Within seconds, two staff members burst into the room in full hazmat suits. No expressions. No words.

They lifted her like cargo and carried her out the way she’d come.

Then: silence again. Only a small trail of that green bile left trailing out the doors.

Star stood frozen, still halfway out of his chair, heart slamming in his chest.

“What the hell is this place?” he whispered.

Across the table, Glenn peeled open his protein bar and took a bite.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” he said.

The hallway outside the cafeteria was colder than he remembered.

Star’s boots struck the tile in rapid steps, his breath uneven as he scanned for movement. The walls were the same blank white, sterile and silent. No signs. No clocks. Just that low hum of electricity and a faint antiseptic scent clinging to the air like a memory.

He saw her ahead—one of the staff. Not one he recognized well, but that didn’t mean much. Most of them passed like ghosts. This one moved slowly, methodically, a clipboard tucked against her chest. She was short, maybe five feet, with a stiff white coat buttoned up to her neck and legs that moved with a strange, almost backward sway. Her gait was quiet but off, like her knees didn’t bend the right way.

“Hey!” Star called out.

She didn’t stop.

He jogged to catch up, heart still rattling in his chest from what he'd just seen. “Hey! Can you stop for a second?”

She turned her head slightly, and he almost wished she hadn’t. Something about her face didn’t sit right—not in a monstrous way, but in a wrong way. Like looking at a photograph that’s been edited just subtly enough to make your brain itch.

When he looked into her eyes, it was like trying to focus through a thick pane of fogged glass. They shimmered, but not from light—like something underneath the surface was moving.

She smiled. Small. Courteous. Completely unbothered.

“Yes?”

Star stared at her, trying to keep his voice steady. “What happened to Miriam?”

She tilted her head just a fraction too far.

“I’m not authorized to discuss the medical status of other participants.”

“She was coughing up bile,” he snapped. “Green. I watched her collapse—don’t act like I imagined that.”

“I understand your concern,” she said evenly, still walking.

He moved to walk beside her. “Then give me a straight answer. What the hell is going on here? Why aren’t we seeing doctors? Why is she the only one who gets any attention? And what’s in the pills you’re giving us?”

“We’re monitoring everyone very closely.”

“That’s not an answer.”

She didn’t respond. Just walked.

Star’s fists curled at his sides. His voice raised a little louder than he meant it to. “She looked like she was dying, and you—none of you even said anything. You just dragged her out like garbage.”

The woman’s smile remained. “It’s important that you focus on your own recovery.”

“I’m not sick.”

A soft chuckle escaped her lips. “Aren’t you?”

They turned a corner, her pace unchanging. Star nearly stopped, but forced himself to keep moving. His chest burned with heat—anger or panic, he wasn’t sure anymore. The fluorescent lights above buzzed louder here, like the walls were listening.

“Fine,” he growled. “Then when can I make my call?”

She looked ahead. “Phones are down.”

“They’ve been down for a week. I was told I could check in with my partner—Bee. They have medical issues. I need to make sure they’re okay.”

She nodded gently, the way you’d nod at a child who didn’t understand bedtime. “I’m sorry. Systems are being updated.”

Star stepped in front of her, cutting her off. “You’re telling me no one in this building can make a single call?”

She stopped walking. Her face didn’t change, but something behind her eyes flickered. That subtle shimmer again. Like something slithered behind her pupils.

“There is no outside access at this time.”

“But you promised—”

“I said there is no outside access at this time.”

She stepped around him and continued forward, her soft shoes clicking unnaturally on the tile. Star’s breathing had turned shallow, his pulse hammering behind his ears. He wanted to scream, to shove the tray of untouched pills off the counter, to break every intercom in the building until someone gave him a straight goddamn answer.

They approached a pair of large double doors, the kind he’d only ever seen propped open during staff changeover. A keypad flashed beside them.

“Where are you going?” he asked, trying to peer past her shoulder.

She didn’t answer. Just tapped in a code, her back blocking his view. The doors hissed as they opened, revealing only a sliver of something dark and metal beyond.

“Wait—what’s back there?”

She stepped inside. He tried to follow, but she turned, placing a hand gently against the edge of the frame. Just enough pressure to stop him, no force needed.

“It’s not like anyone would answer your call anyway.”

Then the doors slid shut with a mechanical sigh, sealing her—and whatever lay behind them—away.

Star stood frozen in the hallway, stomach churning, skin crawling with the static of unanswered questions.

He wasn’t sure which was worse: what they weren’t telling him…

…or what they thought he already knew.