Elias Carter woke to the sterile sting of antiseptic and the steady beep of a heart monitor. His eyelids fluttered against the bright harsh white above his head; the weight beneath the skin told him his body felt weightless but at the same time really heavy, just there. It had a tinging sensation like spreading pain running along his arms. Something felt amiss.
He blinked hard, his brain forcing itself into focus. A bed in the hospital, an intravenous drip, and wires stuck on his chest. His fingers jerkily stirred against the stiff sheets. How did I get here?The mind was a blank. No memories, no fragments of how or why. Just a yawning void where answers should be.
The beeping of the monitor quickened. With every muscle screaming in protest, his heart slamming against his ribs, he sat up. The room around him was excessively neat-too neat. No evidence of movement, chairs tucked in, cabinets shut, and machines humming quietly. There were just no doctors, no nurses, no other patients. There was only silence.
A chill began to crawl up his spine.
Gritting his teeth, he yanked the IV from his arm, wincing at the sting. The electrodes came off next. He swung his legs off the bed, his hospital gown hanging loose on his thin frame. His throat was parched, raw. A pitcher of water sat on the nearby table. He grabbed it and drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing but not satisfying.
The dread didn't budge.
Elias got to his feet. The tiles felt cold against his skin. He went to the door, hesitated for a second, and pushed it open.
Before him, the hallway stretched, dimly lit, endless. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, buzzing softly. Shadows clung to the edges of walls, shifting with the light.
He swallowed hard. Something isn't right.
Hello?" His voice was hoarse, cracking from disuse. "Anyone there?"
His words echoed, stretching into the empty corridors. No reply.
He stepped forward, slow, cautious. The patient rooms were open, their beds untouched, machines still running. But no bodies. No signs of a fight. No blood. No chaos.
Just… nothing.
He arrived at the nurse's station. The computer screen was on, glowing softly. Patient records covered the screen. Someone had been here. Recently.He turned to the clock on the wall.
10:24 AM.
His stomach twisted when he saw the date.
March 15, 2047
His breath caught in his throat. That couldn't be right.
The last date he remembered was sometime in the year 2046. Months unconscious? A year?His heartbeat thundered against his eardrums, and he grabbed for the hospital phone. Dead. He reached for a tablet. No signal. His hands shook.
His feet walked to the nearest window of their own accord, and he jerked the blinds open.
The city sprawled before him-quiet. Still. Wrong.
No car purred, no pedestrian strolled. The traffic lights winked through their cycle-useless-colored changes for an audience that no longer existed. The store fronts stood untouched, their neon signs dancing with meaningless light.
The sky was an unnatural, almost screaming shade of blue. Too perfect. Too empty.
Elias stumbled back, his breath catching. The world hadn't just hushed-it had stalled.
Frozen.
He needed to move, had to find answers.
Racing down the hall, he found a locker room. His hands were shaking as he yanked a pair of jeans over his head, then put on a loose T-shirt. His eyes glimpsed himself in the mirror - emaciated, thinner than he remembered. For how long was he that? His ribs pressing against skin, arms leaner than what was normal for him.
His mind was screaming, but there were no answers here.
He forced open the hospital doors and out onto the street. The sound of his footsteps echoed-too loud in the dead city. The air was cool, still.
"Hello? Anyone?!" His voice rang out.
Silence.
The thick, eerie quiet pressed against him, suffocating. The city was a ghost town, untouched yet abandoned. Cars sat frozen at intersections. Restaurant doors hung open, as if waiting for customers who would never return. Newspapers littered the sidewalk, their pages stiff from time.
A newsstand nearby caught his eye. He grabbed the top paper, fingers gripping the edges.
March 15, 2047.The same date as the hospital clock.
But it was the headline that made his blood run cold.
"MASS EVACUATION: WHERE DID THEY GO?"
Beneath the bold letters was a blurred photograph of empty streets—just like the ones around him.
His throat tightened. His breath came in shallow, uneven gasps.
Where had they gone?
Why was he the only one left?
He fisted the paper, his knuckles white.
He had to survive.
He had to know.
And more than anything…
He had to find out if he was truly alone.