Jere returned to the foyer, doing everything in his power to not look unnerved by what he just witnessed. He approached Adok, who sat close by some of the other survivors. Jere gently pulled him aside.

“What’s wrong?” asked Adok. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“We need to leave. Now.”

“Why?”

Jere didn’t have time to explain. “Get Eevi. And don’t make a scene.” Jere had been whispering so closely that he didn’t see the lumbering frame of Kyösti approach behind them.

“And w-w-where would you be going?” Kyösti said, stuttering.

“Not your concern,” Jere spat.

“Oh… b-b-but it is. Boah will come after us if he s-s-sees us.” Jere hadn’t taken a good look at the large man before, but this close Jere could see how dreadful he looked. Kyösti was sweating profusely and kept rubbing his right arm. As he spoke, the other survivors from the temple looked onward, curious about the commotion.

“Back off, Head.”

“I know what’s out there!” Kyösti cried. “T-t-the Manor is gone. The city is gone... Ostior is g-g-gone… D-d-do not bring the dead to our doorstep!”

As Kyösti stepped forward, Adok flung some of the water from his pouch at Kyösti. The larger man recoiled, bringing his hands up to his face, nearly gagging.

“Why you’d do that, you ignoram-”

“Look! His arms…”

As Kyösti dramatically wiped his hands over his tongue, the sleeves of his tunic fell past his elbows. Several massive gashes tore through the skin of his forearms on both sides. He had been bleeding into his tunic, the blood mixing with the filthy grime of it.

Kyösti had been scratched. Brutally so.

Jere looked around the room as quick as he could. He spotted a broomstick on the side of the wall, snapped off the edge of the broom and pointed it at Kyösti. “Stay away!” As Jere shouted, Adok grabbed a stool and placed himself behind Jere. The commotion attracted several other survivors, who made their way towards them. Nami and two of her guards approached as well.

“What’s going on?” asked Nami.

“Kyösti has the plague,” Jere sneered. “Why didn’t you check him?”

Kyösti stood still, his right arm twitching as he slowly began to scratch it, as if he had been holding back the urge. He looked pitiful, staring down at the ground as his eyes watered.

Nami didn’t react to the accusation, either. She alternated between Kyösti and Jere. She shook her head, almost disappointed.

“I’m afraid Kyösti is right. You can’t leave.”

Jere had enough. “Eevi!” he called, “we’re letting ourselves out now!”

No one moved. Nami, her guards, and all the survivors stared at them. Eevi didn’t respond.

Jere pointed the jagged broomstick at Nami. “What did you do with her?”

“I should have told him not to look around,” Nami mumbled, speaking to herself. “To think he would take advantage of me, even now.”

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“That… thing, tied in the back… It’s Namshi, isn’t it?”

“Her grandfather?” Adok asked. “He’s alive?”

Nami shook her head. “An outsider like you wouldn’t understand, Jere… He could get better…”

“His limbs are fucking shattered, fool!” Jere stepped forward, causing Nami and her guards to halt their progress. They had been forming a semi-circle around the two. Each had their knives brandished. Jere figured he could take them on even with just a stick, but he was more fearful of Kyösti. If he lashed at any of them, it would just take one scratch…

“Please, Nami,” said Adok. “Just let us through.”

“And bring the wrath of Boah upon us? Kyösti isn’t the only one cursed, Jere. They all were!”

Jere looked beyond the guards. The survivors were glaring at him now. She had just announced the unspoken secret between them all. Some had slight cuts on their hands, but a few seemed to be hiding larger wounds.

“You leaving will cost their lives,” Nami continued. “It will cost my grandfather his. Who are you to decide their fate?”

Jere wasn't about to waste words with debate. “Let us pass,” he repeated.

Nami stepped forward again, followed by the survivors. She held Jere’s own scimitar at him, still glistening from fresh screamer blood. “I won’t let you take him from me.”

The two guards flanked to the sides as Nami stepped confidently towards them. Jere alternated his broken broomstick between the three of them as Adok stood holding his stool outward. One guard lunged forward, but Jere slapped his hand with the broomstick and knocked away his knife. Jere attempted to kick it behind him, but Nami lunged at him with the scimitar. The guard recovered the knife and continued his pursuit.

Jere finally backed away. He looked to the sides. No windows, only murals of blue skies and red sunsets and deranged pairs of eyes. The only window he had seen was in the latrine, but they had no hope of reaching it from here.

“Hey Nami!” It was Eevi’s voice.

Nami, her guards, and the survivors turned. Eevi stood by the entrance, holding a bloody knife in one hand and her crossbow on her back. The knife was Jere’s; he had forgotten he had loaned her one back at his home. She pressed the knife against her left shoulder, bleeding through her fingers. Her free hand was on the latch of the door.

“It’s bad manners not serving all your guests,” Eevi said with a crooked smile.

“Get her!” Nami screamed.

As the guards rushed back, Eevi slammed the hilt of her knife against the door several times, lifted the hatch, and pulled the door around her. As she did, several screamers immediately rushed through. The first two aggressors were quickly followed by five more.

There was nowhere to run. The guards and the survivors tripped over each other as they tried to turn every which way. Screamers leaped onto them, digging their nails deep into skin. The guards could do little with the knives, their errant stabbings far too short to halt the bodies from crashing into them. Two screamers grabbed Kyösti, one gripped two fingers in each and ripped the hand down the middle, and the other tore his cheek from his face as he thrashed on the ground.

Jere and Adok stayed in the corner long enough to see Eevi dart through the door on the other side. She never looked back.

“Wait!” yelled Adok. Jere put his hand against his chest, stopping him.

“Not that way!” Jere hissed. “Follow me.” Jere led Adok down the adjacent hallway towards the latrines, leaving the screamers with their victims.

Adok ran through the bathroom first, nearly slipping as he climbed up through the open window. He briefly stuck his head through. “I think we’re okay… Don’t see any,” he whispered.

Jere growled. He wouldn’t have even taken the time to look. As Adok stepped through the window, Jere heard Nami’s voice echoing down the hall.

“Grandfather!”

Jere got a quick look at the young woman. Her face was completely ripped to shreds, and her arm hung broken and limp. She passed the bathroom, crashing into Namshi’s boarded door. Two screamers chased after her. Nami cried out in pain as they swarmed her, continuing their brutal attack.

Jere didn’t wait. He tossed his broken broomstick through the window and ran over the latrines, nearly diving through the space. He lunged forward in a near flip as he landed outside on his back, lucky he didn’t break his neck. Still, he needed to keep moving. The screamers inside would have certainly made enough noise to get the attention of others.

“Adok,” Jere called. He knew the boy was standing next to him, already on his feet. Jere felt his broken broomstick at his side.

“Oy! Quite a flip ya did, innit?”

The voice shocked Jere to attention. He got to his feet, seeing now that Adok was standing perfectly still in fear. In front of them were two guards. One of them he recognized as Thed, a hulking mass of a man who had joined the Corps two months prior. No one else in the city spoke with the same garbled dialect. He was dumber than dirt, but effective at putting down drunkards with his size and brute strength.

But Thed didn’t concern Jere. He focused instead on the guard standing next to him, lean and clean-shaven and with a brutal glare. It was Juddken, brandishing a long spear.