Chapter no.21

1:02 AM

After walking a few blocks away from the museum, he begins to catch a whiff of the odour. As he begins to feel the light and warmth reaching his eyes, he realises that what he had previously believed to be dark clouds over a night sky are actually plumes of smoke. His attempt to run degenerates into a stumble, which brings him to his knees. In the blaze that is currently erupting from each and every window, he has lost any and all hope of ever making it to a phone in the Pokémon Center.

"Wh-wha..."

When Roark turns around, he discovers that he is not the only one experiencing this loss. Several people move forward one step at a time in the direction of the pyre that is behind him, carrying battered and lifeless figures. They are all looking at him, and each of them has the same expression in their eyes as the others. Their eyes glimmer with a mixture of fear and hope, and even though they don't move their lips, he can still hear their whispers as they draw closer to him, asking him why this is happening and what they should do about it.

He does not have an answer for them, and there is nothing that can make up for what they have just seen. As he rises to his feet and turns his back on the flames, he is unable to find any words that will appease the angry mob. He hacks up some mucus in his throat before continuing.

"Does anybody have access to a telephone?"

12:39 AM

The property damage caused by the Aerodactyl a few months ago cost the mining museum an excessive amount of their funding, and it set them back several months in terms of their progress. Because of what happened, the containment dome that was used to house the prehistoric Pokémon had been upgraded in order to prevent a similar catastrophe from happening again. His Rampardos had even assisted in the testing of its tenacity by attacking it for what seemed like hours without having any effect.

Roark comes across the shattered pieces of that very same containment dome, which are strewn about the path leading up to the museum entrance. This memory comes to him at the same time that he sees those pieces. His mind initially refused to make the connection between the two. The fact, however, cannot be refuted that shards of reinforced material are associated with the enormous gaping hole that can be found close to the summit of the dome. As Roark bursts through the front door and rockets up the stairs, he almost knocks the doors right off their hinges. There is evidence that the fluorescent lighting in the facility is still active. The empty corridors that branch off into the various sections of the building are flanked on both sides by rows of doors.

The secretary who used to work at the front desk has long since left. However, given how late it is, he is not at all surprised by the news. After the scanner at each door has read his keycard, it will automatically open the door for him with a whirring click. Access has never been a problem for Roark, which is especially noteworthy when one considers that it is due to his efforts at the mines that the museum was able to collect sufficient specimens to construct a biodome.

He navigates through a series of halls; the sounds of his footfalls feel as though they were rebounding off the walls and straight back into his ears. It is strictly prohibited for him to run through the facility at any time. Because of the amount of noise he was making, he is beginning to understand why the rule in question was implemented. As he makes his way through the empty corridor, he becomes aware of a sound that creeps up on him in the midst of his pounding steps. With each door that he opens, he exposes a new component of the ambient noise. It isn't until he opens the very last door and pauses to listen to the sound that he realises what it is, and he instantly regrets having done so.

The screams coming from the scientists working in the facility are the only thing that can be muffled now, and all he can hear is his own heart beating.

Suddenly, one of the screams in the choir is cut off, and it is replaced by a gurgle and the sound of something splattering against the wall. A few metres in front of him, there was a pool of blood that was inching its way along the floor of the hallway. Roark eases the door shut as he gradually moves backwards, his hand clamped around the doorknob like a vice as he did so. He clenches his teeth and holds his breath as he silently prays that the whirring and clicking sound of the door locking won't give him away.

The key card trembles so much in his hand that the scanner is unable to read it, so it prompts him to give it another shot. When he tried to read it for the third time, the scanner finally worked, but only because his free hand had been wrapped around his wrist so tightly that it had started to turn pale from a lack of blood.

When he is almost through the door to the hallway, he hears a metallic screech coming from behind him, which causes him to stumble. Roark takes a chance and gives the door to the slaughterhouse-turned-laboratory a quick glance, which is when he notices what appears to be a piece of bone protruding from the metal. The blade made of bone makes a jerking motion forward, which deepens the wound and gains a few centimetres of purchase before gradually retracing its steps. As soon as the scythe begins to pull back, the door begins to quietly close behind him.