Elias stared at the subway map, his heart pounding. The word AWAKENING was printed where the center of the city used to be. All the familiar landmarks were gone, replaced by cold, lifeless numbers. It felt like the city's soul had been erased.
The radio crackled. The same voice that had warned him before spoke again, more urgent this time.
"Elias, listen to me. They know where you are. You don't have much time."
Elias gripped the radio tight. "Who are you? What's happening?"
Silence.
Then, a sound—a low, mechanical hum, coming from deep underground. It grew louder, echoing through the subway tunnels.
Elias spun around and ran up the stairs two at a time. His chest burned as he burst out onto the street. The city was empty, cold, and gray. Shadows stretched long across the broken pavement. The buildings stood silent, watching him with dark, empty windows.
He had to get out. Now.
But where?
The voice had told him to leave the city. He needed a vehicle, something that could take him far away from this concrete graveyard. He thought of the highway. If he could reach it, maybe he'd be safe.
He ran down the street, dodging rusted cars and broken glass. The hum was still there, deeper now, like a heartbeat pulsing under the ground. It was growing faster.
The streetlights flickered.
Elias stopped, his breath catching in his throat. Shadows moved at the far end of the street. Shapes stepped out of the alleys and from behind broken cars. They stood perfectly still, too still. Their bodies were too straight, too precise.
Then they moved—all at once, turning to face him. Their faces were blank, smooth, without eyes or mouths. They weren't human.
The hum turned into a roar.
Elias ran.
His legs ached as he sprinted down the street, jumping over rubble and weaving between abandoned cars. He glanced back. The figures were following him, moving smoothly, silently. They didn't run, but somehow they were getting closer.
Up ahead, he saw a gas station. A few cars sat abandoned under the old sign, their paint faded and windows covered in dust. He ran to them, yanking on door handles. Locked. Every one of them.
Then he saw it—a pickup truck, keys hanging from the ignition.
He threw open the door and jumped inside. His hands shook as he turned the key. The engine coughed but didn't start.
"Come on. Come on!"
The figures were getting closer. They moved without sound, their faces blank, their heads tilting in unison as they watched him.
Elias hit the dashboard. The engine roared to life.
He slammed his foot on the gas. The truck shot forward, smashing into one of the figures. It crumpled like paper, folding in half without a sound. The others didn't even look at it.
Elias didn't wait. He sped out of the gas station and raced down the road. The city blurred around him, gray and empty. In the mirror, he saw the figures standing still, watching him drive away. Then, as one, they turned and walked back into the shadows.
His hands were white-knuckled on the wheel. His mind raced with questions, but he had no answers. He just knew he had to keep driving.
The highway stretched ahead, long and empty. He thought he was free—until he saw the blockade.
Massive metal barricades stood across the road, covered in strange symbols. They looked like a military checkpoint, but different, older. And they weren't abandoned.
Figures stood there, dozens of them, all facing his way. Their heads moved in sync, tilting at the same angle, their blank faces fixed on his truck.
Elias swerved onto a dirt road, gravel spraying behind him as he sped away from the barricade. His heart raced, his pulse loud in his ears.
The radio crackled.
"Keep moving. Don't stop."
Elias swallowed hard. "Who are you? Why are you helping me?"
Silence.
Then, the voice replied, low and cold.
"Because you're not supposed to be awake."
A chill ran through him. None of this made sense—the city, the figures, the hum that still echoed in his bones. It felt like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
The road grew rough and uneven. Elias struggled to keep the truck steady as it bounced over rocks and potholes. His eyes stayed fixed on the path ahead, but his mind was racing.
Who were those figures? Why did they let him go? And what did the voice mean by "awake"?
The radio crackled again, but it wasn't a voice this time. It was a sound—a low, rhythmic pulse, deep and resonant.
It was a warning.
Elias gritted his teeth and pressed the gas pedal harder. The road stretched out before him, leading into the unknown. Whatever was waiting for him out there, he had no choice but to face it.
He kept driving, the hum echoing in his bones, the figures lingering in his mind. He wasn't safe yet.
Not even close.