The Bedridden Patient

A collective shiver ripped through the gathered survivors. Their hearts plummeted into their stomachs. They all desperately hoped the sharp-dressed man was playing a sick joke. Yet, facing his composed and deadpan expression, the last fragile threads of their hope snapped.

A short-haired girl in a wrinkled school uniform hugged her arms tightly. "Can we just not go?"

The elite man shifted his cold gaze toward her. "Of course you can. But you had better sleep with your eyes open from now on."

The girl froze, her eyes widening in sheer panic. "What do you mean by that?"

A mocking sneer curled the elite man's lips. "Because if you refuse to enter the room to complete your task, the things inside that room will come out to find you themselves. And they will always find you, no matter what hole you crawl into to hide. Once they get their hands on you, they will..."

He did not bother finishing the sentence. He merely raised his hand and drew a slow, deliberate line across his own throat. The gruesome gesture sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over the group.

Gideon tilted his head back, staring up into the yawning darkness of the second floor. "Before we step into this task, do you have any special precautions to share?"

The elite man nodded slowly. "I do. The tasks waiting in those rooms are dangerous, but they offer more than one exit. If you manage to find the hidden exit, you can sometimes leave the nightmare early without even finishing the assigned task."

Gideon absorbed the information. He stepped forward, offered a slight, formal bow to the man in the suit, and pivoted toward the grand staircase. He placed his foot on the first wooden step without a trace of hesitation.

Duncan watched the younger man's decisive movement. The burly park ranger ground his teeth together, made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, and stomped after him.

Duncan pushed his heavy legs to catch up, lowering his booming voice to a harsh whisper as he shadowed Gideon. "You have got some serious guts! This place is a waking nightmare."

Duncan had been watching him ever since the boat ride. Gideon had been the only person who did not gag, scream, or recoil when they stumbled upon Simon's dismembered limbs bobbing in the water. He had not even reacted to the foul stench of blood and vomit that had coated the mist.

Gideon let out a dry, self-deprecating chuckle. "It is not about being brave. It is about the fact that we do not have a choice."

Duncan scowled, keeping his voice hushed. "But back there, when you saw those chopped-up body parts, your face did not even twitch. Tell me the truth. Have you spent a lot of time around dead bodies?"

Gideon kept his eyes fixed on the looming corridor ahead. "You could say that."

Duncan quickened his pace to walk side-by-side with him. "Then what do you do for a living?"

Gideon side-eyed the towering man. "What do you do?"

Duncan let out a bitter sigh, rubbing the back of his thick neck. "I am just a park ranger. I got tricked out of some money and somehow ended up dragged into this damned purgatory..."

Duncan opened his mouth to complain further, but Gideon sharply raised his arm. He signaled the larger man to be quiet.

They had reached the top of the stairs. The second floor was suffocating. A thick, metallic stench of rotting flesh and old blood rolled over them in an invisible wave. At the very end of the lightless corridor, a massive double door materialized from the shadows. It was a heavy wooden structure, carved with bizarre, twisting patterns that mirrored the hotel's main entrance.

As they stood staring at the imposing barrier, a wet, squelching sound broke the silence. Crimson liquid began to seep from the wood itself. The blood pooled and dragged downwards, forming a jagged, dripping sentence right at eye level.

*Take care of the bedridden patient for four days.*

Gideon lowered his chin, his mind spinning. Our first trial is just a nursing shift?

The rest of the survivors slowly filed up the stairs behind them. They huddled together, staring at the bloody text with a mixture of dread and sheer confusion.

Chloe Benson, a stunning woman with cascading blonde hair, tilted her head. "Is the task really going to be that simple?"

A murmur of hushed debate broke out among the group. Then, as if a switch had been flipped in their brains, the whispering died. Everyone froze, their gazes snapping to the heavy wooden door in terrifying unison.

The heavy latch clicked. The door groaned open on rusted hinges.

A thick plume of freezing white smoke poured out from the crack, curling around their ankles. From deep within the fog, a withered, bone-pale hand shot out, grasping at the empty air.

Chloe opened her mouth to unleash a piercing scream. Before the sound could leave her throat, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she collapsed in a heap.

The mist surged forward. One by one, the other survivors hit the floor like discarded ragdolls.

Gideon watched them fall, his instincts screaming at him to retreat. He took a hasty step back. The mist wrapped around his face. His vision went instantly black, and his knees buckled.

When Gideon forced his eyes open again, the cold, hard floor of the hotel was gone. He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, shaking the heavy grogginess from his skull. He glanced around. The other six survivors were also groaning and staggering to their feet, brushing dirt from their clothes, looking utterly lost.

The transition was complete. They were inside the task world.

The lingering mist burned away, revealing a massive, rusting iron archway towering directly above them. Faded, peeling letters spelled out a single name: *Safe Haven*.

It was a residential community. A wide main road stretched forward from the archway, flanked on both sides by symmetrical, identical two-story houses. The neighborhood was immaculately kept. The lawns were manicured to a precise length. The paint on the fences was pristine. Yet, the air was wrong. It was devoid of life. There was not a single person walking the sidewalks. No cars idled in the driveways. It felt as though the entire population had evaporated into thin air.

The silence was heavy enough to crush a man's lungs.

Gideon dusted off his trousers and began to walk. He approached a large stone fountain situated in the dead center of the community plaza. He leaned over the edge and found a sprawling nest of fat, black rats aggressively drinking from the stagnant water.

The rodents paused. They sensed his shadow, chattered their yellow teeth, and scattered into the drainage pipes in a chaotic blur of fur and tails.

Gideon turned his back on the fountain and continued his march down the empty street. He needed to find the specific house tied to their task.

It did not take long. He spotted it halfway down the block.

It was the only property in the entire desolate neighborhood that had someone standing on the front porch.

"Hello there."

The voice was smooth and polite. A woman in a fitted black dress stood at the top of the porch steps. A row of large, expensive-looking suitcases rested by her feet, indicating an impending departure. She wore a wide-brimmed black sunhat that cast a dark shadow over her pale features.

She tipped the brim of her hat up with one slender finger, gracing Gideon with a flawless smile. "Please wait right there for a moment. Not everyone has arrived yet."

The woman was strikingly beautiful, possessing an elegant and timeless charm. However, the moment Gideon met her eyes, a sharp chill traced its way down his spine. The smile etched onto her face held no warmth. It did not reach her eyes. It felt less like a greeting and more like the bared teeth of a predator.

Gideon dropped his gaze. He lifted his hand to his mouth and began to chew absentmindedly on his thumbnail, a deeply ingrained habit that flared up whenever he was working through a puzzle.

A heavy pair of hands slammed down onto his shoulders.

Gideon whipped around, his muscles tensing to block an attack. He relaxed when he saw the towering frame and unkempt beard of Duncan.

Duncan let out a booming laugh. "Your reflexes are quick!"

Gideon offered a tight, awkward smile and lowered his hands.

Seeing that the younger man was not in a chatty mood, Duncan dropped his hands and shifted his focus. "So, this creepy place is where we have to do our time, right?"

Gideon gave a curt nod. "Yes. But we cannot cross the threshold until the rest of the group gathers here."

Duncan grunted. He stepped off the pavement, crouched down on the pristine lawn, and dug his thick fingers into the dark soil. He rubbed the dirt between his thumbs, his brow furrowing in concentration.

Gideon watched the strange display. "What is wrong with the house?"

Duncan stood up. He used the heel of his boot to smooth the disturbed dirt, stomping it down flat. He looked up at the pristine facade of the building. "I cannot put my finger on the exact reason, but this house does not feel right. It does not seem lived in."

Gideon felt his chest tighten. "Have you ever stumbled across a place like this out in your woods before?"

Before Duncan could answer the question, a sharp, rhythmic clapping echoed across the yard.

"Welcome, everyone!"

The lady in the black dress stood at the top of the steps. The remaining five survivors had finally stumbled down the street and gathered on the lawn. All seven caregivers were now accounted for.

The woman, who had been as still as a mannequin, suddenly burst into motion. She began to pace back and forth across the wooden porch in a stiff, mechanical rhythm.

"Because it is my mother's birthday, I must take the children back to the countryside to visit her. My husband, however, became a vegetable many years ago due to a tragic accident. He requires constant, dedicated care."

She stopped pacing and clasped her pale hands together. "Because my husband is a very large man, he requires assistance to be turned over every single day to prevent bedsores. I worried that two or three caregivers simply would not possess the physical strength required, so I made sure to hire all of you."

She offered another frigid, painted smile. "You do not need to worry about your wages. When I return from my trip, I will ensure a very generous tip is prepared for each and every one of you."

She turned on her heel, pushed open the front door, and gestured for the group to follow. She led them through a dark, spotless hallway and straight up a carpeted staircase. She stopped at the end of the second-floor landing and pushed open a set of heavy double doors.

The master bedroom was unnaturally vast, looking as though a load-bearing wall had been knocked down to fuse two rooms together. Despite its size, heavy blackout curtains choked the windows, trapping the space in a permanent, suffocating twilight.

A thick, rancid stench assaulted them the moment they crossed the threshold. It was a vile cocktail of stale sweat, bodily fluids, and sweet, decaying meat.

A piercing scream ripped from Chloe's throat.

Every head snapped toward the center of the room. A reinforced, industrial-sized medical bed dominated the space. Resting upon it was an entity that defied human anatomy.

It was a man, but he looked more like a slaughtered, bloated pig left out in the sun. His skin was a sickening, mottled gray. His sheer mass was incomprehensible. Folds of greasy fat spilled over the edges of the mattress like melted wax, pooling and shifting with his shallow, wet breaths. If it were not for the slow, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor stationed by the wall, it would be impossible to believe the creature was still drawing breath.

The sight triggered a wave of creeping unease in the room, which rapidly curdled into deep, psychological disgust.

The lady in black stepped up to the bedside. Her voice softened into a sickeningly sweet coo, dripping with deep, genuine affection. "This is my wonderful husband. Is he not incredibly strong?"

She leaned over the railing. She reached out with her slender fingers and gently caressed the man's cheek, which was so engulfed in bloated flesh that his nose and mouth were barely visible slits.

"My dear, I am taking the children away to celebrate Mom's birthday. These seven caregivers will look after your every need for the next four days. I will be back before you know it, and I will miss you terribly."

She lowered her face, pressing a tender kiss against the gray, sweaty expanse of his forehead. She lingered there, whispering soft, indistinguishable words into his hidden ear.

The survivors recoiled. Several of them turned their faces to the wall, dry-heaving quietly, desperate to escape the grotesque display of intimacy.

Finally, the woman straightened up, looking as though she were physically pained to leave his side. She turned her cold eyes back to the group. "Although my husband is in a vegetative state, he retains the ability to swallow and eat on his own. You just need to take his meals, blend the food into a smooth puree, and feed it directly to him."

She brushed a speck of dust from her black skirt. "He possesses a marvelous appetite. He needs to consume meat every single day without fail."

The lady suddenly stopped and slapped her own forehead in an exaggerated display of forgetfulness. "Oh, look at me! I have been talking your ears off and I have not even shown you where the kitchen is yet. Please, follow me downstairs."

She glided past them, leading the shell-shocked group back to the ground floor. They entered a sprawling, state-of-the-art kitchen. Gleaming countertops and pristine appliances lined the walls. Yet, the most commanding feature of the room was the refrigeration setup. Two colossal, commercial-grade freezers stood side-by-side, dominating the far wall like a steel fortress.

The lady rested her hand on one of the stainless steel handles. "Since it is quite inconvenient to travel into town from here, I have made it a habit to stockpile a massive amount of food."

She glanced out the kitchen window at the gray sky. "And since summer is already upon us, the rainy season will arrive any day now. The rainstorms in this valley are truly terrifying. The roads wash out, and the downpours sometimes last for days on end."

She turned her head back to the group. A barely noticeable cold smile ghosted across her pale lips. "But there is absolutely no need to worry. I have prepared all the necessary ingredients."

She gripped the heavy handles and yanked both freezer doors open with a dramatic flourish. A wave of freezing, metallic air washed over the room. She looked back at the group, her eyes gleaming with manic pride.

"Take a look. Premium meat, fresh eggs, crisp vegetables. It is all fully stocked and waiting for you."

She let the heavy doors swing shut. She folded her hands neatly in front of her waist, her gaze sweeping over the silent, terrified faces of the seven caregivers.

"Now then. Does anyone have any questions about their duties?"

A heavy, oppressive silence blanketed the kitchen. No one dared to breathe, let alone speak.

Just as the lady parted her lips to dismiss them, Gideon stepped forward, his eyes locking onto her unnerving smile.

"Ma'am, is there no one else living in this community?"