After the events of the previous night, John tried to fall asleep, but sleep did not come. The gates to the world where reality weakens remained closed. Instead of peace, a nightmare surrounded him. Morpheus did not let him into his realm, but neither did John return to reality. He found himself on the border. A strange place — the border. There are no dreams, but thoughts live. Stories do not come to life, but demons, lurking in the depths of the mind, awaken. This place is not reality, but neither is it a dream. It's something else.
John stood at the edge of an abyss, his feet sinking into thick, viscous darkness, as if the very matter trembled under his weight, like quicksand. Up and down vanished, reality cracked — if it even existed there. Fear overwhelmed the Wanderer. He couldn't understand where he was. The laws of the world were broken, yet everything around him felt so real — he could feel the firmness of his skin as he clenched his fists.
Behind him, spotlights flared, burning through the surrounding darkness with a bright light. John turned, but the light was too far. The darkness consumed him again, despite the pain from the light. Somewhere in the distance, lightning flashed, and thunder began to roll. A storm, full of uncertainty, was rapidly approaching. John tried to take a step towards the light, but his legs were stuck in the darkness. He summoned all his strength, but the darkness continued to hold him, gradually consuming him. Suddenly, the light began to flicker. The Wanderer stretched out his hand, trying to reach the vanishing light, but noticed his body was already half-submerged in the darkness. He screamed, but the storm drowned out his voice. One by one, the spotlights began to go out. John could feel the wind tossing his hair, but he couldn't break free.
The last spotlight went out. The darkness swallowed him whole. He kept screaming, but could no longer hear his own voice. His hands were bound. The darkness penetrated his skull as if trying to reach the deepest parts of his mind, where the last barrier before absolute darkness remained.
John jerked awake. Alexa was standing over him, her hand on his shoulder.
"Are you okay?" she asked, looking worried. "You were groaning in your sleep, as if you were trying to wake up but couldn't."
"Just a nightmare," he replied, glancing at the window.
The train sped through the scorched wasteland, the ruins of cities and settlements flashing by. The crimson sun illuminated the land.
"Are we on the move again?" John asked, still feeling like he was on the edge between dream and reality. It felt like he had slept for too long and missed something important. "
Yes," Samantha answered, peering from behind Alexa. "Amanda started the train a few hours ago. We all woke up, but you were sleeping so deeply she decided to give you a couple more hours. But then... nightmare"
"Something's wrong with the train. We've slowed down, so our journey will be delayed by two or three hours," Alexa sat across from him.
"Here, take this," James, sitting across, tossed John a snack bar and a bottle of water.
"What's wrong with the train?" John unwrapped the bar labeled "Sunrise," realizing he hadn't eaten one in years.
"Our captain didn't bother to tell us," James replied, lounging in his seat.
"Then it's nothing serious," Samantha interjected.
"There are no minor problems in the wasteland," John countered.
"What worries me most is how we'll get back," Alexa frowned, her voice full of concern. "The Hawk is gone, and this train is barely holding together."
"I'm sure we'll figure something out," Samantha replied. "After all, there should be something left of the cities around the Cradle."
"But time is running out," Alexa said, looking at John.
"What do you think?" John couldn't stop thinking about the Hawk that had flown over the train. It couldn't be a coincidence. Amanda had promised to tell them more about the spires, but right now she was focused on controlling the train.
"I'll ask Amanda," John said slowly, not taking his eyes off the door to the conductor's cabin.
"About what?" Alexa touched his shoulder again.
"What's wrong with the train," he replied, getting up and heading to the cabin without waiting for more questions.
Inside the cabin, Amanda and Manuel were seated. Manuel glanced at John, but Amanda continued to watch the desert through the cracked windshield. The wind played with her hair, and her eyes were glued to the radar readings.
"Do you see that?" Amanda shouted. Manuel stood up, directing his gaze out the window. "It's there again."
"What's going on?" John stepped forward.
"Come and see for yourself," Amanda said, nodding towards the window.
John approached and saw a structure in the distance, towering dozens of meters above the desert. Around it, pieces of debris floated as if in zero gravity.
"What is that?" he began to ask, but Amanda interrupted:
"Another spire."
"Is that it?" John frowned.
"Yes," Amanda confirmed, pointing at the radar. "See? There are a lot of Convergences, right near the spire. The gravitational anomaly is also present."
"How did they set it up? And why?" Manuel asked thoughtfully.
"Who are 'they'?" John asked.
"The ones who flew over the train last night," Amanda mused. "They had a lot of weapons at the depot. More than regular marauders."
"Do you think it's connected?" John tried to understand. "Maybe it's just another Council project? Something they built before the collapse?"
"No," Amanda shook her head. "The Third District is under quarantine. And these spires look new."
"What do we do now?" John asked.
"The plan remains the same," Amanda lit a cigarette. "Get to the Cradle's ruins, retrieve the energy disk, and return."
"And will the train hold up on the way back?" John knocked on the train's frame.
"It should," she replied. "If not, there should be Ethers or Hawks in the hangars."
John looked at Amanda, wondering how the wasteland had changed her. He tried to imagine what she had been like before the collapse, and what feelings she had lost. "Sergey and Ivan..." he thought. Were they friends or just people with shared interests? It didn't matter. They were dead, and the Third District had taken them — once a home, now a dead wasteland.
"Will we arrive soon?" John asked, leaning against the door, feeling the tension grow.
"According to the maps, in two hours," Amanda replied, her eyes never leaving the instruments.
John nodded and left the cabin. Returning to his seat, he glanced at the shattered window — the void seemed to be following them. The Wanderer sat down again but didn't listen to the others' conversations. In his ears, only the hum of the magnetic field and the wind resonated. In two hours, the train would stop, and the final part of their journey into the dead lands would begin.