Armageddon 2309 (The W-files)

Chapter 28

As Rio inched closer to the window, he peered inside the cottage. The interior was simple yet functional, much like the one he had seen earlier. A table stood in the center of the room, around which the three men were seated.

Man 1, the instigator of the plan to leave, sat with a stern expression, his eyes darting around the room as if expecting trouble. Man 2, a bald individual, seemed to be the most agitated of the group. He wasted no time in gulping down the whiskey that Man 3, a more reserved man with a thoughtful look, poured for him.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, with the men exchanging few words but their body language speaking volumes. Rio knew he had to be careful not to be spotted as he continued to observe their movements.

As Rio watched, the tension in the room escalated. Man 1 slammed his fist on the table, causing the glasses to rattle. He pointed towards the door, his voice filled with determination.

"We're leaving, and no one is going to stop us," he declared, his voice loud and commanding.

Man 2 nodded eagerly, his bald head gleaming in the dim light. "We can't stay here any longer. It's not safe."

Man 3, however, remained silent, his gaze fixed on the table. He seemed conflicted, torn between loyalty to the group and a sense of duty.

Rio could sense the urgency in their voices.

Man 1 slumped in his chair, exhaustion etched on his face. "I'm fed up with this life, always grounded, constantly having my blood drawn, and transforming into a monster. It's unbearable."

Man 3, the most composed of the three, leaned forward. "We must approach this with caution. While I share your desire to leave, we require the medicine from the doctor to manage our condition. Running off impulsively could be disastrous."

Man 2, his bald head gleaming under the dim light, slammed his glass on the table. "I'd rather meet my end than remain trapped in this place. We need to escape, now!"

Man 2's voice dripped with resentment. "I didn't sign up for this. The company brought us here, treating us like lab rats, and now expects us to be grateful for scraps of life."

Man 3, his tone more composed, countered, "We can't change the past. The company is our lifeline. Without their medicine, we're doomed. We must cooperate if we want to survive."

Man 1's voice was tinged with regret. "I was practically forced onto that plane. If it weren't for my wife insisting I come to her birthday, I would never have been on that flight. Then I wouldn't have vanished along with everyone else."

Man 3 nodded in understanding. "We all had our reasons for being on that plane. Now, we're all here, in this time. We've had to adjust to the radiation and the atmosphere of this era to survive."

The confirmation of their identities as passengers missing for three hundred years sent a chill down Rio's spine. He watched them closely, trying to understand their dynamics and the mystery surrounding Batho's uniqueness among them. As the men grumbled and drank, Rio's mind raced with questions.

Why was Batho different? What set him apart from the others?

The men's discontent with their current lives hinted at a deeper, unresolved issue—one that Rio was determined to uncover. The flickering light from the cottage cast eerie shadows, enhancing the mysterious atmosphere of the night.

As Rio's eyes darted between the men inside the cottage, a creeping sense of unease settled over him. His instincts warned him of impending danger, but before he could react, a looming shadow enveloped him from behind. A swift, brutal blow struck the back of his head, sending waves of excruciating pain radiating through his skull. His vision swirled and dimmed, swallowing him in a deep, engulfing darkness.