Under: Depths of Fear

The Ward

August 1917

The Great War has now rumbled over Europe for 3 consecutive years, it's horrors have claimed over 10 million lives.

The life expectancy of an average soldier in the trenches is now merely 6 weeks.

As the entirity of the waters around the United Kingdom are now a war zone, German U-boats have already sunk over 4000 vessels. Both military and civilian.

Alexander could barely keep his eyes open. He felt weak and was seriously dehydrated. But there was no time, the ship was struck a torpedo and the captain gave the order to abandon ship. Luckily the ship was very big and sank slowly. As the crew member drove him around in his wheelchair, Alexander could barely keep his eyes open. They finally reached an elevator, but Alexander was too weak to keep his eyes open and slowly started to drift into sleep. But then he heard the sound of rattling metal and the cursing of the crew member.

"Bloody hell. The blasted door won't open anymore. We can't carry the damn bastard up on the stairs."

He heard another voice, this one coming from a distance. "Ey, leave the bloody fool. No use for a man like him at home. Let the bastard rot in his chair."

Alexander could hear several footsteps running away from him. No, it couldn't be! There were just going to leave him here? "Open your eyes, damnit! And get up!" he told himself. And indeed, he managed to do that. But he still felt weak, he needed food and water. With weak steps he walked into the next room. It was a mess room and food was still on the table. Alexander greedily ate some bread and drank a lot of water from a flask.

"Much better." he said. "Now let's get out of here."

He checked a storage room and, as it was the only useful thing left in there, picked up a couple ot matches before moving on. The gate to the stairs had a combination lock, so needed the code. Looking around, he saw two doors to his left and right, both in small side corridors.

He went with the right one first. It was a normal ward room. One of the wounded must have been here, the bed looked used and a gramophone was seated on the table. There was a patient file one the bed. He wasn't sure why, but he decided to take a look at it.

CRITCAL MED. FILE 3 "IRON ROD CASE"

Unknown cavalry officer found concious with 4'9 iron rod planted through brain.

"And he was still alive? Poor chap." Alexander spoke out loud. The file went on to describe the patients condition and his state during treatment. However, he passed away during the night of the second day.

He put the file down and looked to the gramophone to his right. Something told him to play it and that was exactly what he did.

"Tell me, what is your name?" the doctor asked.

"I do not know. I know it was Alexander. He left me." a cold and distorted voice answered. Alexander was confused. Was this man talking about him? He continued to listen.

"What happened?"

"He cursed me and brought death upon us."

"You are very much alive, Sir."

"There is no live any longer. He left us in the dark."

"So what exacly preceeded?"

"There is one devil and those who condem others to do his will. I will no longer live. And will roam in eternity."

"What is the meaning of that? Is that a meaningful delivery or something?"