Diary Entry: only three more

Kyle's expression was impassive, all clinical detachment on the outside. But Edward saw the way his jaw clenched. The way his arms folded too tightly across his chest. The doctor was bracing himself for something.

They walked in silence for a few moments, down a cold, unforgiving corridor lined with harsh, cold fluorescent lighting. The whine of the air system pulsed like a second heartbeat above.

"She's stable," Edward said finally. "But changed.".

Kyle nodded firmly. "We've run all the tests we could do without sedating her a second time. Brain waves off the charts. Resting vital signs like an athlete, or someone in deep meditation. She remembers everything with crystal clarity. But she's not normal, and no one can explain why."

Edward sat staring.

"She hears voices."

Kyle stopped dead in his tracks.

"So do the others."

Edward stopped. "Others?"

Kyle forced open a viewing room—a smaller size than the supply closet, but the window inside looked into a room Edward had not yet entered. Inside: a trio. Two men, one woman. All in individual beds. Hooked, drugged, restrained. Silent.

They're not like her," Kyle replied. "Not yet. But we think it's the same cause. Same mode of infection. Two were infected in the same town she was discovered in. The third… we don't know. They all had fatigue, chronic pain, intense dreams before onset."

Edward swallowed uncomfortably. "And what do the scans show?

Kyle rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing. No viral load trace. Nothing invasive. But they're changing their bodies subtly. Better oxygenation. More bone density. That's not possible."

Inside Edward, the creeping tide of pressure. The Shadow Man was listening.

Warning. They will keep excavating. They always excavate.

Edward blinked hard. "So why say it to me?"

"Because they all cried out your name," Kyle spoke softly. "While they slept. And in their spells of panic. All three."

Edward's breath left his body.

"I didn't know any of them," he said, shocked.

"Don't matter," Kyle said. "They know you. Something ties you together—either something in Sam's blood, or something bigger. Either way, you're no longer a footnote. You're center of the diagram."

A low thrum in the back of Edward's head, pressure curling behind his eyes. He could feel the Shadow Man closing around something—clamping down like an animal in high grass.

They can't see me. But they sense me. Your presence leaves its mark. You're leaving traces.

Edward placed his hand on his temple. "I thought you said you could hide."

I can. But this has nothing to do with being there. This is imprinting. Echoes. You've stood too close to too many people for too long. The changes are minute—but they're contagious. Or maybe. communicative.

Kyle didn't notice the inner conflict. He nodded toward the drugged patients.

"One of them will awaken soon. And when they do, I need to know what we're dealing with. If they're like Sam—fine. If not…"

Edward stood before him. "What are you asking me?"

Kyle hesitated, choosing his words wisely. "Talk to Sam again. Get her to drop her guard. If she has a clue about what is happening, even a slight one—then we need it. Before this gets out."

Before this gets out. Edward felt the gravity of the words already.

As he moved out of the room and toward the door, the Shadow Man crept closer inside him. Not yet taking form, not yet speaking—yet present. Coiled like smoke.

Outside, the air was turning cold, heavy with the scent of storm-saturated concrete. Edward stepped out into it, taking a breath that only scraped the bottom of his lungs.

In the parking lot, next to his car, he finally spoke words out loud.

"They called me by name. Why?"

The Shadow Man answered, voice as delicate as gossamer but with the force of reality.

Because you're the bridge. The first to support me without breaking.

Edward rested against the car door, heart thudding, mind reeling.

And now? he questioned himself.

Now we test if you can support more.