VESSEL - Extinction Countdown 960: Dead Comrades

In early summer, even near night, the southern sky glowed bright.

At seven p.m., a four-door Jeep pulled up to Yingtian City Mental Health Center.

The gate stood shut. The guard, spotting the car, kept his feet propped on the desk, radiating “I own this gate.”

Yi Qing reached for the horn, but Ye Shisan stopped her: “Dong’s waiting for you to honk—his excuse to kick us out. No horns here. That old man’s got no family, been a guard forever, and he’s ornery as hell.”

Ye Shisan stepped out.

Dong the Guard, taken aback, hastily open the guardroom window: “Brother Shisan? Back for a check-up?”

“No, heading out of town. Came to see old wardmates.”

“It’s seven already!”

“I know the seven-thirty curfew. Half an hour’s enough for a hello.”

“Alright…” Dong hesitated: “Shisan, a heads-up…”

“Spit it out, Dong.”

“Six months after you left, Old Pi died. They say he grabbed a nurse’s kettle, chugged it—burned through his throat, stomach, organs…”

Old Pi, Ye Shisan’s bunkmate, a learned professor, had slipped him a hundred yuan when he got out.

Ye Shisan’s face darkened: “Which nurse?”

“Don’t know. He’s gone, so let it go. You know—past these gates, it’s not the outside world. The asylum’s got its own rules.”

Ye Shisan’s fists clenched, knuckles cracking. Promising no trouble, he watched the iron gate creak open.

Back in the car, Yi Qing noticed his grim look: “What’s wrong?”

“Stay here. I’m visiting friends. Back soon.”

The car’s air grew heavy—Ye Shisan never spoke like that. Something was up.

Two and a half women watched his lone figure vanish into the asylum’s hallway.

Yi Qing rummaged up front, then opened the door, saying without looking: “You Long’er, watch Vanilla. I’ll be quick.”

“She-devil! I’m no nanny!”

Before You Long’er finished, Yi Qing slammed the door. Vanilla’s sharp eyes caught Yi Qing donning an eye-shielding mask. With a tug, her clothes sealed strikingly tight to her body.

As Yi Qing left, You Long’er hopped out: “Pfft! No way I’m letting those two get cozy! Vanilla, don’t wander—this place is full of crazies. A kid like you? They’d mess you up!”

Vanilla ignored her. Seeing You Long’er sneak after Ye Shisan, she slipped out too.

“Magpie Bridge online, secure channel active! Verification initiated…”

“This is 0193, on observation duty! Codename Blade: Golf, Hotel, Oscar, Sierra, Tango, out!”

“Magpie Bridge relay stable! Sentinel handshake key verified! Control codename: Oscar, Bravo, Sierra, Echo, Romeo, Victor, Alpha, Tango, India, Oscar, November, out!”

“0193 reporting! Control handshake key confirmed! 0193 commencing report! Fixed cloud coordinates 32.0498325, 118.766935, 17, out!”

“Magpie Bridge relay stable! Coordinates confirmed! Out!”

“0193 reporting: Number Two entered target zone, third floor. Mental and physical signs stable, though body temperature’s up—likely from the guard talk. Request data on Number Two’s social ties here.”

“Magpie Bridge relay stable! Request received. Stand by sixty seconds… Per intel, Number Two shared a ward with three others. Third-party reports show three years in Ward Six, seven in Ward Twelve, suggesting up to ten contacts. Query ongoing…”

“Magpie Bridge relay stable! Data update: Of target zone records, only two remain alive—He Jun, male, 48, railway worker, severe paranoid personality disorder, history of assault; Wang Haiping, male, 69, farmer, severe anxiety disorder and depression, multiple suicide attempts.”

“0193 reporting: That’s the living. Number Two’s mental state suggests the guard’s news was bad. Analyze deceased for the likeliest match!”

“Magpie Bridge relay stable! Analysis complete: Pi Rui, male, 63, professor, severe dissociative disorder, died seven months ago in an accident. All other deceased predate Number Two’s discharge…”

“There’s the crux…” Yi Qing muttered.

“0193, say again? Signal’s shaky. Need tactical support?”

“No, not yet… Damn that vixen!”

Through her eyewear, Yi Qing’s thermal vision pierced walls, spotting You Long’er skulking outside a ward, eavesdropping.

Inside, the ward, meant for four beds, crammed six. Most patients, medicated, slept. Some “veterans,” drug-resistant, stayed awake, sluggish.

Ye Shisan sat by an old man. Across, a burly, hairy man, leaned on his bed.

Despite the meds, the big man’s trembling voice brimmed with joy: “Old Wang, told ya! Shisan’s loyal—came to see us before he splits!”

The little old man lay in bed, clutching Ye Shisan’s hand: “Shisan, live well out there. Cut ties with this place… Remember Old Pi’s words: once you’re out, don’t look back.”

The big man waved weakly: “Old Wang, happy talk. Skip Old Pi…”

Old Wang, as if deaf, rambled: “Shisan, after you left, Old Pi wouldn’t shut up. Little Ninth saw you in a crash. A-Ben read your fortune—someone gifted you a house. Black Dog smelled you baking bread…”

It all matched.

Old Pi, with severe dissociative disorder, never left the asylum. How’d he know?

Ye Shisan realized he barely knew Old Pi.

The kicker? Old Pi once swore he wasn’t crazy.