Conrad awoke to the sound of a robotic beep in the apartment above. A large steel door opened and slammed shut, the echo ringing in his head. The room was dark except for the light shining through the open door. The clock in the next room ticked loudly. He headed to the bathroom to check his shoulder wound. Strangely, the wound was gone, and a tiny scar remained. Did I dream that or…? He didn’t want his thoughts to spiral out of control; reality and horror were blurring. He needed some fresh air, but when he went to the door to his apartment, something held it shut. “Huh?” Conrad paced back and forth in the apartment until a click came from the door.

He opened the door and headed out, but kicked something on the floor. It was a brown plastic tray of rotting food with maggots and worms covering it. He gagged and forced himself to look away. The flies buzzed around.

When he arrived outside, there was a parked police cruiser with two police officers in full uniform drinking coffee and eating doughnuts. The fog around the police cruiser was thin.

“Hey, you! What’re you doing?” one of the officers had noticed Conrad.

“I’m looking for a way outside the city,” Conrad answered back.

“It’s really dangerous around this city now. I suggest you head back inside.” The officer smirked and took a swig from his coffee cup.

“Where are you guys going?” Conrad asked the officers.

“The prison. Now head inside and stay there until the fog clears up completely.” The officer barked, “It’s for your own good.”

Conrad nodded and headed back inside the doors. He peeked out every so often while waiting for them to leave. Soon enough, he heard doors slamming and a car driving off. He went back outside. “The prison? That’s just downtown, I think.” Conrad mumbled to himself.

He arrived downtown, and to his left, he saw the hospital’s glowing red cross sign that made him shiver in fear. Down the center, he saw the mayor’s office, which had a large clock on top. The prison was on the right side of the town square. A large rattling of chains echoed through the town square. Then a man’s voice, screaming in anguish, reverberated off the buildings around him. His steps slowed while he approached the prison, but he wanted some answers. When he got to the short flight of stairs heading up to the prison, he saw a tarot card like Agatha had shown him before. When he picked up the card to see which one it was, “The Hanged Man” read in bold letters on the bottom while depicting a prisoner in an orange jumpsuit upside down, being trapped and suspended by chains and shackles.

He put the card in his back pocket and continued pushing through the front doors. He arrived to see a man in an orange jumpsuit rifling through the papers of the front reception desk. The man’s wrists were in handcuffs. The lights glowed puke orange.

“No… no, not that, nope, no…” The prisoner was frantically looking through the papers.

“Hello?” Conrad asked. “Where are the officers?”

The prisoner turned his gaze towards Conrad and sized him up. “Those bastards are probably checking for any living prisoners in the wards.” The prisoner returned to rifling through the papers. “Why?”

Conrad cleared his throat and said, “I need some answers about what’s going on in the city. Can you tell me where to contact the authorities?”

The man turned to Conrad and said, “This is a prison, not a police station. Name’s Friday. That’s what they called me in there. Ah! There it is!” Friday pulled a set of keys out of the drawer and started undoing the cuffs. “I needed someone’s help, actually, to get some stuff from my old cell. I left them behind accidentally. If you help me, I’ll help you find the guards. Be warned, though. This place has changed…”

Conrad nodded, and they both headed down the hall. Friday took the lead. The further they went down the hall, the more reality became surreal with drawings or paintings of clock gears. Even the stone walls and ceiling were rusty.

“Here.” Friday pushed open the large steel door that read: “Wing D1”. Inside was a large open area with tables in the middle of the room. The steel cell doors lined the walls, going all the way up to level 5. They started up the stairs, and Conrad noticed the doors were rusty. Many of the windows were filled with sand. They arrived at cell 308. The lights in the common area flickered a bit. Friday pushed open the door and went inside the darkness.

“What is that? Holy shit, who-?” Conrad froze. A female police officer lay on the ground, apparently dead. He kneeled and picked up the officer’s body camera, which was playing a video. He watched and listened to the body camera footage.

“Alright, get in your cell Friday!” the female officer’s voice yelled. A metal baton clanged against steel.

On the camera, Conrad saw Friday go into his cell, and the door closed. However, something seemed to appear in the cell out of thin air. Friday backed up against the door. The female officer knew something was wrong and hurriedly opened the door.

“Holy Shit!” Friday yelled as a doppelganger of Friday appeared in the cell, though the doppelganger had a menacing smile. The female officer opened the door, but both Friday and the female officer dropped to the ground while the doppelganger slowly walked out of the cell in cuffs, stepping over the two dead people.

The camera flickered and died, and Conrad looked up at the dark room. “What the hell was that?” he yelled. He stepped into the room. “Hey, Friday, are you in here still? Where’s the light switch?” Conrad said while feeling around for a light switch on the wall. When he found it and flicked it on, a creaking sound of rusty gears echoed hauntingly in the tiny cell. An orange light dimmed, creating shadows of whirring gears. The entire room’s walls were filled with nothing but rusty, creaking gears. Sand started falling from the ceiling like an hourglass. He stepped back and saw the doppelganger standing in the corner.

The doppelganger turned around, his eyes and mouth glowed. The doppelganger’s mouth and eyes stretched, elongating past the edges of his face. The doppelganger yelled, “Life is all about time!?” before lunging at Conrad. Conrad struggled to close the door while the doppelganger with a glowing face stopped him. Finally, he shut the door. When he looked in, he saw the doppelganger pacing back and forth, Friday’s human body covered completely in sand. A large amount of sand covered the windows along with the doppelganger. He felt his breath slowing down as he walked down the stairs. “What the hell was that?” he murmured to himself and contemplated how to leave the prison, but now he was lost in the labyrinth of prison halls.

He continued walking the prison halls and emerging into different wards, even coming to a room with nothing but clock gears making whirring sounds. Then, when he thought he was close to the exit doors, he saw it again, “Wing D1,” when he turned the corner. The paintings of clock gears, hourglasses, and clocks were everywhere. It felt like he’d been in prison for days now. Even the ticks from clocks on the walls seemed louder.

He saw them in a large connecting room, the two cops who told Conrad to go back to his apartment. They were sitting around a small table with folding chairs, and a television with a spinning clock was what they were watching.

“Uh… hello?” Conrad whispered, “Can you help me?”

The police both looked at him, their uniforms ragged and worn from when he last saw them.

“I am shaped like an eight, shards of Earth within one another. When the Earth falls, we all fall down. What am I?” The cops continued to stare at the television while Conrad listened to them say that in unison. Conrad wondered. The officers stood up and turned around, revealing their eyes were images of clocks spinning round. The officers drew their rusty pistols and aimed at him. “Stop! Don’t shoot me!” He yelled and backed away with his hands up. The officers pressed the trigger of the rusted pistols, the triggers clicked, and then both officers turned into piles of sand. The television clock was still spinning.

Conrad moved past the piles of sand that were once officers and continued. His heart was beating faster now. Finally, after traversing the labyrinth of halls, he arrived at the front desk from before. The place had changed, with moss growing off the walls and rusted objects. There was now a large hole in the ceiling that was not there before when he arrived. He wondered how long he had spent in the prison area. When he stepped outside, the sun hadn’t moved. He needed some rest, so he returned to his apartment.