Pathologic: Day Seven, a fatal, crucial, and decisive day for the Haruspicus

(or, in which Kevin punches the Sand Plague right in its stupid face)

The morning of the seventh day has come.

Infected in the past 24 hours: 181 people
Died in the past 24 hours: 350 people
Gone missing: 16 people
Number of dead at the moment: 2450 people
Number of infected: 450 people

Even together with the Inquisitor you will not be able to defeat this enemy. Less than six days remain.

---

Look at those numbers—the death toll has quadrupled from yesterday. It's not exactly an auspicious moment for the government Inquisitor to come calling.

The executors, bowing to the Inquisitor. Not pictured: the town wetting its collective pants.

The Bachelor is worried. As the official leader of the hunt for a cure, he looks really bad now that all our best efforts have failed, and he readies himself for his appointment with the Inquisitor with the funereal air of a condemned man.¹

I too am uneasy about the summons that arrives for me. While I know that I have done nothing that warrants execution—a punishment that the Inquisitor freely doles out—I also know that I have enemies in town who would love to put me squarely in her crosshairs. After all, I have been doing things—exacting vigilante justice on looters, consorting with weirdos like Ospina and the Worms, cutting open corpses on the street for their organs—that would look pretty bad when presented in a certain light. Unless I want to take a one-way trip to the gallows, I have to track her down and explain myself before she starts hearing tales. Thus begins a not-so-merry chase around town that takes up the greater part of the day.

The Inquisitor has set up shop in the Cathedral on the town's west side, but she's gone by the time I arrive for our meeting. A cackling executor tells me that she has thrown wide the doors of the Apiary and is there right now, taking note of the horrifying conditions under which Fat Vlad's prisoners have been living. Worried that my association with Vlad in the early days of the epidemic (was that really only a few days ago? it seems like ages) will come back to bite me, I hoof it over there as fast as I can, cursing every delay as plague zones sprawl across my path.

I thought the first section of the Apiary was disturbing, but I'm taken aback by what I find in the main part of the building. The only living Worms I'd seen up to this point were hanging out in the marshes, but there are tons of them in here, quite literally running around. Their frantic dashing back and forth, along with the unhinged, echoing shrieks that occasionally reverberate throughout the building, set me on edge even before I have a chance to explore. When I do, I find that the Apiary is laid out like a maximum-security prison, with multiple levels of cell-like rooms that extend up to the ceiling and are accessible primarily via catwalks. Unlike the rooms in the first section, these cells are not boarded up, probably because they are not occupied by stricken Worms gasping their last breaths into the dusty wooden floor. That does not mean, however, that the rooms are empty:

I also stumble across a larger back room that looks like it was being used for dissection and experiments. Was Stakh Rubin here?

Unfortunately, I've missed the Inquisitor, who has already moved on to the Town Hall to release some unjustly incarcerated citizens. I do however run into the Mother Keeper again, who has parked her adorable five-year-old self in some sort of temple room on the Apiary's third floor. She has resumed her duties as a spiritual leader in the Cult of Bulls, and as further thanks for my help yesterday with the pills, she tells me that I now have permission to enter the Abattoir. I thank her, but it's a privilege that I won't be able to exercise until I catch up with the Inquisitor. I make my way through the throngs of Worms and butchers and step outside into the free air.

Just a reminder: this shrine is presided over by a kindergartner.

By the time I reach the Town Hall, the prisoners have already been freed and the Inquisitor has moved on. It's the same story wherever I go—I'm always one step behind my quarry as she blazes a path through town, righting wrongs and meting out justice. According to George Kain, her zeal is due to the fact that she is facing her own inquisition back at the capital. She's been given one last chance: personally eradicate the epidemic here in town, or else face the hangman when she returns home. She has a very personal stake in what happens here. Interesting—I mentally file that information away before proceeding to the Cathedral, to which the Inquisitor has returned after her sojourn in town.

Our conversation is a little cold at first as we feel each other out; but my knowledge of the Inquisitor's tenuous position has emboldened me, and she seems impressed with my refusal to apologize for my actions. In any case, we both want the same thing (if for different reasons), so there's no sense in her stringing up a potential ally. The Inquisitor is an interesting lady, if a bit abstract in her manner of speaking. She talks a lot about duty and politics and life, which makes for a fascinating if hard-to-follow talk. She seems interested in the town beyond its relevance to her job and is quite knowledgeable about its bull-related nature religion. So knowledgeable, in fact, that she has made a discovery that's eluded the Bachelor and me. The human-bull hybrid (called an "auroch") that we thought a fantasy exists, it's alive, and its blood can be found somewhere in the Abattoir. She sends me to meet with the Elder of the Abattoir, newly returned, to see if I can wrangle some blood out of him.

I've been dying to see the interior of the Abattoir ever since Day 1, so I get over there as fast as I can. To be honest, I was hoping for something a bit more mind-blowing after all the build-up. The part of the Abattoir that I'm able to explore is basically just a gigantic cavern, populated by a mix of butchers and Worms (the latter of which are becoming creepier and creepier by the hour). The town's paltry remaining cattle are penned up inside, their lowing echoing off the dank stone walls. There is one feature of the place that intrigues me, though, and that's a large chamber that looks as if it's used for sacrifices. In the middle of the floor is a seemingly bottomless pit. I wonder what goes into it—or what comes out.

Part of the Abattoir, as viewed from a high platform. It's hard to tell from this shot, but there's a
pit on the right side. I have no idea where it leads.

The Elder of the Abattoir, Oyun, is waiting for me at the end of the system of caverns. It doesn't take long for me to realize that this guy is going to be trouble.

Yes, your neck tendons are very impressive. You can stop flexing now.

Something about the saturnine Oyun doesn't add up. Other members of the Order say that he tried to sacrifice an auroch last night to stop the Plague, but he botched it somehow. The Elder growls that he did everything right but that a couple of Worms sacrificed another bull at the same time and somehow messed everything up. Having been with those Worms last night, though (gathering the blood sample for the Bachelor), I know that this isn't true. Whatever caused Oyun's ritual to fail, it wasn't us. I can't decide whether some greater power was working against him, or he has some secret agenda of his own, or he's just plain incompetent. I file that away, too, and ask for the auroch blood, which Oyun hands over with plenty of dark muttering about how I don't deserve it. He orders me to come back tomorrow so he can test whether I truly am Isidor Burakh's heir. Sure, whatever. I pocket the vial and head for my laboratory.

I have a twyre recipe that I have used only once, to make another disgusting dead porridge and beat back my infection. It involved a few rare herbs, but it also reduced my infection to almost nil. If any recipe should be used with the rare auroch blood, it's that one. I brew it up, add the blood, and press "mix," holding my breath.

A brightly colored flask labeled "panacea" appears in my inventory. I carry it to the Inquisitor, hoping against hope. Evenly, she tells me that, yes, this is indeed the panacea we've been striving for all this time. I've done it. I've found the cure!

... Now what?

¹ In Duke's playthrough, as you've read, the Bachelor is on much better terms with the Inquisitor than he is here. Why the difference? I can only speculate that Duke's heroic efforts on Day Five—particularly his costly liberation of the wrongly imprisoned citizens in the Town Hall—actually had a positive effect after all.

Pathologic: Day Six, on which the Bachelor will be offered to choose from several different sources of contamination

At 7am:

The morning of the sixth day has come.

Infected in the past 24 hours: 163 ppl.

Died in the past 24 hours: 140 ppl.

Gone missing: 12 ppl.

Number of dead at the moment: 840

Number of infected: 335 ppl.

Less than seven days remain. A governmental emissary will arrive tomorrow.

I stagger out of Lara Ravel’s house at half past five, starving and mildly woozy from the infection to find myself surrounded by the plague. The afflicted leprous figures march about in packs, and patrolling the streets are a new brand of soldier: the Humpback’s men. Unlike the oafish bandits, these fellows sport a seemingly unlimited supply of Molotov Cocktails, which they lob at anyone and everyone from worrying distance. Their purpose, it seems, is simply to rile things up.

One hit is from these is fatal.

These new annoyances, however, are the least of my worries.

Today's Map

Witch Hunt

The first thing I do in the morning is visit Rubin, who should have completed the improved vaccine. Sure enough, he has. (This differs significantly from Kevin’s experience of Day 6, in which the vaccine failed miserably). Yet his conscience weighs heavily upon him. The Haruspicus was aware that Rubin was keeping the body of the first infected, Simon Kain, for inspection and research. What he didn’t know that it was I who told Rubin to hold the body illegally, to keep it under wraps, though we both knew it might come out sooner or later. He confesses to me that he can’t take it anymore: he has to come clean to the Kain family.

I panic, of course. He can’t do that. It would ruin my reputation if it came out that he had kept the body under my instruction. So much rests on that one lie. I tell him to keep it—that I’ll handle it—that he has to stay and continue his research. He reluctantly agrees, though he holds onto the vaccine.

The consequences of my decisions are at hand. I get several letters and hear whispers from the townsfolk. The Inquisitor is coming tomorrow. But, more upsetting, there has been an incident in the Cathedral.

I arrive early morning to find the Cathedral utterly dead—nearly 800 people wiped out by the Sand Plague. Something got in. To my relief, however, the finger of blame isn’t pointed at me, but to the leading women of the town. The shabnak—the she-cannibal—was accused of breaking in and giving the people infected water to drink. Hours later, streams of infected flooded the streets while a few were left to clean up the remains in the Cathedral.

They did a good job cleaning up.

Saburov outlines the plan: I will interrogate the women of the town and decide who is the vector. Of course I know better; all I have to do is draw their blood and examine it for traces of the virus. It takes a bit of convincing, but I take a sample from Anna Angel, who tells me Klara (the Devotress) is also a prime suspect.

The real gem here is Ospina, who practically spits venom when I whip out the syringe. She does her best to advise me in the “proper way” of finding the shabnak. I’ve transcribed the entire conversation here (with a few minor adjustments for clarity):

ME: Ospina, you are accused of being a cannibal. They will come for you soon.

OSPINA: What is a shabnak? It is a malicious spirit who wears the flesh of a woman on his bones. Shabnak can be known by a characteristic attribute – his hands are long, all toes are of the same length, and the teeth are shown on all body from under the skin

ME: Thanks for the lesson.

OSPINA: That’s it … I am always glad to help you. If you want I’ll help you catch the monster. If you do not cope with that yourself … almost a week has passed and the people still perish, perish, perish …

ME: Help me. Where do I start? Perhaps from the survey of suspected?

OSPINA: Yes. You gather all women who cause your anxiety in the Cathedral, for now it is empty. Build a bonfire at the entrance. Order them to strip naked and survey them carefully … Search for sharp edges under the skin, but you will not find. And then …

ME: I have a more reliable way. Let’s look at your blood.

OSPINA: It is not necessary to take blood. Search for the teeth. Let me continue … sooner or later one of them will break and rush away crying – right into the fire. And then her essence will become visible! She will turn all black, howl, crook her fingers – everyone will realize at once that this is not human.

ME: Of course. And now stand still. I have a few needles; don’t worry.

Ospina

After taking her sample, I find Klara at the Saburov Manor. She won’t allow me to take her blood; she considers herself above reproach. And then an extraordinary claim: she says that she and the Devotress are two different people, though the Devotress looks just like her. She tells me that, with all my science and system, I have no right to investigate her. I appeal to Saburov, who has effectively adopted the little whelp, who tells me I can draw her blood, but when I return she has disappeared.

I rush around town, furious, asking everyone for information. I track down Mishka, a young boy living out in the train yard, and he tells me I’m a hunted man. That the Devotress—who is undoubtedly the shabnak—is searching for me with murderous intent.

The Thing Coming From the Steppe

I scour the rest of the town and receive a tip from Spichka, a young boy holed up in the Tanner’s District. He saw the Bone Cannibal just now, rounding the Abattoir. If I hurry, I may catch it. Heart pounding, I draw my revolver and prepare to finish this once and for all. A true vector! The real, tangible foe in all of this—a discernible victory. With the shabnak gone, it will be only a matter of time till the virus dies out.

Rounding the Abattoir, I see it: a hunched, gangly figure with a white face and long neck. Hardly a thing that could pass for the Devotress. As I step toward it, the air thickens and I begin to choke. I aim my pistol at its (admittedly small) head, fire two shots, and watch as the thing goes limp.

Shabnak or Animated Totem?

Upon closer inspection, I can’t say this is any sort of shabnak. I don’t know what it is—some kind of clay golem, animated by the weird cultic rituals of these steppe barbarians. It was just an illusion.

I find Klara mourning his corpse when I return. Stricken with grief, she holds out her arm and lets me take a sample, which I immediately rush to the microscope. The blood is irregular, strange indeed, but there is no sign of the Plague. I return to her and give my analysis. Yet, knowing that the Inquisitor will come tomorrow, and that she will want blood, Klara says she’ll offer herself as a sacrifice. She’s somehow responsible, she says—and they will need someone to blame anyway.

I resist—she cannot do this. It isn’t right. She is an inexplicable anomaly, there’s no doubt about that, but she is no vector. It’s true: she’d be an easy solution. She’d placate the Inquisitor. It would be an easy solution. But it wouldn’t be right. I tell her the decision is her own, though I don’t think she should turn herself in.

They Want to Burn the Apiary

My final task for the day is a seemingly impossible gambit. The humpback, with his league of arsonists, wants to deliver a deathblow to the Olgimskiy family: he’s going to burn down the Apiary, a nexus of disease that has produced wave after wave of infected (or so they say). While I could care less for the Olgimskiys, the Apiary will be indispensible to my research. They can’t burn it down. The only thing for me to do, then, is to kill the humpback.

It’s late evening when I arrive, and raining. I approach the main entrance to see the Humpback near the tunnel, four arsonists arrayed around him, Molotov cocktails at the ready. I check my revolver: I’ve only got four bullets. Whatever. I rush the first two, a headshot each, then whirl to the next, take him and his companion out, then stand, facing the Humpback. He’s got an alarmingly good throwing arm. I pocket the gun, bare my fists, and approach him, strafing left and right, trying to get in a good punch. The close range is too much, however, and he’s too good a shot. I go down once, twice, three times, until, frustrated, I rush out to the streets to trade a needle for a bullet. When I come back I find him there, standing crooked with that dull cow-eye look. Fearless, I run up to him, gun at the ready, and take him out with a decisive shot.

The entrance to the Apiary, sans two psychopathic arsonists.

Finally, a true victory. I’m not worried about the Inquisitor tomorrow. I think we’ll get along just fine; if anything she ought to admire my work.