A few days. Fog. Killing. Voices called my name. I went.

  Behind dead mutants, my cousins. They stood over something that was bear. Now more. Hardly recognizable. Parasites eating, becoming, unbecoming.

  "Again you were lost," Hiba said. "Odai, take care of him."

  "Why my job?"

  I stood there. Then: "Let's go deeper."

  Everyone looked. "Aariz—you joking? We don't have to go deeper."

  I agreed. Don't know why I said it. We went home.

  Night. Sat up. Weapons. Cloak. Mask. Window. Down the wall. Flake followed.

  Outside. Gate. Fog.

  Dark. Odai warned. Didn't care. Flake moved, I followed. Killed weak ones. Dagger, swing, rope pulls mid-air. My hands knew. I didn't. Running. Don't know toward. Don't know from. Just running.

  Then: building.

  Huge. Wrong. Shouldn't be. End of world, no one builds. But this—built. While dying.

  "Stay," I told Flake. He didn't. Never does.

  I ran sideways. Long. Same building. My chest tight. Not lost. Something else. Ran again. Same. Pattern. I saw it. Didn't want to. Turned. Ran back. Dark. Small mutants scratched. Ignored. Reached Flake.

  Stared. Too big. Door—didn't go in. Climbed instead. Don't know why safer. Wrapped Flake. Wall smooth. Hands found holds. Don't know how. Window. In.

  Second floor. Dark.

  Below: red. Moving. Masks—not faces. One white. Moving different. They gave path. Not for him. From him. He carried something. Round. Small. Used to be—

  Black cloth on wall. Formation beneath. Gate too dark. Cloth covered: blood, bones, teeth. Added over time. Ongoing.

  I saw them. Many red. One white. Counting. I was counting. Didn't decide to.

  Church? Word came. Wrong word. Online, clean, Sunday. This—full. More. Didn't have word. Devilish came later. Wrong too.

  Voices. Not words. Sound that meant. I didn't know meaning.

  Then: five points. One center. Eye. Red. Wet. Not paint. Five. One center. Box. For dead. But this—

  Flake stepped back. Trembling. I felt him through cloak. His heart. My heart. Same speed. Not mine.

  Smell. Copper. Thick. Wrong. Stomach—

  Voices louder. Not louder. Closer. Inside?

  My heart—

  No. Not heart. Something else. Overwhelming. Off.

  I didn't move. Not fear. Before fear.

  White cloak stopped. Turned. Looked up.

  Not at me. Through me.

  I didn't breathe. Didn't need to.

  Then—release. Not escape. Dismissal.

  Climbed down. Don't know how. Flake silent. We ran.

  Back to Makkah. Window. Don't remember climbing.

  Room. Still cloak. Still mask. Couldn't remove. Off feeling stayed.

  Morning. Cousins knocked. Didn't answer. They left.

  Sat. Building real. Eye real. Seeing real.

  Flake wouldn't eat. I didn't try to make him.