Interrogation

Suddenly all noise stopped and the lights vanished. A profound silence enveloped the cabin once more, oppressive and heavy, amplifying every panicked breath and whispered prayer.

Fear had sharpened the senses of the passengers to an extreme degree; they listened desperately for any sound from outside. The air thickened, sour with the acrid smell of fear and vomit left behind by whoever had retched earlier.

Still, no noise emerged from the surrounding ocean; only the suffocating silence persisted. Each passing second felt stretched into an agonizing eternity.

Then, without warning, a subtle tremor ran through the subway, slowly building as the vehicle began to move again.

"We're moving," someone whispered from the darkness, their voice thin and trembling.

No one replied immediately; the passengers seemed frozen, paralyzed by uncertainty. Nemo opened his mouth but found himself unable to speak, fear gripping his throat tightly.

The silence broke into urgent whispers, a nervous murmuring that rippled through the cabin. People speculated in hushed tones, their voices trembling with anxiety. An older man's voice rose slightly above the rest, firm yet filled with unease.

"They say it's attracted by light," he muttered. "They come from below, curious and hungry. Seen it happen before."

His words hung ominously in the air, deepening the dread inside Nemo's chest. Another voice, younger and edged with panic, questioned sharply from the darkness, "Then why isn't this damn subway built like a bunker? Solid, sealed—something they can't see into?"

A ripple of tense agreement passed through the passengers, their murmurs growing louder, tinged with frustration and anger. Yet no answer came from any authority aboard.

A stifling quiet reclaimed the carriage as swiftly as it had vanished, leaving the passengers alone with their fear once more.

Eventually, the subway creaked upwards, breaking through the surface with a harsh grinding sound. Weak, flickering light flooded back into the cabin, painfully stark against the darkness they'd endured.

Nemo squinted, adjusting his vision slowly, but before he could fully grasp their situation, a woman's piercing scream shattered the brief relief.

Nemo's eyes darted frantically around the cabin, searching for the source of her horror. As passengers rushed toward the opening doors in a mass exodus driven by blind panic, his gaze settled on the spot where the tentacle had smashed into the subway during the explosion.

Where the torn hull now stood compromised, a glistening, gelatinous blue substance had begun seeping through, pulsating gently and spreading slowly across the damaged area.

His stomach lurched violently as a chilling realization gripped him: whatever the tentacle had left behind was now forming into this grotesque, oozing mass.

Shaken, Nemo followed the mass of frightened passengers out onto the station platform, stepping into a surreal scene of emergency response.

Ambulances, police vehicles, and military personnel had gathered swiftly, their presence only amplifying the seriousness of what had just happened.

He was herded quickly into a white tent, separated from others by uniformed figures whose expressions betrayed little of the danger they'd just narrowly escaped.

Nemo collapsed into a chair, taking deep breaths to steady his nerves, desperately trying to calm the chaos of thoughts swirling in his mind.

Soon, an officer called his name, guiding him to a smaller, isolated section at the back of the tent. A young woman waited there, clipboard in hand, her expression professional yet somehow guarded.

Nemo took the seat opposite her, his heart racing again as he braced for the questions he knew would come.

She spoke in a calm but insistent tone, swiftly proceeding through her list: "Where were you coming from? Where were you heading? Where do you work? Did you hear anything unusual? Did you see anything strange? Do you know who might be responsible for this?"

Nemo answered each question methodically, doing his best to stay calm despite his racing heart. Her gaze never left his face, carefully noting each response.

After a pause, she leaned forward slightly, her voice quieter but even more intense. "Think carefully. Did anything else stand out to you? Anything at all—sounds, smells, sensations—something that didn't seem right?"

Nemo hesitated, mentally replaying the terrifying events. "Well, when the lights came back, at the spot where the tentacle had hit the subway, there was some kind of blue jelly-like slime, translucent and pulsing."

Her reaction startled him. Her eyes widened in shock, her composure fracturing immediately as she leaned even closer, urgency clear in her tone. "Wait—what did you just say? Describe it exactly. What did it look like? Did it move? How fast was it spreading?"

Taken aback by her sudden intensity, Nemo swallowed hard. "It was blue, translucent, almost glowing, like slime or jelly. It was definitely pulsing, maybe even moving slowly, spreading outward from the damage. It looked... alive."

Her breath quickened noticeably, anxiety flickering briefly across her previously composed features. "Blue jelly? Are you absolutely certain?"

Nemo swallowed nervously, repeating himself more clearly this time. "Yes, exactly. Blue, translucent, like slime."

Without another word, the woman sprang to her feet, bolting from the tent with alarming speed. Outside, her urgent voice echoed loudly: "It's still here! It couldn't have moved far with that damage!"

Instantly, alarms blared across the station, their shrill tones slicing through the air. Nemo sat frozen in place as uniformed personnel rushed past the tent's entrance, their movements swift and coordinated, a blur of controlled urgency.

His pulse thundered in his ears, confusion mingling with a dawning dread. Whatever he'd seen, whatever that substance was, it was clearly something dangerous—something far worse than he'd initially believed.

Nemo remained seated, uncertain whether he should move or wait, anxiety clawing at him from within. Minutes ticked painfully by with no sign of the woman returning.

The longer he waited, the more apprehensive Nemo grew. Was he in trouble? Had he seen something he shouldn't have? His nerves frayed further, his stomach tightening painfully as hunger gnawed inexplicably at his core, whispers and visions somehow already forgotten.

Absentmindedly, Nemo rubbed at a strange sensation on his chest. His fingers brushed against something cold and wet, clinging lightly to his skin. Confused, he pulled open his shirt to inspect it, and his blood ran cold.

There, attached firmly to his chest, squirmed a small, translucent, squid-like creature, its body pulsing softly with a disturbingly familiar blue hue—the same as the substance he'd seen in the subway.