The prison walls shimmered, turning a heavenly white.

  “Caleb…” a voice whispered. It was neither male nor female, but light and ethereal. “You are surviving.”

  No shit. It’s not like I have a choice.

  At the edge of his vision, angels stood watch with wings outstretched. They were so far away, but their collective voice whispered loud and clear into Caleb’s ear.

  “Survive. Thrive. This world requires a savior. Can you fulfill this task?”

  “Uh… Yes?”

  “You sound unsure.”

  “I am.”

  “You are… ?”

  “Unsure.”

  “To thrive here, you must be certain.”

  Caleb grunted in frustration. “You’ve got to help me then. I’m slow. Weak. These odds are unsurmountable.”

  “They have to be.”

  “Why?”

  “To craft you into what you need to be… the Hell Healer.”

  “What is that?”

  “You, hopefully.”

  Caleb fell silent. It was clear he wasn’t going to be getting much out of them. Their dialogue loop was just that - he was going around in circles.

  “Can I have a health pack or an ink ribbon or something to help me?”

  “Everything you need is on the path.”

  Dark brown infected the perfect white of the world, and Caleb was back in his cell.

  Not very helpful, he thought, although in actuality it calmed him to know that the angels were still watching. I haven’t been left to die here. They can intervene. More than that, they want me to succeed.

  What if this whole survival world was just the tutorial? And if it is, what the hell does the game look like on standard difficulty?

  He pushed the thought out of his mind and returned to the task ahead. He had to regroup with the others.

  Sporadic flames lit the narrow hallways of the jail. Each cell, like Caleb's, was entirely unfurnished. Even the bed was just a block of stone.

  It was almost impossible to see into each cell without the light of a torch. Caleb was lucky with his cell’s placement, but others were shrouded completely in darkness.

  I guess I’m the special one.

  Quickly moving away from the rabid and imprisoned cvltist, Caleb whispered into the darkness.

  “Kayleigh?”

  He waited, listening intently for an answer. Although the cells seemed well-insulated, there was a celebration upstairs. Cutlery clattered amid roars of laughter.

  Caleb started down the hallway to the right of his cell, then second-guessed himself.

  “Oliver?” he whispered.

  “Johnson? Dave?”

  Where the hell was everyone?

  The healthier cvltist appeared at the end of the hallway, brandishing a torch.

  “Gregor? Is that you?” The cvltist squinted into the darkness.

  Caleb realised he was practically invisible.

  “Jonas!” Gregor called out from the cell. “The prisoner got out! He’s free! Be careful. He locked me in his cell.”

  “Oh, shit!” Jonas turned and ran in the opposite direction.

  Wait. thought Caleb. Is this guy scared of me? For the first time, I have the upper hand.

  “Stop!” Caleb commanded. The man froze. “I can feel myself changing…” Caleb lied. “But I can still think for now.”

  Jonas wavered on the spot. He eyed the path behind him.

  “If you help me now, I can spare you when I finally make the change.”

  Jonas smiled, which quickly broke into a full-blown guffaw. “You won’t.” he said, then fled down the hallway.

  “Wait!” shrieked Gregor. “Don’t leave me down here!” Then, quieter, as if he spoke from experience, “You won’t come back…”

  They don’t fear for their lives. Caleb slapped himself in the head. They’re already dead.

  With no other indication of where to turn, he decided to head towards civilization. He grabbed a torch from its holder and headed after Jonas.

  He willed his body as fast as it could move, and for once it complied in a reasonable time. He felt himself getting stronger, super-charged by the neon filth running through his veins. Movement was still heavy, he lurched and stumbled and lumbered, but it was quicker to respond now.

  Caleb stopped at a corner, where the row of cells led into a small office for the jailers.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  2 Cvltists huddled around a small table. Jonas stood over them, muttering furiously in a sharp-sounding language that Caleb did not recognise. A few empty flagons and blocks of mouldy cheese and hunks of meat lay about the table. They sweat in their robes.

  I can take them now. I know it.

  Caleb burst into the room. He grabbed a flagon and brought it down hard into Jonas’s face. His mouth exploded with shards of yellowed enamel and he fell to the floor - silent.

  One of the cvltists leapt forward. Caleb looked down to see a knife deep in his shoulder. He didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the mysterious green tonic, but he did not feel the expected pain. He ripped the knife out and stuck it through the clvtist’s hood. It was difficult to see exactly where the man’s neck was, but his aim was true. The hood darkened as the man’s neck emptied out into it.

  Caleb too was bleeding. Spurting, actually. Neon green liquid fountained from his shoulder. He clamped his hand over the wound to try to stem the flow, but the pressure was much too great.

  What the hell is this stuff?

  The surviving cvltist watched in horror. “That idiot!” He rushed forward with his hands up. “Let me help you! We can’t lose any more of that stuff! Not now!”

  Caleb was caught unawares by the cvltist’s sudden benevolence. He stalled, dropping the knife.

  The cvltist produced a thick wedge of bandages from under his robe. He efficiently started to wrap Caleb’s wound. Green leaked through the gauze almost immediately.

  “I was a medic, you see.” The cvltist hissed. “Before Ravenswood.”

  “Before Ravenswood? I thought you were all born here.”

  “No. No. Nobody is born here. Many die here. Well, you have to die here.”

  The Cvltist smiled, as if he was talking about the greatest thing in the world. “Then you become a citizen of Ravenswood. But soon you will know much about this, eh?”

  The Cvltist patted his handiwork - a neat lattice of bandages that stemmed the flow of green goo. “Is nice, no?”

  Caleb didn’t understand. “What’s nice?”

  “To not feel pain.”

  The two dead cvltists stirred. Now emptied of blood, the cvltist with the slit neck slowly rose. “Ugh, look at these robes. They’re soaked. It’s impossible to wash these things. Don’t even talk to me about drying it.”

  Fuck. It’s all of them.

  Caleb needed to speak to Johnson. He needed answers.

  “Is he ready for the chamber yet?” Jonas said. “He’s getting strong already…”

  The slit-neck cvltist nodded. “Good as, I’d say. I certainly didn’t manage to escape my cell!”

  Jonas laughed heartily. “No! You were screaming and scratching the entire way.” He changed his voice to a shrill falsetto. “Nooo! My wife! My kids!”

  The slit-neck cvltist slapped his knees and chuckled. “Perspective. That’s certainly something we lack before we become citizens of Ravenswood, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed, my brother.”

  They turned to Caleb. “See? We’re not bad people. And soon you will join us in the brotherhood. Your system is metabolizing the serum nicely. That will make things easier. Remember how slow you used to be? I just don’t know how everybody else lives like that.”

  “Some people prefer to just limp along, survive.” The slit-neck cvltist offered.

  “True that, my brother. Not us though. No, we thrive.”

  That reference to slowness… Caleb hoped these strange zombies had the answers he craved.

  “Did… did you teleport here? Not to Ravenswood, but to this world?”

  The clvtists exchanged worried looks. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course not.”

  “I was born in Janustown.”

  “Squirrel City.”

  Made-up places. Shit.

  He tried a different tack. “Why were you scared of me before?”

  Jonas chuckled. “Scared of you? No. Scared of a failed procedure? Yes. If you’re ready before they put you in the tank, well…”

  He mimed an explosion with his hands. “It’s not too pretty.”

  “The green inside you…” the slit-neck cvltist said, running his fingers up and down the veins in his arms. “It excites the cells. Like popcorn. Your DNA explodes into something new. We need to make sure you’re safely in the microwave when that happens. Metaphorically.”

  Metaphorically? I guess turning into a zombie doesn’t automatically make you stupid.

  A bolt of pain ran through Caleb’s system, snaking from his heart down to all his extremities. He doubled over on the table. Sweat poured from his forehead onto the scarred timber surface.

  Is my sweat green?

  The liquid exuded from Caleb’s pores, but no, it wasn’t sweat. The acid hissed as it bit into the aged wood.

  Jonas and the split-neck clvtist exchanged worried glances. “Shall I go free Gregor?”

  The split-neck cvltist shook his head. “We’re out of time.”

  He grabbed Caleb by the shoulders and forced him to stand. “C’mon, my friend. It’s time.”

  The two men heaved him up and dragged him out through a doorway and into what looked like an underground greenhouse. Caleb wasn’t sure what they were called, but it was the kind of place farmers grew mushrooms.

  Underground. In the dark.

  Patches of earth had been freshly dug in the bare earth. Great custom-made glass cylinders had been placed above each patch, like coffins at a fresh grave site.

  I don’t like the look of this…

  “Where were the people I came with?” Caleb asked.

  “They might be in their cells. They might be in a chamber. They might be enjoying some peace and respite before orientation day. We don’t know. We’ve been tasked with your care, not theirs.”

  Caleb believed them. Another shot of pain ran through his body. He stumbled.

  “Can you still walk?” Jonas asked, pulling him back up yet again. His legs felt like jelly. His whole body poured acid.

  “Fantastic.” A familiar voice filled the room. The Priest. He clapped his hands together. “My latest disciple.” He pulled his massive hood back to reveal a freshly shaved head. In closer inspection, his eyelids and eyebrows were also completely hairless. Caleb looked even closer.

  Even his nostrils…

  “How are you finding the Progenitor Liquid?” A cold chill ran down his spine. He remembered how a single spore had instantly mutated Ryder into an unrecognisable beast.

  That’ll be us soon… Weird how I feel somehow better though…

  “I can tell by your expression - you’re confused.”

  Caleb nodded.

  “You felt so…” The Priest shook his fists, trying to remember the right word. “Unequipped for this world, yes?”

  “There’s a very good reason for that.” The Priest stormed up to Caleb and leant in close. Jonas and the split-neck Cvltist took four big steps back. “When we are born into this world, we are babies. Helpless. We find ourselves in a locked room without the key.”

  Is he talking metaphorically or does he know more?

  “In time, we find the key. We find a way out. More challenges present themselves. Fights. Puzzles. Tests of courage. We grow tired. Where does the struggle end? When will we finally save ourselves?”

  “What do you know?” Caleb trembled now. He could feel the acid bubbling in his veins.

  “And then I enter your life. And you realize that you were never a baby. You were a seed. And all that pain, all that suffering, all that fear, it was like to you what sunlight and water is to a flower.”

  The Priest pushed Caleb towards a plot of earth.

  “And all you needed, all this time, was the right fertilizer.”

  The Priest pushed Caleb into the dirt. The earth swiftly took him, enveloping him in darkness. Caleb fought against the ground, but it was like quicksand. Every particle of earth he displaced was replaced with a hundred more to fill the gap, until he realized that every movement was simply propelling him deeper into the dirt. He tried to cough and the dirt filled his airways. He choked, spluttering. Then came the warmth. His neon blood… acid… whatever it was… mingled with the cold wet dirt to insulate him. A vision of himself as a foetus inexplicably forced itself to the forefront of his mind.

  The last thing Caleb heard before the soil swallowed him whole was the very satisfied-sounding Priest.

  “Consider yourself fertilized.”