It was late. Too late.

  The streets were empty, the air cold enough to nip at my cheeks, and my footsteps echoed through the alleyways as I hurried home from another long shift. I shouldn’t have stayed so late. I knew that. I told myself next time would be different.

  But as I passed the broken lamp post near 8th and Maple, I felt it. That eerie sense crawling up my spine. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him. Again.

  That same guy.

  He’d been hovering around work the past few weeks, too friendly at first—then too persistent. I told him no, told him to leave me alone. But now here he was, walking faster than before, a wild look in his eye.

  I panicked.

  I bolted left into an alleyway hoping to lose him. Trash bins blurred past me as I ran. I could hear him behind me now, his footsteps thundering, closer and closer— too close.

  Then he tackled me.

  We didn’t hit the ground.

  There was a flash of bluish-white light, so bright it swallowed the night. A roar filled my ears like a thousand instruments tuning at once, and suddenly everything changed.

  When my vision cleared, we weren’t in the city anymore. The air stunk of rot and something worse. Decay. Something ancient. The buildings towered above like warped, melted carnival rides, pulsing with light and sound. Music thumped around us—wrong music. Off-key, chaotic, too loud and too deep. The kind of music that made your teeth itch.

  I scrambled away from him and ran.

  He shouted something, maybe my name, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t care. My legs moved on instinct, away from him and this nightmare. But before I could get far, I ran straight into them.

  Figures.

  At first glance they looked like partygoers—except their skin peeled in layers, their eyes glowed with sick hunger, and every step they took sounded like bones cracking. Undead. Laughing and grinding against each other until they smelled us.

  They stopped.

  The music wavered, their heads turned toward me, mouths open in drooling hunger.

  "Oh ho... I want her arms," one croaked.

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  "No, I want her stomach!"

  "Brains! Fresh brains!"

  I turned just in time to see him—the stalker. He’d followed again, stepping between me and them. For a brief second, I almost believed he meant to protect me. Until I saw the fear in his eyes.

  He ran.

  He shoved past me and ran in the opposite direction.

  I stood frozen, the wave of undead approaching. I could hear them breathing now—smell their hunger. My lungs locked up. My legs wouldn’t move.

  I screamed.

  Everything stopped.

  The music. The talking. The laughter.

  My scream had broken their spell.

  The undead turned their heads like puppets with snapped strings and groaned. More groans answered from far away. Loud. Deep. Hundreds of them.

  Panic kicked in.

  I turned and ran again, slipping into a narrow alley, my shoes sliding against some kind of ooze coating the stone. A doorway—open! I dove inside, slammed the door, and bolted up the creaking stairs.

  Inside, it was pitch black.

  I stumbled through the shadows, hands out. My breathing came in gasps, my chest heaving. Eventually, I found a window. I peeked through cracked glass and saw them—hundreds of undead, pouring into the streets like ants. There was no escape.

  "I can smell fresh brains! There’s a living close by!"

  The roar of hungry screeches echoed. The horde started toward my building.

  Then I heard movement behind me.

  I spun.

  It was him. The stalker.

  He stood in the dark, staring. Silent.

  Relief flashed for a second, but my gut twisted. Something was wrong. He didn’t move.

  Then I saw it.

  Behind him—a mass. Pink and fleshy, covered in mouths and eyes and writhing tentacles. A blob of living rot.

  His body jerked. He gargled. Blood spilled from his mouth.

  The blob lifted him. One half of his torso in each tentacle. His legs twitched. His eyes were wide.

  Then the thing fed.

  I screamed.

  The horde outside slammed against the walls. The building groaned.

  I stumbled back as dust and bits of ceiling rained down. I curled into the corner, sobbing, shaking, waiting to die.

  Then the wall exploded.

  A wave of blue and orange light erupted through the room as the ceiling collapsed and fire engulfed the blob creature.

  Figures stepped through the smoke.

  Three of them.

  The first was a woman—or at least, she looked like one. Her armor was bone-white, almost silver, sculpted like the bark of an alien tree. It hummed with quiet energy, and two long horns curled from her head. Her eyes were pure light. No pupils. No humanity. Just power.

  Sound bent around her. I realized I couldn’t hear my own breathing. The music outside faded, warped. She was... controlling it. Controlling everything that vibrated.

  The second was a walking inferno. His armor burned orange between black jagged plates. He looked like a beast trapped inside a volcano—massive, wide-shouldered, every step he took cracked the floor. His fists glowed with stored power, arcs of energy jumping between his arms and chest.

  He looked at me, eyes flickering like embers.

  Then the third...

  I never saw him clearly.

  A shadow moved through the ruins. Fast. Fluid. Red glints bounced off his form. His presence made the air hot, tight. He stood on the edge of the broken floor, just beyond where light touched. His fists were clenched, clawed gloves flexing, and then...

  He vanished.

  He moved like anger itself, speeding off into the dark, deeper into the city.

  Toward something worse.

  Toward something waiting.

  I didn’t know who they were. I didn’t understand anything about where I was. But I knew this:

  This wasn’t Earth anymore.

  This was something else.

  And those three?

  They weren’t here to save anyone.

  They were here for war.