The footsteps multiplied.
Aden didn't wait to count them.
He moved.
Not running wildly — running efficiently.
His body felt lighter. Balanced. The shadows between streetlights seemed…
deeper.
Behind him, the shapes emerged.
Three Hollows.
Their movements were coordinated.
Not chasing blindly.
Tracking.
The presence inside him pulsed faintly.
Avoid prolonged engagement.
He didn't argue.
He cut through an alley instead of staying on the main road.
The city felt altered.
Cars abandoned mid-turn.
Storefronts ripped open.
Fires burning without sirens answering them.
No helicopters.
No police.
Just distant, scattered screams.
And underneath it—
A subtle vibration.
Like something humming beneath the earth.
Two subway stops.
Ibrahim was home.
Alone.
Aden vaulted over a fallen street sign.
His breathing stayed steady.
His mind sharper than it had ever been.
He reached the subway entrance.
The stairs descended into darkness.
No power.
No lights.
The air below felt thick.
The presence stirred again.
High density below.
He paused.
Hollows.
Many.
The subway had trapped people when the impact hit.
Crowded.
Enclosed.
Infected.
He looked toward the street.
Longer route above ground.
Slower.
But open.
His brother wouldn't hide underground.
Ibrahim hated the dark.
Aden turned away from the subway and kept moving.
As he ran, he noticed something new.
Thin lines.
Barely visible.
Like faint red threads stretching between certain buildings.
When he focused, they sharpened.
They connected Hollows.
A loose network.
The presence clarified.
Resonance web. Early stage.
They were linking.
Not consciously.
But biologically.
Aden's jaw tightened.
This wasn't random chaos.
It was organizing.
He turned onto his block.
His stomach dropped.
The apartment building doors were open.
One hanging off its hinge.
Blood streaked across the lobby tiles.
Not sprayed.
Dragged.
Aden stepped inside.
" Ibrahim," he called quietly.
No answer.
The stairwell was dark.
Too dark.
The shadows pooled unnaturally along the walls.
He moved upward silently.
Third floor.
Fourth.
A body lay halfway up the stairs.
Neighbor.
Mr. Hadi.
Neck torn open.
Eyes staring.
No Core.
Already harvested.
Aden felt it then—
Movement above.
Slow.
Measured.
He didn't rush.
He ascended the final steps.
The hallway lights flickered weakly from backup emergency power.
Doors were open.
Some broken.
His apartment door was closed.
But the handle was bent.
Scratch marks carved into the wood.
From inside.
His heartbeat slowed.
Not fear.
Control.
He reached for the handle.
Paused.
Listened.
Breathing.
Soft.
Uneven.
Alive.
He opened the door slowly.
The living room was overturned.
Furniture barricaded against the windows.
The kitchen knife set missing.
Aden stepped inside.
" Ibrahim."
Silence.
Then—
From behind the couch—
"…Aden?"
Small.
Shaking.
Alive.
Relief didn't flood him.
It settled quietly.
He moved toward the sound.
Ibrahim crawled out slowly, gripping a kitchen knife with white knuckles.
His eyes were red from crying.
"You were outside," Ibrahim whispered. "They— they got the neighbors. I locked
everything."
Aden crouched in front of him.
Calm.
"Did they come inside?"
Ibrahim shook his head.
"They were scratching. Then they just… stopped."
Aden felt it again.
The thin thread.
Something outside the building.
Watching.
The presence inside him sharpened.
Observer class detected.
His gaze shifted toward the window.
Across the street.
On the roof of the opposite building—
A figure stood.
Still.
Taller than the others.
Its posture upright.
Not hunting.
Monitoring.
Its head tilted slightly.
Toward Aden.
Not the apartment.
Toward him.
The thin red threads in the air vibrated faintly.
The presence whispered:
Deviation identified.
The Observer took one step backward.
And disappeared into shadow.
Aden exhaled slowly.
Ibrahim looked up at him.
"What are they?"
Aden didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth was forming slowly in his mind.
"They're not just infected," he said quietly.
"They're learning."
Outside—
Multiple footsteps began gathering near the building.
Not random.
Directed.
The web had noticed him.
And now—
It was responding.