Sira’s eyes remain fixed on the cab windows as the truck lurches into motion, even as Karim interrupts the view when he brushes past them to get to the rear doors. A continuous metal crank resounds through the air as the gate continues its ascent, revealing an underside with a row of cylindrical teeth that must serve as a locking mechanism.

  Behind the gate are walls and flooring comprised of brightly lit, stark concrete. Sira spots one or two black-clad figures moving around the space inside as the truck pulls in. The noise of the engine and muffled speech reverberates off the smooth surfaces as the tires cross the threshold.

  "There's no need to gawk like that, Sira," Rani says lightheartedly while she starts unbuckling herself. “If you get moved around enough, you’ll get used to the process, and F-6 is one of the least impressive FOBs we have.”

  I’m not impressed, Sira wants to say, but they decide against it. I’m scared.

  The vehicle slows to a halt again, and the gate’s path reverses direction. The others in the rear rise out of their seats as the driver cuts the engine. Heat rises in Sira’s cheeks as they realize they’re the only one still buckled in and they awkwardly jerk their hands up to undo the seat belts. Karim stands at the rear doors, tightly grasping the handles.

  “You two in the front should remember what we discussed. You can find me if there are any issues,” he says, voice as sharp and clear as it can be with the slight muffle of the helmet’s respirator. “As for the rest of you, get cleaned up and return to your quarters. I’ll be taking care of our new arrival.”

  “Yes, sir,” almost everyone present says, excluding Sira and Mikael.

  Karim takes that as an invitation to push the doors open, giving them all a view of the gate as it closes. Its teeth slide back into place and additional parts along the edges clamp down hard against the ground. The grating sounds finally stop, but there’s another hiss as Karim hops out of the truck. The others follow suit.

  Sira manages to figure out the last buckle and gets to their feet with the help of their hands braced against the back of the seat. Some of the pain has lessened from sitting for a while, but there are new aches and pains from doing that very same thing with so little shielding their body during the ride. The others filter out and away from the end of the truck, but Karim remains with his hands holding the doors open. They’re a little glad he didn’t offer to help unbuckle them.

  Then, a faint hum cuts through the quiet, and red light washes over everything. Sira freezes.

  The back of the truck is a few yards away from the gate, and from the outside, the garage-like room didn't look small, but that doesn’t help. The walls are concrete - hard stone - with cracks, dents, and stains in places that show the material's age. The gate is metal, rusted in some spots, and discolored in others. There aren’t any of those not-vines. There aren’t any engravings on the walls that make their head swim. There isn’t any mist.

  But the walls are still stone, and the light is still red. An unpleasant feeling crawls over their skin and makes them shudder: the sense of being cramped. Contained.

  “Sira?”

  Karim’s voice snaps them out of it. They stop zoning out and focus on his armored form again. Another black-clad person has joined him, standing a little further away. Their uniform is different than the others: still a black suit, but a respirator similar to Sira’s rather than a full helmet. The rest of their head is covered by a hood of the rubbery material. Like a hazard suit. The ones worn by Karim and the others are bolstered with armor, helmets, and their other combat gear, which made it difficult to tell until now.

  “Jesus, kid, you’re white as a sheet,” Karim says. “This must look like a lot, but there’s nothing menacing going on here, I promise. It’s all just to protect us from the mist.”

  The gate, the clamps, the hissing, the hazard suits. It makes sense.

  But it’s so...prison-like.

  “You found someone out there?” The stranger questions.

  “Hey, I’m pretty sure I told you this was 8192,” he tells them, his tone firm. “My team won’t be staying here much longer, and this one is going to be leaving with us. So don’t worry - we’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

  The stranger shrugs, then turns to walk away.

  Sira hesitates. Karim holds out a hand for them, which they decide to take this time. His grip is steady, something solid for them to use as leverage while they bend down and use their other hand to slide off the truck bed and place their feet on the ground. Karim doesn’t hesitate to release their hand once Sira is on their feet and steps back to give them breathing room, although he does both of those things with more care than haste.

  Fragile goods, Sira’s lips twitch at the thought.

  “I’ll prioritize finding you some shoes and a change of clothes once we get you to the clinic,” Karim tells them. “It’s just a bit longer now.”

  “Saying something like that will just make it feel like forever,” they reply.

  He chuckles at that. “You have me there.”

  Sira takes a few steps out from behind the truck, allowing them a better view of their surroundings. Off to the truck’s right sits another vehicle of similar make and model, left unattended and seemingly untouched for a long while. A rectangular outcropping of wall on the left is marked by a large window, its glass reinforced with a diamond-pattern grill, and a thick metal door with its edges sealed tight.

  Figures stand on the other side of the glass - more people. There are a few in the garage with them, including the person who Karim just spoke to. Rani, Therese, Lionel, and Mikael are clustered together close by. Karim joins them, and Sira follows.

  The white, cooler light in the garage space - now dimmed in favor of the red - came from robust-looking lamps set up on yellow posts. Looking up, Sira sees the source of the red light: four glowing...things, square-shaped and spaced neatly apart in the concrete. Not quite ceiling lights, not quite anything else that Sira can name. The red glow comes from a row of parallel cylinders set inside a black grate with spaces between them left open, barely perceptible due to the strength of the light. A metal wire cage encases each of the contraptions, too thin to cast a shadow. They’re also the source of the hum in the air.

  “What is all of this?” Sira asks.

  “Sanitation measures, so to speak," Karim answers. He gestures upward at the devices embedded into the ceiling. "This is almost like an airlock. Since the mist in this area is so dense, most of the base is indoors. These things help keep the air clean."

  “They’re called condensers, Captain,” Therese corrects.

  “I know what they’re called, Therese. I’m just not sure if our friend is up for a lecture on that subject just yet.”

  Therese moves as if she’s about to respond, but Sira speaks again before she gets the chance: “It depends. This is all...it’s a lot, but it’s not one of those things where I feel like the less I know, the better.”

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  Karim glances at Sira. "I was referring more to whether you'd be able to take it all in, but it's up to you. I could be wrong. You still seem a little out of it, and I know what we discussed in the truck was already a lot of information...and I know how Therese tends to be.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Therese asks, sounding a little offended.

  “You know I mean that in the kindest way possible. It’s a good skill to have.”

  “You said they’re called condensers,” Sira says, getting Therese’s attention again and hoping to keep the conversation from getting off-topic.

  She nods and her shoulders visibly relax - more relaxed than she’d been back at the outpost or in the truck. “They don’t just filter the air - they absorb the mist particles and condense them into liquid form. It’s the most important piece of tech to exist since civilization collapsed and humanity would probably be doomed without it.”

  She says the final sentence with more casualness in her voice than Sira thinks is appropriate. “...if that’s true, then why not have these things everywhere?”

  “We have them everywhere that you can find people, but I get what you mean,” Karim interjects. “There just isn’t any feasible way to use them to eliminate the mist entirely. There aren’t enough resources for a massive undertaking like that - we’re better off using them to sustain human life where we can.”

  “Rani said that the CPC is trying to save humanity,” Sira states. “That sounds like it’s going to be a massive undertaking no matter what.”

  The red glow of the condensers fades and the lamps set up around the garage reassert their light. It triggers a flurry of movement about the space that makes Sira tense up again. Karim laughs, reaches his hands up to his helmet, slips his fingers beneath the mask, then pulls the helmet off in its entirety.

  Beneath it, his face is visible through an oval-shaped opening in the rubber suit, making it look almost like a hood. He pulls the rest of it back to fully reveal his brown, olive-toned skin, and prominent nose. There are enough wrinkles on his face as he grins that Sira can guess he’s at least forty. His dark, wavy hair is tied back into a small ponytail and messily trimmed stubble traces the sharp lines of his jaw.

  The grin persists. His copper eyes are soft, even as his laughter fades. He removes a pair of plugs from his ears and tucks his removed gear beneath his arm. “That sounds like something Rani would say, and yes, you’re right. It’s just that trying to clean the air in its entirety is a method we’ve decided to rule out.”

  Therese also tugs her headgear off. Underneath is rich black skin, a youthful face, multiple ear piercings, and braids ending in a silver ombre that have been arranged into twin buns. She takes in a deep breath, evidently enjoying the freedom.

  The others are also eagerly removing their helmets and masks. Sira picks everyone out based on height and build. Lionel, the shortest and stockiest of the group, is a young man with tan skin and platinum blond, close-cropped hair. Not far from him is Rani, the second tallest, with broad shoulders, and warm brown skin. Her wavy black hair has shaved sides and the rest of it is tied back into a messy bun near the top of her scalp. Mikael, the tallest of the group, stands close to the platform leading to the door. All that Sira can make out from the distance is a fair complexion and a head of auburn hair that’s tied back.

  Their appearances aren’t necessarily what Sira expected, but then again, they aren’t sure what it was they did expect. Most of them look relatively young - maybe around Sira’s age, if not a little older. If I knew what my age even was, Sira thinks.

  The door by the window swings open as more people enter the chamber - people who aren’t wearing the full-body hazard gear. Instead, they come equipped with coveralls, goggles hanging around their necks, and various tools in their hands. Those same people make their way to the truck. Mikael slips past the minute crowd and into the room beyond.

  “You can take yours off too, you know,” Karim says, pulling Sira’s focus back to him. No longer muffled by the mask, the confident timbre of his voice is clear - confidence in a way that is unexpectedly disarming, like reassurance sits beneath every word. “At this point, it’d draw more attention to us if you kept it on.”

  Sira’s mouth shapes into a silent ‘oh,’ then they reach back behind their head to start undoing their respirator. They can’t help but notice that - out of the corner of their vision - a few people in the room either slow down or stop to give Sira a longer once-over than necessary.

  Sira keeps the respirator clutched in their hands. They don’t lift their head, suddenly needing to feel small. “I get the feeling that’s not why people are staring at me.”

  Therese frowns at that and averts her gaze in a way that comes off to Sira like the only comments she could make would hurt their feelings. The grin on Karim’s face becomes a sympathetic smile, but he doesn’t speak.

  Not the best sign.

  Gloved fingers clasp Sira’s shoulder, and they nearly jump out of their skin. They whip their head around to see who it is: Rani. Lionel isn’t far behind her, but Rani’s broader stature obscures all but the upper portion of his face, which strains to peek out from behind her shoulder. They don’t realize how tightly their teeth are clenched until the sheepish look that spreads on Rani’s face makes them relax a little. She may be the second tallest, but her physical presence isn’t nearly as daunting as Mikael’s.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you like that. Just wanted to say that I’m hoping to see you later, ‘kay? Good luck.”

  Sira doesn’t know what to say to that, so they only nod. Rani lets them go and heads to the door, Lionel and Therese in tow. Sira rubs their arm as they watch their rescuers exit the garage.

  “...am I gonna see them again?” Sira questions.

  “Gotten attached already?” Karim asks, tone slightly teasing.

  They shrug. “I mean...they did kinda save my life.”

  “True. You should be seeing them again, but we’ll have to hammer out the details on that later,” he says. “For now, you’ll be following me.”

  “To where?”

  “The infirmary, where we’ll find the doctor.” He widens his smile. “It shouldn’t be anything too invasive, mostly a standard checkup.”

  Sira shivers - despite the air around them being rather warm. Karim eyes them for a moment longer before he also heads for the door. They keep their eyes down and fixate on Karim’s boots as they follow him past the threshold.

  The echoes and ambiance from the garage shift into almost nothing but a low hum as Sira crosses into the next room. A half-glance to the side reveals a space arranged like a crowded office: desks and filing cabinets pressed up against the walls, a computer and other bits of electronic equipment set up, and a small group of people arranged about the room. Sira doesn’t raise their gaze enough to see above the people’s midsections, but they appear to be dressed in uniforms that resemble the armored suits.

  “Captain,” one of them greets as the two pass by. Not enthused, but respectful.

  "Evening," is Karim's only response. Sira easily pictures him nodding and smiling but doesn't look up to verify.

  The next threshold leads into a much larger room with stained concrete floors that feel rough beneath Sira’s bare feet. Noise fills the air here - handheld drills, hammers against a hard surface, and loud conversation. Sira resists clamping their hands over their ears. Glancing to the side again reveals worktables, metal shelving, and people dressed in jumpsuits.

  “Engineering,” Karim says, thankfully still audible beneath the sound. “Fixing parts for the vehicles and other things, like the condensers. Also keeping everything sealed tight.”

  “Sealed to keep the mist out,” Sira assumes.

  “Yup. It’s all very complicated. This base has lights and other less important things running on rotations to conserve electricity and whatnot. Keeping the condensers running and the air circulated is the most important thing.”

  Karim picks up the pace and Sira gets a reminder of the ache in their legs as they struggle to keep up with him. The noise from the engineering room dulls down as Karim guides Sira into a cramped hallway. The concrete floors and walls transition into metal sheets.

  Sira finally lifts their head. They pass what they think would be a window if one of the so-called condensers wasn't tightly packed inside of its frame. It makes the space feel slightly more cramped than it already did, but that's something they're now able to push down and ignore.

  Karim steps off to the side and comes to a stop. He fully turns around to face Sira, brows knit together and no half-smirk on his face.

  “Now that we have a moment of quiet, I mean this seriously: How are you doing?” He asks, adjusting the way he has his helmet and mask nestled in the crook of his arm. “I’m sure you’re aware of this, but you don’t exactly look...well.”

  His worried tone reminds them of Rani, but there’s something about Karim’s presence that makes Sira loosen up. "...I don't know. I can’t say I feel well.”

  Karim stares at them silently. Sira sighs.

  “I’ve felt randomly sick and like I'm going to fall over any second since I first woke up. Getting chased by those phantom things and having to walk everywhere hasn't helped. That's on top of the fact that I don't remember anything, including the last time I've eaten or drank water, and everything that's happening is just...a lot."

  He inclines his head. “Since you ‘woke up’? What do you mean by that?”

  Right. That part of the story. "...I think I'd rather not explain that right now if that's okay."

  That only makes him look more concerned, but his posture softens. “Alright. I think that’s something we’ll end up discussing sooner or later, anyway. It’s probably better to save it for when it’s most important so that you don’t wear yourself out too much. Think you can make it to the clinic without extra support?”

  Sira nods. It might be that Rani is around Sira’s age, but the sentiment coming from Karim comes off as less infantilizing.

  “I’ll take your word for it, but if you collapse on me, I’m gonna be pretty upset, just so you know,” he says, the grin returning to his face. “Come on then. You’ll get a break from all the chaos for a bit, I promise you.”

  The entire first arc (chapters 1-13 & bonus) is all on Patreon, in addition to some of the chapters from the Part II - Initiation. These will get removed from Patreon as they're posted publicly, but subscribing means having early access!