·Chapter Twelve
Dominoes of Death
---
The morning air was heavy with something unseen—like static before a storm. A chill crept through the house that no thermostat could fix.
Clear stood by the kitchen counter, arms folded, watching the coin that had spun on its edge the night before. It now sat motionless, as if it had never moved at all.
"I didn't touch it," she said. "But it wasn't there last night. You're saying it spun by itself?"
I nodded. "Yeah. And someone—or something—talked through the radio. Not just interference. A voice. Said they could kill better than I could save."
Kimberly sat on the couch, half-dressed in a hoodie and leggings, nursing a coffee she clearly didn't want. Her eyes were unfocused, but I could feel the tension in her body. Her connection to me through the Anchor Link was getting stronger. I could feel little flickers—ghosts of her thoughts, like they brushed past my mind.
Alex sat on the stairs, hands in his lap, unusually quiet.
"We need to move soon," I said, standing. "If 'R' is watching us, he knows where we are. This place isn't safe anymore."
Alex looked up, jaw tight. "I'm not running anymore, Kai. I've done this dance with death for years. It doesn't matter where we hide. When it's our turn, it finds us."
I frowned. "You're not giving up, are you?"
He let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not giving in. I'm just tired of pretending it's a fair fight."
Kimberly rose and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"We're not alone this time, Alex," she said. "Kai's system, the upgrades, the visions—they're giving us a shot. Don't let fear decide your fate."
He looked at her, and for a moment, I thought something softened in his eyes. But then, his gaze shifted to me.
"Just promise me this," he said quietly. "If it's me next… don't try to trade your life for mine."
I didn't respond. Because deep down, I couldn't make that promise.
---
We packed up and left the house by mid-morning. I used the Echo Shard ability to save a copy of the location, just in case we needed to revisit something we missed.
Alex suggested we head toward the local public library—oddly specific, until he explained that he'd remembered something.
"The deaths," he said. "Back then, before Clear and I went off-grid, we were tracking patterns. There were symbols in old newspaper clippings, deaths nobody thought were connected. I think we were missing a piece."
So we followed his lead.
The library was quiet, a red-brick relic with tall arched windows and dusty, untouched archives. While Clear and Kimberly checked the digitized obituaries, Alex led me to the back—deep into the microfilm archives where decades of newspapers were buried.
He pulled up a seat in front of a viewer, threading old film strips like a man possessed.
"Look here," he said, flipping rapidly. "The symbol—see it? There. Top right corner. That scrawl?"
I leaned in. It looked like a jagged 'R' carved into the page.
"This showed up in multiple death scenes, even before mine. It's subtle, like graffiti, chalk, or burnt into wood."
The realization sent a chill through me. "You think this thing—'R'—has been playing this game longer than we thought?"
"Decades," Alex whispered. "Maybe longer. The system isn't new, Kai. It's just… newly aware of you."
Suddenly, a shiver ran down my spine. The Parallel Path Finder auto-triggered—an emergency warning.
> [Imminent Death Thread Detected – Alex Browning]
[Domino Chain Detected – Initiation Imminent]
[Previewing Sequence…]
I blinked—and the world fractured.
---
Parallel Thread 1:
A janitor's cleaning cart, stationed at the end of the archive aisle, is bumped slightly by a visitor passing by. The mop handle tips, nudges a precariously stacked pile of returned books.
Books fall—one hitting a rusted ceiling panel above Alex.
A screw, long loose, finally gives. The panel drops and knocks over the microfilm viewer.
It crashes into Alex, the thick glass lens smashing into his temple. He jerks, flailing—his foot catching in the metal loops of the film reel still wrapped around the spindle.
He's dragged down as the heavy box tilts, snapping cables.
Electricity arcs. Sparks burst from the power box.
Alex convulses as the current floods his body.
---
Parallel Thread 2:
A hot bulb inside the old microfilm viewer overheats.
Smoke rises.
Alex notices too late.
The bulb explodes, showering him in glass.
He stumbles backward into a poorly stacked bookshelf. The shelf tips—books crashing, pressing a heavy volume onto a gas line valve embedded in the wall for an old furnace system.
It hisses—barely audible.
Alex strikes a match to examine a scorched page.
One breath. One spark.
Boom.
---
I snapped back, heart hammering.
"Alex!" I shouted. "Move—now!"
But it was already happening.
---
The janitor's cart wobbled down the hall, a faulty wheel squeaking. A mop handle slid, tapping a stack of encyclopedias balanced near the end of a row.
Thud—thud—
Books crashed, and a heavy one struck the light panel above Alex's head.
I sprinted, but it was like moving through molasses. The system buzzed. The world slowed.
The panel dropped. Alex looked up just in time—stepping back as it hit the microfilm machine. The device tilted, wires sparking.
"Kai—?!" he yelled.
Too late.
The power box behind him popped open as the machine's metal casing made contact. A cascade of sparks ignited.
Electricity surged through the cable—straight into Alex's side where he'd braced himself against the metal rack.
He screamed—body arching, eyes wide. Smoke curled from his clothes. The stink of seared flesh filled the air.
Then the film reels caught fire—melting, sticking, slapping against him like burning tendrils.
A final surge of power burst the breaker.
And Alex Browning collapsed—still, silent, and charred.
---
I stood frozen, breathing hard, staring at the scorched remnants.
Clear and Kimberly arrived seconds later. Kimberly gasped and stumbled back.
Clear dropped to her knees.
"No…" she whispered. "Not again…"
The system chimed coldly.
> [Target: Alex Browning – DECEASED]
[+0 Fate Points Earned]
[Thread Severed by R]
[System Interference: Minor]
[Warning: Reaper Entity Active in Current Zone]
Then a new message appeared—this one burning into my retina like fire.
> "I warned you, Kai.
You can't save them all.
Let's see how far you fall before the end."
—R
---
Back at the house that night, none of us spoke.
Clear sat alone in the corner, head down, cradling a sketchbook she couldn't bring herself to open.
Kimberly curled up beside me in silence, her hand tightly gripping mine.
The system didn't offer comfort. No points. No new abilities. Just a quiet warning that we were losing control again.
But I wasn't giving up.
Not now.
If "R" wanted a game…
He was going to get one.
---
To Be Continued...
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