?" I asked Nixie.

"Because you didn't ask," She nonchalantly answered. "I'm just trying to help people, you know? Trying to save as many as I can." This made Ariane more guilty about abandoning those people earlier. 

"Then what about the deal you told me earlier? Is that real? Do I really need to do that," I asked half hoping that I don't really have to do what she asked.

"Ohh, that's 100% true," she answered like it was already a given.

"But… Why me? Clearly you're much more capable than I am? And those people around here look much more capable than me? Why did you choose me?" I asked, confused by the situation.

"Look around you," Nixie said as she gestured all over the place. "Those people, those tourists are basically walking corpses right now, they can't do shit. And those locals? I can't risk them turning into one of those monsters, that leaves you as my only choice," Nixie explained.

"But… why are they not like those people outside," I asked, genuinely curious.

"To be honest, I have no idea as well," she answered. I think she was hiding something but I'm not really sure.

"Okay… I'll try to trust you for now," I hesitantly told her.

"As if you have a choice," She said with her amused smile. "Take this for now," as she was handing a bag full of supplies.

"Do what you want—take a bath, go to sleep, whatever. I have to do something." Nixie left, talking to other people as if she were the leader of this place.

And I did exactly what Nixie told me to do: I took a bath, cleaned my wound, and ate a warm meal. Somehow, I felt almost brand new—except for one minor issue.

This guy is named Gideon.

A 6-foot-something army-type guy, wider than a literal tree, with a permanent scowl on his face. Nixie introduced him as "the one who manages this place"—the overseer, Nixie jokingly said. But rather than an overseer, he was more like a drill sergeant.

He watched my every move, waiting patiently as if he expected me to fail some unknown test.

"Eat faster!" he barked as I took a bite of bread.

"Take a bath faster!" he shouted when I wasn't out within five minutes.

"Clean it faster!" he snapped when I wiped down my bandages at a regular human speed.

His fetish for efficiency was seriously annoying me. Somehow, I felt more tired instead of rested. But… handling his bullshit was still easier than surviving what's outside.

I left the main area after that, and Gideon gave me this nasty grin as I walked out.

"What's that guy's problem?" I muttered as I left.

I dragged myself slowly toward the spot Gideon had designated as my place to sleep. It wasn't much—just a spot on the floor with a thin mattress laid out. No blankets, no frills. Just bare, simple, nothing fancy.

But as soon as I lay down, something happened. It wasn't the concrete floor or the rough edges of the room that I felt. It felt like all of my exhaustion had magically been lifted. It felt like I could breathe again.

It felt like... staying in one of those 5-star hotels I'd seen in magazines, the kind where everything's spotless and perfectly arranged. But instead of luxury, it was a kind of peace I didn't know I'd been craving.

It felt safe.

And for the first time, I could properly think again—no constant overthinking of what I should do next, or how to do this or that. It was nice not feeling adrenaline or fear dictating my every action. It was safe... just quiet.

Everything felt normal until, of course, Nixie popped back into my mind.

It's not that I was ungrateful—she did help me out, and just for that, I owed her so much. But… Nixie just doesn't feel very trustworthy.

I couldn't shake that feeling she gave off. She was a walking red flag.

Every time she moved, everything felt so... calculated. She was weighing if what she was doing to help would be profitable for her in the future. The way she talked with the people around her felt purely factual, no emotion involved. It was like everyone was just pawns to her plan. There's something off about her, but... given what she's doing to help, I can't fully distrust her either.

There's so much I don't understand yet—Nixie, Gideon, the cult, the connection of the red mist I saw, and its link to those crazed locals. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn't notice I was drifting off to sleep. Quiet. Softer. Dreamscape.

I fell asleep, not expecting another dream since last time I slept, I didn't have one. but it was just as vivid and realistic as the last time. This dream, it wasn't some random girl whose memory I'm reliving. This time, it was someone well-known, or at least someone some people might have actually known.

It was a famous chef from this island – Dominique something, the owner of the biggest restaurant here. Well known for his humble personality and almost international-level skills. But in my dream, it wasn't in the usual kitchen, doing the thing he loved. In this dream, he was a victim—a pawn of the cult.

When I got here, I heard talk—rumors of him leaving without a word. Just disappearing without a trace. I heard people saying that he left since his business and restaurant were going bankrupt. The first time I heard what happened, I didn't really pay attention since it sounded quite normal.

The dream shifted, and now I was seeing things from Dominique's point of view. It was like a meeting of some sort. The chef was sitting in a large office, the kind we see in movies—the stereotypical 'bad guy' office. I could feel the anxiety and fear coming from him as he waited for who seemed to be the boss of this place, maybe the cult leader? Maybe I could actually see his identity this time?

He sat there for a while, and I could almost feel his thoughts swirling around. His business was in shambles, the pressure was mounting—these people were harassing him, trying to force him to join them. They wanted him to use his restaurant to launder money, and they were threatening his family living on the island.

The door opened suddenly, and for some reason, I felt the temperature drop as this old-looking man stepped into the room. He looked elegant, dressed in a sharp suit and shoes that I'm pretty sure I could never afford. He was also wearing a watch with a symbol I recognized—one of those symbols I saw at those ruins. I was hoping that I could see his face, but for some reason, the area around his head looks distorted as there's a force preventing me from seeing it.

He sat behind what I figured was an antique mahogany table and immediately started talking to the chef. As usual, I couldn't understand a word—they were speaking in gibberish again. But even if I couldn't catch the words, there was something about the way he spoke—so... elegant. And that voice... it was the same one I heard in my last dream, the one giving orders to the cult.

Their conversation dragged on for a while, and it was getting pretty heated. The cult guy was trying to convince the chef to join them, or at least, that's what I figured they were talking about. It got to the point where the chef was about to storm out, but then, just as he moved, two hooded figures stepped in and blocked the door.

The cult guy stood up from his chair, and all that elegance was gone. It was replaced with raw rage. He grabbed Dominique by the collar and shoved him back into the chair he had been sitting in.

The cult guy then pressed some sort of button, and a woman entered the room. It took me a moment to notice, but this girl was the receptionist from the hotel. She was blonde this time, so I didn't immediately recognize her, but it was definitely her. How is she connected to all of this? Her actions at the hotel are a lot more worrying now compared to before.

The receptionist handed the chef what looked like a tablet, and something was playing on it. Whatever it was, it only made the chef's fear and anxiety grow. I focused on the screen and saw live footage of a young woman and a middle-aged woman, both tied to separate chairs. I didn't need to be a genius to figure out that those women were his wife and daughter.

No one spoke for a while; they were just lingering around the office, doing nothing. The silence was finally broken when the cult guy gestured for the receptionist to hand over some documents to the chef. He immediately signed them without saying a word, not even hesitating.

The cult guy's angry demeanor shifted back to his usual elegance, and he left the room without saying a word. But before he went, he made a gesture toward the hooded figures by the door.

They grabbed the chef and dragged him off somewhere, somewhere I didn't even want to know. The scene shifted, and then the dream ended.