The Halfway Point

Twelve people went missing in the night and we just sat there with our phones and our bloodshot, bulging eyes. Somewhere they were weeping, pulling away, screaming at cold flesh shadows. This was the halfway point: there would be no escape for anyone. 

There were mutant, albino rats miles below the surface of the streets. Strange creatures with blind, black eyes and wide mouths full of teeth like whirling blades. 

The hospital was waiting for this, medics bent over us with their faces covered with surgical masks. Pulsing arteries and dropping, throbbing hearts. The whiplash of worry. This was not science at all. It was one of those brief exchanges, full of important and meaning but we failed to understand.