Running. Across ruined asphalt, weaving through a graveyard of crumpled vehicles, shattered streetlights, and collapsed buildings.
They're everywhere — these creatures. Unrelenting. Mindless. Or perhaps not.
Monsters? Shadows? No... they're something worse. They look like what nightmares might cough up after choking on forgotten memories. Their forms blur at the edges, twitching like static in a broken feed. They stalk the streets, perched on wrecks, slithering beneath shattered light poles. Movement is all they do, but that movement makes you feel like you're being remembered by something that was never meant to exist.
And the sound...
It's not breathing. It's clicking — like thousands of teeth tumbling inside a clock — wet and metallic, almost rhythmic. A cadence that pulls at the nerves and digs its claws into your instincts.
I jumped over a shattered stop sign. My boots slammed onto the slanted hood of a burned-out car. Rust flaked away beneath me like dead skin.
My lungs screamed. My legs faltered. The chill in my spine spread to my fingertips.
Still running.
A rooftop figure stood still — watching. One of them. Head tilted like it was trying to recognize me, or mock me. I didn't wait to find out.
Then — gasp.
A truck roared into the intersection from the right.
It was too late. I knew it.
Dead. Again. Another number in a broken world.
I thought: I just wanted more time.
Horn blast. Screech. Whiplash.
Something wrapped around my chest and yanked me sideways. The world spun.
Suddenly I was in a backseat, metal frame rumbling beneath us. Tires gripped cracked asphalt like claws.
"Hah...heh…" I exhaled. "What the hell...?"
The driver laughed, half-mad. "YO! You tryna die, or what?!"
Behind us: BOOM.
Fire. Steel. The truck I nearly met exploded — obliterated in a burst of flame. Shrapnel whistled through the air.
The man in the passenger seat offered his hand. Wiry, tattooed knuckles. "Name's Cole. We're going. You in?"
"I'm in," I muttered. "But if this gets inhuman, I'm gone."
"Fair."
The car twisted through an alleyway, bricks scraping along the side. Inside: chaos, but calculated. The smell of sweat, gunpowder, and fear saturated the air.
Shotgun guy — dark eyes, twitchy hands — reached up and turned on the radio.
Synthwave. Distorted vocals. Mechanical heartbeat beneath melodies.
"Got a name?" the guy next to me asked.
I nodded. "Emty."
Silence hit like a gunshot.
Cole cursed under his breath. "You serious?"
Driver's grin faded. "You're sitting next to Jax. That name? Yeah... bad history."
I tensed. "What kind of history?"
Jax leaned forward. "Someone she used to talk about. A guy with your name. Said he reminded her of stars before they die. Beautiful. Violent. Brief."
The tension was real now. Heavy.
Brake slam.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" I yelled.
Smoke up ahead. But not smoke from fire — it was still. Dead still.
"This isn't right," I said. "That's not normal."
A sound — a screech — scraped down our bones. Metal against bone. Skin on rusted steel.
Cole's voice cracked: "OUT! NOW!"
Doors burst open. We grabbed what we could. Jax drew a weapon — something jury-rigged from pipes and fury. It hissed when he held it.
"East!" Cole barked. "Run! Follow me!"
The world narrowed to footsteps and panic. Our breath like steam, our hearts like drumbeats.
Everything around us breathed — not air, but fear. Palpable, thick, and watching.
"What was your plan?" I yelled.
Cole shouted back, "Armory. East of the station. Was supposed to be a supply cache. Now? Might as well be a tomb."
"There!" I yelled. A building, barely intact, loomed like a monolith of forgotten safety.
We forced our way inside. Door groaned like it resented being touched.
Dark. Dead lightbulbs. Faint glow from broken windows.
"We hold here," Jax whispered.
Dust floated. Shadows danced.
One flickering bulb. Rust. Decay.
And then — the lights snapped on.
Music played.
"The world is going light — I can't do this, but if this is it, then I'll do it."
"Even if I fall, I'll fall running."
"If this is where it ends, let the echoes remember me."
"No gods, no fate — just us and the dark."
"Raise the ash like flags — we stand in silence, not defeat."
"This is the requiem of fire — for those who stayed."
"No savior is coming — only what we become."
"Run through the broken — not away but through."
"Hands bloodied, hearts defiant."
"If the sky falls, let us meet it with steel."
Crack.
Swing.
Something moved above us. A silhouette. Angular limbs. Clicking joints.
Jax turned. "What was—?"
Too late.
Metal screamed. A blur. Flesh split.
The man who had joked before — the "whassup boy" guy — he kept walking. Didn't listen.
A swipe. A blur.
His head—gone.
Dead before he hit the ground. Like his soul had left moments before the blade struck.
"RUN!" I screamed.
Three of us now.
We bolted into the street.
Cole pointed. "Truck — there!"
We ran. One ran interference. Another circled behind.
The truck roared. Engine alive.
One of us jumped in. I reached for the others.
"GO!" someone screamed.
One more guy sprinted — he slipped. Grabbed my wrist. I pulled him up. His face was pure terror.
The truck took off.
That same music played.
"The world is going light — I can't do this, but if this is it, then I'll do it."
"Even if I break, I'll break burning."
"If there's a line between death and dusk — we crossed it."
"Light us up or burn us down — but we won't stop."
"This isn't surrender — it's the storm."
"If we must go, let us go with teeth bared."
"There's no more running — only charging through."
"Let the city howl behind us. We ride on."
"Burn with grace, or rise with fury — either way, we move."
"We weren't meant to be saved. We were meant to become legends."
Lights faded. Ash rained like snow.
Only the truck kept moving. Through black smoke and the ghost of a skyline.
Just steel. Smoke. And motion.
Somewhere behind us, the city breathed one final time.
A quiet hum.
Then silence.
Cold air. Sterile walls. White lights overhead. Medical equipment humming faintly.
"Rick Morgen, Age 17. Son of Sofia Morgen. I am Dr. Andrew," a calm voice stated nearby. "You're currently in the Las Vegas Refugee Camp."
"You've been unconscious for several months."
There was a long pause. Then:
"In the meantime... something emerged."
"Something happened. Something big."
Another breath.
"Something that changed the world."