Chapter 8: The Shot

  Gunfire erupted.

  Sparks ignited as the bullet rebound off the rusted wall.

  The tunnel echoed with the sound.

  Grim dropped low, instincts pulled him down before his mind even caught up.

  Crates shattered behind him. Dust rose to the air.

  Run.

  The voice slithered through his thoughts, low and cold. He pushed it away.

  Not now.

  But there was no time.

  The shadows ahead already twisted. Heavy footsteps closed in. Another shot rang out, too close to him. His chest tightened.

  Survive.

  Grim didn’t hesitate.

  He moved. The dim lights barely illuminated the tunnel, but he knew it well.

  Every cracked beam, every warped pipe.

  This place had been abandoned for decades. But not to him.

  A figure emerged from the haze. Gun in hand.

  Grim’s breath steadied.

  No way ahead him. The walls crept too close.

  Fight.

  The voice snarled at him.

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  He waited. Silent. The man’s steps were slow, deliberate.

  A predator savoring the moment. The gun gleamed under the faint light.

  Closer.

  Grim’s hand closed around a loose pipe from the ground.

  Cold. Familiar. His muscles coiled.

  Then. He moved.

  The man raised his weapon.

  Too late.

  Grim lunged. The pipe struck with a sickening crack. Bone gave way. The man crumpled, his weapon clattering to the floor. No scream. Just a groan before unconsciousness took him.

  One down.

  But there were more.

  Another shadow. Fast. Reckless. A flash of silver — a knife.

  Grim twisted. The blade grazed his jacket, barely missing flesh.

  He seized the attacker’s wrist, twisting sharply. A yelp echoed. The knife fell.

  A knee to the ribs. A shove. The man slammed into the wall. Grim didn’t wait. He kept moving.

  But the footsteps multiplied.

  Three. Four. Maybe more.

  The tunnel groaned as they spread out, voices snarling orders.

  Too many.

  The voice whispered.

  Grim’s pulse raced. He bolted down the corridor. He could hear them giving chase, their footsteps pounding against the concrete. But they didn’t know these tunnels.

  He did.

  A sudden left. Then right. The walls blurred. Pipes hissed. Water dripped, pooling beneath his shoes.

  He vaulted over debris. The darkness cloaked him.

  But they were gaining.

  Another turn. Dead end. The air grew colder.

  It dampened. Grim’s mind screamed.

  Think.

  He spun, scanning. There. A rusted pipe barely clinging to the wall. He ripped it free. Footsteps echoed closer.

  The first pursuer rounded the corner. He didn’t see it coming.

  Grim swung. Metal met flesh. The man staggered, collapsing to the ground. The pipe dropped from his grip.

  But there was no time. The others were near.

  He ran. Again.

  His breaths were ragged. The tunnel narrowed and so did his vision.

  Cracks lined the walls like veins. The dim light twisted the shadows, warping shapes he had never seen.

  He could almost hear them. The footsteps. The whispers.

  And then, just ahead — a sliver of light. The end of the tunnel.

  Freedom!

  Grim pushed harder. His chest burned. The air thickened, but he saw it.

  The exit. A battered metal door, cracked open just enough.

  He reached for it. Almost there.

  And then.

  Bang.

  A burst of pain. White-hot.

  The force propelled him forward.

  He stumbled, knees crashing to the floor. The world spun.

  His hand clutched his shoulder.

  Blood seeped through his fingers. He couldn’t breath.

  The voices behind him grew louder. Closer.

  Grim tried to move. His body screamed. The darkness crept closer.

  And the voice within him whispered once more, it’s tone amused.

  This is the end.

  End Chapter.