2. The Departure
An invisible fear suddenly overwhelmed me. As if by instinct, I rushed out of the house, my feet slipping on the wet tiles. A chill ran down my spine—I didn't dare look back. I just kept my head down and hurried toward the alley leading to the main road.
"What the hell did I just witness?" I thought, wiping my sweat-drenched palms on my pants. They were soaked from the rain, clinging to my skin like a second layer of flesh.
I felt as though I was facing a real threat—something formless, nameless, but undeniably present. Something that made it impossible to tell what was real anymore. The streetlights around me flickered nonstop, blinking like eyes watching me.
I tried to calm myself. Probably just a power surge. This neighborhood was still part of the old alley system, and I lived here partly because… well, I was cheap. I'd never seriously considered living in a fancy apartment or buying a house on some glamorous avenue. Sure, the location was close enough to work, but the infrastructure here was clearly falling apart.
People assume doctors—especially neurosurgeons—must live lavishly. But in my case—with no connections, no "extra income," and living off base salary alone—surviving in central Brooklyn felt like a blood-soaked war. After a surgical error led to a patient's death, I was now facing lawsuits and the possibility of losing my license. By then, I was no different from a failure. A walking corpse.
I made it to the main road. The rain was still pouring down in sheets. The street was dead silent. But so silent that not a single soul was around? That was strange—after all, the storm had been raging for hours. It should've eased up enough for people to be out by now.
I had just pulled out my phone to call an Uber when a taxi appeared out of nowhere, flashed its headlights twice, and pulled over right in front of me.
Without hesitation, I got in and said:— "90 Kent Avenue. Sky Building."
The taxi began to move. Inside, it was dim. The scent of old leather seats mixed with rain, metal, and something… familiar. On the way, my heart pounded wildly. My mind played an endless reel: the things that had happened, the things that couldn't have happened, and the face of my son—whom I thought was dead.
Suddenly, the driver spoke:— "There's no need to worry. You've been chosen. Cheer up. Your life is about to turn a new page."
I jumped:
— "What? What did you say?"
The driver didn't look back. He replied calmly:— "I just meant, you should be happy. Some people spend their entire lives without ever getting this chance. The time makes the man. You're quite lucky."
I swallowed hard, my throat dry and bitter:— "Are you… one of them?"
— "Them?" He let out a short laugh. "Who do you mean? The entire world?"
— "I mean some kind of organization. Underground. Illegal. Transnational?"
— "It would be illegal… if you choose to look at it that way." He smirked. "But think about it: if most of our members are successful entrepreneurs, high-level politicians, influential figures... then is the truth really the truth anymore?"
— "I don't understand." I lowered my head, avoiding the rearview mirror.
— "We rarely recruit anyone in the medical field. Especially at a sensitive time like this… Truly, you're a rare piece."
— "What do you want me to do?"
— "Become a particle of our system."
— "And what do I get?"
— "Everything," he said lightly, like a breeze. "Including your son."
I choked:
— "And what do I lose?"
— "Nothing. Well… maybe a little something. But it's a bit… abstract."
— "What do you mean?" I frowned.
— "If you're a hedonist, a materialist, or an atheist—then there's really nothing to worry about. But if you're religious, if you believe in something… then I suggest you think twice."
— "Please, be more specific."
— "Sorry... I can only speak within the limits of my authority."
— "What if I refuse?"
— "Five miles ahead, there's an intersection. When we get there, an accident will occur—if we haven't yet witnessed it, then the choice is still yours. Refuse? I'll take you home. This meeting never happened."
I fell silent for a long time.
— "And my son?"
— "If this meeting never happened… then the same goes for him. No resurrection. No miracle. Nothing."
★
I don't know when I drifted off. A loud crash in the distance snapped me awake.
I looked out the window. Sure enough, there had been an accident: the front of a container truck was crushed, and a van lay overturned, flames licking up from its side at the intersection.
A man was crawling out of the wrecked van. He was covered in blood, his whole body trembling, staggering.
— "He's still alive! I have to call 911!"
— "You can't." The driver's voice was soft, almost a whisper. "This area's signal has already been cut. Besides… he volunteered. Letting him die is the right thing to do."
— "What the hell are you saying?" I was horrified.
— "What I mean is… congratulations. You've passed the preliminary round."
I froze.
— "From this moment forward, you've set one foot on the boat and can be considered one of us. There's no turning back," he said.
— "So we're just going to let that man die?"
— "You die, I live. Or vice versa. That's the law of exchange. If you insist on playing the hero—use this to decide." The driver reached into the glove compartment and handed me a revolver without turning around. "No one's stupid enough to sacrifice their life for a stranger."
I went rigid. Cold sweat soaked my back. The air inside the car was thick—like frozen fog.
A moment later, the car pulled over. The driver handed me a briefcase.
— "We've arrived. Inside is a suit. Go into the lobby, ask the receptionist where to change, and take the elevator to the 4th floor. Someone will escort you to meet the Elders for the 'Departure' ritual."
The door popped open. Cold rain slapped me in the face like a warning.
I stepped out. Just then, another car passed by in the opposite lane, its headlights sweeping across the taxi. For a brief moment, as the light hit the glass, I saw the driver's face clearly.
He looked… like me. But older.
I stood there, stunned.
The driver gave me a faint smile. "Good luck."
The car rolled away, disappearing into the rain.
What the hell is going on?
I took a deep breath, forced myself to walk into the building lobby. Raindrops, heavy as lead, rolled down my spine.