CHAPTER THREE

Ealing Hospital London, England

LANCE

Lance glared at his phone, the unread message notification from his brother burning into his retinas. He could feel the pressure building inside him, urging him to open it and see what his sibling wanted. Before he could give in to the temptation, however, the locker room door burst open, and his co-workers barged in, effectively pulling him back to reality.

He placed his phone and earbuds in his backpack before flinging it over his shoulder. Lance strode into the hallway, but abruptly halted as a peculiar sensa- tion coursed through his chest, leaving him with an uncomfortable itch. A fleet- ing discomfort, yet enough to unnerve him. What in the hell was that? Lance paused, waiting for the feeling to pass. He took a deep breath and shook it off, continuing his trek to the break room. Once he arrived, he grabbed a chair. He noticed Thomas wasn’t there, leaving him to assume his friend was taking one of his illegal smoke breaks.

“Just five more minutes.” “Say, when is your holiday?”

As he sat there, Lance couldn’t help but overhear a lively conversation going on between two nurses sitting nearby. The thought of taking a holiday himself was enough to bring a smile to his face, though he knew deep down that it was nothing more than a pipe dream. With his budget stretched to the limit since his mother’s passing, there was little hope of it becoming a reality any time soon. He slumped further into his seat and glanced at the stack of magazines and newspapers on the table.

The newspaper next to him was all doom and gloom, detailing the latest military spending in France. He pushed it aside and glanced at the tabloid instead, hoping for a distraction. Unfortunately, splashed across the front page was a fluff piece about some actor who was playing a Rifter in an upcoming film, saving the world from an outbreak. I’ve had enough of Rifts and Rifters for today. I’ ll settle for a warm meal and catching up on my reading, he thought, closing his eyes. The worst part was that he knew Thomas would end up dragging him to see said film. Please don’t make me like it.

“What about you, Lance? Any plans this—” the nurse asked but paused when a wave of nausea suddenly washed over her, making her falter. The other nurse also began to look unwell, and then Lance himself felt nauseous. He tightly gripped his chest with his hands.

“What the hell?” Lance muttered, lifting a trembling finger to point at the nearby coffeepot. The black liquid inside was moving against the laws of physics, rising in a mesmerizing swirl.

The others barely had time to register it when an ear-splitting screech pierced the air, disorienting everyone in the room. The ground buckled and tilted under their feet, and they careened to the side, unable to regain their balance. Chairs, tables, cups, and other items became deadly projectiles, slamming into the wall and the helpless nurses, leaving them bruised and battered.

“What the hell?”

“My leg! I think I broke my leg!” “What happened?”

The room erupted into chaos as everyone began shouting at each other. Lance and one of the nurses scrambled to their feet and started clearing chairs out of the way. Rachel, the other nurse, remained on the ground with both hands clasped around her left leg, which was twisted at an unnatural angle.

Lance’s colleague wasted no time taking charge. “Stay with her,” he said. “I’ll go find some help.” His words were firm and authoritative. It reminded Lance that they were all trained medical professionals, allowing him to regain his composure.

“Alright, but watch yourself,” Lance commented before the nurse left him alone with Rachel. Wanting to be useful, Lance quickly set to work, making the area more comfortable and safer for her. He cleared away debris and picked up a blanket that had fallen off a nearby shelf. “Here. Slowly now,” he said reassuringly as he placed the blanket underneath her head. “Help will be here soon. We’ll set the bones and have you in an ugly colored cast in no time.”

“Yeah . . . It isn’t that bad, right?” Rachel asked, her mind no doubt clinging to the prospect of normality.

Lance’s voice faltered as he spoke to Rachel. “Yeah, it’s just a minor fracture, don’t worry,” he lied. He continued to chat with her, to calm her nerves and his own, suppressing what he would otherwise be feeling. He suggested the accident must’ve been an earthquake or something similar. Lance knew it wasn’t true. Earthquakes didn’t make coffee defy the laws of gravity or suddenly give three people a feeling of nausea before it even started.

Occasionally, the two of them heard a groan, followed by a sickening cracking sound that signaled more of the building’s collapse. Amidst the chaos, Lance picked up on the sound of people shouting and moaning. He couldn’t help but wonder how many more injured there were, just like Rachel. Although he was a mess of bruises, he tried to focus on the fact that he hadn’t broken anything. It was a minor comfort amid such madness.

Continuing to hear the anguished cries of others in need, Lance felt torn between the urge to rush to their aid and the knowledge that Rachel was in no condition to fend for herself with a broken leg in a room filled with unstable shelves and cabinets. Stabilize the scene and the patient first, he reminded himself, then search for other survivors.

Desperate to ease Rachel’s pain, Lance scrambled for a solution. “I can crack open the window, let some air in. Would that be better?” he asked, hoping to offer her some relief. He studied Rachel’s face as she gave a slight nod, her body tensing in discomfort.

No doubt the adrenaline is wearing off, he reasoned as he set a chair near the window. Normally, he’d be able to see out of the window from a seated position. The room was now tilted, forcing Lance to stand on his toes on a chair to open the window and look outside. He peered out, only to regret it immediately.

The sight outside left Lance speechless. He had braced himself for the after- math of a natural disaster, but what he saw exceeded even his worst expectations. What the hell is this? he thought, his mind racing to find a logical explanation.

“Is everything all right? Why are you so quiet?” Rachel asked as she watched Lance staring outside as if seeing a ghost. “Is it bad? Lance?” But he simply kept staring outside, as if lost in his own thoughts. “Lance!” she finally screamed, forcing him to recover from his daze and face her again.

“It’s not great, but we’ll be fine,” he lied, his mind unable to process the bizarre sight before him. He had expected to see broken buildings and roads, yet all he could see was a murky swamp and the shattered remains of the hospital slowly sinking inside. Towering trees also dotted the area, their imposing presence making Lance feel small and exposed. The sweltering, acrid heat penetrated the walls, an unwelcome intrusion in the air-conditioned comfort he was used to.

Lance’s heart pounded loudly in his chest as he climbed off the chair. Every- thing was so incredibly wrong, but he couldn’t let Rachel see that. “We’ll be fine,” he said, his voice calm despite the turmoil in his mind. With his back towards Rachel, he slid a hand underneath his shirt, touching the spot in the center of his chest. Instead of soft skin, he felt the rigid exterior of a Rift-shard there. No, Lance thought, suppressing his urge to hyperventilate and freak out. A white-shard? When did it get there? Why didn’t I notice it sooner?

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

A Rift had just opened up around the hospital, swallowing him and everyone else inside of it. He now found himself in a strange world, a scenario like one Daniel and Dieter had talked about just hours before. Hearing Rachel call out to him again in a panicked tone, Lance did what he could at that moment. Stabilize Rachel, he thought, steeling himself against the panic. Wait for medical help and keep her safe. And pray that Rifters will get here in time. Perhaps Daniel and Dieter are also here?

He knelt next to her and placed a spare T-shirt under her neck from his bag. “We’ll wait for the others. In the meantime, I’m going to have a look around for painkillers, all right?” Lance said, attempting to reassure her with a tight smile.

Lance stayed by her side, providing water and a dose of pain medication. He had resisted the urge to glance outside or venture into the hallway, mindful of Rachel’s potential panic. The thought of looking out again sent a shiver down his spine, fearing it would cause him to freak out as well. As he offered her more water, the screams and moans outside suddenly grew louder, intensifying into a horrifying chorus.

Rachel and Lance were no strangers to hearing people suffering, having witnessed their fair share of pain, blood, and discomfort in their careers before, but nothing could have prepared them for the sounds that they heard outside of the room. It was a sound that was both visceral and haunting, resonating in their souls. Other noises accompanied the screams, similarly unfamiliar and bizarre. Some sounded like objects colliding with walls and other surfaces, others like roars and clicks echoing in the hallway.

Rachel’s voice broke as she whimpered, “Lance, what’s happening?” Her makeup was ruined, black streaks of smudged mascara streaking down her face, her cheeks wet with tears.

Lance’s heart continued pounding, a part of him wanting to ignore the sounds and pretend everything was fine. But the shard lodged in his chest was a painful reminder that they were in deep trouble. “We have to stay quiet,” he whispered to Rachel, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of danger. Suddenly, a new sound of something scurrying in the ceiling panels made them freeze, fear coursing through their veins.

Lance willed himself to stay still and silent, even as the seconds ticked by like an eternity. Rachel, too, seemed rooted to the spot, her eyes wide with terror. Suddenly, a panel crashed to the floor, followed by the appearance of a grotesque creature that left them gaping in disbelief.

With a loud crash, the monster was in the room with them. As it rose to its full height, it let out a low growl. Three claws on each of its paws were hitting one another, producing a menacing clicking sound. Blueish tinted scales covered its body in a tight pattern. Its full size reached that of a human teenager. The monster scanned the room with its yellow eyes, as if searching for something specific. Lance found himself in the monster’s crosshairs as its yellow eyes settled on him with an intensity that made his blood run cold. But Rachel’s piercing screams drew the creature’s attention away from him, its eyes flickering toward her instead. “Get it away, Lance! Get it away!” she screeched, her voice echoing off the walls. Lance barely had time to react before the monster sprang at Rachel. It moved with the swift, feral grace of a predator, its claws and teeth tearing into her flesh with brutal force. The creature didn’t seem interested in killing Rachel quickly, though—it savored each moment of her suffering, relishing the sound of her pained cries and the sight of her blood spilling onto the ground. Soon, Rachel’s screams

turned to choked gurgles as the monster mauled her beyond recognition.

“No!” Lance’s voice was raw with fear and anger as he charged at the monster, slamming into it with all his might. But to his shock, the creature barely even flinched; it was like slamming into a stone wall. Lance gritted his teeth and tried to pull the monster away from Rachel, but its grip was like iron. With a savage snarl, the creature hurled Lance aside and turned back to its grisly meal.

Lance pushed himself to his feet, his body aching and his head swimming. He looked at Rachel’s lifeless form, her eyes glassy and her body mangled beyond recognition. The creature had torn out her throat, her chest now reduced to a grue- some, bloody mess. Lance knew there was nothing he could do for her now; she was beyond saving. He looked around desperately. If I stay here, I’ ll end up like her, Lance thought as fear gripped his heart, overwhelming his shame and any hesitation at leaving her.

Lance’s thoughts were a jumbled mess as he bolted past the monster and Rachel’s mutilated remains. He knew he had to get out of there before the monster realized she was dead. I’m sorry, Rachel. I’m so sorry! he thought as he grabbed his backpack and slammed himself through the door. His feet tripped over the corpses of more dead colleagues as he sprinted away, the monster’s angry snarls ringing in his ears.

As Lance darted through the ruined hospital, it seemed like hours had passed since he had entered, but in reality, only thirty minutes had gone by. Blood and carnage were everywhere, with monsters feasting on their victims without mercy. He stumbled upon several gruesome scenes of corpses scattered in pieces, and his mind could hardly process the sheer horror of it all. He had to fight to maintain his composure, stifling the urge to vomit or fall into a helpless daze.

Trudging through the aftermath of battle, Lance caught glimpses of slain monsters impaled by crude weapons. Their lifeless bodies were strewn among those of multiple human victims. He had spotted other survivors, holed up in rooms that they had barricaded, but they wouldn’t let him inside and were barely registering his pleas for help. Most of them looked as broken as he felt.

Throughout all of this, he had already found himself on the brink of death three times. Twice he had run into monsters, forcing him to flee to a different floor in order to lose them. It was only his familiarity with the twists and turns of the hospital that had kept him alive.

His third close call with death happened when he barged into a room, thinking it would lead him to a secure office, only to come face-to-face with a precipitous drop. It was as if something had sliced off that section of the building and moved it elsewhere. Seeing the unnatural landscape on the other side, it again forced Lance to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t on Earth anymore.

For a brief moment, he allowed himself to silently cry, the weight of the situation almost crushing him. Then, he gritted his teeth and pressed forward. Staying in one place was a death sentence. It was dawning on him that he was in some kind of Hell. Death seemed inevitable.

Just as he was about to investigate the floor above, however, he stumbled upon a group of survivors, including some of his colleagues, with both sides shouting and nearly hitting one another.

Lance’s breath came out in a ragged whisper as he addressed them. “I nearly had a heart attack,” he hissed. Suddenly, he spotted Thomas among them. Relief flooding his veins, he latched onto him, seeking solace from his closest friend. Thomas didn’t hesitate to embrace him back, both men offering each other a sense of comfort in the midst of all the chaos.

Thomas released Lance and gave him a once-over, scanning him for injuries. “Are you okay? Anybody else still alive?” he asked, his voice full of concern. He could see all the blood sticking to Lance, but he didn’t know if it was his or from all the bodies he had been tripping over.

The word was barely more than a breath as Lance spoke. “No,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

Thomas spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. “Are you sure?” he asked, his eyes fixed on Lance’s.

Lance’s voice trembled with emotion as he snapped, “I said ‘No!’” Lance could feel the weight of Rachel’s death heavy on his conscience, the guilt threatening to overwhelm him. I let her die! I let it rip into her! I just ran!

Thomas read the distress in Lance’s eyes and quickly switched gears. “Let’s focus on the Rifters. The last time I checked, Mr. Kühn wasn’t in the hospital anymore. Did Mr. Wells make it out?” Thomas asked Lance, steering the conversation to hopefully more optimistic prospects.

Lance gripped his backpack tightly, finding solace in its familiar weight. Some of the scavenged supplies nestled inside were a reminder that he wanted to survive. His unsteady mind had still realized food, water, and medical supplies would be vital. “I’m not sure,” he replied to Thomas, still haunted by the horrors he’d witnessed. “Parts of the building are gone, including his room. But he might have made it out?”

“All right, we need to get you equipped and calm.” Thomas suggested, his voice carrying an air of authority.

“Thomas, I’m fine. Honestly—” Lance started, before Thomas cut him off. “No, you aren’t! You’re as pale as a ghost, covered in blood, and look as if you’re

a second away from a heart attack. Help yourself before you help others. Remember?” Thomas said, reminding Lance of medical emergency protocol.

Lance nodded slowly at that before properly joining the group. He felt hands pat his shoulders and heard encouraging words for surviving this long on his own. He wasn’t sure if it was the human contact, or the shame he felt for being complimented while he had let Rachel die so brutally. In the end, it mattered little since his tears simply wouldn’t stop flowing.