This is Ivan's perspective
My slumber was a battlefield, a relentless onslaught of nightmares fueled by memories I had buried deep within the furthest corners of my mind. Memories I had hoped to forget, to erase from the canvas of my personal history. Unfortunately, my body was exhausted from the stress and the walk, too drained to rouse me from the torment of my dreams. All I could do was fight the nightmares within the confines of my sleep.
This was a futile struggle against the demons of my past. They had limitless energy.
And I was merely a man with limited willpower.
Eventually, I surrendered.
I let the memory of my parents' brutal murder play out in high definition on the 4k theater screen of my mind. I watched through the innocent eyes of my younger self as we sat down for a family dinner. My uncle, aunt, and favorite cousin were over. She played with me while the dinner was being made by my aunt and mom.
I watched as my father and uncle talked on the couch, their brows furrowed with concern. I didn't understand what they were talking about with my 6-year-old mind.
I watched as men barged into our home, kicking our door down with a force that shook the very foundations of my life and shattering the planter standing next to the door.
I watched as my father and uncle stood their ground, unfazed by the threats, true men with strength of character. They were refusing to sign whatever document the intruders were thrusting at them.
I watched as they pointed a gun at my mother. I was frozen, unable to tear my gaze away from the unfolding scene. Emotions drained out of me by the night of fighting these nightmares away.
Then came the gunshot. A deafening blast that echoed through the chest. I was staring into the abyss, the world around me swallowed by darkness. I was gasping for breath, my heart pounding against my ribcage. Confusion clouded my mind. The nightmare didn't usually end this way.
Then came more gunshots, shattering the silence of the night, catching my breath in my throat, choking me with an invisible grip of fear.
Another gunshot, louder and closer, jolted me out of my stupor, returning my ability to breathe. I bolted upright, my heart pounding in my chest, lungs vacuuming as much air as they could as fast as they could, as I stumbled towards the doorway leading out of the lounge. My mind was still catching up, still trying to process the reality of my surroundings.
I peered out just in time to see the clerk, the man who had taken me in, fire his shotgun again. The recoil knocked him backward, more than I expected. He continued to crumple towards the ground, his body going limp. The sound of several gunshots echoed in my ears, a deafening chorus coming in staccato after the louder book of the shotgun.
Before his body even hit the ground, I was running. The only thought in my mind was to get as far away as possible. I didn't know where I was going and didn't have a plan. All I knew was that I needed to run.
Run in the opposite direction of the gunshots coming in a second volley behind me.
I sprinted towards the truckers' entrance on instinct of a rabbit, my heart pounding 4 times for every step I took. I scrambled out the door, my eyes darting around in a wild frenzy. My mind was in overdrive, the adrenaline pumping through my veins, amplifying every sound, every voice, every rustle. My fear whispered that the voices with guns were coming from every side.
The only refuge I could find was the area designated for the trash bins. It was a small space, enclosed by a cinder block wall and a steel box that housed the bins. I prayed that they would be enough to shield me from any stray bullets.
As quietly as I could, I closed the gate to the garbage area, the metallic clang echoing ominously in the silent night. The smell hit me then, a nauseating mix of rot and decay. The floor was sticky and unclean, a dark liquid dripping ominously from the corner of the bin.
But all of that was preferable to the hail of bullets I imagined raining down on me. I crouched in the corner, trying to make my tall frame as small as possible. Squeezing my palms over my ears, I forced the demons of my past back into the shadows, but the gunshots in the distance kept dragging them back out, smiling horn to horn as they surfaced in my conscious mind, each one a reminder of the nightmares that haunted me.
I remained in that position long enough for the gunshots to become distant echoes. My heart rate gradually slowed, and my breathing became less frantic. I dared to look up at the sky. When the living nightmare had jolted me awake, it had been twilight. Now, the sky was a blanket of pitch black. There were no stars or moonlight. The only thing visible was the ominous smoke lit up in places with an orange glow.
Slowly, I moved my palms away from my ears, straining to hear any signs of the chaos. I listened intently, every nerve in my body on high alert, trying to discern the sounds of rampaging animals. But there was nothing. An eerie silence had come over my corner of the world, so profound that it felt like even the normal nocturnal creatures had gone into hiding. There was no sign of any two-legged animals either.
With a quiet sigh and a grunt, I slowly rose to my full height, my every muscle of my body protesting the movement. I cautiously peered over the edge of the gate I had been hiding behind, straining my eyes in the darkness. I craned my neck, standing on my tiptoes, trying to get a better view of my surroundings. But there wasn't a single movement in any direction. It was as if the world had come to a standstill, holding its breath along with me.
I waited, my heart pounding in my chest again, my ears straining for any sound that might indicate a threat. But there was nothing. Just the deafening silence of the night, punctuated by my own ragged breathing.
After what felt like an eternity, I took a chance. I reached out and slowly opened the gate, doing my best to minimize the grating sound of metal on metal. I lifted it with all my might, trying to prevent it from scraping on the ground, and stepped out of my refuge, my body tense, my senses on high alert.
I stood there, waiting for any sign that someone had heard me. But there was nothing. Just the silence of the night, a blanket of quiet, seemed to swallow up all sound. It was as if the world had gone mute, leaving me alone in the darkness.
I moved slowly, taking tiny, measured steps toward the door I had burst out of earlier. The small ledge under my feet was the first sign that I was getting closer to my goal. The door was the next challenge. I groped around the edges of the building until my fingers brushed against the cold metal of the handle.
Once inside, I knew exactly what I was looking for. Every gas station had them - little roadside emergency kits. I groped around in the darkness, moving one deliberate step after another until my hand landed on a familiar shape. I ripped it open and fumbled inside until my fingers closed around what felt like a glow stick.
With a click, I activated it, and a soft, green light filled the room. I blinked and shook the stick, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the sudden illumination. The world around me slowly came into focus, bathed in an eerie green tint.
With the glow stick in my hand, my eyes working somewhat, I grabbed a few packs of glow sticks from the rack.
Holding the glow stick in front of me, I moved cautiously, taking small steps toward the lounge area. The glow stick was only giving me a few feet of visibility. I was hoping that the armed hooligans hadn't discovered my bags. A wave of relief washed over me as I found my belongings untouched. Gathering my things, I started moving slowly toward the convenience store section of the gas station.
As I approached the spot where I had witnessed the clerk's demise, I steeled myself for the sight of his lifeless body. The green glow from the stick cast an eerie light on the scene, making the body look even more grotesque, the eyes hollow voids. It was positioned differently than I remembered, but I chalked that up to the tricks my mind was playing on me in the heat of the moment.
I've never been a religious man, but I felt a sudden urge to say something, anything, for the kind man who had allowed me to sleep in the lounge. I made the sign of the Orthodox cross and whispered, "May your soul rest wherever it might be."
With a heavy heart, I continued my journey through the gas station. But after a few steps, I froze. My eyes fell on another body lying a few feet away. The sight sent a chill down my spine, and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.
As I looked around, my eyes squinting in the dim light, I saw more bodies. They were scattered throughout the convenience store, lying in unnatural positions that spoke of violent ends. A cold sweat trickled down my spine, and a shiver coursed through my body, making every muscle quiver.
All I wanted was to be safe. I yearned for the comfort and safety of my home. I refused to be another victim, another body left in the wake of chaos. Gathering food and supplies here would increase my chances of making it home and surviving this nightmare.
A pang of guilt surged within my consciousness, but I quickly silenced it. This was no time for guilt. I had already paid more than necessary for the food. And if this was my ticket to hell, then so be it. I could only hope that my extra payment would afford me a slightly more comfortable spot.
With the bodies forming a macabre maze, I navigated towards the front door. I paused at the threshold, debating whether to keep the glow stick out or not. I tucked it into my pocket, squinting into the darkness, but saw nothing. The decision was made for me; the glow stick would stay out.
As I pushed the door open, a small bell attached to it jingled, making me yelp in fear. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest as I looked around, holding my breath. I was half-expecting someone to appear, drawn by the sound. But after a few agonizing seconds, nothing happened.
I stepped out of the store, my steps slow and cautious as I moved towards the highway. I stopped in my tracks when I saw the car with the bikes attached to the top, the lifeless bodies of the couple still inside.
A debate raged within me, my conscience arguing against the logic of survival. But in the end, logic and reason prevailed. I told my angel that the bike would get me home faster and safer. It was a necessary evil.
Using the faint light from the glow stick, I managed to detach one of the bikes from the rack. I swung my leg over the frame, settling onto the seat, and pushed off, trying to find my balance. It was a shaky start since I've not ridden one since I was a teen with my now wife, and I nearly toppled over the curb, my heart lurching in my chest.
My lack of control led me straight into a car that had been abandoned on the road. The impact jarred me, and I realized that the glow stick's light was insufficient for navigating the road. I decided to walk the bike instead, pushing it along the deserted road.
I made my way to an overpass, its shadow providing a semblance of safety in its protective darkness. I huddled there, shivering in the cold night, clutching my possessions. I prayed to every deity, saint, and force of good I could think of in this world and the next, hoping for the strength and luck to survive.