The Apocalypse Asylum

The Beginning

Alice’s feet pitter-pattered atop the pavement as she walked out the gates.

Heading down the road with a wide smile, she felt rushed, strangely proud of herself for her daring escape. After a short while of walking, sunset became twilight, the distant echo of seagulls on the evening air, and the small, distant lights of the town came into view farther down the street, glistening just past the thick woods on either side of the road, looking alive and ordinary despite the vacancy she knew the town now harbored.

Paradise Sands was the smallest beach town in the state, isolated and calm in a way few places were anymore. The road stretched into the heart of the town—the shopping centers and other small businesses off to Alice’s left, far from the ocean—the houses, trailer parks, and apartment complexes farther away and out of immediate sight, all of them spread out across the wooded areas surrounding the core of the town—and the docks and restaurants, as well as the places meant for the ships, fishing boats, and yachts were all visible far along the beach on the right. The docks were Alice’s favorite part of the town, where the vast expanse of the Atlantic shimmered on the horizon, and where the various boats along the docks always used to come and go, though nowadays, there were little to no boats around anymore. Alice rarely visited the docks—as she used to have no time to, nor any reason to—but now, she felt drawn toward them. Every time she saw them, she always wanted to stroll through the area, but she never glimpsed twice at it, never had the time of day before.

Now, however, she could do whatever she pleased. Her usual time-consuming obligations were gone without a trace, as were most other people’s, and Alice beamed again, hurrying toward the beach with a sudden pep in her step.

When she reached the endless stretch of docks, the feeling of cold pavement vanished, replaced by the crooked surface of sanded wood beneath her bare feet.

Alice wandered up the nearest and largest dock, passing by the railings on either side, places where she knew tourists and homebodies often chatted in groups or stopped to take selfies, though the places were all empty now.

To her left was an oceanfront diner—a seafood place, of course—and to the right was a short line of boats, the only boats still here at Paradise Beach, all of them varying in size and spaced far apart from one another. Many of them were hooked to something on land—the power supply for the boats and yachts, Alice assumed—and directly beside the dock she walked, a long, wide, and enticing boat was floating motionlessly in the water close by her.

A short wooden platform extended from the dock to the boat—presumably to allow the boat’s owner to enter and exit it with ease—and the large room in the center of the boat had a long series of darkened windows. On the sides of the thirty-foot boat were two massive sets of solar panels, which shone a reflective blue in the dying sunlight, and the center structure had a small ladder fixed onto it, allowing the boat’s owner to climb to the top and observe the ocean from up high whenever he or she pleased.

Alice slowed to a stop, ogling the boat and suddenly wanting to board it. She never realized how badly she wanted to ride on a boat before seeing one up close.

For a brief moment, she was tempted to step onto it and observe the ocean from its balcony, but she decided against it, turning and continuing to walk to the dock’s edge before her.

After walking a little farther, Alice turned her head, squinting at the docks that were farther away, no longer accompanied with countless boats like before. The fishermen of the town likely started moving away, just like everyone else.

When she faced forward again, something caught her eye.

Just further ahead—right at the edge of the dock, hovering above the Atlantic—was a rounded white table, complete with an umbrella in the center and a couple of chairs placed around it. This table was inhabited by only one person, a man, his back facing Alice, his attention seeming fixed on the ocean in front of him.

Alice inched closer, eyeing the man from behind.

Upon closer inspection, the man appeared to be slender, though his physique was somewhat hidden by his attire, his head slacked slightly to the side, his body oddly motionless. His arms were folded, and as Alice approached, she heard a soft noise escape him.

Slowly and quietly, she eased past the table, leaning on it and hovering close to the stranger. She then narrowed her eyes at him, finally able to survey him properly.

The man’s face was narrow, a few subtle lines here and there, none that were incredibly noticeable. He had a widow’s peak hairline, his hairs short, messy, and slicked mostly back, a darker sandy color than Alice’s strawberry blonde. His chin was spotted with thin facial hairs, his eyebrows naturally arched, though they seemed relaxed. His eyes were closed, his expression soft and serene, and another gentle snore drifted out of his slightly opened mouth.

Alice flashed a half-smile. This man had fallen asleep in his chair, snoozing restfully at the edge of the ocean.

For a moment, she spared him a quiet stare, smirking at his peaceful, sated expression. Her eyes began to wander up and down him, examining his attire and thinking he must’ve been yet another fisherman, one who chose not to move away; he had a long black overcoat that was slightly tattered at the bottom, a pair of old jeans, and a t-shirt faded navy blue, stained with a couple smudges of dirt. The stains were probably from handling the live bait, pulling worms from a dirt-filled canister…

Alice glanced at the ocean, smiling calmly as she watched the sparkling blue beneath the twilight sky.

Then, she returned her attention to the sleeping man, feeling strangely captivated by him. That shape of his face, slim, yet somehow, with slightly pronounced cheekbones that sat high on his slender visage—his mouth just the slightest bit agape, a fairly faint line venturing from the side of his nose to the corner of his mouth, a laugh line that seemed to compliment his face in an oddly perfect way—the sleeves of his overcoat rolled up to his elbows, his arms covered with a few hairs, both of them strong, but not beefy. She silently admired the way he looked, though she didn’t stare at him for long.

Her focus shifted back to the ocean as the wind began to shift her wavy hairs, and once more, she grinned at the foreign feeling of freedom coursing through her, opening her arms and basking in the wonderful blast of fresh air washing over her entirely, her unzipped hoodie flapping in the breeze, her tank top filling with the cool, soothing gust of the late summer atmosphere.

For the first time in God knows how long, Alice felt completely at peace—not worried for the future or frantically trying to get things done, not fighting with anyone or fretting over any crazy what-if scenarios. So very rare, these instances of peace seemed to be in the past. In fact, Alice wasn’t sure she’d ever felt one before now. Usually, life never allowed her to live in peacefully the moment.

Being forced to live with no home, no family, and now no job certainly wasn’t something to celebrate—but, as she stood atop the glory of the ocean, she simply couldn’t help but feel relieved. It was as if the weight of the entire universe had been lifted from her shoulders overnight, and every anchor of responsibility and every constant bombardment of stress were washing away forever.

Every movement felt lighter, every breath fresher, every thought cleaner—almost like a total detox, like everything that contributed to her stress had vanished entirely forever.

“Everything’s awesome,” Alice exhaled, turning and smirking at the sleeping man again. “Everything’s just… awesome right now.”

The man continued to snooze lightly in his chair.

Alice released a laugh, spun on her heel, and began sauntering back down the dock.

It would be dark soon, and someone would likely notice her disappearance from Arcadia before long. The sooner she returned to the asylum, the less likely it would be for the staff to discover her little field trip into town.

But then, as she passed by the boat again, her feet skidded to a stop without her permission. Her eyes zeroed in on the side of the boat, her legs carrying her off to the side, leading her down the wooden platform and toward the boat’s edge.

Without any forethought, Alice reached out, grabbing the cold metal bar along the side of the boat, acting entirely on instinct; she stepped over the wall and climbed into the boat with haste, expecting it to rock back and forth, but it barely moved. This boat was larger than all the fishing boats she used to see on the water, and it seemed to handle the weight of a person with no difficulty whatsoever.

Alice studied everything more closely, seeing that the entrance to the boat’s interior was on her right. To the left was the balcony, wrapping around the pointed shape of the bow. Allowing her curiosity to guide her, she meandered toward the balcony of the bow and slowly leaned over it, hovering above the gentle waves that moved in smooth, rhythmic shifts against the boat’s exterior.

A broad smile overtook her face once again, and Alice grabbed the balcony, sliding swiftly downward and extending her legs over the edge, sitting and letting her feet dangle above the waters. She then outstretched her arms behind her head, leaned backward, and released a content cloud of breath, lying on her back and kicking the air absentmindedly, feeling fully at ease and wishing she’d never have to leave this boat again.

Alice gazed into the darkening sky above her, humming a song under her breath and gently closing her eyes, savoring every second of this solitude.

Moments later, when she opened her eyes again—she swallowed a gasp, and her heart jumped.

Now, she no longer saw the beautiful twilight sky above her—but the dark outline of a man hovering over, glaring down at her with pensive silvery eyes.

Alice gulped and quickly sat upright, twisting around and staring up at the man more fixedly. The moment she met eyes with the stranger, she recognized him—the sleeping man, now wide awake and giving Alice a long, questioning stare, his arms folded and his expression hardened, and his naturally arched eyebrows seemed sharper now.

“Shit—I’m sorry,” Alice sputtered awkwardly, lumbering to her feet and facing him. “I’m sorry—is this your boat? Sorry, I just—I’ve never been on one before. I just wanted to see what it was like. I wasn’t gonna break in or anything, I swear.”

The man continued to glare into her with an unreadable face, though the suspicious shine in his eyes put an unsettled knot in the pit of her stomach.

“You can tell it to the law,” he spoke, his voice softer than she expected, carrying a slight rasp, but low with a tone of authority. “Because they’re on their way.”

“What?” Alice gasped, suddenly panicked. “Oh—come on!”

Then, the man’s mouth curled into a sly little smile, his perfect laugh line appearing once more.

The moment she spotted his smile, Alice took back with a baffled stare. “Are you screwing with me?”

The man chuckled, pocketing his hands as his laughs grew slightly louder.

“Oh my God—don’t do that!” Alice breathed, giggling and shaking her head, feeling a rush of relief. “Jesus Christ, you ’bout gave me a heart attack!”

“Heh,” the man snickered, patting one of the darkened windows. “I don’t even call the cops when people actually do try and break in. But… just outta curiosity… how often do you just wander onto random boats you find out here?”

“Never,” Alice uttered truthfully. “First time…”

“Oh,” the man smirked. “What’s your name?”

“Alice…”

“I’m Rob,” the man named Rob introduced, sauntering forward and offering his hand.

“Nice to meetcha,” Alice said, returning his handshake and releasing a nervous laugh. “Under really weird circumstances, but still…”

Rob let out another chuckle, nodding and giving her a quick once-over. He glimpsed down at her bare feet, then met her eyes again.

Alice gulped, feeling a pinch of anxiety. Rob was nearly a head taller than her, and gazing up at him gave her the strangest sense of nervousness. It’d been a long time since she felt flustered around a man—she liked to think she was immune to it by now—but then again, she’d just wandered onto his boat without permission, and he’d joked about calling the cops on her for it. It made sense that she felt somewhat anxious now.

“You, ah…” Alice mumbled, shifting her bangs aside and scanning him up and down. “You look like a fisherman. Are you?”

“Yeah… yeah, I am.” Rob nodded, wandering toward the balcony and stopping at her side, observing the ocean as he spoke to her. “My life’s blood out here…”

“This thing doesn’t look like a fishing boat,” Alice remarked, leaning on the balcony beside him and giving him a curious squint.

“No… it’s not.” Rob scratched his chin and spared her a glance. “Technically, this thing is considered a yacht. I don’t like calling it that, though.”

“Really? Why not?” Alice wondered. “Having a yacht is like… everybody’s dream.”

“Yeah, well… that’s why I don’t like it,” Rob replied with a laugh, shaking his head and patting the balcony’s metal bar. “Makes it sound a lot fancier than it is. People hear the word ‘yacht,’ and they picture a fat rich guy sipping martinis on a ship the size of the Titanic.”

Alice laughed and nodded. “Okay, yeah, good point…”

The two of them paused, watching as the night began to fall entirely, the stars reflective in tiny sparkles along the water’s distant surface. Alice and Rob both leaned on the balcony, facing the Atlantic and feeling a sense of peace, as Alice’s hectic day was ending, as was Rob’s workday. The day was coming to a close, feeling strangely like a new start as well as a gentle, soothing end.

Alice tapped her bare toes on the boat’s cool floor as she loomed on the balcony’s edge, stealing a few glimpses of Rob as she observed the serenity of Paradise Beach.

“Never been on a boat before, huh,” Rob murmured, turning and giving her a thoughtful squint. “How long have you been in this town…?”

“A good while now,” Alice shrugged. “But I worked at the bar… and I had a lot of other stuff going on. Just didn’t have time to come around here.”

“Damn. A good while in Paradise County, and you never been on a boat before,” Rob remarked with a smirk. “Damn waste.”

“Mhm,” Alice sighed, gazing into the ocean.

There was another brief silence.

Then, a thought occurred to her.

“Do you want me to go?” Alice asked. “I know I’m like… invading your space, here. I can go if you want. It’s getting late anyway.”

“I don’t mind the company,” Rob said in a low, calm voice, flashing a half-smile as his eyes remained lost in the sea. “You’re fine. Stay or go… whatever ya’ like.”

“I’ll stay for a minute,” Alice decided, turning and leaning on the balcony backward. “I gotta head back soon, but not right this second. I like being on a boat… or a yacht. Whatever it is.”

“You ever been out on the water?” Rob wondered, then made a sideways nod. “Well, I guess not, since you never went on a boat before…”

“I always wanted to,” Alice mumbled. “That’s just one of those things I never had time for… before now, anyway.”

“Is that why you came here?” Rob asked, perking an eyebrow at her. “Lookin’ for a rental?”

“Oh God, no,” Alice laughed. “I don’t have the money for that, and I doubt if anybody’s even renting now anyway, since nobody’s around anymore. No, I just wandered here…”

“Well… I’ll take you out for a ride sometime, if ya’ want,” Rob offered kindly, wearing a smooth smile.

Alice met his eyes, reading his expression and silently admiring the cool allure of his smirk, the faint line at the corner of his mouth, creating a tiny, crooked edge to his smile. It was a minor detail, though Alice found it oddly captivating.

Rob seemed to have a simple sort of charm—not the same type of charm as the guys Alice met in the past, the fake kind of swagger that men might manufacture in order to come off a certain way. No, this was something else, something softer and more genuine, just a simple, earthy, and unpretentious demeanor. Now that she thought about it, Alice was never close to anyone like that in the past; her guy friends and boyfriends were always somewhat negative and complicated individuals, all with their own drastic issues and numerous terrible life habits.

Rob appeared to be a different breed, calm, decent, and simply well-rounded.

“Honestly,” Alice said, offering him a polite smile in response. “I really like that idea, but… I don’t really know you. I don’t know if I wanna ride out into international waters with a stranger. No offense.”

“None taken,” Rob chuckled and nodded. “But, just so you know… we don’t have to ride out to the middle of the ocean. We can stay right on Paradise Beach. If you get spooked, you can jump out and swim back. I’m not gonna do anything creepy to provoke that, but still… figured you’d feel better having the option.”

Alice giggled. “Yeah… okay. Good point. I’ll risk it for a boat ride.”

“Good to know,” Rob said warmly. “I’m almost always around, either fishing out at sea or resting up right here at the docks. Just come around whenever you wanna ride.”

“Oh man… you could totally teach me how to fish,” Alice realized, suddenly grinning as an impulsive idea struck her. “I could make a living doing that!”

Rob raised his brows at her. “You sure you wanna take on that kinda job? It’s hard work.”

“Yeah, but… I kinda don’t have a job anymore,” Alice told him. “And I probably need a more practical job now… with everything… the way it is.”

The two of them fell silent for a moment, gazing across the ocean without sparing the quiet town behind them a glance.

“I’d…” Alice combed her hairs to the side and bit her lip, sighing heavily. “I’d rather do something that makes me happier, too.”

Rob’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “So… fishing?”

“Yeah, y’know, it seems like it’s… peaceful,” Alice murmured thoughtfully, staring into the ocean once more. “And… I could really use something peaceful for once. Let me ask you something. Whenever you’re out there, catching fish in your nets, and doing your whole thing… you don’t have anyone breathing down your neck, do you?”

“No… no, I don’t,” Rob admitted, facing the ocean fully again and sparing her an intrigued glimpse. “No jobs, no managers. Just me. Granted, you have to work your ass off if you wanna make any money doing it alone, but… I see what you mean about it being peaceful. That’s why I love it. If you’re looking for peace, then you’ll probably love it, too.”

“That sounds good. I bet I could make it work if I got a boat somehow…”

“You could take out a loan to get a small fishing boat. I know a guy who did that, but you need the license first… and that’s assuming, y’know… everything eventually goes back to normal.”

“How did you get yours?”

“Well…” Rob nodded sideways, folding his arms and pondering on this. “That’s a long story. Short version is… my father and I dumped all our money into this thing years and years back. Now I’m left with it, and I make it work.”

“Do you live on this boat?” Alice asked interestingly, glancing back at the center structure of the boat, which was plenty large enough to house a comfortable living space inside.

Rob turned around and nodded at her, crossing his arms and leaning backward on the balcony’s railing just as she was.

“Yeah… I have for a good long while now,” he told her. “Lot more peaceful than being stuck around people all the time.”

“God, I hear that,” Alice sighed with a smirk, her fingers coiling around the cold metal of the balcony’s rail, a deep sigh escaping her. “I don’t think I could ever afford a yacht, but… I’d take living in a canoe at this point…”

“Oh God, no…” Rob shook his head, scoffing out a chuckle and giving her a look. “No, you don’t wanna do that. You wanna get something with some kind of power and interior. It’s basically just a house on the water… worth every cent. Trust me.”

“What do you do here?” Alice asked curiously, glimpsing at the dark windows and eyeing the mysterious interior of Rob’s boat. “I mean, like… what do you do for entertainment?”

Rob glanced at the sky in thought. “Well… fishing. Crabbing. Cooking. Reading books. And, ah… Netflix.”

Alice barked out a laugh.

Rob snickered along with her.

“I’m gonna be honest… I wasn’t expecting you to say Netflix,” Alice remarked amusedly. “You seem like an old soul at heart... and I don’t mean that in a bad way. Like… you seem like the kind of person who reads more instead of watching stuff. No offense.”

“None taken… kinda hit the nail on the head there,” Rob replied, flashing his charmed crooked smirk again. “I love reading, but I need something to watch now and then. I’d go insane out here without it.”

“I’m gathering that you’re a little bit antisocial.”

“Yes. Yes I am.”

They both laughed, and Alice took another quick glance of his signature smirk, feeling entirely at ease.

She loved what she knew of Rob so far, and she hoped to make a friend out of him—but, as she sighed and pondered on the strange evening, reality slowly began to return to her.

Making a new friend wasn’t an option right now—at least, not right this moment. She still needed to return to the Arcadia before anyone could notice her absence. Night had fallen completely now, and she knew it was time to go.

Just when she opened her mouth to tell him so, he spoke first.

“Can’t help but be a little antisocial… especially now,” Rob muttered, his smile waning. “World’s gone mad. Everyone’s kinda crazy.”

Alice stared at him, feeling an uncomfortable tug in her chest.

“Yeah,” she breathed, rolling her neck and nodding in agreement. “They really are…”

“But, y’know… my father used to say,” Rob said softly, turning to her and giving her a profound, interested look, a faint hint of his smirk emerging once again. “Whenever takeovers happen… insanity becomes normality. The sane become mad, and the mad become the norm.”

Alice returned his stare wordlessly, suddenly finding herself speechless.

Perhaps it was due to his deep, unwavering gaze—or, perhaps it was due to the sheer weight of his words—but she simply couldn’t think of a response now, as something about his statement had resonated with her on a deeper level than she’d expected.

After all, in Alice’s own life especially, insanity truly did seem to be the norm.

“Of course…” Rob muttered, cocking his head and running a hand down his face. “My father was an old man, old enough to be a grandfather when he was raising me. He grew up in an era of war. He saw a lot of societal insanity in his day. I don’t know if you can compare that to the world now…”

“Well… there’s entire cities being overrun with riots and a bunch of people being forced into camps and stuff,” Alice shrugged. “It’s not exactly the same as a war, but… it can definitely make everyone go crazy.”

“Yeah. I think it has,” Rob uttered distantly. “But, lucky for me, I have a boat… so…”

Alice let out a laugh. “So you can run from the crazy whenever you want.”

Rob raised his finger and nodded. “Exactly.”

“Well… Rob… it was nice talking and stuff,” Alice said conclusively, straightening up and whirling around to face him. “But I’ve got somewhere to be, so… I gotta go.”

“Okay,” Rob replied with a nod. “Nice chatting with you, too.”

Alice gave him a smile, feeling herself flush. Instantly, she was thankful for the recent arrival of nightfall, as the darkness would shield her faintly pink cheeks from sight.

Rob brandished yet another smooth, comforting half-smile, pocketing his hand and giving her a simple farewell wave.

“You know what,” Alice said with a childlike smirk. “I really… really like this place. I needed a little escape tonight.”

“Happy to help,” Rob responded. “Feel free to stargaze on the bow again whenever you want.”

“I’m seriously gonna take you up on that,” Alice grinned, waving a finger at him. “I’ll drop by again sometime this week, if you wanna hang out.”

“Absolutely,” Rob agreed. “Looking forward to it. Although, if you’re serious about the fishing thing, then prepare to get lectured. If you really wanna learn that, then I’ve got a lot to teach you.”

“Then I’ll be ready to listen,” Alice promised, sauntering off toward the wooden platform. “Seeya later, Rob.”

“Seeya, Alice.”

Just when she moved to step off the boat, she stopped and smirked again, pausing and turning to face him one last time.

“You look cute when you sleep,” Alice told him, her smile widening.

Rob’s brows raised, and he let out a faint laugh.

Alice grinned, waved at him, and climbed off the boat, marching down the dock and resisting the urge to turn back again, hiding her beaming smile until she was safely off the pier, marching off alone back to the Arcadia Asylum.

Chapter 1

Arcadia

The international wave of change scarcely affected the lives of those in Paradise Sands—at least at first.

The isolated beach town of South Carolina remained almost peaceful, if not a little tense due to the wariness of its remaining inhabitants. Following great social division, a terrible degeneration of the economy, and massive strides of attempted government control—the United States had almost grown accustomed to its random and unorthodox set of new lifestyles now.

Some areas, like average-sized towns or suburban neighborhoods, were still almost normal, functioning to the best of their abilities and adapting to price changes and drastic shortages best they could. Other areas—denser places, like big cities—were steeped in a much deeper sense of urgency, as the shortages and the desperate people were much higher in number there. Other places became divided completely, perfect lines being drawn between entire towns and communities and separating compliers from resisters.

And of course, the rural places—places like Paradise Sands—were the quietest of them all, as some people chose to relocate with their families, some people stayed home, and nearly all of them had strengthened their already self-reliant lifestyles, getting by without intervention from rioting maniacs, over-compliers, or government forces altogether.

And here in Paradise Sands—the reserved countryside resisters didn’t care for whatever controversy their mere existence might’ve caused. The scarce few people who remained in Paradise Sands—those who never relocated, never grouped up with their families and moved away, and never ended up in a smart city or a residential camp—simply lived here like normal, trying to continue on best they could.

This was true of both Rob Wilson and all the residents of the Arcadia Asylum.

Over the long span of time when these changes made their steepest impact on the town, people moved away; the asylum slowly found itself less and less staffed, and now, only two doctors remained—Dr. Zachary Lancer, and Dr. Mohinder Rao. Many of the patients slowly began to drift off from the asylum as well, a few leaving of their own accord—those who were allowed to do so—while the rest were collected by their families before vanishing from town.

Now—with Alice living her day-to-day life inside the Arcadia, a life which she’d grown accustomed to—a large group of misfit patients remained with her, a great big gang of folks that she’d also gotten used to, and even grown attached to.

The asylum was functioning differently from before; the patients were no longer separated by age or gender, and all of them were now living on the third and highest floor, having gotten comfortable in their new rooms and having adjusted to their slightly tweaked routine. The two doctors allowed the patients to help with cooking duty—as all the cooks and janitors were gone—and everything carried on.

Lunch remained at noon, group was still a consistent part of the day, patients who took medication were still given their daily doses, and the two doctors were still prioritizing all of their individual therapy sessions just as they always had. The supply of food and medications were now running thin, but they hoped and assumed that the world beyond the asylum’s gates would return to normal before long, and once it did, they would get everything they needed again. Still, as the days passed by, the tensions seemed to rise slightly, the patients acting out just a bit more than they used to—and they wondered just how long it would be before everything could get resolved.

Alice strolled about the asylum’s white halls, hearing the echoing ambiance of all the voices on the third floor, now all too familiar.

The oddball gang amidst the asylum consisted of many—a rumored sociopath, a drug dealer with Reactive Attachment Disorder, a conspiracy theorist, a charismatic PC gamer, a shy little girl recovering from trauma, and a suspected psychopath. Alice herself wasn’t yet diagnosed, despite her extended stay here—but she and Dr. Lancer were still chipping away at that problem one therapy session at a time, just as they were about to do again today.

Alice marched past another patient, the only other woman in the building now, socio Serena.

Serena spared her a smirk in passing, the two bumping fists as they headed off to separate offices, as they both had their sessions at the same time, but each with different doctors. While the two of them had similar builds, average and almost petite, their hair was a stark contrast, Alice’s wavy and strawberry while Serena’s was short, straight, and bright golden blonde, combed mostly to one side as two dangly, sparkling earrings danced about in her stride.

The ambiance of Clyde and Jules—the detached ex-drug dealer, and the fun-loving gamer—echoed from just down the hall and around the corner, where both of them were smashing a large bouncy ball into the wall and desperately trying to catch one another’s wild throws, laughing and shooting insults at each other as they did. The shy little girl—Sarah—was alone in her room with the door cracked, sitting on the edge of her bed and flipping through a book of cartoons, occasionally glimpsing at her ajar door whenever the commotion from the boys grew loud. And, at the end of the hall, nearest Dr. Lancer’s office, a gentleman older than the rest had just slipped back into his room, a man with a shaggy overcoat and a head of dark, untamed, and blown-back hair to match, big brown eyes that almost always looked wild with urgency. This man—the conspiracy man, Jim—glimpsed up and down the hallways, his eyes darting back and forth cautiously before he slinked fully into his room, closing the door swiftly shut behind him.

The only person whose whereabouts weren’t obvious was the quiet and isolated Hunter, the only patient who rarely ever talked to anyone, the one everyone else suspected to be a psychopath. Ever since he was caught throwing knives at the wall in the kitchen four days ago—and he exchanged words with Mohinder Rao, mumbling an ominous death threat to him—nobody had heard a word from him since, and nobody was particularly eager to.

While Alice vanished into Mr. Lancer’s office—Serena did much the same on the opposite end of the hall, stepping into Mohinder’s office and gently closing the door behind her.

Mohinder—slim, handsome, and young with a smooth caramel complexion—sat behind his desk with his arms resting overtop of it, giving her a polite smile as she entered and preparing for their usual chats. He had a head of wavy black hair, just long enough to tent over his eyes, and Serena’s mouth curled into a half-smile at the sight of him.

She slid into her seat, leaning back and folding one leg over the other, resting her fingers against her chin and giving him a thoughtful look.

“Sooo,” Serena smirked. “Did I tell you, or what?”

Mohinder narrowed his eyes, his smile remaining. “Tell me what?”

“I told you,” Serena snarked. “I’d be fine without taking meds anymore. I’m doing freaking awesome. Am I not?”

Mohinder made a sideways nod, straightening up in his seat. “You are doing fine, all things considered… well, for… the most part.”

Serena blinked. “For the most part?”

“For the most part,” Mohinder affirmed. “You did threaten to pull Hunter’s intestines out four days ago, Serena.”

“So?”

“So… that’s something that a civilized society tends to frown upon.”

“He started it.”

“Serena,” Mohinder said, trying to speak seriously, though he couldn’t help but let out a faint laugh. “When someone else poses a threat, then it’s natural to react—but divulging a detailed plan of violent organ removal is slightly over the line.”

“He started it,” Serena reiterated. “He said the next knife’s going in your throat, stupid—you really think I’m just gonna not do anything?”

“I… appreciate that,” Mohinder told her, raising a hand and making another mild nod. “I really do. But we’re working on repairing your broken empathy wires, not severing off even more.”

“I’m not gonna have empathy for people like Hunter,” Serena scoffed coldly, looking away and rolling her eyes. “I’m not the broken one—he is.”

Mohinder swallowed and lowered his hand, choosing not to respond to this.

Serena’s eyes wandered back over to him, surveying him intently. “He really is, isn’t he? He’s a psycho. Like—a real one.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Mohinder said softly. “I’m not his doctor. Zach is.”

“But it’s obvious… isn’t it?” Serena said interestingly, scooting to the edge of her seat and leaning closer to his desk. “He never feels anything… he’s the only one who’s never told any kind of story in group… hell, we don’t even know his whole name. He never talks to us, not unless he’s threatening somebody… and he really seems to hate you.”

Mohinder sighed and shrugged. “He hates me and Dr. Lancer both. It’s an unfortunate side-effect of the relationship that a psychiatrist has with a patient, particularly one with his issues.”

“His issues being that he’s freaking dead inside,” Serena quipped snidely.

Mohinder choked out a laugh, quickly shaking it off and putting on his serious face again.

“So… I have a question,” Serena said, raising her finger. “When are you gonna let us go shopping? It’s gonna be too late before long.”

Mohinder thoughtfully stroked along his chin, eyeing her curiously. “I’m supposed to be asking you questions right now.”

“Yeah, well, I have questions too. We all have our bank cards, and we all have some money we can spend, but we’re not gonna be able to do that for very much longer.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The apocalypse.”

Mohinder stared at her, flashing another half-smile.

“There’s no apocalypse,” he told her calmly. “There’s an unfortunate economic crisis that’s being handled rather poorly… but it’s not an apocalypse, and it’s not going to last forever.”

Serena gave him a long, serious stare, looking anything but convinced.

“The cities are being ruined to the point where they couldn’t function again even if everything did go back to normal,” she told him grimly. “And the government is literally snatching people up and locking them up in prison camps right now. Nothing is ever gonna be normal again.”

Mohinder slowly intertwined his fingers, clasping his hands together atop his desk and sparing her statement a moment of thought. Then, he dismissively shook his head.

“Sounds like Jim’s gotten to you. I think you might be exaggerating just a little bit,” he determined. “Things are bad, yes… but things never stay bad. Everything changes, and everything keeps on changing, worse to better, and better to worse. It’s just the constant natural balance of the world.”

Serena’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not saying it’s gonna be bad forever… I’m just saying it’s not gonna be normal forever. Or ever again, more than likely.”

“Well… I hope that’s not the case,” Mohinder said with another sigh. “Now… do you have anything new to tell me?”

Serena raised her thin little brows, tilting her head and tapping her fingers to her mouth.

Mohinder examined her. “No violent nightmares, homicidal delusions…?”

“Oh—well, those are constant,” Serena laughed. “You know me better than to ask.”

Mohinder let out a chuckle, giving her an empathetic sort of stare.

Serena read his expression before averting her gaze from his, his irritatingly genuine stare beginning to break through her barriers yet again. It was one of his most notable features, one of those signature things he did that she both loved and hated about him. He truly was a genuine type, a decent and compassionate sort who always seemed to worry about her, though it wasn’t something she always knew how to take.

“What’re you gonna do now?” she wondered, an honest question that had been weighing on her for days now.

Mohinder straightened up in his seat, giving her a questioning look.

Then—one of Serena’s own signature traits emerged, a cold expression overtaking every inch of her visage, an icy and dead-serious stare that she was often quite notorious for.

“You and Dr. Lancer,” she uttered, her expression severe. “You guys keep waiting… you keep waiting for shipments to come back, and you keep waiting for employees to come back… but it’s looking like they’re never going to. What’re you gonna do if nothing fixes itself? What’re you gonna do if the food and the meds just… stop?”

Mohinder was quiet for several seconds, returning her stare and looking entirely unreadable now. Moments later, he released a cloud of breath, rolled his shoulders, and simply shook his head at her.

“You don’t need to worry about that,” he told her flatly. “That’s my concern, so don’t worry.”

Serena merely stared at him, her face seeming icier by the second.

After another tense stare, she let out a heavy exhalation, leaning back in her seat and tossing her head back against it.

“We need to plan something,” she murmured at the ceiling. “So we don’t starve here…”

“None of you are gonna starve here,” Mohinder assured her. “Zach and I will make sure everything is taken care of.”

“Okay—but how though?” Serena inquired, scooting forward and locking eyes with him again. “I really wanna know—what’s your game plan if no help ever comes here?”

“Help is going to come here.”

“How do you know?”

“Because—there are people and organizations out there intended to deal with emergencies, and they will make their way here sooner or later.”

“Mohinder, they’re not gonna come here—and if they did, the only thing they’re gonna care about is dragging everybody off to a prison camp. Nobody’s gonna come here just to help us.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because—we’re not worth it,” Serena said in a cold, flat tone.

Mohinder slowly reeled back in his rolling chair, giving her a perturbed look. “What on earth makes you think you’re not—?”

“Not me—we,” Serena corrected, shaking her head and swatting the air. “We never chose a side or anything, but it doesn’t matter—because we’re still considered resisters or whatever, and resisters are like a second class now. Even if they weren’t—we’re still just nothing. We’re a loony bin full of freaks who were too broken to function in regular society. Nobody would have anything to gain from coming here and helping a bunch of useless invalid people. Nobody with any kind of power would ever bother.”

Mohinder stared at her. “That’s a bit cynical…”

“Well… that’s how mean people think,” Serena said with a shrug. “I feel like a lot of people in power are sociopaths… and speaking as one, I can tell you right now. None of them would ever help anyone unless they got something out of it.”

“Really,” Mohinder murmured, his eyes narrowing interestingly at her, looking unconvinced. “What did you have to gain in the cafeteria last Monday?”

Serena gave him a blank stare.

Mohinder’s gaze grew more intrigued by the second. “Because I can’t think of any reason you’d step into a confrontation to help me out… seeing as how you got nothing out of it. Yet still, for whatever reason, you did. Would you care to explain that to me?”

Serena opened her mouth to reply, drawing a blank and instantly growing frustrated.

“Well, that—that’s different,” she griped defensively. “That’s different, I’m not—I’m not some freakin’ rich person who’s never had to struggle a day of my life. I’m not like all the people in power. I have actual problems, and I have actual connections with people. Sociopaths aren’t just constantly void of empathy like everybody thinks—”

“No, no—of course they’re not,” Mohinder agreed. “Not all of them. The issue is widely disputed and rarely fully understood, and it varies in severity from person to person. You’re not devoid of empathy—your empathy wires are just crossed, as you put it.”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Serena nodded in response, sitting more firmly upright. “And y’know what else? It’s hard as hell to get close to anybody—so whenever that finally happens, and whenever you finally do manage to get close to somebody—then you’re gonna go savage on anybody who fucks with them.”

Mohinder fell silent for a second, slowly gnawing his lip and saying nothing.

Serena let out a hot cloud of breath, sinking back into her seat and folding her arms.

The two of them were silent for a moment, Serena’s eyes wandering over to the wall, where an old straightjacket hung in between a shelf of books and one of Mohinder’s degrees.

“I can’t believe you still have that in here,” she uttered with a smirk. “I know what that’s for.”

Mohinder’s expression flattened. “I’ll bet you do.”

Serena scoffed out a laugh. “No, smartass… that’s some psycho-manipulative shit right there. Having that thing on the wall is just a constant reminder to everyone who walks in here not to start acting crazy.”

“Well, that’s… that’s neither here nor there,” Mohinder muttered. “You know everything I do is for your own good.”

“M-hm,” Serena mumbled distantly, pondering on all the dark and dysfunctional secrets she’d divulged to Mohinder in confidence throughout the past year, her gaze slowly venturing back over to him.

When they met eyes again, he simply offered her a smile—that perfectly carved face, brandishing that damn smile at her, a peculiar warmth spreading through her chest.

“Don’t look at me in that tone of voice,” Serena snarked with a laugh. “You better stop being so goddamn nice to me. You might end up making me give a shit about you—and you don’t wanna be that close to me. Nobody does.”

“Oh, now… don’t talk about yourself like that,” Mohinder replied.

Just when she opened her mouth to speak again—a sudden thumping noise cut her off.

Serena and Mohinder both stopped, making odd faces and turning to stare at the door.

Seconds later, it happened again—a hard thump against the door from the other side, not a knock, more like an object being thrown into the door repeatedly.

The third time it happened, Serena sighed and stood, moving over to the door and unlocking it before pulling it fully open.

She then stopped—staring at the person outside of the doorway before her, the dark overcoat and the stringy black hairs, combed over to one side and hanging messily over the man’s grim visage. His big, dark eyes homed in on her, and he slowly lifted the knife in his hands, one of the many kitchen knives that he’d apparently been throwing at the door.

Hunter revealed a slow, strange smile, giving her a simple little wave as he twirled the blade around between his fingers.

Serena gulped roughly, her expression stoic and unreadable. She glimpsed to the side, staring at Mohinder across the office, who was giving her a questioning look, wondering who was at the door and why, but Serena knew the answer; after all, Hunter had a beef with Mohinder now, and it seemed he’d arrived to antagonize him, perhaps even to harm him.

Still, as her mind raced a mile a minute—she quickly realized that Mohinder wasn’t in Hunter’s line of sight right now, and she manifested a witty lie in no time.

“What? He’s not here,” Serena told Hunter in a tone that nobody would mistake for a friendly one. “You wanna threaten him again, then you’re gonna have to go look for him.”

Before Hunter could reply—Serena slammed the door in his face and hurriedly locked it, pressing her back to it and releasing a cloud of breath.

“What is it?” Mohinder was on his feet now, approaching her and looking concerned. “What’s going—mnnn.”

Serena clamped a hand over his mouth, making him reel slightly back and shooting her a baffled look. She pressed a finger to her lips, shushing him and remaining eerily still.

A few moments passed by—both of them standing stock still beside the office door, Serena listening intently, Mohinder giving her a strange stare.

But, once it became clear that Hunter had abandoned his task of throwing knives at the door, she let out another deep sigh, lowering her hand and leaning on the door once again.

“Hunter’s out there with the damn knives again,” Serena reported gravely.

Mohinder’s eyebrows raised, a spark of urgency appearing in his translucent brown eyes. He reached into his overcoat and pulled out a small injector—a sedative used to incapacitate manic patients—and he tried to step toward the door.

“No—no, don’t,” Serena barked, blocking his path and shaking her head warningly at him. “He’s not gonna do anything unless you go out there. You’re the one he’s pissed off at.”

“Serena—I have to stop him,” Mohinder insisted. “If he hurts somebody else here—”

“He won’t!”

“I can’t take that risk—”

“What—what’re you gonna do? Huh?” Serena breathed, knowing full well the answer, though a brilliant idea just struck her.

“Confront him and sedate him if I have to,” Mohinder told her urgently. “Will you please move? I have to—”

“How’re you gonna do that? What even is that?” Serena asked, nodding at the injector, again already knowing the answer.

“It’s a sedative.”

“You just carry a sedative around with you?”

“Yes.”

“No way. Lemme see that. Is that real?”

Mohinder sighed impatiently, handing her the injector and allowing her to briefly survey it, glancing at the door again. “Yes, of course it’s real. I need to go deal with him, Serena.”

Serena nodded and gave the injector a once-over, then glimpsed up and made a strange face, eyeing the bookshelf behind him and pointing directly at it. “Holy shit—what the hell is that?”

Mohinder followed her trail of vision and turned away for a split second—and Serena jabbed the injector into his neck, startling him and making him stagger several steps away.

He stopped with his back against the bookshelf, grasping his neck where a sharp stinging pain had suddenly formed, staring in bewilderment at Serena as she held the injector upright, giving him a pitying sort of look and making a loose little shrug.

“Everything I do’s for your own good,” she remarked.

Mohinder began to reply, though no words came out, everything inside suddenly growing sluggish, every limb heavy as his vision began to blur and distort. His head spun, stumbling back—and Serena barely caught him before he could hit the floor.

For a moment, she knelt on the cold tiles, now holding the limp and unconscious doctor in her arms, his head resting snugly against her chest, his wavy hairs wilder than usual now, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape, Serena staring down at him, cracking a smirk.

Looking at him now, he appeared so adorable, so very lamented and helpless. So many time, she’d dreamed of this—being so close, close enough to embellish his warmth and inhale his sweetened scent. Although, admittedly, she never thought it might happen quite like this.

Still—what was she to do? Hunter wasn’t stupid. He knew full well that he could act more freely now that the asylum was staffed with only two doctors, and Serena knew he was dangerous, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to plant one of those blades into Mohinder just for fun.

So, she’d just have to protect him by force.

She’d keep him away from Hunter, just for now, just until the heat died down a bit, and Hunter calmed himself down…

But that meant that Serena, for the time being, would be essentially holding Mohinder prisoner in here.

How was she supposed to do such a thing?

Serena cradled him closer, sighing and glancing around, her mind racing as she searched for a solution.

Then, as her gaze ventured upward, her mouth began to unravel into a devilish smile—as her eyes landed perfectly on the straightjacket hanging above her.

During the time of Serena and Mohinder’s usual meeting—which concluded with Serena struggling to hide his bound and unconscious body—Alice was sitting across from her own doctor, and everyone else was carrying on like usual.

Clyde and Jules continued smashing the rubber blue bouncy ball into the wall as quickly as they could, both of them jumping and diving to catch it whenever it bounded toward them, barely managing to catch it each time. Jules was a jovial sort, a slightly rounded face and large shiny eyes that were a deep brown color, wavy black hair and just a touch of it on the edge of his chin, infamous in the Arcadia for his charisma and his childlike smile. Clyde, to the contrary, was a sleek and suave type—someone Serena often suspected was a fellow sociopath, his smooth demeanor and natural charm always working to help him get his way, his hair short and blond, slightly spiky and styled in a neat fashion, complimenting his bottle green eyes. He usually excelled at doing things that others often didn’t have the heart for, though his friendship with Jules seemed to humanize to some degree—and that fact couldn’t be truer right now.

“Oh—you fat bitch!” Clyde yelled—ducking his head to the side as the ball shot past his ear, narrowly missing him.

Jules clapped and laughed at him, Clyde brandishing a middle finger before the two of them headed down the hallway, trailing after the escaped bouncy ball.

“That’s what you get for bashing my balls in,” Jules cackled from behind him.

“What, you don’t want balls on your balls? Now that’s a first.”

“Ha—ha—motherfucking haaa.”

“Don’t hate me ’cause I’m perfect, fatty.”

“I pity you because you’re dead inside.”

Clyde suddenly stopped at the edge of the hall, Jules halting just behind him as the two of them narrowed their eyes at the end of the hallway, only just seeing the flutter of Hunter’s black overcoat glide around the corner and disappear from their view.

“Speaking of dead inside,” Clyde mumbled.

Jules frowned. “Where’s he—he’s not going to Sarah’s room, is he?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“Come on.”

Jules moved past him, instantly marching with a pep in his step. Clyde sighed and followed suit, knowing for certain what had Jules so bothered all the sudden and hoping another pointless confrontation wasn’t around the corner.

After all—it wasn’t unusual for Hunter to pull grim tricks and mutter questionable things whenever he was in Sarah’s presence. Young Sarah was a timid and traumatized little soul, and Hunter seemed to find humor in scaring her. He’d never done anything to physically harm her—but Jules still didn’t enjoy allowing Hunter to antagonize the little girl whenever he pleased.

“So like… does it matter?” Clyde grumbled, rolling his neck and tossing his head back as he trailed after Jules. “Wonderland likes to play gatekeeper here. She can deal with whatever happens like she always does.”

“Alice is in therapy. She can’t do her damage control right now,” Jules reminded him, stepping around the corner and staring down the next hallway, which appeared empty now. “And Sarah’s kinda… well, she’s kinda…”

“Helpless?”

“No…”

“Mute?”

“No, she’s like… attached now,” Jules tried to explain, glimpsing back at him and looking somewhat conflicted. “Whenever something happens, she always ends up asking for me for some reason.”

“Tch. Because you’re playing hero all the goddamn time,” Clyde scoffed, shaking his head and pocketing his hands in his black leather jacket. “Now she thinks you’re her new big brother or some shit.”

“Why do you have to say that like it’s the shittiest thing that’s ever happened?”

“Because it’s retarded.”

Jules skidded to a stop just a few feet away from Sarah’s room, turning and giving Clyde a hard, questioning stare.

Clyde’s expression fell emotionless, a look of vacant detachment that he and Serena sometimes had in common. “I’m just saying… it makes no sense to get attached to these people. You’re not gonna know any of ’em for very long.”

“Well—that’s just not true, man,” Jules argued, cocking his head and resuming his pace. “I’ve known you for almost a year now—and a year for a little kid makes a huge difference.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Clyde disclosed with a shrug.

“No… I guess you wouldn’t,” Jules mumbled, stopping at Sarah’s door and slowly pushing it open. “Hey… kiddo… you in here?”

Both of them peeked inside, peering around and seeing that Sarah was sitting quietly against the wall, her legs folded atop her bed’s comforters, her short sandy hair tenting over her eyes as she read her book of cartoons in silence. The tiny girl raised her head, her big hazel eyes landing on them, watching as they both drew steadily closer.

“Hunter didn’t come in here, did he?” Jules asked.

Sarah shook her head.

Jules let out a cloud of breath and sank down beside her, feeling relieved. “Good… good. Whatcha reading? Which one is that?”

“It’s… four,” Sarah murmured in the softest, most innocent voice he’d ever heard, gently holding up the comic book and revealing the issue number to him. “I haven’t got to five yet…”

“Dude—you’re on four already?” Jules asked in astonishment. “I just gave you those this morning, kiddo. You read fast!”

Sarah revealed a pleased little smile.

Clyde stood near the end of the bed, hands remaining in his pockets, expression distant, though a hint of curiosity was visible amidst his visage now.

“Huh,” Clyde uttered, making a mild nod toward Sarah. “I never heard you talk before. I thought you were mute.”

“She’s not mute—she’s just—she’s like me,” Jules figured, patting Sarah on the head.

Clyde let out a scoffing laugh. “Like you? You’re not shy, you lying sack of dog sh—”

“Hey, hey—don’t say the shit word,” Jules griped, covering Sarah’s ears. “And it takes a long time to find the confidence you need to stop being shy. I was just like her when I was her age—”

“Blah blah blah—yadda yadda,” Clyde mocked, opening and closing his hand in the motion of a rapid mouth. “Boo freakidy hoo—no one cares.”

Jules rolled his eyes and glimpsed down at the comic book again.

Clyde leaned back, peeking out the crack in the door and seeing nobody else in the hall.

“Fuckin’a,” he mumbled. “He’s gonna start some trouble somehow.”

Jules glanced up at him.

Clyde met his gaze, looking intense, both of them thinking along the same lines.

It was typically unusual for Hunter to be marching about the halls as if he had somewhere to be. Most of the time, Hunter was locked away in his room, entertaining himself alone and avoiding everyone else in the Arcadia. Whenever he left his room and set off to somewhere else—aside from the usual lunch or bathroom trips—it meant he had a particular goal in mind. His goals usually involved things like sneaking out of the patients wing, scaring little Sarah, or otherwise antagonizing someone else in the asylum.

And now, Jules and Clyde were both wondering what trouble he likely intended to cause this time around.

Seconds later—the door creaked open, someone else sliding inside.

To their relief, it wasn’t Hunter. Instead, Serena emerged from the doorway, pushing it shut behind her and swiping her bangs aside before facing the others.

“Hey… um,” she exhaled, glancing between the two of them. “I gotta tell you something…”

“Um. Hold up.” Clyde made a face, pointing at her hand and narrowing his eyes oddly at her. “Why do you have Mohinder’s keys?”

Serena blinked, glimpsing down at the key ring in her hand and quickly pocketing them.

“Yeah… I kinda… locked him up somewhere.”

A silence followed her words, Sarah glimpsing up from her comic book, Jules giving her a strange look, and Clyde staring at her blankly.

Serena took a deep breath and explained what happened during her therapy session, as well as everything she decided to do thereafter. When she finished, Clyde and Jules slowly turned their heads, meeting eyes with each other for a second before they both exploded with laughter.

“It’s not funny,” Serena growled.

“Dude, that shit is so funny—it’s not even debatable,” Clyde cackled in between laughs. “He’s in a goddamn straightjacket now?”

“Yeah—what’re you gonna do when he wakes up?” Jules snickered, beaming and shaking his head. “He’s just gonna start screaming his ass off in there until Lancer finds him.”

“No he’s not,” Serena murmured, tilting her head and mildly scratching her cheek. “He’s kinda… well, he… he can’t scream now.”

“You gagged him?!” Clyde grinned—he and Jules erupting into laughter once again.

“I had to,” Serena insisted. “Listen—I have a whole plan here, but you guys are gonna have to play along. Hunter’s having all kinds of fun doing whatever the fuck he wants, now that this whole place is totally understaffed—but he’s gonna get bored and back off eventually, just like he always does. I just wanna give it a day or two. I wanna wait until Hunter gets over his petty bullshit, and then I can let Mohinder out. I’m gonna say that Mohinder left to meet up with a guy in town and try to set up a new shipment of food and meds here. That’s gonna make everybody stop worrying about food and meds for a little while—and it’ll explain why he’s gone, too. Hunter and Dr. Lancer can’t know why he’s really gone, and I need you guys to run with this story—okay?”

“And you took his keys so you could lock up his office, so now you’re the only one who can go in and out—which means Hunter’s not gonna be able to stumble on him in there. Very smart. Planned and enacted like a true high-functioning sociopath,” Clyde chuckled approvingly. “Yeah, okay, whatever. We’re on board. I guess.”

“Wait. I have my session with Mohinder tomorrow,” Jules recalled. “I can skip it now. Hell yeah!”

“Yeah, so just—whenever Dr. Lancer comes out, just tell him what I told you,” Serena instructed them. “Tell him that Dr. Rao needed to leave for a short-notice meeting with some guy in town about getting more supplies for this place, and tell him Mohinder planned on staying in a motel in town tonight because the guy wasn’t sure if he’d be getting here today or tomorrow.”

“Hey… what if Lancer calls Mohinder?” Clyde wondered. “Where’s his phone?”

Serena revealed a coy smile, pulling Mohinder’s dark blue smartphone from her pocket and holding it up for them to see. “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy.”

Clyde’s eyes narrowed. “How many times have you done this—?”

“Pssssst!”

All of them fell silent, slowly turning to the door and giving it a strange stare.

“Pssst,” a raspy, hissing voice echoed from the other side, the door gently easing open, one of Jim’s eyes appearing in the crack. His hand slid inside, waving his fingers around and motioning subtly for all of them to approach. “Come’ere. Come’ere…!”

Clyde, Jules, Sarah, and Serena all exchanged faces with one another, then turned back to the door and gave Jim another bizarre stare.

“Why?” Clyde broke the silence, giving the man a caustic look. “Are there reptoids in here?”

“Nooo… there’s probably nano-bots in the walls now,” Jules joked.

“Or poison in the water,” Serena giggled. “It’s a conspiracy! Oooooo…!”

Jim pushed the door fully open rather suddenly, his expression flattening as he locked eyes with Serena. “There is poison in the water. It’s a neurotoxin—”

“Dude—whaddo you want?” Clyde cut him off. “We’re kinda talking about something important in here, Jim.”

“This is more important,” Jim stated, raising a finger, his natural rasp seeming even throatier than usual. “C’mon. And bring her, too.”

“Bring her?” Jules griped, glimpsing over at Sarah and back. “Man, she doesn’t need to hear you lecture us about genocide again—”

“It was democide, and that—that’s not the point,” Jim grumped, swatting the air and hurriedly waving them onward. “Just come on!”

They all sighed in unison, reluctantly following the paranoid man out of the room, Sarah clinging onto Jules’s arm and sticking close to his side as they walked. Serena and Clyde led Jules and Sarah across the hall, all four of them following Jim into his room, and he swiftly shut the door behind them, flipping his lights on and illuminating the most cluttered patient’s room in the entire Arcadia.

Jim Dalton—the longest current inhabitant of the Arcadia Asylum—had the most belongings and the most lived-in room of them all, the walls covered with a few posters, several newspaper articles, and numerous sticky notes filled with random information. His desk against the wall was covered with a notepad, countless stacks of books, cut-up newspaper remains, and a handheld radio, his bed in the corner unmade and many of his clothes overflowing from the bin in the corner adjacent.

Everyone glanced around, Jim hurrying over to his desk and holding up the radio. He turned the knob and listened closely, wearing a thoughtful face as he pressed his ear to the speaker, listening intently for the voices amidst the static—then he whipped around, his raggedy brown overcoat wheeling around in the air along with him.

“Do any of you… have any idea,” Jim began in his low, hoarse tone. “What Rao and Lancer plan to do about the shortages here…?”

Jules and Clyde traded looks, Serena shrugging and Sarah shaking her head.

Jim let out a heavy sigh, flattening his mouth as his visage grew more severe. He held up the radio for a split second, shaking his head and placing it back on the desk, running a hand down his face and now looking obviously distressed.

Clyde read his expression, his eyes narrowing quizzically. “Why?”

Jim’s large eyes shot over to him, frowning deeply.

“Because we’re not getting any more help here,” he reported gravely. “Ever.”

Serena slowly closed her eyes, releasing a cloud of breath and facing away as her worries came back to her, all of them seeming validated now. Jules and Sarah merely gazed at Jim in concerned confusion, and Clyde continued to survey him with an investigative stare.

“How do you know?” Clyde inquired.

“Radio,” Jim replied shortly. “Emergency broadcasting systems. The federal government just passed… well, the short version is… resisters aren’t gonna be prioritized alongside the compliers anymore. Essentially… all response systems, and all major services, and even the most basic ones… they’re all gonna exclusively serve the residential camps and the smart cities from now on. The rest of us are legally considered anti-government radicals now… so… we’re just gonna be left out to dry. This is the start of a parallel society. Split down the middle. And… we’re the ones with the disadvantage. We’ve got nothing.”

“What?” Jules barked in disbelief. “What’re they doing that for?!”

“Because we’re not people to them,” Clyde said coldly. “We’re expendable. Especially us—we’re in an asylum.”

“Exactly,” Jim agreed. “Useless eaters.”

“What—but it’s—it’s not like we’re a freaking rebellion or anything,” Jules argued. “Most of us have been stuck in here since before this crap even started. We’re not part of it—we don’t even know what’s happening anymore—!”

“Everyone’s part of it—and it doesn’t matter,” Serena said firmly, her iciness making a full return. “They wouldn’t get anything out of helping us—so they’re just not going to. Period. End of story.”

“Fuckin’a,” Clyde mumbled grimly, stroking along his chin. “Lancer and Mohinder aren’t gonna be able to keep doing their little ‘wait and see’ routine anymore. We’re all gonna starve to death if they do.”

Sarah let out a frightened whimper, tightening her grasp on Jules’s sleeve.

Everyone glimpsed down at the child, then at each other, wondering how to comfort her and thinking of no possible way to.

After all—as far as they knew right now—they had no way of solving the frankly monumental problems that had just fallen upon them.

“They’ve been planning this for decades,” Jim uttered, turning and rifling through a few of the papers on his desk. “Depopulation. Segregation. Social division and stricter and stricter new laws, rewarding everyone who complies, and punishing those of us who don’t. This is it. This is their final sweep for power. Agenda 21. The Great Reset.”

Everyone stared at him.

“M’kay… well… we seriously need to figure out what we’re gonna do now,” Serena determined. “I weaned off my meds because I had a feeling… I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to get them anymore…”

“Mhm. Mhm. I did the same,” Jim said, nodding and jabbing a finger at her. “That’s task number one for all of you.”

“Whoa, hey, excuse me—some of us don’t take meds,” Clyde stated, holding up his hand and sparing the child in the room a brief glance. “And I also think some of us really need to keep taking them.”

Jim turned and stared at Sarah, sighing heavily and wearing a heavy grimace.

Another stressful silence overtook the room, all of them thinking the same thing now. None of them knew for certain exactly what kind of trauma Sarah faced before her arrival in the Arcadia, but they knew for certain that she was being given medication for it, and taking that away from her was a worrisome idea, to say the least.

“And there’s another problem,” Clyde spoke up again, his tone darkening. “We need more than just regular psycho meds here. We need sedatives. Pain meds. Antibiotics. Everything that we might need if we get hurt, or sick, or if someone has another manic breakdown.”

“Yeah—are you sure nobody can come and help us?” Jules asked Jim. “How much separation from society are we actually looking at here?”

“Entire separation,” Jim announced with disdain. “Emergency responders won’t respond. Hospitals won’t treat or admit. Businesses won’t make deals, and restaurants won’t even serve us. Granted, that’s just accounting for everyone in compliant communities, not here—but there’s hardly anybody left in Paradise County, and we didn’t have a lot of doctors here from the get-go. The only people who’re gonna serve resisters now are fellow resisters, and there’s almost none of them left here now.”

“Alice knows someone,” Serena mumbled.

Everyone turned to her.

Serena sighed and shrugged. “Well, I don’t… I don’t know who it is, but she does have a friend on the outside. She’s been sneaking off to go visit him for weeks. She won’t tell me very much, though. She’s being all mysterious about him. I think she’s trying to date this guy…”

“I know someone out there too,” Jim muttered, sliding his hands into his overcoat. “But he’s not a doctor. Closest thing we have to a doctor here is me.”

The others stared at him oddly.

Jim blinked and met their eyes. “I was a military medic. Did I not mention…?”

All of them slowly shook their heads.

Jim let out a faint laugh. “My mind’s been scattered for years…”

“I can’t… I can’t believe this,” Jules exhaled, stepping back and leaning against the wall, glaring down at the floor and looking deeply troubled. “How can they get away with just… cutting everybody off…?”

“People calling the shots can get away with whatever they want,” Serena said. “And if people like us are always painted in a bad light on the news, then nobody’s gonna give a damn what happens to us. We’re basically just villains to them.”

“Yeah—but they’re basically leaving people to die out here,” Jules griped. “Including us.”

“It wouldn’t be a big deal if we were anywhere else,” Clyde remarked with a shrug. “Most resister communities can just keep getting by without help. They have enough of every kind of professional to get by like nothing’s changed, and they can keep their own emergency responders functioning in their own hometowns, if the emergency responders are all resisters too. But, since we’re lucky enough to be in Paradise County, we get to be a lot more alone in this shit than everyone else…”

“God,” Jules breathed, hanging his head and shaking it glumly. “It’s like we’re not even considered human beings anymore…”

“We’re not,” Serena replied vacantly, folding her arms and wearing a deeply-etched frown. “Whether Mr. Nutcase here is right or not—whether there’s any bigger conspiracies going on or not—this is something we know for sure now; the government doesn’t give a good goddamn what happens to us, and that’s all there is to it.”

Yet another quietness lingered over them all, this one even tenser than those prior.

“I told him. I told him earlier, and he didn’t believe me,” Serena grumbled under her breath, sighing and scoffing with irritation. “I told him we need to make a plan. I told him we might not get help anymore—and I’ll be damned if that’s not happening.”

“How do you know all this, anyway?” Clyde asked, motioning to Jim. “This isn’t just another theory, right? You actually heard this on the news?”

“The emergency broadcasting systems,” Jim responded, tapping the top of his handheld radio.

“Why do you even have that?” Clyde said curiously. “None of us were ever allowed to bring anything like that in here.”

“I have a friend who brings stuff to me,” Jim mumbled, fidgeting with the radio again briefly before setting it back down. “You can keep more stuff in your room if you’re on good behavior for long enough. You oughta try it sometime.”

Clyde brandished a sly half-smile. “Never.”

“Yeah—and that’s another thing,” Serena realized, waving a finger at them. “We’re gonna have to have a serious talk with Lancer and Mohinder, because we can’t do this ‘doctors taking care of patients’ thing anymore. We all need to be able to come and go from the asylum, and we all need to be able to act outside the rules. Especially if we have to go out and get our own food later.”

“Pff. Good luck with that,” Clyde snarked. “Lancer thinks he’s everybody’s parent, and Mohinder is pretty much the same damn way. They both think we’re all gonna shatter like glass if we ever see any kind of reality in the world.”

“We have to talk to both of them,” Jules grumbled at the floor. “And we need Alice, too… since she’s Miss Damage Control…”

“Okay… we’ll give it two days,” Serena decided. “We need to have Alice with us whenever we make a plan, and we need to wait for… ahm… well, we need to wait until Mohinder’s back from his… trip…”

Clyde let out a dry laugh at hearing this, and Jim stared at Serena in confusion.

“Did Rao go somewhere?” Jim uttered.

Clyde cracked another smirk, chuckling as Jules soon found the ability to smile again as well. Serena turned away, her face fading pink as she fought her own oncoming grin, and Jim continued glancing between them all, looking as lost as ever.