ENIFLA (3/4)

Akemi and Thomas had planted seedlings until the very end, finishing only after nightfall. They barely made it back to the lab before collapsing and falling asleep in a heap behind the desks.

When they woke, the sun was already high in the sky. 12:04. Oxygen level: 2%. Akemi grabbed the tank, inhaled sharply, and rushed to Thomas — he had nearly slid off his chair onto the floor, but he was breathing. She pulled the mask onto his face and gently patted his cheeks. He stirred grumpily in his sleep, inhaled, then suddenly opened his eyes wide, staring at Akemi.

“We almost suffocated while we slept,” she said with a weary smile. “Come on. Let’s go under the lilac.”

They stepped into the garden and took in the results of their evening’s work. The seedlings they'd planted last night had grown nearly ten centimeters overnight, and the earlier ones had shot up to a meter and a half and were already blooming.

“We don’t even need masks here, do we?” Akemi stepped up to an especially lush bush and inhaled deeply with pleasure. “Come here!”

Thomas joined her. Very close. They looked at each other in silence. For a brief moment, Thomas thought he saw something in Akemi’s eyes — something he hadn’t seen before. Something vibrated in his pocket.

“Phone,” she whispered, her voice unexpectedly quiet, her eyes still fixed on his.

“Yeah,” he checked. “It’s Raifenberg,” Thomas said, surprised.

“What’s he saying?”

“‘SC’... and some login credentials.”

“‘SC’... could that mean ‘Secure Computer’?” Akemi mused.

They exchanged a look and nodded — there was only one such machine in the lab.

“You deal with that. I’ll at least make some tea!”

They stepped out from under the lilac and headed back to the lab. Thomas couldn’t shake the look she had given him. She had the keenest sense for what was truly going on — and the strongest instinct for keeping things normal.

The secure computer was in the conference room — the very place where Thomas and Akemi usually spoke with Raifenberg and the other labs abroad. Thomas already had access; all that remained was to input the credentials Raifenberg had sent.

Raifenberg’s work email opened — but there was only a single message inside.

“What the hell? Has he lost his mind — sending something like this, even via a secure channel…”

Thomas remembered they had nothing left to lose, and opened the message.

Akemi returned with two cans of cold coffee.

“No tea, so… hey, what’ve you got there?”

Thomas silently rolled his chair aside, giving her a clear view of the screen.

She handed him one can, opened her own, took a sip, and leaned over to read.

For a few minutes, Akemi read in silence. The further she got, the wider her eyes became.

“What the hell have you monsters done?” she finally whispered when she finished.

With a snap, Thomas cracked open his can of coffee. The conference room fell quiet.

***

That night, Reinhardt slept under the lilacs. He had brought a folding cot and a warm blanket from the house and made himself comfortable on that small patch of fresh air the overgrown lilac bush provided — without any mask or inhalator. He slept incredibly soundly, and when he awoke, it was already past noon — the sun blazed even through the lilac leaves.

Reinhardt was glad no one had called again, yet at the same time, he felt lonely. He took out his phone — a thought flashed through his mind — maybe he should call one of the kids? But he immediately remembered and shook his head — they hadn’t answered his calls in a long time anyway. No, instead he’d rather…

He got up, folded the cot with the blanket, stepped out from under the lilac bush, and immediately broke into a heavy fit of coughing from the suffocating air. Reinhardt looked at the external monitor — 2%. He rushed into the house, turned on the hyperventilation system, got dressed, put on his mask, grabbed a portable oxygen tank, and headed to the kitchen. He wanted to prepare a few things — just in case.

He brought a small round table under the lilacs — where breathing was easiest — and arranged three chairs around it. He returned to the kitchen, cut some lemon cake, brewed tea, poured it into cups, carried everything outside, and looked around with satisfaction. Now it was ready.

As soon as Reinhardt stepped out past his gate, his eyes fell on the completely deserted street. It seemed that all his neighbors who could leave had already done so — not a single car. Except one. A medical vehicle was parked in front of Frau Brüning’s house, the gates wide open. Two people in white coats and oxygen masks were slowly wheeling out a stretcher, on which lay a body covered by a sheet.

Reinhardt turned away, swallowed the tears rising in his throat, and walked down the street. When he reached Alfred’s house, he rang the bell. No answer. He rang again, waited, and noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. He cautiously stepped inside. The sun-scorched yard that had once been a garden was empty as well. The door into the house stood open too. He grew concerned and knocked.

“Alfred? Maria?”

No response. He hesitated, gathered his courage, and stepped inside.

“I’m coming in!”

Silence.

Reinhardt took off his shoes and quietly entered the living room. The garden door and windows were wide open. The hyperventilation system was turned off. Without a mask, he would have suffocated on the spot.

Alfred and Maria were sitting on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms. On the small table in front of them stood a jar with lilac branches Reinhardt had brought a couple of days ago.

Their heads hung lifelessly, but serene smiles were frozen on their faces.