“Mom, what happened to Daddy?” the boy asked. He looked over at his father, a husk of his former self, his veins electric blue. His eyes, also glowing faintly blue, stared ahead at nothing.

 

“He’ll be okay, Junior,” a woman said, placing a gentle hand on the boy’s trembling shoulder. “Because when your loved one is taken by Nanovan, don’t wait. Send them to the Hollow Hills Institute, where healing begins.”

 

* * *

 

The screen flickered, static distorting the commercial that was playing on repeat in Dr. Anais Sawyer’s office. A thin film of dust covered everything, particles floating around like spirits dancing in the television’s light. The Hollow Hills Institute — an old country asylum that was converted into a rehab center for Nanovan addiction, a deadly drug.

 

Sawyer made it his life’s work to understand how Nanovan worked. The best he could tell, it shouldn’t. At its core, it was some sort of nanotechnology, bastardized to target specific pleasure centers in the brain. It was more like a virus.

 

He continued lounging in his chair, his hand trembling as he lifted his cup of whiskey to his lips. It was late; the storm raging outside was a perfect cap on this Halloween evening. Each strike of lightning threatened the power for the building, its old-world sconces and lamps fluctuating in rhythm. The backup generator hadn’t been operable for weeks.

 

Sawyer groaned and pushed himself up. As he walked the old wooden halls of the Institute, he could see the residents, their faintly glowing blue skin piercing the dimly lit night. Some stumbled around, but most simply sat in their chairs or lay in their beds.

 

“Mary, get the candles going tonight; the storm’s not letting up,” Sawyer said, punctuated by the beating rain on the windows.

 

“Where’s Henry? I’m a nurse, doctor, not an errand-girl,” Mary said. Sawyer paused a beat, hearing the aerosol injector in Mary’s hand hiss as she administered a small dose of Nanovan into a resident.

 

“Superstitious git never comes in on Halloween. Just give me a hand, please.”

 

“Fine,” she responded. As Sawyer walked away, she called out, “And go get some coffee from the pharmacy, fresh pot. I can smell the liquor on you.”

 

Sawyer continued his rounds, bored already. Nothing changed at the Institute. Sure, new residents cycled in, and that’s who occupied most of the rooms, but there was no true treatment, much less a cure, for the victims of Nanovan. Eventually, everyone ends up in the basement, Sawyer thought.

 

* * *

 

As he entered the third security code, the door finally opened: a thick slab of steel separating the Institute from its lower complex. The wooden walls and floors stopped immediately in favor of steel, from candlelight to cool blue LEDs.

 

Deep below, after what felt like endless stairs, was Advanced Ward and Research, the true purpose of the Hollow Hills Institute. Sawyer looked out upon the endless beds, each occupied by someone whose brain was so thoroughly controlled by the drug that they were left comatose. The display computers above each bed showed extreme brain activity, yet none reflected outwardly.

 

Sawyer held vigil over them until his radio blared out static, cutting through the eerie quiet. “Anais, I need you up here now!” Mary screamed, her voice terrified.

 

“Mary?” Sawyer called out to no reply.

 

He sprinted, crashing into the heavy steel door after bounding up the stairs. He pushed the door open just as the power cut out.

 

* * *

 

The Institute was eerily quiet, with the only light coming from a few small candles on a table at the far end of the hall. Sawyer looked in each room as he made his way through, slowed by the lack of clear sight.

 

Everywhere was empty. No nurses, no staff. No residents, Sawyer realized.

 

“Mary?!” Sawyer called out, with silence again as the reply.

 

He crested the stairs to the second floor, greeted by a metallic scent in the air. Midway down the hall, Sawyer noticed Mary. There was plenty of light here, thankfully, and almost all the walls held a burning candle. As he approached, he noticed blood dripping from Mary’s shoulder. It almost… glittered, in the light.

 

“Mary, where’d everyone go? Are you alright?” Sawyer asked, grabbing her shoulder. Yet it wasn’t Mary who looked back.

 

Mary’s face was devoid of emotion, recognition. Her veins bulged under her skin, pulsing a blue light that seemed to grow in strength. Her neck had a gash, bleeding thickly down, specks of blue sparkling within.

 

“Nanovan!” Somehow it had gotten into her bloodstream, a dose high enough to fry her mind. Sawyer shook her shoulders, not expecting a response.

 

Mary’s eyes found Sawyer, but they didn’t see him. Her lips twitched as if trying to form words.

 

She roared a guttural yell, taking one hand and running it through the blood still falling from her. Then she struck out with it, aiming for Sawyer’s mouth. He quickly rolled over, scrambling to his feet.

 

Mary rose, followed shortly after by scores of glowing blue residents, each stepping out from the rooms on either side of the hall.

 

Sawyer didn’t wait and took off back down towards the first floor. Everywhere he turned, a resident reached out to him, slowed only by their atrophied muscles. When he reached the front door, a dozen or more glowing blue monsters greeted him, so he spun on his heels and headed towards the basement where there was a single emergency exit.

 

* * *

 

Sawyer barely pulled the door shut behind him, the clawing of the residents echoing through. His only salvation would be down these stairs, illuminated only by a candle he swiped on his way in.

 

He took the steps slowly, catching his breath, but he stumbled and dropped the candle.

 

He thought he would be left in the pitch black.

 

Down below, growing stronger, was a blue glow, one that rose to meet him.