"May 14, 2018,

Dear Evie,

I'm so sorry for being this far away from you, I hope that I can return to you before I die. I miss you guys so much, but I'm in quite a pickle. Please don't lose hope, I'm coming home.

A lot of things have happened since the day I got kidnapped by Bill Grey, who for some reason denies it. I read his interviews on the stolen newspapers, lying as if his life depended on it.

Does he not remember that he left nearly sixteen of us in his 'experimental lab', guarded by creatures who themselves were experimented upon?

That thing he carries around on his arm, pretending to be a human woman scares me. It hasn't attacked us in long.

I know that you're afraid, seeing the greenery consume the streets while you're watching. I heard that they've barricaded us in with these things. Hope you're safe and sound. Don't come looking for me, I'll come home. I don't want you two in danger because of me.

The creatures are kind. They provide us with food, water and shelter. All they need are blood samples to revert themselves back to human.

They must've been human before. They look ape-like; greyish-white fur, pink skin, a language of their own that mostly sounds like warbling. I don't see the other humans much, but I do get letters from them. The gash on my stomach is mostly healed. They don't let me walk though. Maybe they're afraid that I'll escape.

Hey, Evie, sometimes I talk to these apes. They're really patient, and sometimes I rant for hours together. One of them even drew a picture of our family, albeit us being stick figures! Phil sends me letters from the room nearby; he had helped me escape from the dungeon thing I told you about in my last letter, remember?

Then there's one of the younger apes who likes to play with me. The older ones constantly tell it not to, but it still insists. I miss Ivan so much.

I'm sorry for not being there for him, I wish I was a better uncle to him, you know, like the others. Better than his deadbeat father anyway.

Evie, I'm not sure whether I'll see you ever again. I'm not even sure whether this letter will reach you, or whether the last letter made it to you.

Please tell Neil and Helga to stop searching for me. It's a dangerous web those two 'CEO's' have woven. Neil has a wife and a kid to look after; tell him to not be stupid enough to barge into the lab again. And Helga.

Evie, give her my love.

I'm sorry for getting myself into this, sorry for not being careful enough. I love you, both of you, all of you.

I hope that we can see each other again.

Yours truly,

Firenze."

•°*°•

▪ Symptom six:

Patient cannot recognize other human beings, and loses the ability to communicate with them. However, it is seen that they retain the ability to read and write. They address themselves as humans and refer to the others as 'creatures' or 'beasts'. One odd exception is that they can still recognize humans from photos and illustrations. Afflicted recognize each other as humans.

More study to be conducted in the future.

•°*°•

Neil looked up from the letter and watched Eva dab a tear with her handkerchief. She nodded, folded the letter and stowed it in the breast pocket of her jacket. Her police training was doing an appreciable job at keeping her steady.

Chip and Ivan had ran off to the canteen downstairs with Tess; leaving him, Eva and Helga with the psychiatrist and the patient.

Firenze was looking into Helga's eyes with the same vacant expression he had worn in the factory. She'd repeat the names of his favourite artists, musicians, books, places, hoping to get a proper reaction.

But he'd just smile. A guileless, dreamy smile like the one a toddler would throw at you when you tell it a bedtime story.

And then he would turn around to stare at the leaves of the maple trees outside. Remain like that for hours at an end, according to his caretaker. This was one end of the asylum's spectrum. Neil knew the other end very well.

Thankfully, Barayik or BaRaYiK as it was often stylized in his letters had ceased to exist under Dr Mishra's treatment. The man however, was snubbed by whatever was left. Firenze would often write about moving plants in his journals; plants that worked like human venus flytraps or pitcher plants. To him, the outside world was a a hunter's playground, the hunters being the flora itself, eager to spread its roots into human territory and feed.

The doctor leaned against the doorway, with a cigarette between two bony fingers, recounting his experiences with similar cases to Eva.

"Come on honey, try. Please?"

Helga pleaded. Her grasp on his arm was firm. Her eyes were puffy, red and circled with dark skin. Strands of red hair floated and shone like spider-silk in the sunlight.

"Come on, you jerk. Not like this!"

Neil bowed his head when the doctor dove into another ramble. Eva was on autopilot throughout the session, and Helga was holding back a meltdown. He closed his eyes and thanked God once more for letting them drag Firenze out of the factory's third floor. The Roggenfrau would have recovered from the burns by now, and if he didn't do something about her, Firenze could be abducted again.

The gun shone in Eva's leather holster. One bullet to her forehead should stop the wretch. 

Lewis had warned him about the creature in whatever scribbles he could manage with five fingers. If his hunch was right, a trip back to his hometown could get him enough leverage to send that thing to its grave permanently.

But in Firenze's case, a cure was improbable, even by alchemy or whatever. Phillipe Hanslon had cleared him of those doubts.

He looked up as a long shadow approached him at a quick pace. Those shoes looked familiar.

He hadn't expected the psychiatrist's consultant friend to be a certain rich psycho.

Bill looked old. The tinge of grey on his temples and the goatee-beard combination made him look like a sorcerer from one of Neil's old comics. He smiled warmly at him and Eva before shaking the psychiatrist's hand vigorously.

For moment he wondered whether it was him.

Neil cocked his head and kept the hostler within the range of his hand. He signed to a frightening Helga to keep calm and get out of the room. She scampered out, hands stuffed in Firenze's coat pockets and whispered,

"What is he doing here?!"

Neil didn't answer. Bill was examining Firenze's eyes and tongue, dictating points to the nurse who had followed him inside. The doctor had crushed his cigarette and was washing his hands. Weilding a hypodermic syringe filled with medicine in his hand, Bill gave the trio a heads-up.

"Stand back."

Neil nearly grabbed the gun and shot him point-blank. He would've missed his mark if he had done that, with the bandage on his right palm.

Firenze winced as the syringe found a vein through his skin. The caretaker had often praised his co-operation in their talks. He rubbed the spot as Bill disposed the syringe and patted his shoulder.

The sucker punch that followed in a minute caught Bill in the ear and sent him spiralling on the floor. He recovered quickly, rubbing a bleeding ear and casting a sly smile at the surprised group outside. The nurse and the psychiatrist wrestled him down as the male nurses arrived to restrain Firenze.

"Where the fuck am I?!" He asked, eyes wide in panic.

"Welcome back, buddy," said Bill while being helped up by a brunette in a pantsuit.

For a second, Neil met her copper eyes, edged with mascara and eyeliner. She smiled at him and asked him whether the little girl with the corkscrew curls was his daughter. A gentle tug at his shirt sleeves made him look down.

"Papa!" Chipo cried, pointing at her blue- popsicle tainted tongue, "I'm a mon-ther. Rawrr!"

The woman giggled.

"My name is Vera, love. What's yours?"

Chipo beamed at her.