Chapter 32 Subway Tunnels

The morning light filtered through the cracks in the abandoned building where the group had taken shelter for the night. The rain had finally stopped, but the world outside was far from peaceful. The distant sounds of crystalline vines shifting and growing was a constant reminder of the danger that surrounded them.

Shujinko was the first to wake, his hand instinctively reaching for the metal vial tucked safely in his bag. He glanced at the others—Makiko, Akarui, and Shachiku—still asleep. Ichiban was still standing by the window, staring out at the horizon. The weight of their mission pressed heavily on his chest, but he pushed the fear aside. They had a job to do.

“Hey,” he said softly, shaking Makiko’s shoulder. 

“Time to get up. We need to move.”

Makiko groaned, rubbing her eyes as she sat up.

  “Ugh, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Did anyone else hear those vines moving all night? I was so scared. I could barely get any sleep.”

Akarui stirred, his expression grim. 

“Yeah, I get what you mean. And yeah, they are getting closer. We can’t stay here any longer.”

Shachiku was already on his feet, his briefcase in hand.

  "Let's get moving. The ocean isn't far in a straight line, but with the city in ruins and who-knows-what lurking in the streets, we’ll never make it in time with a car." 

He tapped his fingers against the side of his briefcase, thinking aloud.

"We need something fast—something that can bypass the wreckage. A helicopter would be ideal, but unless one just happens to be lying around... Point is, we need fast wheels or rotors if we're getting to the coast before it's too late. Either way, we’re not dying today. Not when we’re this close."

Akarui's eyes suddenly lit up as an idea struck him.

  "Wait—the emergency response depot at the airport! The military used it as a staging ground when Helios-9 went silent. There might still be a working bird there, or at least something we can hotwire. If we cut through the subway tunnels, we can avoid the worst of the streets. It’s risky, but it’s our best shot."

The group gathered their belongings and stepped outside, the morning air cool and damp. The streets were eerily quiet, the usual sounds of life replaced by the occasional creak and groan of crystalline structures shifting in the distance. They made their way to the car.

The subway tunnels were a nightmare given form.

The moment they descended into the darkness, the stench hit them—thick and metallic, the air heavy with the cloying sweetness of decaying flesh mingled with something sharper, like ozone and burning stone. The walls glistened unnaturally, not with moisture, but with a slick, pulsating film of half-melted crystal. It crept along the concrete like veins, throbbing faintly with an eerie, bloody light.

And then there were the bodies.

Or what was left of them.

People—or what had once been people—were fused into the walls, their limbs twisted and elongated, their faces frozen in silent screams as their flesh slowly dissolved into jagged blood red crystal formations. Some were still twitching, fingers curling like broken branches, their mouths stretched wide in soundless agony. The tunnel seemed to breathe around them, the crystals pulsing as if feeding on the remnants of life still trapped within.

Makiko gagged, pressing a hand to her mouth.

  "Oh my God… they’re still alive in there, aren’t they?"

Akarui’s jaw tightened.

"Don’t look. Just keep moving. We can't help them, no one can at this point."

Shujinko stayed close to Ichiban, his every instinct screaming at him to shield her from the horror around them. 

"Why aren’t they attacking us?" he whispered, eyes darting into the blackness beyond their flickering flashlight. The growls and skittering clicks of unseen creatures echoed from every direction, but nothing emerged from the shadows.

  "They’re everywhere… but they’re staying back."

Ichiban’s fingers gently brushed against a nearby crystal formation.

  "It’s not you they’re avoiding," she whispered to herself. 

"The crystallization... it is not a disease. It's a kind of... ecosystem," she began, her eyes distant, as if recalling something she shouldn’t know.

  "The creatures it creates aren’t mindless. They’re drawn to certain frequencies of the beings, repelled by others. The cure I made, it disrupts their connection to the hivemind. To them, it’s like... static. A wrongness in the signal."

Makiko frowned.

  "Hey! Look! I'm not a nerd like you and Shujinko, okay? I don't really get what you are saying.  Are you trying to say these freaks not attacking because they can’t see us or something?"

Ichiban's lips twitched—not quite a smile. 

"No. They see us. They just don’t recognize us as prey right now. The cure emits a resonance that masks our presence. To them, we’re just... shadows. Or perhaps something worse."

Shujinko stared at her, uneasy. 

"Worse?"

She met his gaze.

  "Everything in this world has a predator, Shujinko. Even monsters."

A beat of silence. Then Shachiku let out a strained chuckle. 

"Well, that’s horrifying. But hey, if it keeps us alive, I’ll take it."

Ichiban's voice dropped to a low, urgent murmur as she turned to face the group.

  "Just stay close. And whatever you do... don’t touch the crystals. Listen carefully. Do not touch the crystals. Not even with gloves. Not even if they look dead."

Makiko asked, "Why? What happens if we do?"

"The crystallization isn't just spreading through water or through bites," she said slowly, choosing her words with eerie tone.

  "It's... contagious on a molecular level. The second it makes contact with living tissue, it recognizes you. It mutates."

Shujinko swallowed hard. 

"You mean... one touch could infect us?"

Ichiban didn't blink.

 "Worse. It doesn't just infect you. It rewrites you." Her voice grew quieter, almost haunted.

  "The people fused into the walls back there. They weren’t attacked. They brushed against the wrong surface. And now, they are just a nourishment for Sylvaxs."

Shachiku took an involuntary step back from the nearest crystal formation. 

"Whoooh! So, if we so much as graze one of these things—"

"—you become part of the hive," Ichiban finished.

  "Your body goes first. It starts small—a numbness in your fingertips, a shimmer under the skin. Then the veins darken. Your joints lock. You’ll feel it growing inside you, like frost creeping through your bones."

She tilted her head, her glossy eyes catching the sickly glow of the crystals around them.

  "Then the pain starts. Not the sharp kind. Slow. Deep. Like your cells are being unmade. Your skin splits in places. Not bleeding—crystallizing. You’ll see it spreading. Hear it. A sound like glass grinding against your teeth from the inside."

Makiko’s breath hitched. Shujinko looked like he might be sick.

Ichiban continued, "Your mind goes next. The neural disruption. Synapses misfire. Memories fragment. The infected report auditory hallucinations—a distant hum, like radio static between stations. The hive whispers to you. At first, it’s just… static. Then words. Then hunger. You’ll forget faces. Names. Why you ever feared this in the first place. Some claim to hear whispers in it. Others describe it as... comforting."

Shujinko shifted uneasily. 

"Comforting?"

"The mind seeks patterns," Ichiban continued, her tone detached. 

"When faced with incomprehensible stimuli, it constructs narratives to cope. Victims often describe euphoric states in late-stage infection. A sense of... belonging."

She paused, then added carefully, "The technical term is 'xenopathic assimilation syndrome.'"

Makiko's eyes narrowed.

  "That's awfully specific terminology for something that just appeared recent."

Ichiban's smile faded. 

"Oh no, not recent. I've been studying crystallization since the first outbreaks. The patterns were always there."

She turned toward the tunnel's exit, the crimson light casting angular shadows across her face.

  "The important thing to remember is that contact is irreversible. Once the process begins, there is no 'you' left to save."

Then, almost too softly to hear, Ichiban added, "So watch your step. And whatever you do... don't let it in." 

Her own hands, hidden in her sleeves, were trembling—not with fear, but with the effort of restraint. The crystals called to her. And she was lying. The creatures weren’t staying away because of the cure.

They were staying away because of her.