Elias Carter clutched the emergency radio against his chest, his breath harsh and uneven. The message echoed in his mind: "You need to hide. Now." The voice was clear, urgent—undeniably human. No static, no distortion. Just raw fear.
But where could he hide? The city was a wasteland, a labyrinth of hollow buildings and empty streets. If someone was watching him, they were close.
His body locked up, fear rooting him to the spot. He forced himself to listen. The wind howled through the alleys, loose debris skittered across the pavement, but underneath it all, there was something else.
Footsteps.
Slow. Steady. Intentional.
A chill ran down his spine. For two days, he had scoured this dead city for any sign of life. But now, with the proof that he wasn't alone, fear gripped him, cold and unrelenting.
He ducked into a convenience store, its shattered glass doors hanging crookedly. Crouching behind the counter, he tightened his grip on the police baton he had found at the station. It was his only weapon. His only chance.
The footsteps drew closer. They stopped just outside.
A shadow moved across the broken doorway.
Elias's heart pounded, each beat echoing in his ears. He held his breath, his muscles tense, ready to spring. The shadow hovered, as if searching. Did they know he was here?
Then, the footsteps started again, fading down the street.
Elias stayed low, his body rigid, waiting for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he dared to peek over the counter.
The street was empty.
But something was wrong.
The air was heavy, charged with an energy he couldn't explain. It was as if the city was watching him, as if the silence itself was alive.
He needed higher ground. Somewhere he could see the whole area, spot any movement, find whoever was behind the radio warning. His eyes locked on the tallest building nearby—an office tower, its glass windows gleaming in the dim light.
It was risky. But it was his best shot.
He moved fast, weaving between abandoned cars and shattered streetlights. Every shadow, every corner felt like a threat. The sensation of being watched followed him, a prickling on the back of his neck.
He slipped through the revolving doors of the office building, the lobby dark and cold. Papers scattered the floor. Chairs lay overturned. A coffee cup sat on the reception desk, untouched and dusty. Everything frozen, like time had stopped.
He took the stairs two at a time, legs burning, lungs straining. Higher and higher, pushing himself until he reached the rooftop access door. It was locked.
Cursing under his breath, he searched the floor. A maintenance closet yielded a crowbar. A few hard swings, and the door broke open.
Cold wind hit his face as he stepped onto the rooftop. The city sprawled out below him—silent, lifeless, endless.
He scanned the skyline, eyes sharp, looking for anything that moved. And then he saw it.
Far off, near the radio tower, a figure stood on another rooftop.
Elias squinted, his pulse quickening. The figure was facing him.
They were watching him.
Then, in a blink, the figure was gone.
Elias stumbled back, his mind spinning. Had he imagined it? No. They were real. Someone else was here. But were they a friend… or an enemy?
A sound snapped him to attention.
Footsteps.
Coming up the stairwell. Fast.
Panic shot through him. He had been found.
He ran to the edge of the rooftop. The next building was too far to jump. The only way down was through the stairwell, but whoever was coming up was getting closer.
A voice echoed from below. Low. Steady.
"Elias."
His blood ran cold. They knew his name.
His mind raced. No one should know who he was. He had been alone, completely alone. Yet this person not only existed—they knew him.
The door burst open.
A man stepped out, draped in dark, tattered clothing. A hood covered most of his face, but his eyes were sharp, piercing, calculating.
The man raised a hand. "Don't run."
Elias's instincts screamed. He didn't hesitate.
He sprinted across the rooftop, launching himself at the fire escape of the next building. His fingers barely caught the cold metal. Pain shot through his arms as he hauled himself up.
The man didn't follow. He just stood there, watching.
His voice sliced through the wind. "They already know you're here."
Elias's heart skipped. Who were "they"?
But he didn't wait to find out. He scrambled down the fire escape, hitting the ground and bolting through the alley. His footsteps echoed off the walls as he ran, faster and faster, away from the rooftop, away from that man.