Page 120 of Immersed
“A security office,”Levi responded as he pulled out the journal and the blueprints. The security office seemed to be in the same location asthe Administrative Assistant Offices.“What’s your status? Is everyone with you?”
More static, then:“Just me and—Elliot—haven’t seen—others. Maddie and Tyler—”
“What about Owen and Zoe?”Levi asked.
“Who?”Jasper’s voice crackled through the static.
Levi exchanged a glance with Asher, whose expression remained neutral.“Never mind,”he replied.“Stay where you are. We’ll try to find you.”
He set the radio down, a cold weight settling in his stomach.“They don’t remember Owen and Zoe,”he said.“Did they not come back?”
“I guess not,”Asher shrugged. “That’s definitely new, though. I’ve killed them a lot, and they were always back camping the next day.”
They’re dying permanently? Why? Did we mess something up?
“Look,”Asher said, pointing to one of the monitors.“There.”
The screen showed what appeared to be a corridor in the same area they were in with two figures movingcautiouslythrough the frame.
Maddie and Tyler were alive and seemingly unharmed.
“And there’s Jasper and Elliot,”Levi noted, spotting them on another monitor. They were in what looked like a waiting area, examining a directory on the wall.
“So we have a choice,”Asher said, moving to stand behind Levi. “We can waste time finding the others, herding them together like sheep... or we can go for the key.”
His hands settled on Levi’s shoulders, thumbs pressing into the tense muscles at the base of his neck.Levi would have told him to back off, but the pressure felt nice.
“The others slow us down,”Asher continued, voice soft but insistent.“They dieanyway. They distract you from what matters.”
“And what matters?” he asked, somewhat breathless as Asher’s thumbs worked gentle circles into Levi’s skin.
“Us.”
Levi wanted to argue, to insist they find the others first. But images of Owen and Zoe flashed through his mind—Owen’s terrified face as he fell through the trap door, Zoe begging for release from her suffering. Had trying to save them been worth it? Had it accomplished anything beyond prolonging their pain?
“Fine,”he said, the decision leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.“We go for the key.”
Asher pressed a kiss to the top of his head.“Good boy,”he said.“You’re learning.”
Levi wasn’t sure he liked what he was learning.
The corridors of the administrative areas were different from the rest of the sanitarium—wider, with higher ceilings and more ornate detailing. The walls were paneled in dark wood rather than institutional tile, the floors covered in faded carpeting that muffled their footsteps. Brass light fixtures cast pools of warm illumination at regular intervals, a stark contrast to the rest of the building.
“This is where the money was,”Asher observed, trailing his fingers along the wood paneling.“Where the administrators kept themselves comfortable while the patients suffered.”
They movedcautiously, consulting both Faine’s journal and the sanitarium blueprint to navigate the unfamiliar layout. The building seemed calmer here, lessactivelyhostile. No grinding emanated fromwithin the walls, no subtle shifts in the corridors’ configurations. It was almost peaceful, if not for the oppressive silence and the lingering scent of dust and decay.
“Something’s wrong,”Levi said after they turned down yet another corridor that lookedexactlylike the previous one.“This doesn’t match the blueprint. This passage should connect to the main hallway, but it just... ends.”
The corridor terminated in a blank wall where a doorway should have been. Not a recent change—the paneling was continuous, the baseboard unbroken. It had always been this way, at least in this version of reality.
“Zoe and Owen are gone now. Maybe the building is different from the blueprints now?” Asher wondered aloud. “It could be possible since we’re the only ones who remember certain things, maybe the building forgets, too.”
“But why us?”Levi pressed.“Why do we remember when they don’t?”
Asher shrugged.“Because that’s how it works.”
That’s how it is for you. This isn’t reality.
