《Whimpers of the Light》


 01 - The House

    Part 1


    And I will show you something different from either


    Your shadow at morning, striding behind you


    Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;


    I will show you fear in a handful of dust.


    ¡ª


    ¡°The Wasteland¡±, T.S. Eliot


    <hr>


    The House


    <div>


    Light snowflakes fell in a synchronised dance ¡ª the layers they created were starting to erase whatever had lain beneath. His boots crunched over the snow, each step compacting it into a reminder of his presence, a trail he didn¡¯t like leaving behind. It was an open invitation for anyone, or anything, to follow. But he had faith it would soon be covered again and his way forgotten.


    Ahead stood an old two-story brick house with roof beams exposed like broken ribs. Delicate white specks drifted through without resistance, settling onto a memory of warmth. He let himself imagine, for a moment, that there might be something worth finding inside. There¡¯s always a chance. In this world, chance had to be taken ¡ª but it never lasted.


    He eased the wooden door open, his gaze darting to ensure he caught anything that might lunge. All was still. Satisfied, he clicked on his flashlight, its cold blue beam carving a path through the dimness, a controlled intrusion in the silence. The windows had been barred long ago, letting in no light but his own ¡ª the place was determined to remain as empty as it looked. Time had stripped it bare, but he could still feel a comfort that no longer lived here: a couch, worn down and left facing a lifeless chimney. He almost pictured a fire crackling there and felt its heat reaching him.


    But there was nothing to burn ¡ª just another futile thought. He shut the door behind him.


    A thin fog of dust hung in the air, each particle shrinking away from him with every step. His light caught the haze, turning the air into a glimmering wall, so he killed the beam, letting his eyes adjust. In the stillness, the house creaked and groaned under the weight of wind pushing through cracks somewhere above. If anything hid inside, it remained silent, waiting.


    He waited, too, listening to the house breathe until shapes reformed out of the shadows. His body knew the routine. Room by room, he searched, sweeping each corner like muscle memory ¡ª his back always turned to spaces he¡¯d already cleared.


    The second floor was lighter, with broken beams and shattered windows letting the daylight pour in to remind him what the place might have been. Dust, wood and snow littered the floor, and echoes of a life long past lingered in discarded relics: pictures with faces faded beyond recognition, books whose stories would never be read again, and toys left to gather dust. There were no surprises here, nothing of value or life in this museum of a world now gone.


    From the main bedroom, the city lay below, buried in a fresh blanket of white. This time of year, it almost resembled its former self ¡ª no greenery, just endless stretches of concrete and metal. A vast sea of stone, humanity¡¯s monument to hubris, now crumbled under the weight of time. He could almost picture how it had been: taller and sharper. Its towers, once daring the sky, were now worn and broken, their edges softened by years of weather and neglect. Someday, it would be nothing but rubble.


    He shook off the thought; there were still doors left unchecked. He always saved them for last. It¡¯s safer this way. Heading back downstairs, he moved with the same purpose, knowing well that even in this apparent empty world, caution kept him breathing.


    #


    When he opened the last door, something struck wrong. The staircase dropped into a pit of darkness, but the smell hit him first ¡ª a sickening blend of rot, dust, blood, and moisture. The scent of death.


    Three bodies lay strewn on the floor, their bones poking through tattered skin. One had been a woman, tall and slender: she might have once been beautiful, and in a twisted way, she still was. Her dress clung to the stone floor, mould patches blooming like grotesque flowers across the fabric, marking the first stage of an infection that would spread.


    The other two had likely been male. It was always more challenging to tell when the flesh had already melted away. One, the size of a child, sat slumped in a wooden chair, his head lolled forward as if napping, while the other lay sprawled on the floor, a skeletal hand clutching a metal handle embedded in the ground. The room, a square cellar, smelled stale beneath the rot. Wooden racks were lined along the walls, still holding dusty bottles, some of which had spilt their content long ago. Just like their owner.


    Kneeling, he checked their pockets and belts, searching for anything useful. They had no need for any of it now. Civilians, he guessed, but their cause of death remained uncertain. Not that it mattered ¡ª they had died, as they all had ages ago. He always felt more alone in the presence of the dead, their lifeless forms trapped between the old world and the new, a reminder that he belonged to neither.


    The stench of decay overwhelmed the senses, clinging to skin and clothes. But, in a way, he¡¯d grown accustomed to it. Finding nothing on the bodies, his gaze fell to the metal handle. Dust coated a trapdoor¡¯s edges, long undisturbed yet still there, waiting. He nudged the body aside, worn fingers brushing away the grime until the wood emerged beneath.


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    A sudden creak overhead stopped him cold.


    He froze, every sense on high alert. It wasn¡¯t just the wind or the house settling. Slow, deliberate steps crossed the floor, searching the house at a measured pace, just as he had. They followed the tracks.


    He sized up his options quickly. Going back up meant having to fight; the stairs would lead him straight into the blade of a knife ¡ª or worse, a gun ¡ª held by a waiting man. No, men. More footsteps had joined the first, two distinct pairs now wandering over his head. The trapdoor remained his only choice, as he wasn¡¯t willing to pick up a fight. Not this close to the city.


    He pried at the trapdoor, forcing it to give with minimal noise. Flicking his flashlight, he swept the beam over the space below: a damp, narrow tunnel of stretching concrete that disappeared into the darkness.


    Without a sound, he slipped through, letting himself drop into the unknown.


    #


    His leather boots splashed through a thin layer of water, each step impossibly loud in the confined space. By the time they would find the trapdoor, he needed to be well beyond their reach, as far away as this gallery would let him. He moved forward, hoping his instincts were right and the tunnel wouldn¡¯t betray him with a dead-end.


    These tunnels once snaked through the city like lifelines ¡ª arteries pulsing with activity. He had known them well back then when the underground teemed with energy and purpose. Now, they were hollowed-out veins, stretching empty and silent, save for the things that had made it their refuge. Things he¡¯d rather not disturb.


    But this tunnel felt different, built with a purpose beyond the mundane, some forgotten plan buried under the years. There was only one purpose for him now: finding an exit ¡ª preferably clearing the city¡¯s edge before nightfall, before darkness reclaimed every corner of the ruins above.


    The tunnel stretched on, a timeless passage of footsteps and breath blurring time into a monotonous beat. Finally, a shape appeared ahead: a wall that split the corridor into two paths. There were no signs or clues as to where to go, so he gambled on the left, his fingers brushing along the wet stone of the outer wall as he moved.


    After a while, his flashlight picked up tiny particles drifting in the air ahead. This time, it wasn¡¯t dust. Spores.


    His heart jolted, and with an ingrained reaction, he dropped his backpack and tore it open, fingers scrabbling through the contents. He fumbled for his mask, feeling each precious second slipping by with every breath he held. Finally, his fingers found it, and he yanked the mask over his head, sealing it in place before taking a long, steadying breath.


    Entering the house had been a mistake. He should have known it would be stripped of anything worthwhile; the looters had combed through most corners of this city long ago. The city was but an empty carcass now, a graveyard of scraps and dusty bones. Each search was a gamble ¡ª the risk too high, the reward too small. Still, he couldn¡¯t stop. Staying still meant a slow death; moving, even with the risks, felt like living. Survival required the gamble.


    The past weeks had blessed him with a few lucky finds. Winter¡¯s approach brought an eerie quiet over the city, reducing the risk. With it, he could afford some moves that he would otherwise relish. He had scored canned food, enough to stretch a fortnight with careful rationing, and a stash of mostly corroded batteries, a few of which still held a charge somehow. Just enough luck to give him a taste of possibility ¡ª and renew his addiction. Maybe that¡¯s why the house had caught his eye. I thought I¡¯d win again.


    Without his gambling, he¡¯d be in another type of situation now, and he thanked god he wasn¡¯t, even though he didn¡¯t believe in god or any entity above. But he liked to pretend. It gave a sense of comfort and purpose and guided this hollow game of chance that kept him coming back. And as he stood in the dim tunnel, he realised his hands were already itching for the next bet.


    #


    His breath came in short bursts, fogging the lens of his mask ¡ª the tunnel conspired to blind and trap him. The spores thickened, closing in on him. His flashlight sliced through the haze, but visibility had dropped to barely a few meters. He couldn¡¯t risk switching it off; his eyes would never adjust to this kind of darkness. Every nerve strained to listen, compensating for the lack of vision, and that¡¯s when he caught it ¡ª a faint, rhythmic scraping now mingled with the drip of water.


    Something darted across the ground with a scurrying squeak. It¡¯s just a rat. A familiar shiver went through him. The rats were a sight becoming rare, numbers dwindling every season; their food source had died long ago, and the leftovers were unwilling to share. At least, that¡¯s the theory he had come up with. That, or something was hunting them to extinction ¡ª a less pleasant prospect.


    As quickly as it had appeared, the rodent vanished in the dark. The walls seemed to close tighter, and he felt his focus fraying at the edges. He despised this ¡ª the feeling of slipping control. Control was survival. Carefully measured steps and calculated decisions; that¡¯s how you stayed alive. But out here, the choices weren¡¯t entirely his. For years, he¡¯d clung to his rules and hard-learned lessons, yet it was ironic: he¡¯d never been in control.


    His life once ran on a path others had paved for him. His parents had laid out his future like stones on a road. They suggested biology, a field that seemed safe and sensible. So he spent years in lecture halls before the collapse, following teachers who didn¡¯t care to teach, students who didn¡¯t care to listen. He¡¯d been more attentive than most simply because it was better than doing nothing for hours. Yet none of it had mattered when everything crumbled. Knowing the cellular structure of life hadn¡¯t prepared him to fight for it.


    He met his girlfriend there, someone to brighten the dull routine. She¡¯d made decisions as easily as he drifted along with them, choosing what they would do and where they would go. Girlfriend. The word sounded like the relic of an old language, a term foolish now more than ever. The details were fading, but there remained a warmth: a ghostly echo of her laughter, the way she¡¯d follow the beat of whatever song played in her car on a summer day ¡ª a memory dulled by time. He could feel it flicker, like a candle running low on wax. She was gone, probably, and that was for the best. He¡¯d stopped thinking of her by name; that, too, had faded. Instead, he called her Sunlight just because he needed a term for when he thought of her, and the memories were warm and bright.


    His thoughts fractured. The torch beam had caught on something metallic ¡ª a ladder, rusted and warped, bolted to the wall and stretching up, hopefully to the surface. His pulse quickened in a rare burst of hope. He brushed the metal with his gloved hand, testing its strength. Rust flakes crumbled, but it felt sturdy enough; soon, he¡¯d be out in the open air.


    Then, something moved.


    A flicker in his peripheral vision. His flashlight swept across the tunnel in front ¡ª something was there. Something big.


    A figure stood just meters from him, looming in the darkness. Tall and waiting. It was humanoid in a way, but its arms were too long, almost dragging along the floor. Wet, pallid flesh glistened in the dim light, bloated and pinkish. The air around it shifted with every laboured breath it took, its chest moving in uneven, rasping gasps.


    Paralysed, he stared back at its black, hollow eyes, empty as the tunnels themselves, yet still fixed on him. A primal terror submerged him, coursing through every vein.


    Then, it made a clicking sound, like a roller coaster coming to a stop. The creature¡¯s joints snapped as it pounced.


    Fuck.


    In the darkness of the tunnel, the unbidden thought of Sunlight flashed in his mind. The rasping breaths were louder now. I didn¡¯t turn right.


    He wished he had.


    ***

 02 - Blood and Rain

    Blood and Rain


    The pain was sharp and surged through with each hurried step. Warm and wet blood soaked into torn clothes, fingers slick with a thick flood. The urgency pressed harder with each passing second with no guarantee of making it.


    She cut through the streets, the rain lashing at her skin with relentless force, turning the world around her into a blur. Each drop struck with a cold bite, clinging to her with a will to weigh her down. They caught fleeting glimmers of moonlight before splintering on the broken pavement. An indifferent witness above, the moon itself watched, offering no comfort or clarity in the twisting maze of alleyways. But her feet knew the way, habit and instinct guiding her where her vision failed.


    Every inch of clothing clung heavily to her body, soaked through and carrying the chill that crept deeper into her bones. A few more steps. The building was close now, looming somewhere in the darkness, its battered storefront a wreck of splintered wood and smashed glass ¡ª picked apart by looters from the Beginning and barely held together since. Overhead, a dead neon cross hung like a ghastly omen, its bulbs long shattered, jutting forward in silent warning.


    They would be looking for her. By now, they were probably already out there in the dark. The rain softened her footsteps, but each movement felt too loud; someone was bound to hear her. She forced herself through the last few steps until her hand met the door. Leaning her weight against it, a fleeting moment of relief came, and she let out a ragged breath. She could feel the heat radiating from her wound, a reminder that her time ran dangerously thin.


    The door resisted, its frame a jagged mouth of glass shards that still held around the frame like the teeth of a monster. She pushed it open, letting the pain flare to sharpen her focus.


    The silence inside was absolute. She forced herself to breathe, praying that no one would interrupt her. Just a moment. Let me have just a moment. She felt along the shelves with fingers slick from her very blood, brushing over dust-coated surfaces and broken leftovers of supplies long since scavenged ¡ª a desperate search for anything that might help. Gauze, painkillers, anything. Her hand hit a box, something small and plastic beneath a mound of discarded containers ¡ª still sealed. She peeled back the wrapper, her grip trembling. Gauze.


    With a grimace, she tugged up her shirt, and the fabric tore free from the wound with a sharp, searing pain. Beneath her ribs, where her right kidney would be, the gash was deep. If the kidney had been hit¡­ She brushed the thought aside; at least she had another one. Blood pooled thickly, hot against the skin as it dripped over her jeans. She swallowed hard, seeing the raw flesh and the terrible width of the wound. Too wide. A tremor seized her, fear clawing its way up, unfurling faster than she could tamp it down.


    Hot and silent tears slipped down as they mixed with the rain dripping from her soaked hair. It traced a warm line over her cheek before hitting the crimson jeans. Desperate, she pressed the gauze to the wound with shaking hands, the fabric darkening instantly. A cold certainty washed over her: she would die here. She¡¯d fought so hard, for so long, scraping by in a world that had never shown mercy. Now, only the cold remained. And she wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground, to finally let the pain drag her under.


    But she couldn¡¯t. I can¡¯t let it end this way. She¡¯d been forced to fight her entire life, dragged through a small world that taught her nothing but cruelty. A world contained in itself. In this place, people only took. Men saw women as resources and claimed they fought for the restoration of humankind ¡ª their cruelty had always been justified in their eyes, and she¡¯d felt the bite of it countless times. The thought of ¡°restoring¡± humanity was laughable. It had never offered her anything worth preserving. From what she could recall, or what little she had learned, it hadn¡¯t been any better Before.


    She had dreamt of leaving this place so many times. To slip away unnoticed, beyond the reach of those who clung to the twisted remains of old ideals, a past she¡¯d never asked to inherit. She had cared for a few people along the way ¡ª in some other life, she might have taken them with her.


    The thought awoke something raw and fierce, igniting with a sudden, blinding heat. Resentment. She couldn¡¯t die here. I can¡¯t let them win. With a furious snarl, she forced herself to sit straighter, tightening her grip on the gauze. She wrapped the bandage around her waist with trembling fingers, pulling it with all the strength she could muster. The knot dug into her skin, and her pulse hammered against the fabric.


    It had to hold.


    #


    The growl of engines roared through the night as bright, predatory beams cut through the rain-soaked air. Though the rain might offer some cover, it would only be a matter of time before those lights locked onto her. She counted at least three Humvees, maybe four. Too many. This part of the city wasn¡¯t big; she would have to hurry.


    Adrenaline dulled the pain, but each step sent a sharp sting through her side. Her wound felt like it might split wider with every move. She clamped down on her lip, tasting blood, focusing on the single image in her mind ¡ª her destination. A heavy green door, embedded in thick concrete, just a few blocks away. Supposing I can make it there.


    The wall that stretched around it had been built with a promise to keep the Evil outside. Yet she knew how easily it had failed to protect anyone from the one inside. She could almost laugh, even with the taste of blood in her mouth ¡ª laugh at the irony of her escape from the guardians of this wretched place.


    They wouldn¡¯t let her go, not after she¡¯d seen behind the mask. She wished she could tell them all to go fuck themselves and everything they stand for. But they didn¡¯t just want her gone; they wanted her silent ¡ª buried with their lies and secrets. And they¡¯d stop at nothing to make sure of it.


    The rain poured harder, pounding like fists on her back. Shouts echoed through the storm ¡ª angry orders carried on the wind. They were intent on her demise. She could feel it in every barked command, but she wasn¡¯t about to let them catch her this easily. I¡¯m getting out of this hell. But a whisper in the back of her mind cut through her resolve: the fear of running towards another one.


    She turned a corner, her vision blurry. In the dim light, something shifted. Her heart stalled, and she clenched her muscles despite the biting pain. She ducked behind a rusted bin with trembling knees. It was one of Them. Maybe he hadn¡¯t seen her, but he was coming her way, footsteps bouncing off the walls of broken houses. There was no way back now ¡ª any movement would be seen, and her usual M.O. was suicide. I¡¯m too weak to fight now.


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    Her best bet was to remain hidden in the dark.


    She inhaled slowly, holding her composure. One¡­ two¡­ three¡­ Through the hiss of the rain, his footsteps drew closer, a heavy tread that splashed through every puddle. One¡­ two¡­ three¡­ He muttered under his breath, cursing the downpour close to her. The anticipation gnawed at her. One¡­ two¡­ three¡­ Her muscles seized with a fresh wave of pain, and her stomach clenched against the agony as the last traces of adrenaline drained away. One¡­ Two¡­


    The man¡¯s shadow shifted as he passed the spot where she crouched. His figure loomed and faded into the mist a few meters away. She glimpsed the sheen of his parka, rain streaming from the hood ¡ª a spectre trailing her through the storm.


    She braced herself for the next move, shifting her weight slowly. One¡­ two¡­ THREE¡ª


    Pain exploded through her side. Her vision swam, and a strangled cry slipped out despite her clenched teeth, tearing into the night like a wounded animal.


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    His shout sliced through the rain.


    She didn¡¯t look back. She was running.


    #


    The water climbed higher, swirling around her calves, each movement a battle against the current. Fragments of debris ¡ª jagged wood, stone, twisted metal ¡ª floated by, swept along in a silent, merciless race. A race she couldn¡¯t win. She had shaken off her pursuer for now, using the maze of alleys and flooded streets to her advantage, but she stayed alert. I¡¯m sure a wet, injured target isn¡¯t hard to track. She¡¯d made it this far on little more than raw defiance and luck, but she knew the real challenge lay ahead. They would be waiting for her at the door.


    Her thoughts fractured, struggling to process the madness around her. Exhaustion and blood loss took a toll on her focus. Through the sheets of rain, a figure seemed to materialise in the distance, a familiar shape.


    Then it spoke.


    ¡°Look at you all beaten up¡­ did you get into trouble again?¡± The voice asked, gently scolding. Her heart lurched. It was a voice she once trusted that had meant safety and comfort ¡ª someone she had loved. Someone long gone. Yet here they were, standing like an echo from the past.


    A raindrop struck her eye, pulling her back to reality. The door. She wasn¡¯t far now. If she could just reach it, the hunt would end. They wouldn¡¯t dare follow her; superstition and ingrained fear kept even the boldest away. For them, it lived as a symbol of something corrupted, a token of Evil. For her, it was a last chance. Not that she knew what lay on the other side ¡ª some spoke of wastelands crawling with monsters, others of an endless sprawl of shattered buildings. A place where hope was left to die. Maybe none of it was true. She would know soon enough.


    Her body trembled with the effort to keep moving; a leap over broken barricades sent a fresh reminder of how close she was to collapse. Another whisper drifted through the storm. ¡°You should rest¡­ you look exhausted, darling¡­¡± The voice was honey-smooth, coaxing. Just leave me alone. The cruel irony wasn¡¯t lost on her. She remembered the sting of that last morning, waking to a cold, empty bed ¡ª the scent of coconut still lingered faintly in the sheets. A final argument the night before had sealed a silent deal, like a signature on a divorce paper ¡ª a last, lonely dance.


    The motors had died, leaving a heavy silence in the streets. She slowed, crouching low and keeping to the shadows. The door loomed ahead. Almost there. Her hand moved to her bag, fingers brushing over a rusted tool hidden in a side pouch. She slid it into her sleeve, preparing her last option. If not for the wound tearing at her side, she might have sprinted to the door and dodged the ambush. But now, there was only one way left.


    She raised her hands, stepping forward nonchalantly. ¡°I know you¡¯ve got me surrounded,¡± she called, awaiting their answer. ¡°Drop the act, and let¡¯s talk.¡±


    Figures shifted in the gloom, emerging with cautious steps. Even as battered and unarmed as she looked, their tension was palpable. They still fear me, she thought with grim satisfaction.


    ¡°We thought you¡¯d keep running¡­¡± A low, mocking voice came from her left. Briggs. Her jaw tightened. She hadn¡¯t expected him here, the memory of their last encounter still vivid. But there he was ¡ª the face behind her fall.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m done running.¡± She gestured to her side, where blood soaked through her shredded shirt. ¡°You¡¯ve already won, dumb-ass.¡±


    A grin split his face, an expression that once charmed her but now only filled her with revulsion. ¡°I¡¯m sorry it had to come to this,¡± he said with false sincerity.


    He nodded to one of his men. ¡°Restrain her.¡±


    A young man with striking red hair stepped forward, clutching a length of rope, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. Good. Briggs should have sent someone stronger and more confident. But he had sent a kid. He pulled a rope from his belt, rolling it in his hands. She held his gaze; this was the moment she had been waiting for ¡ª the hunt.


    As he reached her, she struck. Her hand darted to his neck, the rusty blade flashing as she pressed it against his jugular. She slipped behind him in a heartbeat, wrenching his limp arm back. He gasped, fear seeping through his tense muscles, but he barely resisted. She leaned closer, her voice a dangerous whisper. ¡°Stay with me, pretty boy. We¡¯re going to dance a little.¡±


    Now, she was the one grinning. Briggs¡¯ smug smile had vanished, his face a tight mask of frustration. His men shifted uneasily, clutching their weapons as if they were shields. She stalked around them, her eyes taking in their hesitation.


    ¡°Let¡¯s not get carried away,¡± Briggs said, his voice trying for calm. ¡°Come with us. We can make a deal.¡± His eyes flicked to her injury. ¡°In your condition¡­ you¡¯re not going to make it alone. Olivia asked us to bring you back. Unharmed.¡±


    That name. It cut through her like the coldest blade. But she wouldn¡¯t fall for his games. Not this time.


    She backed up slowly, tightening her grip on the red-haired boy, knife close enough to keep him squirming. His eyes darted between her and the others, hope flickering as he looked for his comrades for rescue. They simply watched, paralysed with indecision.


    ¡°Drop the rope, boy. And the knife,¡± she commanded, her voice sharp as steel. ¡°Maybe I won¡¯t slit your throat.¡±


    He fumbled, letting both fall to the ground without a word.


    ¡°Now, when I shove you, you¡¯re going to run. Straight towards your little friends. Understand?¡±


    He nodded, his face pale with fear.


    ¡°Nice knowing you, Briggs¡±, she yelled with disdain. ¡°I hope you dream of me coming back.¡±


    With a swift push, she released her hostage. He stumbled, then bolted towards the others like a good soldier whose life depended on it. Without wasting a moment, she grabbed the discarded rope and knife and then turned to the door. The handle felt icy beneath her trembling hand. And now for the final act.


    She spun with a cruel, sweeping gaze. ¡°Ask him,¡± she shouted at Briggs¡¯ minions, ¡°ask him how they know what¡¯s outside!¡±


    The door groaned as it swung open. She stepped into the darkness beyond, the voices behind her fading ¡ª swallowed by the echoing silence.


    It was dry inside, at last. But her head spun ¡ª a violent fever burned through her body, each heartbeat a pounding drum in her ears. She staggered, reaching blindly for something to hold her weight. Her fingers found a stone wall and slid down the rough surface as her legs gave out beneath her. She sank to the ground, barely registering the impact.


    I did it.


    She chuckled. Lying on the cold concrete, her body stilled while her mind drifted finally. A familiar warmth surfaced in the haze of exhaustion: the scent of coconut and the touch of Her hand. A wave of sadness and longing ¡ª then a dream.


    ***

 03 - The Boy and His Dog

    The Boy and His Dog


    The sun shone ever so gently on the valley below. A faint melody drifted in the air, blending with footfalls on heavy rocks. The loose boulders shifted as he leapt from one to the next, never doubting his balance despite their wobble beneath him. Before each jump, he hummed his tune, then paused just long enough to concentrate for the leap.


    A few hops later, he stopped, tipping his face to the sky for warmth. He closed his eyes to let the sun soak his skin, feeling the wind tousle the strands of his brown hair. He imagined himself drifting with it, free, but a stomach grumble interrupted the moment. Time to eat.


    He set his small backpack on the rocks and ran a hand over its worn fabric. This was a prized possession, collected from somewhere long ago and now covered in stickers from his many adventures. His hand traced his favourite ¡ª a little green monster with orange spikes and a wide grin. Someone had labelled it ¡®Tyrannosaurus Rex¡±, but he knew what a T.Rex looked like, and this wasn¡¯t it. But monsters didn¡¯t look like that either, for that matter.


    He crouched down, slipping his hand into the backpack without even looking. He knew what he¡¯d find in there: his stash of ¡°essentials¡±. Food, of course, but there was more in there ¡ª his beloved red scarf, soft from age, a leathery notebook and a battered toy car. Its wheels were missing, but it was perfect for pretending, and it reminded him of a real one he¡¯d once seen parked crooked on the side of an old road.


    After a few seconds of rummaging, his fingers brushed against cold metal. Got it. He revealed his prize in the sunlight, squinting as the tin glinted. Etched on it appeared a faded label ¡ª half a picture of a cat and letters long worn away. He made a face. Maybe it was cat meat, but even if it was, he could handle it. Hunger made you brave.


    He dug in without waiting for his friend ¡ª who wouldn¡¯t eat anyway.


    The buildings flanked the road on either side, towering like guardians watching over him. He rose to his feet, glancing back as an emptiness pressed down on him, heavy and uncomfortable, a weight he only felt when his companion wasn¡¯t by his side. He squinted and hoped to see its shadow move through the debris. It would eventually find its way, even if the tangled mess of broken walls and twisted metal slowed it down. Then, a soft clatter made his heart lift. Relief washed over him, and he couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    Dog was his best friend, his companion through every expedition. Together, they were explorers of this forgotten world, discovering secrets in the dust. They had met in a massive building filled with treasures ¡ª glittering jewels, toys, books and strange machines whose purposes were lost on him. But that place terrified him; its endless halls were alive with shadows. He had never returned since.


    He noticed a flock of birds land farther away, a fluttering speck of life against the concrete. He drifted closer, pulled by the gentle chaos of tiny wings, until he crept close enough to crouch and marvel at their antics. He wrapped his arms around his knees and tucked himself in a ball. It made him feel safe ¡ª almost hidden, like the world beyond couldn¡¯t touch him here.


    The tiny brown creatures fussed over crumbs caught in a scraggly patch of grass that had forced its way up through cracks in the stone. He swayed a little, watching them, wondering if they could talk to each other and if they had best friends and families. The thought made his heart ache a little. Still, he was glad for them, glad they had each other in whatever way birds did.


    Feeling uneasy, he curiously searched for a distraction. Beyond the birds stood a large opening in the building, the kind that swung in a circle ¡ª he loved those. The excitement sparked in his chest, and the birds scattered in a whirl of feathers as he rushed to the building. He leaned against a window, the glass chilling his palms. Wooden planks obscured his vision, and he squinted, pressing his forehead against the glass to peer in the darkness. What secrets possibly lay hidden inside?


    The doors spun wildly, faster and faster, as he pushed them merrily, running in circles until the whole world blurred around him. Finally, he stumbled to a stop, dizzy. A storm whirled inside his stomach in a mix of giddy joy and prickly anticipation about what lay beyond the doors.


    He steadied himself and caught his breath, eyes wide as he took in the lobby stretching before him. It was massive, like most rooms from these kinds of buildings. A single long desk spanned from left to right, and behind it, twin staircases climbed upward, flanking a wall covered in graffiti ¡ª a giant rendition of Earth, like the one in his encyclopedia. One word was slashed across it in red letters: Doomed.


    It felt heavy¡­ But he wasn¡¯t sure what the word meant. Frowning, he dug into his bag and pulled out his small notebook and the accompanying fluffy pen. Then, he carefully copied the word onto a fresh page, adding a question mark beside it.


    Loose papers were scattered everywhere; they blanketed the floor like fallen leaves. It¡¯s a mess. His footsteps echoed in the hollow space, stirring the documents into a dance. He tiptoed around the desk and wondered if he would find something exciting ¡ª perhaps some strange tool he hadn¡¯t seen before.


    But then, a shape at the centre made him freeze.


    A man.


    His eyes widened. The man sat slumped against the wall, legs sprawled out. He¡¯s sleeping! But there was something off ¡ª patches of yellow moss clung to the skin, sprouting in some places into pale mushrooms. Twisted tendrils spread out from the body, hooked to the floor and snaking up the walls. It emanated around, branching like some strange root system.


    A shiver ran down his spine, yet he couldn¡¯t look away ¡ª he¡¯d never seen it this close before. The man had become part of the building itself.


    An unpleasant smell filled the air. He covered his wrinkled nose with both hands, but still, he felt a pull ¡ª a magnetic tug drawing him closer, daring him to get a better look. Part of him wanted to reach out, feel the spongy patches on the man¡¯s skin as if they might hold a secret he needed to know. He edged forward despite his thumping heart as the thrill of curiosity almost drowned out the prick of fear.


    The sound of doors spinning behind startled him. He glanced back, relief washing over him when he saw Dog had trotted in. ¡°Come, Dog!¡± he called, keeping his voice low just in case, ¡°I found someone!¡± Dog¡¯s cardboard ears flapped as it padded over, halting next to him.


    His stomach twisted with a thrill. The man could suddenly wake up. Beware of strangers. But he had a feeling it was the kind of sleep that could go on forever. So he lowered his backpack carefully to the floor, patting his companion. ¡°Dog, stay!¡± he whispered, a feeling of adventure growing inside. He¡¯d be cautious and quiet.


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    He sneaked forward, one careful step at a time, his feet gliding over clear patches without papers to crinkle. Closer now, he could see the man¡¯s skin in detail ¡ª fuzzy and discoloured, sometimes bluish, it shimmered in the dim light. The smell was worse here. ¡°Yuck,¡± he whispered, but he didn¡¯t stop. Fear and fascination bubbled inside, and he wondered if the man needed help.


    He leaned closer, drawn by an urge unexplained ¡ª the heat rose in his cheeks.


    Suddenly, just behind the man¡¯s face, something moved. Legs crawled over the mottled skin. It took a second to understand, but when he did, his heart raced as he lunged towards Dog.


    ¡°Spider!¡± he screamed, all the fascination now giving way to terror. His heart pounded with every step, and it felt like the creature was right behind him, matching his pace ¡ª just a heartbeat away from catching him.


    He scooped up the bag and clutched it tightly as he dashed towards the exit. ¡°Come, Dog!¡± This time, he made only one necessary turn in the carousel before bursting into the open. Sunlight hit him in a brilliant warmth that felt comforting. The fear fizzled, replaced by a sense of triumph. A giggle slipped out, followed by another as his laughter spilt into the empty street. Dog trotted up beside him, and he doubled over with a wide grin. ¡°That was funny!¡±


    #


    A gentle trickle of water joined his song as he wandered carefree along the river¡¯s edge. ¡°Round and round the world we go ~¡± His arms swung joyfully in wide arcs that matched his steps. The river cut a clear path through stone and dirt, and he followed as if the water guided him. ¡°Past the river through the snow ~¡±


    The sun dipped low, casting long shadows that reached him, and he felt the tug of home. He raised his voice, playful but softer now. ¡°Chasing shadows, chasing light ~¡± Beside him, Dog kept pace in steady strides, its gentle whirring a companion to his rhythm. He grinned, pleased to have Dog as his only audience. ¡°Hide before the fall of night ~¡±


    As the last note faded, he looked to the west, knowing he¡¯d have to make it back before the sky turned dark.


    Far ahead, birds burst from a tree, their wings flashing against the dusk. His song caught in his throat. Whatever had spooked them might be close. His instincts urged him to hide, and without another thought, he slid down the slope towards the riverbank in search of cover ¡ª a large rock jutted from the earth, its large shadow promising shelter.


    He huddled behind it, knees pulled to his chest. Dog shuffled in close beside him. ¡°Sit,¡± he whispered, and Dog pressed its body low, folding its limbs as they had practised. They melted into the rock¡¯s shadow, and he felt the cold earth beneath him as he held his breath. They stayed silent ¡ª listening.


    The world narrowed to the shared space between him and Dog. Hide, hide, don¡¯t make a sound ~


    This fear was different ¡ª colder, locking his muscles in place. Spiders made him run; this made him freeze. The kind of fear that pinned him down, like in those nightmares where he¡¯d lie helpless as something crept at the edge of his vision, ready to pounce. He could hear, feel, and breathe but never move to run or even turn to face it. Invisible chains held him still.


    Yet he always woke up at some point, returning to his small bed.


    Now, though, he was wide awake.


    Footsteps echoed down the street, each one a deliberate thud. The men¡¯s voices grated as they spoke about things he couldn¡¯t understand. One of them tossed a stone into the river ¡ª it splashed close.


    He¡¯d seen people before, but always from a distance. Most of them were dangerous, the kind he knew never to approach. Close your eyes and count to ten ~ He placed a hand on Dog¡¯s back; the soft buzz beneath his palm always grounded him. He closed his eyes tight, retreating into the song¡¯s quiet promise of safety. You¡¯ll be safe when light comes then ~


    He wished he could be playing instead.


    The group passed him without noticing, focus locked on each other. Their deep voices carried boisterous echoes through the stillness of the city. ¡°Think we¡¯ll find some food? I¡¯m craving meat,¡± one of them asked. ¡°Stay focused,¡± another snapped, ¡°We¡¯ve got a job to do.¡± The boy¡¯s heart raced at the mention of a ¡°job¡± ¡ª recalling the colourful pictures from a baby book he had drawn over. Maybe they¡¯re firemen.


    Curiosity tugged at him, and he allowed himself to peek around the rock slowly. Clad in matching uniforms, they wore helmets and padded armour. Maybe they were firemen, after all. His heart leapt as he watched in awe, trying to memorise every detail. Then, as one man shuffled through his pack, something fell out, landing with a muted clink on the ground. A thrill of excitement shot through him; he desperately wanted to rush towards it, to see what it was, but caution stopped him. What if they catch me?


    He looked down at Dog and whispered. ¡°What do you think they¡¯re doing?¡¯


    When the men had disappeared up the street, he had waited long enough. Moving slowly towards the shiny object, he felt the weight of his decision. The metal caught the last light of day as he picked them up ¡ª keys. Three of them, their worn etchings almost invisible. He ran his fingers over, questions buzzing in his head. Should I give them back?


    Voices drifted from the street¡¯s end, low and fading. ¡°It¡¯s gonna be dark soon; he¡¯s not gonna be happy if we come back empty-handed¡­¡±


    A colder voice replied, ¡°Dude, fuck Briggs.¡±


    He clutched the keys tighter, a shocked little gasp slipping out. That man had said a bad word.


    As the boy made his way back, the gentle rhythm of the river¡¯s soft splashes calmed his racing heart. Meeting new people always left the world feeling different, as if each encounter added new pieces to the mystery surrounding him. What could the keys unlock? The thought brought a smile that warmed him despite the remnants of fear that lingered in his chest.


    A warm orange light bathed the street, casting the broken buildings in long shadows. As he climbed down the familiar slope towards the central building, he felt the quiet reassurance of the white facade against the impending twilight. Dog padded alongside him, and with a slight heave, he pushed open the heavy door, the familiar scent of dusty books greeting him. He let out a small sigh, feeling the relief of safety wrap around him, knowing he was home.


    #


    The stone hall lay silent. His tiny footsteps echoed softly off marble columns stretching towards the high ceiling. The building brought a place of respite for the night, a vast, abandoned space with rooms he rarely explored ¡ª and one he knew to avoid. But his favourite place was marked by faded letters:


    CARL SAGAN LIBRARY


    In his mind, this was his bedroom; he loved how the wooden furniture gave the space a quiet warmth, and the smell of old books carried the memories of forgotten times.


    The door groaned as he tugged at the greened copper handle. A soft light spilt over the shelves below, stretching through rows and rows of books fading into the shadows. There were books on almost everything here: fantasy novels ¡ª his favourites ¡ª books about space, history, even cooking. He¡¯d explored many of them, yet he always discovered something new, especially when it rained. On those days, he¡¯d settle in with Dog, drawing dinosaurs and dragons or maybe inventing new friends on paper. Sometimes, he¡¯d build things out of cardboard or spring in laps around the room, Dog dutifully trailing behind. It was like a bit of adventure, even inside.


    He moved past his little art corner and the old chest, where his stash of cans from the ¡°Donation Room¡± was stored safely. The fading light in the room brought on a sleepiness, settling over him like a soft blanket. He gave Dog a gentle pat on the back, and a small screen flickered on, showing a clock and a battery icon ¡ª only a few bars left. He didn¡¯t quite get how dog worked, but he¡¯d learned one thing: Dog seemed to gather energy during the day and lose it through the night, like a living opposite of himself.


    With a press of the light button, Dog started glowing in soft blue, lighting their space. It was a soothing glow, one that always made him feel safe enough to dream.


    Warm blankets draped over the entrance to his fort, forming a snug cocoon of covers, cardboard, and drawings nestled beneath a sturdy wooden desk. He dropped his bag, grabbed his notebook, and crawled into his safe place. Lying back in the blankets, he jotted down his journal entry for the day ¡ª short and simple, filled chiefly with questions. Then, he reached for the thick book by his bed, flipping to the section marked ¡°D¡±. His finger glided down the page, skimming the words until it paused on the one he was looking for:


    ¡°Doomed, adj.: certain to fail, die or be destroyed. Ex: This is a doomed city.¡±


    ***

 04 - Echoes in the Dark

    Echoes in the Dark


    The metal plate shifted heavily against the concrete, sealing the depths with a final clang. Every muscle in his body ached from the escape, and though he¡¯d be safe for now, his breath still shuddered. At least here, the air held no spores. He tugged the mask off, sinking to the ground, and let his head fall back against a wall to steady his breathing. The smell of rot and damp stone felt suffocating, especially in the quiet, as beneath him, beyond the rusty bars of the ladder, the creature¡¯s disgusting, throaty sounds had faded. But he didn¡¯t trust the silence.


    He lifted his flashlight, its weak beam flickering as he cast it over the crumbling stone walls. Shadows leapt and sank into the edges, feeding his unease. He strained to pierce the gloom, searching for any sign of safety or an exit. But in escaping the tunnel, he had only found himself in another one.


    After a moment of stillness, he pushed himself up and advanced in the darkness. Keeping his hand pressed to the right wall, he forced his mind to map the space as he went. His fingers traced the rough stone, focusing despite the fear that something could still be hunting him.


    He wiped the sweat from his weary brow while he assessed the situation. There had been no sign of an exit, but at least for now, the creature was stuck below. His light flickered again, reminding him that his batteries were limited. This was the immediate concern, as food and water would not be an issue for the next few days, but if the light gave out¡­ he might as well be trapped in a grave. The weight of his isolation settled heavily in his chest, but he had faced worse odds before. Right?


    His grip tightened on his weapon, hoping to be ready this time. It was a sturdy, curved Pulaski axe he kept sharp. Though the current threat had receded, he remained on edge, and its solidity was comforting. If it came to that, it would get him through any fight. He would just have to hold up as well.


    But for now, he had to keep going. The only way out was forward.


    Every breath tasted stale, thick like the air hadn¡¯t stirred in years. The network of galleries stretched deeper, more intricate than he had anticipated, twisting in random turns as if designed without purpose. Or maybe their purpose was to keep secrets buried. In this case, they were succeeding. Every passageway blurred into the next, and his bearings slipped under the crush of darkness and fatigue.


    He thought of another time, another place, though he rarely let himself go back there. But the tight, unending spaces pried at the edges of memory: rows of people pushing and shoving, squeezed together in pursuit of promised salvation ¡ª only to find filtering lanes ahead, separating those who could leave to those who couldn¡¯t. A final and futile effort to delay the inevitable.


    A sound behind him sent his mind back to survival mode. His body reacted instinctively, spinning, the beam slicing through the darkness. For a moment, he was sure it would catch the creature, hunched and waiting, just beyond the light¡¯s reach ¡ª instead, nothing. Endless emptiness. Focus. He needed to get out of here before he drove himself mad. He quickened his pace as if sheer speed could keep the invisible threat at bay.


    Occasionally, he swore he heard footsteps echoing his own, but when he turned, the tunnels were always empty. Waiting.


    He lost track of time, his sense of weariness mounting as seconds bled into minutes, minutes into hours. The obscurity played tricks on him. Shadows danced along the labyrinthine halls in a mocking choreography. He checked his watch, knowing full well it was broken ¡ª the glass was cracked, and the second hand frozen. He had once felt clever for seeking a mechanical watch, something he thought would last as long as he did. One lousy fall had proved him wrong. Now, he kept it as a reminder: a relic of a time long gone.


    Then, a splash of colour broke the monotony of stone. Faint streaks of paint clung to the stone like ghosts, too faded to decipher. But as he turned a corner, his flashlight caught a smear of yellow, bold against the wall:


    ¡°PRAY FOR THE CHILDREN OF DOOM¡±


    A chill slid down his spine.


    #


    The rusted gates groaned as they swung open, breaking the oppressive silence he¡¯d grown accustomed to. A cold draft slipped through the gap, prickling his skin. After so long spent in the dark, the sight of doors had sparked a cruel flicker of hope, but as the beam of his flashlight swept inside, his stomach twisted in knots. This was no exit. Rather, a cavernous hall stretched before him, welcoming him inside with its vast emptiness. A wave of despair washed over him, yet there was no time for pity. The only way out is forward.


    The scraping echoes surged through the tunnels as he shut the heavy doors behind him and sealed the tomb.


    The weak beam barely reached the ceiling, only catching the edges of industrial pipes disappearing into the gloom above. This place is filled with tunnels. His boots clicked and scuffed against the damp floor, a thin mist hovering, swirling around his steps; it seemed like the place had developed a peculiar weather system over the years.


    The hall stretched in all directions, and it was hard to guess its purpose ¡ª perhaps a bunker meant to house thousands or some control centre. The remnants of machinery littered the floor, gears and metal fragments scattered like broken bones of a forgotten age, but they gave no deeper insight. And then he noticed the desks. Endless rows, some toppled, some eerily intact, the outlines of abandoned stations frozen in time. Even after society¡¯s collapse, men crave their bureaucratic jobs. Ancient computers sat on each desk, their screens cracked or covered in dust, scattered papers strewn about like the aftermath of a hurried exodus.


    The silence held, save for the rhythmic drip of water somewhere in the dark. He half wanted to shout, to shatter the oppressive silence. Instead, his boot crushed a glass fragment, sending a brief, hollow crack.


    As he shifted his weight, his flashlight caught a pale glint beneath the fog ¡ª brittle bones scattered among the debris. He was walking on a dusty graveyard. He tried not to dwell on it, but the scene gnawed at him. It spoke of a hasty abandonment, of people fleeing in panic. Chaos had seized the occupants, but the details of their fate remained elusive. Each item was a ghostly memory: a frayed backpack, a shattered mug handle, and a set of keys that jingled faintly as he brushed past. The chill of isolation tightened in his chest.


    A half-torn map lay on one of the desks, its edges yellowed with age. Red ink bled across the page, some still legible: Safe zones overrun. His fingers brushed against the desk, disturbing a layer of dust. He swallowed hard. No one had been spared. Not even here.


    The mist thickened, clinging with a damp chill that felt like a warning. He slowed instinctively. Something was wrong ¡ª he knew the feeling. Danger. He could sense it in the subtle breeze shift, now carrying a metallic tang that cut through the stale air ¡ª like a fresh wound in the space around him. The unmistakable scent of blood.


    He paused, searching for his next move. The scattered papers twitched in the breeze, fluttering like dying birds that whispered of some unseen threat. His flashlight sputtered, and in that dying light, he felt laid bare, more vulnerable than ever. He stuffed the flashlight away, his hands moving fast as he grabbed some torn fabric and a handful of papers. He knotted them quickly around a broken metal rod. The air here felt drier; it would have to work.


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    He fished out a flint from his bag, striking it with an almost frantic desperation. Sparks lit up the darkness in bursts of hope. Then, finally, flames caught and erupted in a defiant blaze, sending twisting shadows all around.


    He moved forward, thrusting the torch ahead. The hall seemed to warp and distort in the firelight. The way the surroundings swallowed everything beyond the fire¡¯s reach made his pulse quicken ¡ª how the shadows clung to the walls, how they seemed to shift with every step. Flames danced, and so did his heart.


    The pieces fell into place, and a chill coursed through him. This hall wasn¡¯t a tomb. It was a hunting ground.


    The fog churned, rippling as shapes prowled beneath its white veil. They were closing in, their figure shifting just out of reach, testing him. Axe firm in his grip, he collected himself. The way they circled, there was no mistaking their intent ¡ª they were hunters, and he was prey. Three at nine, two at three. His eyes darted between them, mentally charting their positions. He could afford no mistake, not this time.


    A piercing shriek shattered the silence. A signal.


    Survive.


    One sprang forward, erupting from the mist ¡ª a quadrupedal creature the size of a dog. His body moved on instinct, the blade flashing as he swung. It caught the creature in its momentum, cleaving through flesh with a sickening ease. A guttural screech tore from the creature¡¯s throat as it died, silenced in a brutal arc. Blood splattered across his arm, dark and sticky, but there was no time to linger. More would follow the lead.


    He vaulted over a desk, his boots skidding on the dusty floor, just in time to meet the next one head-on. His shoulder screamed in protest as he brought the axe down with all the force he could muster. The creature¡¯s body crumpled under the blow, and its bones shattered loudly against the desk. Blood sprayed on grime like paint on a canvas. Two at 11, one at 5. He took a step back, recalibrating his stance. Every step was measured, every strike precise. But they would keep coming.


    With a grunt, he swung upward as another lunged for his head. The blade cut deep, and the creature¡¯s body jerked violently, folding when it hit the ground.


    Then, a sharp pain shot through his ankle. He looked down to see jagged teeth latched onto his leg, ripping through fabric and skin. A deep snarl escaped his mouth as he slammed the torch down, catching the creature across the snout. Flames licked at its body, and it screeched, stumbling back into the fog with the stench of burning flesh.


    But there were more ¡ª eyes glinted in the torchlight, predatory and ravenous. They were closing in from all sides. Too many even for him. Panic clawed at him as he staggered back. He wouldn¡¯t be able to hold them off forever.


    He scrambled onto a desk, using the height to seek an escape. The creatures slithered beneath the white blanket, circling like sharks scenting blood. Each second, they edged closer, and their numbers seemed to grow in a relentless wave of teeth and claws. But there, through the haze, he spotted it ¡ª an opening.


    Leaping from one desk to the next, he swatted away their lunging forms using torch and axe. Every muscle ached, but he could see it now ¡ª a way out, just within reach. He dropped to the ground, his boots pounding against the concrete as he broke into a sprint.


    A low, guttural growl rippled through the mist, freezing him mid-stride. It reverberated through the hall, deeper than any sound he¡¯d heard from the creatures. Time froze. This was different ¡ª bigger. His spine went cold.


    Turning to face it, he glimpsed a hulking shadow forming in the fog, and before he could raise his weapon, a crushing blow struck him with brutal force. He was thrown to the ground, the impact jarring through his skull as the world spun, vision flashing white. The torch rolled away, casting a weak shimmer over the shadow that loomed above.


    Pain lanced through his head, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Heavy footsteps echoed in his ears, each one a countdown, and he gripped his axe, bracing himself. Come at me.


    It towered over him, a massive, monstrous form barely contained in the torch¡¯s dying glow. A raw power radiated off it ¡ª the same creature that had hunted him in the dark. Every instinct screamed for him to run now, but it was too late. It had come for him.


    #


    He snapped back to awareness, his senses sluggish, grasping at clarity. An unyielding tug yanked at his leg, dragging him. His clothes scraped over rough ground, and his head spun, thoughts muddled in confusion. The last flicker of the torch¡¯s dying light faded somewhere behind him, and he was swallowed in darkness.


    He couldn¡¯t grasp how he was still alive. The creatures should have been tearing into him by now, gnawing through layers of guts as he squirmed. Instead, his abductor seemed to want him somewhere. Alive.


    A chill of raw terror gripped him, stronger than any claw.


    Desperately, he flailed at the floor, scrambling to latch onto something, anything, but his hands slipped uselessly over cold stone. Any remnants of control he¡¯d clung to were stripped away as the atrocity hauled him through the void.


    Blind and disoriented, he had no idea where he was taken. The creature¡¯s wet, ragged breaths echoed through the darkness as his sole sensory stimulation. There was only so much time left to figure out a plan ¡ª precious seconds before he reached whatever hellish place the creature wanted him to see.


    The floor beneath him had changed, transformed into something vile. Each tug sent a squelch through the air, the slick floor squishing under his weight. Each step the creature took landed heavily, splashing through puddles that reeked of decay. He felt bumps under him ¡ª pulsing, like roots alive and writhing over the surface. A disgusting sensation. Cold and slimy, the ground seemed to swallow him inch by inch as he got dragged further, each moment blurred into an endless agony.


    Then, the abductor slowed.


    He seized the moment. Heart pounding, he fumbled in his bag in search of the flashlight. Just as his fingers closed around it, the monster yanked him sharply, slamming him against a wall. With a grunt, his shoulder crashed into a surface ¡ª not stone, but something thick and spongy, like¡­ meat.


    Now.


    He flicked the flashlight on, and the beam burst to life, illuminating the horror around him. The chamber pulsed alive, its walls woven with a sickly network of pinkish-white tendrils. They layered over every surface, coiling over the floor, walls and even the ceiling, like grotesque veins stretched over concrete bones. He felt like he was inside a living organism. Tiny, irregular holes gaped in the flesh-like roots, each exhaling wisps of pale gas that crept along the floor, seeping out from the chamber.


    The creature growled, momentarily stunned by the sudden light.


    In one desperate, swift motion, he scrambled to his feet and made a break for the nearest opening. Torch in one hand, he rushed forward, legs pumping with every ounce of strength he had left. Behind him, a furious roar echoed, but the creature had been too slow to react.


    His boots skidded over the slimy floor, nearly sending him in a sprawl. But, he caught himself, heart hammering against his ribs. He didn¡¯t dare look back. He couldn¡¯t.


    His life depended on it.


    #


    He ran like a madman ¡ª a beast with nothing but instinct. His boots pounded against the stone in a rhythm of desperation, and the walls blurred into twisted shadows as he sped through the darkness. Each frantic movement sent his flashlight beam bouncing wildly ahead, mimicking his chaotic thoughts. In spite of it, he could barely make out a faint noise behind him. It was still there, pursuing him. The creature would not give up. And for now, its presence alone spurned him to run faster.


    The tunnels twisted and turned, endless. How long had he been running? His legs had gone numb; he was moving purely on momentum, driven by a will on the edge of collapse. For one fleeting moment, a chilling thought crept in ¡ª Is this all there is? Running without end?


    But then, as despair clutched at him, he saw a change ahead: stairs, hewn into the stone, leading up. He didn¡¯t hesitate. Taking the steps two at a time, his heart lurched with the faintest hint of hop, a hand tracing the rough wall to steady his ascension. He didn¡¯t know where they would lead, but they led up ¡ª away from the nightmare below. For now, that was all he needed.


    Then, he saw her.


    At the top of the stairs, a figure slumped against the wall. He almost dismissed it as another trick of his faltering mind, a hallucination born of exhaustion and fear. But as he climbed closer, the shape solidified. It was a woman curled up, her face smeared with mud, her clothes dark with stains.


    His breath caught in his throat, ending his flight. The flashlight¡¯s trembling beam washed over her, and in the dim glow, she stirred, barely conscious. Blood had soaked her body, a wound visible on her side. Her chest rose and fell, unsteady from shallow breaths, and with it finally came the sudden realisation ¡ª she was alive.


    The light caught on a patch of fabric, letters embroidered and barely visible on her bloodied shirt: Victoria. Something stirred within him, a rush of unfamiliar urgency, clouding his judgment and taking hold of his reflexes.


    Whoever she was, she needed help. And fast.


    ***

 05 - Victoria

    Victoria


    The end began quietly, faint murmurs on the news, lost among talks of climate and fleeting trends ¡ª until it grew too loud to ignore.


    She remembered hearing about it on the playground ¡ª children echoing what they had overheard from their parents. ¡°My mom says it¡¯s just another disease because they¡¯re poor,¡± a girl stated during a game of marbles. ¡°It was created in a lab in China! That¡¯s for sure.¡± This was Ryan, and she didn¡¯t like him much. It seemed everyone had something to say. Yet, her mom avoided the subject, shifting whenever she started asking questions. Her own parents didn¡¯t know.


    They started arguing after a while, usually late at night when she was in bed. She could make out some words through the cracks of her door. Her dad¡¯s voice tried to be soft, but he wanted to be heard. ¡°We¡¯re not gonna be like those people! We¡¯ll be careful¡­ we can home-school her for a bit if it comes to that.¡± She didn¡¯t like the idea. Her friends would do so many things without her, and they would forget her. She wanted to go to school.


    For a while, she had kept going. But soon enough, they all started carrying a mask. It was scratchy, and she couldn¡¯t smile or stick out her tongue when Ryan annoyed her ¡ª she didn¡¯t like that. The teacher wore it under the nose even though he wasn¡¯t supposed to. She also had to clean her hands more than usual, and the gel dried her skin and made it red. She didn¡¯t like that either.


    One day, her mom woke her up later than usual, the sun already out and the smell of waffles in the air. ¡°Hey, sweetie, you¡¯re not going to school today,¡± her mom said softly while she rubbed her sleepy eyes. ¡°You¡¯re gonna stay home. Just like a holiday!¡± She didn¡¯t think much of it, and breakfast was delicious.


    The holidays dragged on for a long time. They watched TV more than usual, even while they ate. The men on TV talked about a lot of accidents and angry people. First in countries she had heard about in school ¡ª then in places closer to home. She even saw the president on TV. He talked for a long time with words she didn¡¯t really understand, but he looked very serious.


    After that, her parents fought even when she was around.


    She woke up terrified. A loud noise came from overhead outside the house. A bright white light accompanied the sound of blades rotating in the night. ¡°THIS IS AN EMERGENCY WARNING. PLEASE VACATE YOUR HOMES IN ORDERLY FASHION. PACK UP ESSENTIAL ITEMS AND FOLLOW THE EVACUATION PLAN.¡± She couldn¡¯t move ¡ª the noise was horrible. She clung to the warmth of her blanket, curled tightly into herself.


    There were voices outside her room: her mother¡¯s muffled whispers and the rustling of bags. Flashes of orange light blinked through the windows, with distant rumbles almost like thunder. Her father opened the door, a look of anguish upon his face. He embraced her and carried her downstairs. ¡°It¡¯s okay, honey. We just need to walk a little.¡±


    They were outside now, people everywhere ¡ª talking, crying. She was pressed against her father¡¯s chest as they moved, his heartbeat strong against her cheek. There were men in armour, carrying guns ¡ª they reminded her of Saving Private Ryan, but scarier. Her parents followed the orders they gave, the white light blinding them every time it passed. A weird smell was in the air, almost like Sunday barbecues in the garden, yet far less pleasant.


    Every so often, she caught a glimpse of her mother¡¯s face, her eyes darting towards the sky. There was fear all around. The streetlights blinked out one by one, and the crowd around them moved faster. Short screams burst from the moving horde. Her father¡¯s breath tousled her hair as he began to run.


    People down the road had started screaming. She didn¡¯t know why. Her mother¡¯s hand brushed her hair. ¡°Keep your eyes closed, sweetie,¡± she whispered, her voice trembling. ¡°Just keep them closed. We¡¯re almost there.¡±


    Victoria did as she was told. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the chaos growing. The motors above were louder and everywhere now. The ground beneath her kept shaking. ¡°Daddy, I¡¯m scared¡­¡± she managed to utter against the fabric of her dad¡¯s sweater.


    ¡°Shhh, it¡¯s going to be okay, honey. Everything¡¯s going to¡ª¡°


    The explosion came suddenly. It shook everything, with a terrible sound that had made her more scared than she ever had been. The air turned cold in her vision, a biting wind.


    She was falling. Her hands flailed, yet no one to catch her. Her father¡¯s arms were gone. The pavement rushed up, but she didn¡¯t hit it. Instead, she landed softly, as if sinking into water. The buildings stretched up into jagged angles, and the whole world twisted ¡ª the sky above swirling in crimson and black.


    She spun around her, searching the empty street. ¡°Mom?¡± she whispered, her voice trembling. But the words wouldn¡¯t leave her mouth; they were absorbed into darkness. Her feet splashed through a black oil spreading across the ground. The helicopters were no longer in the sky but on the ground ¡ª twisted blades, frozen, as black smoke rose from their broken shells.


    She tried to move, but her legs were stuck, so she struggled.


    And from the wreckage, something crawled.


    Its eyes were on her, she knew, even though she couldn¡¯t see in the dark. The thing dragged itself closer. It moved unnaturally, like it had forgotten how to walk. But no one was there to hear her scream. It reached out for her, its long fingers stretching towards her face ¡ª


    She jolted awake, drenched in sweat. Pain coursed through her side as the nightmare clung to her. The sensation of falling refused to let go.


    For a moment, she wasn¡¯t sure if she had escaped.


    #


    He waited in the shadows, dying embers of a fire cast rays that danced over his face. Slouched in a wooden chair, he looked old for some reason. Years of survival etched onto his face. Still, he was probably not more than a decade older than her. He looked strong, especially in this outfit ¡ª cargo pants and a thick vest. Wearing almost all black save for brown tactical boots. Her eyes immediately went to the axe resting loosely in his hand. If he was a captor, that could prove to be a problem.


    She first took in her surroundings. The room was made of stone, wet and crumbled, and clearly an improvised infirmary. She glanced at the wound in her side, her torn shirt revealing the stitches. It was amateur work but better than nothing ¡ª probably the reason she was still alive. Only then did she feel the fire inside her head, a burning fever that awoke with her ¡ª threatening to drag her back under.


    Wait, where the fuck am I? The thought slammed into her. Panic flared, and for a brief moment, she was convinced Briggs had caught her and dragged her back inside the walls. The anticipation pressed her to get up.


    ¡°You really shouldn¡¯t move,¡± a raspy voice calmly said. ¡°You ought to be dead. So don¡¯t test your luck.¡±


    She froze. The man wasn¡¯t asleep after all. Her arms twitched as she tried to sit up, but her wrists caught on the frame. She was restrained.


    ¡°Yeah, sorry about that,¡± he seemed genuinely embarrassed. ¡°I just don¡¯t know you, so¡­¡±


    Victoria¡¯s eyes met his as she realised. He wasn¡¯t one of them, but someone from outside.


    He placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her back onto the mattress. ¡°Your wound is gonna need some time before you can move again. You want some water?¡±


    Her mind was filled with burning questions; confusion clouded her senses. ¡°Wait, where are we? Who are you? Are there really monsters out there?¡± Her mouth was dry and her voice hoarse, but she needed answers.


    He chuckled, as confused as her. ¡°Hey now, don¡¯t play games with me, Victoria.¡±


    ¡°H-how ¡ª ¡± A spike of fear shot through her. For a second, the idea that they might have sent him crossed her mind again. But then, he pointed at her chest ¡ª a tag dangling from her shirt.


    ¡°I guess you shouldn¡¯t put your name on your clothes if you don¡¯t want people to know.¡±


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    He set his axe down against a cupboard. ¡°Here, take a sip. I¡¯ll check your wound.¡±


    She felt like prey again, beaten, captured and confused. But something in his demeanour eased her panic. ¡°I guess I should say thank you for saving my life,¡± she said, testing his reaction.


    He glanced at her with unease. ¡°Oh, no, I only treated your wound. You can thank yourself for the rest. Honestly, I was certain you¡¯d die after a few hours.¡±


    ¡°How long was I out ?¡± she asked, only now realising she had no idea.


    ¡°Two days, maybe more. The darkness tends to mess with your senses.¡± He pressed his fingers gently around her wound, assessing it with care. ¡°Good news is, it¡¯s not infected,¡± he looked at her in anticipation. ¡°Bad news is, you¡¯ll need a few days before you can walk out of here.¡± A few days was a long time, but she had plenty now that she was finally free. Or outside the walls, at the very least.


    Victoria blinked, letting the thought sink in. She had so many questions but didn¡¯t know where to start. The truth was that the answers scared her. Outside the walls. The phrase hung weightless, terrible. The wall had been her horizon for as long as she could remember. She had planned to escape but never considered what came next. Now, she was adrift in a sea of endless possibilities ¡ª and a devastating sense of emptiness.


    ¡°You know I¡¯m too weak to struggle. Can you untie me now ?¡± she muttered.


    He hesitated briefly before untying her left hand, ¡°If you try anything¡­ Just know, people have tried before, and I¡¯m still alive.¡±


    Victoria nodded silently. Okay, tough guy. ¡°You said I was out for two days,¡± she offered, trying to focus. ¡°Where are we now?¡±


    The man shrugged, his expression distant. ¡°We¡¯re underground; I believe we¡¯re beneath a hill in the city. It¡¯s mostly tunnels down here, and I¡¯ve been trying to find a way out for a few days, maybe. But¡­ let¡¯s say circumstances have hindered my progress.¡±


    ¡°What kind of place is this?¡± Her voice cracked in disbelief. She didn¡¯t like the idea of being trapped beneath the earth.


    ¡°It might have been a control centre or a hub of some sort. A place of hope after the end¡­¡± He pointed to a pile of papers on a desk nearby. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying to map the place and track where I¡¯ve been. These tunnels, somewhere, they lead back up. I just need to find the right route.¡± He paused as if the weight of the situation finally hit him. ¡°But it¡¯s easier said than done. Especially with ¡ª¡° His eyes flickered towards her.


    ¡°Especially with what?¡± she asked, impatience seeping into her voice.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± he said, looking away. ¡°You should rest for now; I¡¯ll roam a little while you do.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m just supposed to trust you won¡¯t leave me here in the dark?¡± The fever was clouding her judgement.


    ¡°Listen, if I wanted to leave you for dead, I wouldn¡¯t have gone through all this trouble.¡± He ran a hand through his unkempt hair. ¡°I¡¯ll find a way out. I have to. Supplies are already thin, and with another mouth to feed, we don¡¯t have much choice.¡±


    She swallowed, her throat painfully dry. ¡°And if you don¡¯t?¡±


    For a moment, the silence stretched, both expecting an answer they didn''t have. ¡°There¡¯s always a way out,¡± he said with a kind of resigned certainty.


    Victoria softened ¡ª she could only imagine what he had gone through in this world. And despite everything, she did owe her life to him. ¡°You haven¡¯t told me your name.¡±


    He hesitated, pretending not to have heard her. Then he walked away towards a pack resting near the wall. ¡°Alek,¡± he said without turning back. ¡°Not that it matters much anymore.¡±


    Victoria raised an eyebrow as he prepared to leave. ¡°Well, Alek,¡± she said, letting the name roll off her tongue, ¡°please find us a way out. I¡¯m not dying down here. Not after everything.¡±


    Glancing over his shoulder, his tired eyes caught the faint glow of the embers.


    ¡°Neither am I.¡±


    #


    Time seemed to blend into a meaningless sequence of semi-conscious events. The unrelenting darkness was interrupted by Alek¡¯s flashlight with each coming and going. Victoria had lost any sense of day or night, and had she been in better condition, impatience would have started gnawing at her. He had warned her that the search would be slow, but there was something he withheld. Each time he left, his warnings about the tunnels were vague, yet there was a tension in his voice, a flicker of apprehension every time he crossed the door.


    The fever had faded, leaving only the throb of pain that washed over her in waves. Her body felt drained, and she slept so often that everything was a succession of dreams and hallucinations. There was no choice but to let it happen if she wanted to walk again soon. But she wouldn¡¯t lie around forever ¡ª curiosity tugged at her.


    Alek wasn¡¯t very helpful in figuring it all out. He had saved her life, yes, but there was much he was afraid to say. Admittedly, the fatigue had made her too tired to ask the right questions, but even in the smallest conversations, she could sense it ¡ª a silence that carried weight. Once, she had laid there, eyes closed, pretending to sleep as Alek rummaged through his pack. She caught snippets of his muttered words ¡ª ¡°This was a bad idea¡±, ¡°too close¡±. Each time he returned, his brow was furrowed deeper with worry. Or dread.


    Are there really monsters out there? She had always considered them myths ¡ª a children''s story ¡ª something used to keep people in line. But what else would have Alek on edge this way? Unless he was hiding something darker. For all I know, he could be feeding me bullshit. Perhaps he wanted to make sure she stayed obediently inside, under control. But her pain wouldn¡¯t last forever; once her strength regained, she¡¯d figure things out. She had expected the outside world to be open skies and endless plains, however terrifying it could be ¡ª not a crypt. There had to be something more.


    During one of their meals ¡ª if you could call them that ¡ª she had told him.


    ¡°You know, I wasn¡¯t kidding¡­¡± Her voice interrupted the silence hanging in the dark room.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± he asked, his eyes narrowing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about this. And not just the tunnels; I have no idea what this world is. I grew up¡­ in a community hidden behind walls. I¡¯ve never been outside before this.¡± She tried to meet his eyes, anticipating his reaction.


    ¡°A community? You¡¯re telling me you lived with other people?¡± He sounded surprised ¡ª for the first time, she sensed genuine interest from him.


    ¡°Yes. But they¡¯re not good people. Most of them. That¡¯s why I had to run.¡± She shifted, unnerved by her own words.


    ¡°You should have stayed there.¡± A sadness crept into his voice, the light in his eyes fading.


    ¡°No. I couldn¡¯t stay. You have no idea how it was ¡ª¡° she realised what she was saying.


    He scoffed softly.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean¡ª ¡± She resumed eating the bland mixture, lost in thought. ¡°What¡¯s it like out there ?¡±


    The question hung for a moment. His eyes darkened still, and it took him a while to speak. ¡°It¡¯s not what you¡¯d imagine. I don¡¯t know what they told you in your community, but whatever you think the world looks like now¡­ it¡¯s worse.¡±


    After that, Alek left again, not saying another word. His footsteps faded outside, swallowed by the thick air.


    #


    It was quiet. The oppressive silence pressed against her chest, and she found herself listening to the faintest sounds.


    Sometimes, the drip of water echoed down the stone corridors. Its steady rhythm was almost comforting, but she couldn¡¯t stand the idleness any longer. Her legs ached as she forced herself up. She moved towards the table where Alek had left his maps, a hand brushing the cool stone wall to steady herself. They were a mess of lines and notes hastily scribbled on worn paper. She spread them out, trying to understand it all under dim amber light.


    It took a lot of work to follow the routes he had marked. The paths seemed disjointed, tunnels left unexplored. Parts of the facility were drawn on separate sheets. Something felt off. There was a pattern she couldn¡¯t quite grasp ¡ª a reason behind the apparent chaos. Is he avoiding areas on purpose?


    A low creak made her jump.


    Victoria¡¯s eyes darted towards the door. At first, she thought it was just her imagination. Then, she heard it again ¡ª a faint scraping noise. It wasn¡¯t Alek. It couldn¡¯t be.


    She glanced at the stolen knife lying on the table, the only thing she had to defend herself. Her fingers tightened around the small blade. She strained to hear, holding her breath.


    The sound stopped. As the silence grew thicker, she let out a shaky exhale and momentarily released the tension.


    Then, from somewhere deep in the dark, she heard it ¡ª a whisper.


    It was barely audible, a breath carried on the wind. But it was there. Clear enough to send a shiver crawling up her spine.


    She backed away from the door, uncertain what lurked in the shadows. But for the first time, she wished Alek would return.


    Victoria shivered; the whisper still lingered at the edges of her mind. The air had grown colder, a biting chill, and she retreated behind the bed.


    Then, she saw it.


    A thin wisp of fog curled at the edge of the doorway, almost imperceptible. It snaked into the room, creeping along the stone floor. It felt ominous, moving with an unsettling grace. She backed up, her body pressed against the wall ¡ª nowhere to go. The fog thickened, spilling into the room in long tendrils. It was probing, feeling its way inside.


    The door burst open.


    Alek stumbled in, his face pale. His breath was hard, clothes soaked with dark stains ¡ª tainted blood. His eyes were wide with terror ¡ª but something else was there, too ¡ª a flicker of triumph.


    ¡°Alek?¡± Her voice cracked.


    He didn¡¯t answer at first. He slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against it like he was holding something back. His body was trembling, and his breath fogged the cold air. Victoria¡¯s gaze dropped to his hands ¡ª slick with something thick and dark.


    ¡°What happened?¡± she asked, though her stomach twisted, dreading the answer.


    Alek pushed away from the door and wiped his brow. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you¡¯re up.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Her mind raced, confusion sinking in.


    ¡°I found it,¡± Alek said, his eyes gleamed with a manic intensity. ¡°I found the way out.¡±


    Victoria took a step towards him, her gaze locked on his stained clothes.


    ¡°But it¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s not what you think.¡± He swallowed hard and lowered his voice to a whisper. ¡°We¡¯ll have to go through a place I¡¯ve been avoiding.¡±


    Her blood ran cold as the fog continued to creep towards them; the weight of his words sank in. The truth she had denied slowly unravelled in her mind ¡ª they weren¡¯t just escaping the tunnels; they were heading straight into a nightmare.


    ***

 06 - The Bonds of Family

    The Bonds of Family


    The hill¡¯s crest appeared ahead, dotted with crooked trees and scattered boulders, familiar markers along the climb. His boots sank slightly into the damp earth as he pulled himself up by a wooden post ¡ª an old orientation table that still stood proudly. The stone steps were too big for him, but after countless trips, he knew every uneven spot. Just a few more steps.


    Today, though, each step felt heavier. A deep sense of loneliness weighed over him, sharper than usual, and he¡¯d come here seeking solace and hoping the view might fill the ache a little. From the top, he could overlook the whole patchwork of rooftops of his home and the other houses nestled in the surrounding neighbourhood. His companion followed, trailing him in its usual steady way, offering a silent comfort. Yet, it wasn¡¯t the same. Dog was a friend, and he longed for family.


    Dog¡¯s black, plastic legs extended in smooth movements, adjusting to the rocky slope ¡ª its triangular cardboard panels wobbling awkwardly on the front. As always, he had won the race to the top, so he stopped to catch his breath and look down at the city below. The clouds hung low, thick and grey, spreading a dim light across it, softening the edges of rooftops and streets until they looked almost dreamlike, like a painting ¡ª one where the world stood still under an endless sky. Only the woods moved around him, the canopy alive in a gentle wind.


    He dropped onto his usual bench, the dampness seeping through his clothes. He set his backpack beside him and scanned the sprawl below. From up here, the caved-in rooftops and cracked streets looked almost peaceful. He squinted at the roads, his gaze shifting from one block to another. Would he even recognise her if he saw her again? Her face had grown blurry in his mind. Yet, he scanned the empty streets with a habit he couldn¡¯t shake ¡ª other people were rare here anyway.


    A faint whirring pulled him from his thoughts as Dog clambered onto the bench beside him, its plastic body shifting as it found balance on the damp wood. He leaned back, resting his hand on Dog¡¯s head, feeling the smooth surface under his palm. ¡°It¡¯s quiet, right, Dog?¡± he whispered, with half a smile. Only his friend never knew how to answer.


    In the hush, his thoughts wandered back to her, and a tune slipped out, soft and wistful. ¡°Far away the mountains sing, but no one hears a single thing ~¡± The lullaby was like a thread linking him to her, to the times when she would sing it softly to carry him into sleep. Even now, he could almost feel her hand pulling him out into the cold, the wind tugging at them both, while he¡¯d grumble and drag his feet.


    ¡°The world¡¯s still here, Milo. Never let the clouds make you think otherwise,¡± she¡¯d say, her voice warm even against the chill. He closed his eyes, letting the memory settle, grounding him like the soft pressure of her hand once had.


    His fingers found the edge of his frayed scarf, a quiet ritual. Its colour had dulled, but once, it had been a red as bright as berries. She would wrap it snugly around his neck, pulling him close and pointing out the rooftops below. ¡°See that one? A family of four lived there ¡ª always screaming. And that one, with the blue door, was full of plants like a whole little forest.¡± She painted the city alive with her stories, her words steady as if the world would always stay just like that.


    His little heart ached from the memory, missing the gentle steadiness she offered ¡ª an anchor in his small world. He opened his teary eyes, taking in the familiar skyline. Sometimes, he came here to remember, like if he stayed long enough, she might appear on the path below, smiling. She might one day.


    So he waited on their favourite bench for her return.


    #


    The wind whipped cold against his cheeks as he barrelled downhill, leaning into the descent with all his weight. This was his favourite part ¡ª the thrill of going faster until everything blurred around him, until it was just him and the wild rush of speed. Bursting from a thicket of bushes, he stumbled onto a muddy path. Each step made a satisfying squelch as his boots sank and lifted with a pop.


    Ahead, he spotted a half-buried wooden plank sticking out of the mud. A grin spread across his face. Perfect. He quickly wedged it flat and hopped on, letting the slick, muddy path do the rest. The makeshift sledge shot forward, and he whooped as he picked up speed, mud splattering around him in dark streaks.


    Then, a clod of dirt flicked right into his eye. He jerked back to try and rub it away, blinking through the sting. The plank wobbled, his grip slipping as he fought to keep his balance. He felt himself twisting around; his makeshift sledge turned sharply. He let out a small yelp as his arms hit the ground, scraping through the mud and slowing him down to a muddy crawl.


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    His slide came to an abrupt stop against something soft. A tingle of surprise prickled up his spine.


    He blinked, trying to make sense of the shape before him. Two stubby horns darkened with mud, and a single black eye stared back emptily. His gaze traced downwards, where a thick red line trickled from a fuzzy neck, pooling around a rough wooden stake that jutted upward. Milo swallowed, the metallic smell twisting his stomach.


    ¡°Did you see where it dropped?¡± a deep voice called out, close, just beyond the trees.


    Milo¡¯s heart leapt, his breath catching in his throat. He fought the urge to bolt, knowing the movement would give him away. Instead, he crouched low behind the fallen creature. He darted a glance up the path he¡¯d come from. His companion was nowhere in sight, and without Milo¡¯s orders, Dog would eventually come running in this direction.


    Leaves rustled nearby with a crunch of footsteps. He pressed his hand against the ground and edged back, inching toward a cluster of bushes. Just like hide and seek. But this time, the stakes were higher. He ducked low, leaves brushing against his face, and tried to stay quiet.


    From his hiding place, his vision was obscured; only fragments of the muddy path were visible through a thin screen of branches. But he saw the shadow ¡ª a dark figure stretching out across the ground, flickering with the movement of leaves in the dappled light. Whoever it was, they were just a few steps away.


    ¡°Found it.¡± The voice came softer this time, satisfied.


    There was a grunt, then the sound of something heavy scraping over the ground. Milo held his breath, straining to see through the gaps in the bushes. All he could make out was a pair of boots, thick with clumps of dried mud. He pressed himself further into the leaves, feeling every twig and brittle edge dig into his cheek. But he didn¡¯t dare shift. He watched, counting each heartbeat as the man turned, slower now, and started walking back the way he¡¯d come.


    A low clatter shattered the quiet, loud as a shout in the silence.


    The man halted, and Milo felt his stomach plummet. No. Not now. A flash of white at the edge of his vision, stark against the shadows, told him everything he didn¡¯t want to see ¡ª Dog had stumbled out from the bushes. His mechanical friend¡¯s foot had caught on a rock, and his frame jerked awkwardly, struggling to restore balance.


    ¡°Hey! Come check this out!¡± the man called, his voice booming from the forest. He dropped the deer with a wet thud, leaving dark smears across the ground as he stepped towards Dog.


    Milo¡¯s mind whirled, his heart hammering so hard he feared they¡¯d hear it. Run, Dog! His fists were clenched, his body coiled, and he was twitching with the urge to leap out and do something. He felt a swell of desperate, helpless anger. He wished someone would burst out right then, like the heroes in his stories, and find some way to save his friend. But he could only watch, powerless, as the man closed in.


    Fingers curling around one of Dog¡¯s legs and lifting it roughly to its head, the stranger inspected his new catch. Everything went quiet again, the forest holding its breath with Milo.


    #


    The men regrouped with a rough cheer, voices rough and triumphant as they gathered around their spoils. Their laughter cut through the trees while they inspected the animal, loud and grating. It clashed with the low helpless whirrs from Dog. Milo¡¯s eyes were fixed on his friend, limp in the man¡¯s grip, dangling like a scrap of metal and plastic ¡ª like a toy. The man holding Dog gave a satisfied chuckle, holding up his prize for the others to see, as if he¡¯d won something valuable. A jagged scar split across his left eye, giving him the signature look of a villain from Milo¡¯s stories.


    He could hardly contain himself. Dog looked so small in that man¡¯s hand, so terribly helpless. Everything about his companion ¡ª the little whirrs, the way it followed him faithfully through every hill and every danger ¡ª reminded him that he couldn¡¯t protect it now.


    His instincts screamed at him to slink back into the underbrush, to melt into the shadows and wait until they passed. Stay safe, beware of strangers. But something else slowly took hold: an unfamiliar feeling, raw and fierce, coiling tightly around his chest. He¡¯d never felt this way, like a fire he couldn¡¯t quite name. I can¡¯t let them take you.


    Not this time. This was his friend. And he had to find answers to all the questions that haunted him, the strange men he had seen. But more than that, he had to get Dog back.


    The men dragged the deer along the muddy path with careless footsteps, pushing deeper into the forest¡¯s shadows. Milo weakly crept out from his hiding place; his body shook as he forced himself to stand. Her warnings, the constant reminders to stay hidden and be careful ¡ª it all told him to let Dog go and escape while he could. But his only friend had always followed him, never asking why. More than a friend, Dog was family.


    His hands were caked in mud, his heart a wild drumbeat, but he set his jaw, brushing his hands off on his pants. Distressed whirrs cut through the air, piercing and insistent, and his chest ached in response.


    As he took his first step into the forest, the sky split with a growl. Thunder rolled across the protesting clouds. Drops of water slapped against his skin from the heavy rains that now lashed over the woods. He tucked his chin into the folds of his scarf, the familiar fabric a reminder of what he willed to risk.


    At that moment, he felt something shift inside. There was no one else here, no one to protect Dog or stand in his place. He stepped forward, melting in the shadows with a quiet determination. A pearl of tear slid lonely on his shaking cheek. If no one else would help, he would have to be the hero.


    ***

 07 - Reluctant Alliance

    Reluctant Alliance


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to trust me,¡± he said with words less of a promise than a gamble.


    After keeping her in the dark ¡ª literally and figuratively ¡ª he now expected blind trust from her. Something Victoria couldn¡¯t give. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Alek, but before we do anything, you need to explain.¡± Her gaze sharpened, and her voice was firm. ¡°You say you don¡¯t know me. Well, I don¡¯t know you either. I¡¯m not risking my life without knowing what we¡¯re up against.¡±


    He looked past her, already gathering gear as if her words had bounced off him. Then, he stopped and turned back, his dark hazel eyes settling on her with a touch more gravity. ¡°Fine. Lacking the time, I¡¯ll give it to you straight.¡± He tapped his finger against his palm to drive his point. ¡°There is a lot you¡¯ll have to take at face value, but I¡¯ll make sure you get the gist. Presuming we get out of here alive, I¡¯ll answer your questions then.¡±


    She nodded, waiting dreadfully. ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°When I found this place,¡± he began, his voice tense, ¡°I think I woke something up. Something that¡¯s been here, dormant, for a long time. It¡¯s been getting more aggressive ¡ª spreading.¡± He ran a hand over the back of his head and gestured to the walls. ¡°I told you I was exploring ¡ª a half-truth ¡ª I was studying. Watching from the dark, learning their behaviour and how they operate.¡±


    She narrowed her eyes. ¡°What¡¯s they?¡± her voice betrayed a growing worry.


    She saw a twitch across his tired face. ¡°Their form¡­ changes. They adapt to their environment. I¡¯ve never faced this particular kind before.¡± He hesitated, a shadow of uncertainty flickering in his eyes. ¡°It¡¯d take too long ¡ª and answers I don¡¯t possess ¡ª to explain exactly what they are. But trust me, you only need to look at them to understand.¡±


    She watched him warily, but Alek stood his ground and left little room for protest.


    ¡°Now, about the exit,¡± he continued, his voice grim with the weight of reveal. ¡°I believe it¡¯s in the heart of their lair¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, sure. Let¡¯s wander into their hunting grounds on nothing but a hunch,¡± she snapped, her patience thinning.


    ¡°It¡¯s more than a hunch. I¡¯ve searched near every other spot in this damn place. If it¡¯s not there, then¡­¡± He looked down at the map, then back at her with reluctant honesty. ¡°There is no exit.¡±


    ¡°But you told me you stumbled upon these tunnels,¡± her eyebrow rose with curiosity. ¡°Then why don¡¯t we go back through there?¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t.¡± He raised his voice ¡ª surprise washed over him as he realised he¡¯d let his emotion speak. ¡°There¡¯s no¡­ there¡¯s no going back.¡± He looked down now, escaping the pressure of her gaze. ¡°It would mean death. More so than trying to face them head-on.¡±


    This again. There was something he wasn¡¯t telling her; his fleeting eyes betrayed it ¡ª information he wasn¡¯t willing to share. But she was out of options. ¡°Alright then,¡± she muttered reluctantly. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°We get ready. It¡¯s a race against fate where every second we waste, their domain grows, and our chances shrink. I know the way; you¡¯ll have to follow me. We¡¯ll watch each other¡¯s back.¡± He exchanged a look with her, testing their newly formed alliance. ¡°And if it comes to this,¡± he added, ¡°they die like anything else. You just have to stab deep enough.¡±


    #


    He was rustling through his belongings with an efficiency Victoria couldn¡¯t match. Each movement felt clumsy, and with them, her body¡¯s limit became painfully clear. The wound pulsed under her makeshift bandage, and the mental effort it took to ignore it weighed on her almost as heavily as the storm of questions swirling in her mind.


    The stories spread in her camp featured monsters, but they had always seemed distant, mere threats easy to dismiss from the safety of firelight and walls. But out here, in the dark, their presence felt suffocating. She could almost hear their breath in the crawling mist, fuelling her imagination to invoke the worst possibilities. Her mind raced with images of them, conjuring shadows of horror, yet in her gut, she knew it would be worse than she could ever envision. Still, beneath the fear, something else burned inside ¡ª a defiant resolve. After everything she had survived, part of her still held a stubborn conviction. Once out there, I¡¯ll prove it was all worth it.


    The white mist writhed in the room, dancing along with them. It seemed to recoil with their movements as if it sensed them. Almost alive. Alek slung his pack over the shoulder, interrupting her thought. Calmly, he swept his hand over scattered papers before lifting a metal rod from the infirmary bed. Using torn strips of fabric, he wrapped the rod into a makeshift torch. She admired the disconcerting ease with which he was operating ¡ª a precision unlike anything she¡¯d seen before. No amount of practice could give you the efficiency of someone fighting for survival, definitely not that of someone who¡¯s been doing it for years.


    The fog shifted, shrinking back into the room¡¯s corner as Alek stood, his face flickering in the torchlight. He glanced at Victoria, handed a spare knife ¡ª much sharper than hers ¡ª and broke the silence. ¡°There is something I must add.¡±


    She managed a nod, gripping the blade as tightly as her weakened hands allowed. She searched his face, hoping for the confidence he had shown earlier, some sign of reassurance, but instead, his gaze met hers with a sheepish smile. Is he as afraid as I am?


    ¡°The mist.¡± He brushed the torch over the skittering surface. ¡°Some way or another, it helps them track us. It probes our movement and has searched the entire facility for¡­ us.¡± His eyes glinted in the orange flames. ¡°This is why we must hurry: hiding is no longer an option.¡±


    Alek¡¯s words lingered in the silence, carrying weight that left her cold. ¡°I said I was watching them,¡± he added with a murmur. ¡°But there¡¯s something I¡¯m¡­ worried about. In trying to learn their ways, I exposed myself. Moving through their mist as long as I have, so close to them, they must have started watching me in return.¡± He looked down, his fingers brushing the scarred handle of his axe. ¡°They¡¯re just mindless beasts, like everything else I¡¯ve encountered. But sometimes, their instincts¡­ bordered patience.¡± He shook his head, almost trying to push the thoughts aside. ¡°All I¡¯m trying to say is¡­ Let¡¯s be careful out there.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The implication settled between them, pressing on her chest like an iron weight. Just mindless beasts, huh? There was only one way to find out. She pushed a strand of scarlet hair away from her brow and nodded, locking her eyes in his to form a silent pact.


    Once they finished gearing up, she tightened the gauze, wrapping it around her abdomen as firmly as she dared. This better hold. Alek moved to the door, seeing she was done. His hand rested on the handle for a moment too long. She noticed his left one fidgeting over something in a pocket of his bomber jacket. His gaze shifted, touched by reluctance¡­ perhaps even shame. But before she could form a thought, his voice cracked like the fire he held.


    ¡°We¡¯re heading to a place called the Administrator¡¯s Ward. Stick close. I know the way.¡± The door creaked open, and the mist surged, almost eager to claim the space. Alek pushed through first, firmly holding his axe as though it could shield them both, and Victoria followed, the torch¡¯s flames casting restless shadows ahead of them. No turning back now. She swallowed hard, her fears knotting in her chest; she had no choice but to place her trust in a stranger.


    Deeper within, something stirred in anticipation.


    #


    She kept pace as best she could, but the constant ache on her side made it difficult for her to stay composed. Memories surfaced of machinery rooms where she¡¯d sometimes been sent to help, with the smell of metal and oil that she¡¯d find pleasant in a strange way. The smell here felt similar, rusty and metallic, but it carried something else¡­ more organic. Almost the same as her bloodied bandages.


    She glanced at Alek, hoping to read something in his expression; they hadn¡¯t exchanged a word since leaving the room. His gaze remained fixed ahead, a mask of silent vigilance, but she knew he was right to keep quiet. In the maze¡¯s stillness, they walked exposed and vulnerable ¡ª best their presence remained unnoticed. It suddenly came to her that she wasn¡¯t aware of what senses the creatures possessed, and she found herself hoping they couldn¡¯t smell. She ought to reek of fresh blood.


    A chilling sound echoed from somewhere in the depths. Faint but distinct. A low, grating noise, like something hard scraped across stone, coming in rhythmic drags. Deliberate. The sound engulfed them, filling the darkness with something far more unsettling than the mist. Whatever it was, it moved without urgency ¡ª with a predator¡¯s confidence.


    Her fingers tightened around the knife¡¯s hilt, the soft leather keeping her hand somewhat warm. Alek had stopped instantly, eyes narrowed as he strained to listen. ¡°Something¡¯s down there,¡± he whispered in a voice barely audible ¡ª stating the obvious to break the tension.


    Victoria nodded, whether in agreement or to reassure herself, and her breath hitched in a misty puff. Pulling from distant memories, she inhaled softly to focus ¡ª counting each breath like she had been taught.


    We have to keep going.


    An impenetrable fog wall lifted that swallowed them with each step. Alek¡¯s figure drifted in and out of sight, like a shadow lost in the swirling mass. She hurried to catch up, but for a split second, he vanished entirely. Only the torch¡¯s light remained, diffusing in the mist like a raging furnace. Her heart thudded.


    ¡°Alek?¡± she whispered instinctively.


    Standing near the right wall, he reappeared, his hand trailing over its surface with an eerie curiosity. His axe hung at his side, forgotten for now. She moved closer.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asked. ¡°I thought I had lost you for a second.¡±


    He didn¡¯t bother looking at her, his gaze fixed on the wall. ¡°We should turn right,¡± he answered, almost like he was talking to himself.


    ¡°Fine. Go ahead, I¡¯ll follow.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He shook his head in disbelief. ¡°There should be a passage here. But¡­ there¡¯s only a wall.¡±


    She squinted, inspecting the subject of his contemplation. Great, now he¡¯s lost his mind. As she was about to brush it off, he held the torch closer, and she noticed it, too ¡ª the texture, just slightly wrong. The smooth stone of the corridor gave way to a material similar in every fashion. Almost. Yet it had a subtle grain, a pattern repeated chaotically. Something imperfectly mimicking stone.


    ¡°Alek is this¡ª¡°


    ¡°Let¡¯s hurry,¡± he cut her off, his jaw tense. ¡°There¡¯s another way farther down.¡±


    As they moved on, something gnawed at her, twisting in her gut. Alek, too, seemed disturbed, glancing over his shoulder every few steps, his expression caught between anticipation and anger. It dawned on her then ¡ª the thing that terrified him wasn¡¯t only what they were up against. It¡¯s the thought that it might have been waiting for them.


    The tunnel walls closed in around them as they rounded a corner. The cables and cracked pipes that snaked overhead cast twisted shadows in the torchlight. Still, the corridors remained stubbornly empty, each step stretching the silence tight around them. Beads of sweat trickled on her forehead, betrayers of her growing exhaustion. But what unnerved her most was the constant, creeping sense of being watched. Something just out of sight waited in the dark, taunting them from the shadows.


    Alek¡¯s voice cut through her thoughts. ¡°We¡¯ve been here already,¡± he muttered, revealing a hint of frustration. Without so much of a glance, he quickened his pace.


    ¡°How do you know?¡± she managed, breathless and determined to keep up in spite of it.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just keep going,¡± he replied tightly. His voice trembled slightly from a fear he tried to hide. But he never turned to meet her gaze ¡ª and maybe it was better that way. She doubted what lurked in his eyes would be pleasant. She had to follow him, but somehow she started questioning his judgment ¡ª maybe his memory faltered. Every shadow looked the same, and every turn was a mirror of the last. How could he be sure of their path when the fog ate up every landmark? Everything looks the same.


    The tunnel widened suddenly, almost to prove her wrong. It opened into a cavernous room with a collapsed ceiling. Alek held up the torch as its light spread over heaps of rubble and fractured machinery. Concrete dust hung in the hair, mixing with the fog. It must have collapsed recently. Two dark passageways yawned open on the far side.


    Alek raised the torch, scanning the wreckage like he¡¯d never been there. She caught his jaw clenching again, his gaze darting between the exits with a look she was starting to decipher ¡ª hesitation, maybe even fear.


    ¡°What happened here?¡± she asked softly.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t¡ª¡± he stammered, his voice oddly fragile.


    And then, from somewhere deep in the left passage, came a faint whisper. Air escaping from a throat that hated its purpose. Her blood went ice-cold as she listened to make sense of the broken sounds shattering the silence.


    ¡°Alek,¡± she whispered shakily. ¡°We¡¯re not alone.¡±


    They had never been alone.


    Alek stilled, every muscle taut. The whispering continued, just out of reach. It almost sounded like her name stretched and distorted, echoing back from the darkness. But it couldn¡¯t be ¡ª her mind spun weaves of imaginary conclusions, decorating the web of nightmares in her head. The torchlight trembled, mocking them as Alek slowly stepped forward, his hand reaching for his axe. The whisper grew into a groan, wet and painful, slipping beneath their skin.


    And then it stopped ¡ª sudden and absolute. It gave way to a more terrible silence.


    ***