The Cardinal Directive: Mission Log #22

Wolf at the door

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The feed returns to Alison and Sebastian in the room of the strange building, this time not from Sebastian’s camera, but one tucked into the recesses of the wall — likely a vent.

It pans and stares down with one unblinking, unfeeling eye, like a creature disturbed from a deep slumber locating the source of what has awoken it.

Sebastian and Alison face each other, the silence between them taut as a bowstring. Their extended struggle has left the room in disarray, the table pushed out of position with Sebastian leaning on it, chairs at opposite ends of the room, and Alison’s tattered bandages scattered all across the floor.

A small but growing red stain marks his chest where he’d patched up his wound yesterday, but he hasn’t noticed it yet.

He repeats, “Alison, what the HELL is that?”

---

Alison had to peel her tongue off the roof of her mouth, attempting to swallow to ease the dryness of her throat, but it was no use — her mouth was just as dry, if not worse.

Furious, her shaking hand began the work of re-wrapping her arm with the tattered bandages.

“Alison—”

“What it IS,” she snarled, her head snapping up to meet his gaze once again, “is NONE of your BUSINESS.”

There was no way to undo what had been done. No way to stitch what had been torn or cover what now lie bare before them. He’d stripped her of that luxury.

“How are you not freaking out about this?!” His eyes scanned her face, grating over every facet and digging into each of the dark lines under her eyes. The realization seemed to hit him a moment later. “…Oh my god. You already knew.”