“Mr Kincaid,” Winston calls to the man, approaching slowly whilst his comrades approached from other sides.

“Yes,” the man answers, his tone flat, his expression blank.

“We’re from the company,” Winston explains. “Sent in on a clean up.” As Winston speaks to him, there appears to be no reaction from Kincaid, who just stares back.

“We here to check the site and… your team.” Winston looks around in a gesture.

“Where’s the rest of the team?”

“No team,” Kincaid replies, his words lifeless.

“Standard operating procedure, a team of 3 at a minimum. Yours had 4.” Winston looked at his tablet, tapped a button that brought up the previous worksheet with all the details. “Sinclair, Matthews, Rajah and… Kincaid. Yourself.” Winston made eye contact with the lost man. “They were all down here with you.”

The man simply shook his head.

He was in shock, Winston realised.

“Okay,” he nodded. “My colleague is just going to give you the once over. Dash?”

Winston stepped back as Dash approached from the side.

Kincaid had not acknowledged the presence of the other men, but he wasn’t fazed either when one stepped from out of his peripheral vision.

Winston turned to face the open room. It was clear as anything now that the mist had lifted. Although he still hadn’t figured out where the mist had disappeared to.

The room seemed smaller than he’d expected. The fog had made it feel like the site was vast, especially since the progress they’d made was slow. But now as he beheld the structure, it seemed a similar size to the company offices.

The pillars etched into the walls stretched above them about 20ft before reaching a vaulted ceiling which seemed perfectly sculpted. This was no natural formation. Surrounding the outskirts of the room were a series of small man-made lights, likely installed by the fixers, that now illuminated the area without the fog muting their light.

“Where is your mask?” he heard Dash ask the fixer.

“No mask.” Came the reply

“You were equipped with a…” Dash started to sa