Chapter 6 - THE FLOODThey ran.
The prisoners were screaming.
Pavel ordered everyone up the stairs.
Lidia stayed behind.
"What are you doing?"
"I need to get him."
She pointed toward Adrian Voss.
Pavel grabbed her.
"We don't have time."
"He knows who started this."
Stefan returned.
"I'll take him."
He disconnected Adrian from the machines.
The old man's body nearly collapsed.
Then the first pipe burst.
A thick black liquid poured across the floor.
Pavel shouted:
"Move!"
Everyone climbed.
The liquid rose rapidly.
Five centimeters.
Ten.
Twenty.
The chamber filled with fumes.
Lidia coughed.
They reached the corridor.
Then the steel door slammed shut behind them.
Stefan looked back.
"Where's Adrian?"
Pavel turned.
The old man was gone.
"Where did he go?"
Nobody knew.
Then they heard knocking.
From inside the flooded chamber.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Lidia stared at the door.
"He wants us to open it."
Pavel shook his head.
"No."
The knocking continued.
Stefan whispered:
"Mother."
She looked at him.
"Do not open that door."
"Why?"
"Because Adrian doesn't knock."
The knocking stopped.
For several seconds there was silence.
Then the voice came through.
Not Adrian's voice.
Not anyone's voice.
A child's voice.
"Mom?"
Lidia froze.
Stefan stepped back.
The little girl from the rescue room began crying.
She recognized the voice.
"That's my brother."
"Your brother is dead," the older woman whispered.
The girl shook her head.
"No."
The voice came again.
"Please let me out."
Pavel looked at Lidia.
"What is happening?"
Lidia's face became empty.
"That is how it begins."
"What?"
"They imitate people."
"Who?"
Lidia didn't answer.
Then the lights went out again.
Something touched Pavel's shoulder.
He spun around.
Nobody there.
Then a whisper came from behind his ear.
"Inspector..."
Pavel froze.
The voice sounded exactly like his dead mother.
"Open the door."
He didn't move.
Another whisper.
Closer.
"You left me alone."
Pavel's eyes filled with tears.
Stefan shouted:
"Don't listen!"
The lights returned.
Pavel looked down.
A bloody handprint covered his shoulder.
But no one had touched him.
Then they heard footsteps behind them.
Human footsteps.
A crowd.
Coming up the stairs.
Stefan looked at the others.
"We have to run."
"Who is coming?"
May you like
Stefan's answer was barely audible.
"The people who have been dead for thirty years."
