Hannah's words couldn't have been clearer, but for some reason, Arman felt his whole body stiffen.
There was something about this creature that seemed to pull him in.
His bones were screaming. His blood cried out—like it recognized the thing. Some memory his mind didn't share.
He could make out the outline of what looked like some sort of flesh amalgam.
It filled the alley. No face. No eyes. No mouth.
At least for now.
Like with that cat, when it stepped near, the creature grew mouths. It formed them to devour its meal.
Terror rooted Arman to the spot, yet despite it, part of him wanted to get closer. To feel what it felt.
His vision fixated for what felt like forever—until Hannah smacked his head with the butt of her new pistol.
"Hey, shit-for-brains! I said to run away, not go towards that thing!"
She shoved Arman into the truck and slammed the door shut behind them.
He hadn't even realized he had moved.
This monster hadn't made a single movement towards them. It just sat there, still, unmoving inside the dark.
Why did it just sit there? Was it…waiting for something?
"Arman, get yourself together. We need to get out of here before that thing snatches us too."
Her voice trembled. Not anger. Fear.
The sound sent a shiver down Arman's back.
She really was human, huh.
His head was still hazy. His whole body strained to move—part of him still tethered to that thing.
Hannah said something else, but Arman didn't hear it. Not clearly.
He found out soon enough.
She threw herself over him—knee jabbing into his gut, hand brushed his chin—then pushed down on his throat, forcing him back into the seat.
And just like that, the pull severed. Sudden. Sparking. Like nerves frying behind his eyes.
Her weight snapped the trance, tore it away violently.
Heat rushed to his face. His body still screamed, but now it was something human. Something he understood.
"H-hey!" was all he managed to blurt out.
The pain lingered. That broken tether inside him. Hannah's full weight pressing him down.
She didn't answer.
But when he lifted his head, straining past her—
The alley was empty.
The monster was gone.
Only a flicker of movement remained. Something darting into the shadows.
Then nothing.
No outline. No pull. Even staring hard into the alley didn't bring that feeling back.
Hannah, still panting, flung open the door and rolled off him. Her boots hit the concrete like gunshots. She was already turning, ready to sprint.
He reached out, grabbing her hand before she could.
"I think we should be careful." he said, voice low. "I just saw it disappear into the alley, and we have no clue where it is."
Hannah froze, eyes narrowing. She studied him, trying to read his face. It looked like she had something to say, but decided to say something else instead.
"You…think we need to stay put in the middle of the road like sitting ducks?" she asked plainly.
The confusion seemed to fully pull her facade back up.
"Well, I-no, I just think we should, uh…just be careful-er?"
Hannah frowned, then exhaled. A flicker of normalcy returned to her face.
"Alright then. Let's try finding a building that's not completely wrecked, park our shit at the next one over, and rest for the night."
She paused. Gave him a dry, almost smug look.
"How's that sound?"
He nodded, but a question still lingered at the back of his mind.
Why had that thing let them go?
He had no clue what the feeling inside of him was, or why her knocking into him had made it vanish.
He just knew what he'd seen. It was a real monster. The kind told in bedtime horror stories.
They were real.
And this one let them live.
For now.
He finally pulled himself out of the truck, legs unsteady.
"You are gonna steer," Hannah said. "It's better if I push from the back."
Maybe it was his brain tricking him, but he swore she was still shaking.
He steadied himself enough to help get the car going. He wasn't great at steering, but it was enough.
They passed by several areas that were once buildings but were now rubble. Some others stood, but gaped with holes—some small, others big—stabbed straight through their walls.
Some looked chewed on—missing bricks, gnawed support beams, splintered corners.
Everywhere they went felt unsafe, with cars in the same shape as most of the buildings.
Some flattened. Some turned over.
All had holes or bite marks.
He shivered.
They were just sitting out in the open. That monster could strike at any moment—and he knew it.
Something in his body told him that. Maybe paranoia. Maybe something deeper?
He tried to push the thoughts away. But every time he tried—
That image of the cat.
The spikes pierced into it.
The teeth.
Gnawing, turning it into nothing but a pile of blood on the concrete.
He wanted to crawl out of his own skin and disappear.
Finally, after what felt like hours of watching their backs and checking, they found a single building.
It looked like an old apartment complex.
The windows and doors were boarded up from the outside.
Why would they board it from the outside?
His thoughts spun until Hannah broke the silence.
"Well…it seems good enough. We just need to check the inside," she said, keeping her voice low from behind the truck. "Honestly, let's just leave the truck. It's not like anyone's going to be searching around this area anyways…"
Her voice trailed into nothing.
Arman, still fumbling, pressed the brake and parked the truck in front of what might be their shelter for the night.
He watched Hannah move without a word, slipping towards the building with practiced quiet.
Only then did he notice how loud his heart was pounding.
His whole body felt drained. Fear had pushed him further than he'd realized.
He clutched at his chest, trying to hold back the bile rising in his throat.
That's when he noticed it.
It happened in a flash. Barely anything at all.
But he swore he saw the flesh beneath his hand shift. Not just a twitch or a shake—
It moved.
Like it had a mind of its own.
He stared, afraid to move even an inch.
He sat there, motionless, as silence settled in around him like lead.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hannah didn't wait.
She'd had enough of standing around.
This would do. Arman could follow her whenever he was ready.
They didn't have any lights, and none of the lamps glowed anymore; they'd stopped a while ago. The truck's headlights barely lit the space in front of it. Everything beyond was shadow.
She'd have to rely on her other senses.
Would that even matter if that thing came back?
She pushed the thought down. She wasn't going to be spooked that easily.
Gun raised, she circled the house slowly.
Listening. Watching.
But it was dead silent. No noise. No movement. Not even the feeling that anything living had passed through recently.
Good. Maybe that meant she didn't have to waste any bullets tonight.
Next time that monster showed up, she'd blow it to bits. Unfortunately, she hadn't found any extra ammo at their target's place.
Five shots.
That was all she had.
Frustration clawed at her throat, but she swallowed it. Now wasn't the time to make herself known.
Near the back of the house a patio screen door hung partially sliced open.
Bingo.
Way easier than prying off barricades at the front. Hannah slipped through the shredded mesh, the last shred of life from the place.
Inside, dust lay thick and the stench of rot pressed at her. It looked abandoned. Ruined. A place people had once lived. The room looked like the rest of the Outskirts—half-familiar in a way that almost made her nostalgic. Almost.
The looming threat in the alleys chased that away. Survival first.
She moved through the ruined rooms carefully. Cans and scrap clothes scattered the floor—evidence someone had lived here once, long gone.
People didn't stay in one place for long. Someone finds you; if you have a family, you could become food.
She was moving quietly when a rattling came from upstairs—like chains dragging.
Shit.
She ducked behind a cracked door, heart hammering. Every hair on her neck stood stiff as she strained to listen. The sound grew clearer: thumps, a shuffle, something heavy being pulled across wood.
Her hand brushed the pistol grip. Five rounds. Only five. She checked the chamber with a quick flick, the click loud in the silence. Not enough if this turned ugly.
Then—light. A faint glow bled down the staircase, stretching shadows along the wall. Footsteps followed, uneven, halting.
The shape appeared slowly. A man—or something close to one. His outline wavered in the glow until details formed: patchy clumps of hair, strips of bandages crisscrossing pale skin, a cane dragging with each step. His clothes were a quilt of torn fabrics, stitched together like desperation itself. An eyepatch covered one socket; the other glimmered faintly in the light.
He descended, each footfall louder than it should've been, like the house itself strained beneath his weight.
Hannah's breath came sharp. Enough waiting.
She surged from her hiding place, gun leveled. His single eye widened, hand tightening on the cane.
"Make any suspicious moves," she said coldly, "and I'll kill you."