5

Amelia wiggled out of the purple scrubs worn by nurses in the surgical wing and changed into her own clothes. Clutching her coat and bag with one hand, she stopped in front of the crooked mirror in the women’s changing room. Her face was as dreadful as her hair. It was a typical sight after working a night shift, along with the dark circles under her eyes, a pale complexion, and a worn-out appearance. And yet, her job was the only thing that gave her purpose.

Saving lives was an adrenaline rush for many, but few could smile for a desperate man, listen to their story, or have the honour of accompanying them to their last breath. Many feared death, but Amelia found beauty in its way of making one sit back and accept their fate. It was a moment of true salvation, such as she often wished to have received herself. Her mother, father, brother, grandmother… all of them had been saved, but her. She was cursed to live.

Amelia could understand those who suffered alone in their illness, despite being surrounded by relatives. She, too, existed alongside people, yet felt like she was the only one in the world.

“Tough night?” Dr. Petrovsky, a urologist, caught up with her by the exit. He was just a few years older than her, with a boyish smile, single, and a newly appointed specialist. He had a crush on Amelia and although she would laugh at his jokes, that was all there would ever be between them. He was a little too extroverted for her taste; a little too…plain. “I know a real nice place with dimmed lights, good music and cheap wine,” he said.

Amelia smiled. “I’m sorry. I don’t drink.”

“You don’t drink, don’t listen to music, don’t dance, don’t eat, don’t watch movies…” Petrovsky followed her down the street. “Give me just one chance and I’ll melt your stone heart. I’m sure I won’t be able to get rid of you afterwards.”

The sun had risen, creating a sense of warmth that the cold autumn air would quickly neutralise.

“And I’m sure you’re right. That’s why I can’t risk it,” Amelia said. “How was your shift?”

He shrugged. “The usual. They didn’t let me sit down for a second.”

Amelia looked him up and down. “And yet you seem rather fresh. What’s your secret?”

“My secret?” He leaned closer to her. “I don’t give a shit.”

“That, I know.”

Petrovsky winced. “Actually, where are we going now?”

“I’m going home. You’re following me.”

“Coffee at your place? Why not? Then I’ll nap.”

“Goodbye, Petrovsky.” She halted at the bus stop.

He explored their surroundings, as if now realising where they were. “Travelling by bus? What happened to your car?”

Her muscles tightened at the memory of the incident. “It’s at the mechanic’s.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing. Just an oil change.”

His flirty gaze suddenly turned serious. “Are you all right, Amelia? You look exhausted.”

“Of course, I’m all right. Exams, shifts… you know how it is. In four months, it’ll be different.”

“Ah, yes. Soon enough, I won’t be allowed to boss you around anymore. You’ll be a doctor as well.”

The bus arrived.

“You’re not allowed to boss me around now, either.” She waved goodbye and got on the bus.

Her car would be ready in an unclear one-to-two-week period, three max, according to the mechanic. She was already regretting servicing the car just because of the two tiny scratches. She wouldn’t have bothered, but she’d felt compelled to put the money the stranger had given her to good use.

The scene kept playing in her head. How could she have left the parking space without checking her rear-view mirror? And why were the panic attacks returning now? It’d been six months since her last one…

The appearance of the strange man seemed weirder and weirder the more she thought about it. She’d Googled “The Hospital” last night. Thousands of hospitals had come up, but all of them had a name, so maybe this was some secret organisation or something? Either way, she didn’t think she’d need to use Mikhail Korovin’s business card, so she’d tossed it in the trash this morning before leaving work.

As the bus reached her stop, she got off and headed home. The wind had turned vicious during her brief respite inside, so she pulled the collar of her coat up, taking the narrow path between the buildings, a shortcut she was accustomed to. Further ahead, she recognised the Labrador Retriever from yesterday on the grass. His owner was smoking a cigarette and talking to a man with two Yorkies. Amelia walked past them, towards the thick shade cast by the birches along one side of the street.

Sudden goosebumps made her turn around. Her eyes scanned the high tree crowns to her right. The yellow leaves had gone still. As she glanced over her shoulder, in the distance, the dogs and their owners weren’t hanging around anymore. And… all noise had disappeared.

Someone’s following me. Her intuition kicked in.

Why would anybody be following me?

“Ms. Amelia.”

She spun around fast and almost screamed with surprise. A giant man towered over her, three feet away. He was in his mid-thirties, with cropped dark hair and the most terrifying bright-blue eyes she had ever seen.

How had he gotten so close without her sensing him?

“I’ve scared you. Please accept my apologies,” he said.

Amelia eyed him with suspicion. He had on heavy black leather ankle boots and black clothes to match. “Do… Do I know you?”

“I don’t believe so. I’m here on behalf of the Oracle. And Mikhail Korovin.”

The guy from yesterday? Amelia threw a desperate glance behind the man. Why on earth was nobody else around?

“He invited you to come to the Hospital. I’ll take you.”

She winced. “Who has?”

“Mikhail Korovin, miss.”

“Mikhail Korovin invited me to the Hospital?”

The man nodded.

“Thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid I’m busy. Good day.” Amelia tried to brush past him, but he stood in her way.

“Ms. Amelia, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to come with me.”

“I don’t think so!”

With that, she rushed in the opposite direction. Heartbeat in her ears, bag hitting her thighs, shoes slowing her down… Still, nothing made her pause until she emerged into the busy boulevard and headed down the sidewalk. She reached her building and darted through the front door. Only then did she allow herself to look over her shoulder and take a breath.

Ten, nine, eight… seconds passed by without any sign of him.

When she got to zero and the man was nowhere in sight, she climbed up the stairs to her apartment, opened the door, and froze.

He was in the middle of her living room.

“Ms. Amelia, you misunderstood. That wasn’t really an invitation.”

Then, he was behind her, pressing a cloth drenched with a sweet-smelling substance to her mouth and nose. Everything faded to black.

***

Zacharia pulled a little nylon piece out of the inside pocket of his leather jacket and unfolded it until it became a sack big enough to fit the skinny woman. With his other hand, he supported her limp body. He placed her in the bag, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed out.

An elderly woman in a yellow jacket and with a very grumpy face crossed his path at the building’s exit. Her bony fingers clutched a little wooden cane. “Who-o-o a-a-a-re you-u-u?”

“A simple haulier, ma’am.” Zacharia smiled as he pointed to the bag he was carrying.

“Hmm…” The old lady eyed him with suspicion. “Is so-so-someone mov-moving o-o-out?”

Thousand fucking devils! Nothing in her stance indicated she would be moving out of his way anytime soon.

“Yes, ma’am. The woman from flat number twelve is leaving.”

Zacharia tried to swivel past her, to no avail. The grandma leaned against her cane. “Ah! Tha-at girl! Whe-where is she go-go-going?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t know. Like I said, I’m just a haulier.” He squeezed past her.

She turned her head and followed his every movement. “Hey, yo-oung man!” She shouted after him as he exited the building. “I ha-have an old she-she-shelf… How m-m-much to rid me o-o-of it?”

Zacharia showed his teeth. “For you, for free. Just let me throw this bag and I’ll be back for it.”

“Go-o-o then”—she ushered him out—“I-I-I-I’m in ninete-te-teen, when you’re re-re-ready.”

“All right.”

Zacharia headed for the street, brought the bag to his car, and tossed it on the back seat. Driving into the morning traffic, he started humming.