«Those Who Follow You»

Chapter 2 — “Those Who Follow You”

The screams did not fade. They were getting closer.

— Open up! — a voice rang out, cutting through the morning air. — I know you’re in there!

A crowd had already gathered at the gates. The residents kept their distance, but did not disperse: some whispered, some gripped their weapons, some simply watched — silent, tense.

On the other side of the gates stood people.

Strangers.

There were not many of them — about thirty. But it was enough. Bones on their shoulders, on their chests, on their weapons. Some were tied with straps, others woven into their clothing. Over them — sheets of metal.

These were not wanderers.

Warriors.

The Bone Camp.

One of them rode forward on horseback. Tall, muscular. His face was gaunt, with a long scar running from his cheek to his forehead, and a thick beard. His eyes were dark, but too alive, almost sick.

He struck the gates with his fist.

— Sarah! — he shouted. — Come out!

— Or I’ll come in myself.

Michael ran out into the street, pulling on his jacket as he moved. He pressed the backpack to himself as if it were the only thing that mattered.

He understood at once — this was not just a quarrel. He quickly reached the wagon, grabbed the loaded crossbow, and headed closer to the crowd.

With every second, the tension grew.

People from the camp were gathering at the gates — with bows, swords, spears. Even those who should have been resting.

— Sarah! I know you’re there! — the voice rang out again. — Or are you afraid to come out?!

Sarah appeared on the wall — fully armed. She stopped at the edge, looking down.

— I thought you wouldn’t come back, Strend, — she said. — I thought you’d died beyond the walls, like an animal.

He smirked.

— Thought… or hoped?

— Lived like an animal. I thought you’d die the same way.

— Come down and say that to my face! — he roared.

His face twisted with rage, his eyes filled with blood.

— This is all your fault! I came to take back what’s mine!

Sarah narrowed her eyes.

— Me? — Sarah asked calmly. — And how is that?

— You took my place! It was mine!

— No, Strend, — she cut him off sharply. — You screwed it up yourself.

The crowd stirred.

— You lost your nerve at the ceremony. You didn’t go into the forest. That was enough.

Strend clenched his fists.

— Bitch… And then you even sent people after me.

— I don’t know what you’re talking about, but we don’t deal with people like that. There’s nothing for you here. Take yours and get lost.

He pulled on the reins, stepping forward.

— I won’t leave it like this.

His voice became lower, more dangerous.

— I didn’t come here for nothing. I’ll cut off everything from you. Not one person will enter. Not one will leave. You’ll sit here without trade, without roads, without people. Until you come out yourself. Until you crawl.

Someone in the crowd cursed.

Sarah did not even blink.

— That won’t happen, Strend. All I can offer you is warm horse piss.

Someone laughed quietly.

— You can sit here until you turn blue. Or until the beasts of Udgal smell you. And if I’m lucky, I’ll take your weapons too. We’ll have use for them.

Torches lit along the walls. It was beginning to grow dark.

Sarah turned around.

— Strengthen the watch! Keep your eyes open!

She went down. Strend was still shouting beyond the gates:

— Sarah! SA-RA!

An hour passed, maybe two. No one dispersed. Darkness settled completely. A heavy, oppressive silence crept toward the camp.

Michael walked in circles, thinking over what to do. At least he still had lodging until morning.

Then suddenly, a young man ran up to him, out of breath.

— I have… from Sarah! — he gasped.

— Speak.

— You need to leave. Now. Through the secret passage.

Michael froze.

— What?

— She remembers your village. Says this will last a long time. I was sent with you — to lead you to the path through the forest.

— Through the forest? Now? In the dark? Without a horse?

The young man nodded, still breathing heavily.

— Yes. There’s a mill in the south of the town. Wait for me there. After this, there won’t be another chance to get out.

Michael did not argue. The decision came by itself faster than he expected. He turned and headed toward the tavern at a quick pace.

At the wagon, he quickly gathered everything necessary: arrows, water, the remaining meat. He took nothing extra.

Then through the town. He moved quickly, but carefully, asking rare passersby for directions. People answered briefly. Fear was visible in their eyes.

When he reached the mill, people had already gathered there.

— Hey, you! Who are they? — Michael called quietly.

— Keep it down… — the young man hissed. — These are healers. They won’t stitch wounds closed, but they’ll get people back on their feet.

He nodded toward the women.

— These ones are young. They haven’t been in battle, but they can stand at the walls. Sarah sent them.

He lowered his voice.

— She hopes you’ll send help later.

— And them? — Michael nodded at the others.

— Traders. Not locals. Sarah doesn’t want unnecessary deaths.

Michael nodded silently.

He crouched a little lower, as if shadow could hide him.

They made their way beyond the walls through an old tunnel. Without light, by touch. The ground underfoot was damp, the air heavy. They walked in silence; only footsteps and breathing could be heard.

— So what started all this? — Michael asked quietly.

— The trial for leadership. He didn’t go into the forest.

Someone behind them snorted.

— Then he broke down. Started drinking. And went after Sarah.

The silence became heavier.

— After that, he was exiled.

No one spoke after that.

Feeling something ahead, the guide stopped. Above them was a wooden hatch covered with earth. With a groan and a scrape, pushing and bracing against anything they could, it finally gave way, and cold fresh air struck from outside at once.

They climbed out.

The forest was dark, dense, pressing in. The crowns of the trees intertwined overhead. Somewhere, an owl hooted; a branch cracked.

— That way. We need to go deeper, — the guide whispered, pointing.

The forest changed. The moon broke through the branches, flooding everything with cold light.

Michael stopped, catching a smell — metal, heavy, familiar.

— Blood…

Screams sounded behind them. Green lights flickered between the trees.

— Khemars…

A little farther away — a steady warm light.

Torches.

People were following them, unhurried.

— Damn… — Michael breathed out and sharply turned to the others.

— It’s not only beasts back there! People too! Run!

They broke forward, no longer hiding. Roars and the crack of branches breathed down their backs.

— Forward! They’re here!

— Don’t let them get away!

The voices grew louder, then quieter. Their strength to run through the forest was running out.

— Is there anywhere ahead to hide?! — Michael shouted while running.

— Yes! — came from behind. — Ruins! The old city!

The voice trembled.

— It’s dangerous there… but no more dangerous than here! There are stone houses — we can hide!

They burst out of the forest.

Before them opened a dead city: rusted cars, grass through asphalt, ruined houses, metal frames.

— Slow down! — shouted the same young man. — The ones with torches are still far away! In the dark, it’s easy to get lost — and then we’re finished.

The moon lit the ruins, but the shadows between them were deeper than in the forest.

One of the healers suddenly cried out. The cry was strange — not loud, but choked, as if fear had escaped on its own.

Michael turned instantly. The crossbow was already in his hands, his finger resting on the trigger. One more second — and he would have fired.

From the outside, it was immediately clear: before them stood not just a trader.

A hunter.

— What’s there?! — he snapped.

— W-we… we can’t go here… — the healer whispered, trembling.

Michael snorted, but did not lower the crossbow right away.

— And why is that?

He continued forward, slowly, cautiously.

— My father told me… he was a hunter, — one of the women began, gathering her strength. — This is the city of our ancestors. Sinful ancestors.

Another picked up:

— The city of iron chariots… and houses of glass and stone. The city of sinners. And their sins are still here.

Michael slowed his step.

— Sins?

— They are guarded, — the first woman said quietly. — The faceless guardians of the god Udgal… and his hounds. The Khemars.

Michael narrowed his eyes.

— Faceless guardians?

One of the young men swallowed nervously.

— After rain, people heard voices here. Music. But there was no one. It came… from the walls, from the poles.

Someone cursed quietly.

— Sometimes light turns on by itself. Without fire, without a candle.

The silence became thicker.

Michael tightened his grip on the crossbow again.

— And you don’t come here because of that?

— We are forbidden, — the healer answered. — We may take only glass and metal. Everything else brings misfortune.

— What kind of misfortune?

— Things that work by themselves… things that glow… — she whispered. — Things that look… alive. If you bring something like that into the camp — they come for it.

— Who?

— Packs of Khemars. And not only them.

In the distance, on a half-ruined building, a light suddenly began to blink. Sharp, uneven. As if something… had heard them.

The group became too quiet. The pounding of hearts seemed louder than their steps.

— We need shelter… — Michael whispered.

A low building stood nearby.

— Here! Quickly! — the guide said, pointing ahead. — Only upstairs!

At the entrance underground hung a rusty sign:

Parking

They went inside. They propped the doors with stones — not reliable, but at least something. Then they moved deeper in, away from the windows. They found a windowless room — an old storage room. Damp, dark, with heavy air.

— We’ll rest… — the guide said quietly. — Wait it out. We can’t move at night. And now — even more so.

No one argued.

Michael sat with his back against the cold wall, but he could not relax. Since the forest, one thought had not let him go.

Someone knew where they were.

— They may have been following me since the camp… — he said quietly.

Several people turned.

— Because of you? — one of the healers frowned. — Did you pick up something… alive? Is that why the light turned on? Has Udgal grown angry?

Irritation could already be heard in her voice.

— No… — Michael shook his head. — I mean something else. Even during the day, I had the feeling someone was watching me.

The guide gave a quiet snort.

— Unlikely… Though… unless Strend’s people were already in town. They could have been watching. Or planning to rob you.

— Maybe…

Michael looked into the darkness.

— But something else worries me more right now… How is it that Khemars are walking beside people and not attacking?

The room grew quieter.

One of the traders shivered.

— I heard… from others. In the Bone Camp, there’s a girl. Young. They say she can control the beasts of Udgal.

Someone cursed quietly.

— I thought those were tall tales. Drunk stories… Would’ve been better if they were. But now it seems they’re not.

The room grew heavier.

Several hours passed.

A howl sounded outside. Close. Several Khemars were running around the building — footsteps, scratching, sudden lunges could be heard. And then — below. From under the basement. A muffled growl and howl, as if the beasts were fighting over something.

But not for long.

From below, another sound remained.

Rustling.

Jerks.

Someone was digging.

Michael slowly rose. The crossbow was in his hands.

— I’ll look…

He began to go down carefully, step by step. Almost no light reached there — only a faint glow seeped from above.

His hand slid along the wall: dampness, cold, the smell of metal.

And then he saw it.

An underground parking lot. Rusted cars. Water underfoot. Drops falling from the ceiling.

Several Khemars were digging — furiously. Metallic dust scattered under their paws. From beneath the rubble came light — warm, golden-orange.

The others stood around, motionless. As if they were being drawn to this place — and at the same time something held them back.

A crack.

Sharp, loud.

Michael had no time to react.

The column collapsed. Dust surged upward — and orange light flooded everything around.

Somewhere in the dark tunnel — wires, pipes, traces of the old world. A faint blinking light.

A red sign:

“Bunker Technical Section.”

An old monitor came to life. The screen shuddered — and lines appeared:

Subject 2 protection process — suspended.

Last activity: 3 years ago.

Subject 1 protection process — suspended.

A sufficient number of nanites for restoration has been detected in Subject 1’s area.

Begin reactivation.

End of Chapter Two.