This story is by Koa Zan and was part of our 2025 Fall Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
The holy city hid its hospital far away to keep citizens safe.
That’s what Dr. Tobias said as the elevator descended. But placing the hospital this deep underground is unnecessary.
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” I said. “What if someone needed rescue?”
Dr. Tobias shook his head. “Jophiel, no one here’s worth saving. Worry more about the ones waiting for us back at camp. They’re counting on us for the medical supplies.”
I wanted to ask what he meant by “worth saving”, but the elevator doors opened and the older fellow was already ahead of me.
We entered a long hallway, watching our step so we wouldn’t trip over the uneven ground. The lanterns flickered. The glowing wisps inside them resembled human faces.
Rows of furnaces lined the hallway’s other end, each one big enough to fit me. Did they contain corpses?
I hoped Dr. Tobias would say something about them.
But he just pulled me and told me I was going the wrong way. “Stop dawdling.”
Below a sign that read PHARMACY / LIBRARY, we entered the room to the left.
The old man handed me a record. “Go to the room across from here. There’s a gramophone. Use it to play this choir music. It’ll help stop the monsters from approaching us.” He put his backpack down and opened it. “I’ll get the medicine.”
I went to the other room. There was already a record inside the gramophone, titled “Lesson 665: Harvesting Essence for Immortality.”
I let it play.
First, there was static. Then, a precise, gritted sound, like chalk scratching bone. A saw whirred to life, and a child cried, muffled.
Someone much older spoke. His cadence was proud, yet hollow. “Allow the saw to warm up to ensure smooth operation. You’ll know it’s ready to cut when the light turns green. Taping the subject’s mouth and restraining them also helps. Annoying to do, but it’s better than wasting anesthesia. When you’re ready, position your saw on the stomach—”
“Turn that off.”
Dr. Tobias towered over me with his piercing gold eyes.
“Was that you in the recording?” I said. “It sounded like you—”
“Child! Don’t make me do everything myself.” He swapped the record for the one I held and lowered the needle.
“You told me you saved people.”
“Only those who mattered.”
The gramophone stopped playing. Dr. Tobias grunted and looked for the source of the malfunction. “Don’t tell me this one’s busted.”
“How come you didn’t save everyone?”
“Higher-ups’ orders. I did only what I was told. Now stop asking questions and listen to me—”
A scream echoed in the distance. He glared at me. “Damn it, this is your fault.”
Dr. Tobias shoved the bag of medical supplies onto my back. We bolted out the door. The darkness, now alive and more of a thick liquid, rushed behind us.
“Focus, child!”
I got in front of him and pushed him hard. He fell backwards into the shadows’ tendrils.
I kept running until I got to the elevator.
The doctor emerged from around the corner. “You brat! Don’t you dare—”
Before the elevators closed, the darkness dragged him away.
When I reached the top, I exhaled the breath I’d been holding for too long.
I’ll just tell the survivors in the camp that Dr. Tobias died protecting me.
Leave a Reply