Seven Elephants. Игорь Патанин

the ambulance, Anna took Sophia's hand. The girl looked fragile and pale under the bright lights, but her breathing was even, and her pulse was stable.

      "Everything will be all right," Anna said quietly, not knowing if Sophia could hear her. "I promise. We'll figure it all out."

      Sophia suddenly squeezed her hand tighter and opened her eyes slightly.

      "They'll come for us," she whispered. "The collectors. For me… and for you. Now you're also part of the collection…"

      Her eyes closed again, her hand went limp. The doctor adjusted the IV and nodded reassuringly to Anna:

      "Don't worry, this is normal. Patients in this condition often speak incoherently. A side effect of sedative drugs."

      But Anna knew that Sophia's words weren't incoherent. They were a warning. And Anna intended to take it very seriously.

      The ambulance sped through the night city, cutting through the darkness with flashing lights. The rain had finally stopped, and rare stars were visible in the sky. The first round had been won—Sophia was rescued, Berkut arrested. But Anna's intuition told her this was only the beginning. That the secrets hidden within the walls of the old sanatorium were much deeper and more terrifying than they appeared at first glance.

      And that Sophia's words about the "collectors" would echo many more times in this tangled case.

      Chapter 11: Reflections

      The hospital room was immersed in whiteness. White walls, white bedding, white light from the window covered with thin curtains. In this sterile space, Sophia seemed even more fragile than usual. Her pale face almost blended with the pillow, thin arms lying limply on top of the blanket.

      Elena Andreevna sat beside her daughter's bed, not taking her eyes off her, as if afraid that if she looked away even for a second, Sophia would disappear again. Dark circles under her eyes, a haggard face—the past two weeks had left a deep mark on her.

      Anna quietly entered the room. She, too, showed signs of exhaustion—in her face, movements, and eyes.

      "How is she?" asked Anna, coming closer.

      "Sleeping," Elena Andreevna spoke in a whisper, afraid to wake her daughter. "The doctors say it's normal. Her body is recovering."

      Anna nodded, sitting down on a chair on the other side of the bed.

      "What are they saying about the drug they gave her?"

      "They still haven't been able to determine its exact composition," Elena Andreevna rubbed her temples. "Some unknown formula. A mixture of neuroleptics, psychotropic substances, and something else they can't identify. But they say there's no serious brain damage. That's already good."

      "Has she woken up?"

      "Yes, several times. But not for long. She says strange things…" Elena Andreevna's voice faltered. "She talks about a girl named Katya. Says she helped her there, in the sanatorium. Warned her, explained things. But Katya Voronova died twenty years ago!"

      Anna silently observed the sleeping Sophia. A slight trembling of eyelashes, the barely noticeable movement of eyes beneath the lids—what was she dreaming about now? What images were being created by a consciousness that had been in Berkut's hands?

      "It's because of the drug," Anna finally said. "Hallucinations, altered perception. It should all gradually pass."

      "And if it doesn't?" fear flashed in Elena Andreevna's eyes. "If he did something to her mind that can't be fixed?"

      "We'll do everything possible," Anna replied firmly. "We have Berkut. He will answer for what he did. And he'll tell us how to help Sophia."

      Elena Andreevna suddenly covered her face with her hands, and her shoulders shook with suppressed sobs.

      "It's my fault," she whispered. "I let them into our lives. First Berkut, then Viktor…"

      "You didn't know. You couldn't have known," Anna placed a hand on her shoulder. "They manipulated you professionally. Used drugs to make you suggestible, trusting."

      "But I should have protected her…"

      The conversation was interrupted by a slight movement on the bed. Sophia opened her eyes—clear, conscious, not as cloudy as before.

      "Mom?" her voice was weak, but recognizable. "Anna Vitalyevna?"

      "I'm here, sweetheart," Elena Andreevna took her daughter's hand. "How do you feel?"

      "Tired," Sophia tried to smile. "And my head feels heavy. As if… there's something extra in there."

      "You need to rest," Elena Andreevna stroked her daughter's hair. "Build up your strength."

      Sophia shifted her gaze to Anna.

      "Did you catch him? Doctor Berkut?"

      "Yes," Anna nodded. "He's been arrested. And he'll answer for everything he did."

      "And Igor? The physical education teacher?"

      "He escaped. But we'll find him, don't worry."

      Sophia closed her eyes, as if gathering her thoughts. Then she looked at Anna again.

      "They're not alone. There are many of them. Collectors. And they'll come for me… for us."

      "Who are the collectors, Sophia?" Anna leaned forward, but caught Elena Andreevna's warning glance—don't tire her. "You can tell me later, when you've rested."

      "No, I have to now," the girl's voice became insistent. "While I remember. While everything is clear."