The morning sunlight stretched long and thin across the ravaged city, painting fractured concrete and collapsed facades in delicate hues of orange and rose. Despite the lingering terror saturating every broken window and every shadowy alley, there was a surprising calm—like the hush before a new storm. Anna led the way along a deserted street, her baseball bat balanced carefully across her shoulder. I trudged behind, eyes flicking from wrecked car to collapsed building, heart pounding an urgent countdown in my chest.

  Thirteen minutes. That was all I had before the key in my pocket would grant me access back to the realm I’d come from. Even from a distance, I could see the building where I’d first appeared: a sagging structure, half its roof caved in, part of a run-down old block that must once have been a pleasant residential area. Now it was just another husk in a city that had swallowed itself whole.

  Anna lifted a hand and signaled for me to slow. My boots scuffed against the street, sending a small spray of pebbles scattering. Immediately, I froze, breath catching painfully in my throat. A low, wet shuffle echoed around the corner—footsteps that were too uneven, too broken, to belong to anything alive. A roamer.

  I sucked in a trembling breath, forcing my spine to straighten. The knowledge that time was slipping away propelled a spike of adrenaline through my veins. Every second spent hiding was a second closer to losing my only chance of escape. I had to move. We had to get there before time ran out.

  Anna peered around the jagged edge of a fractured brick wall, turning back with a grim tilt of her head. “There’s one. Blocking the way.” She grimaced. “We can go around, but it’ll add minutes we don’t have.”

  A swirl of dread coiled in my gut, but I gritted my teeth. No more running. No more flinching. I felt the rebar’s rough metal biting into my palm, the memory of Anna’s scornful words echoing in my mind: “Next time, you’ll have to fight.” Perhaps it was reckless, but something inside me refused to let her keep doing the killing. If I couldn’t step up now—when it mattered—I’d never forgive myself.

  “I’ll handle it,” I whispered, hoping my voice sounded more confident than I felt. My heart thumped painfully; Anna’s brow arched, surprise flickering across her eyes.

  She stepped aside with a curt nod. “Fine. But don’t get sloppy.”

  I swallowed, stomach twisting, and crept around the corner. There, swaying in the center of the cracked road, stood a lone roamer—once a man, perhaps, but now a hideous shell. Its clothing hung in tatters, mottled with dried blood, grime, and unidentifiable stains. Where the flesh of its left arm had peeled away, a raw, oozing patch of muscle glistened, riddled with creeping black veins. The eyes stared blankly, milky orbs that held no spark of humanity.

  Flies buzzed thickly around its head and shoulders—dozens of them, their incessant drone blending into a low, maddening hum. Some crawled over the roamer’s slack jaw and the slick, tattered skin around its neck. Others flitted around an open wound on its upper torso, dipping in to feed on the congealed fluids that still seeped slowly in the morning heat.

  I gripped the rebar tighter, swallowing back nausea. This was it. I had to act before it sensed me, before it could call others. Images of past failures flared in my head—my screams, my vomit, my terrified inaction. I forced them down, glaring at the roamer’s decomposing face. It was now or never.

  I inhaled sharply, braced myself, and charged.

  The roamer’s head snapped up, a low, gurgling moan bubbling from its ruined throat. It jerked its body toward me, arms lifting in clumsy hunger. My pulse roared as I swung the rebar in a wide arc, aiming for the creature’s skull. At the last second, the roamer lurched sideways, and the blow landed across its collarbone with a wet, jarring crunch. Bone split under the impact, dark fluids splattering across the pavement—and across me.

  A wave of stench hit me like a fist—rotten meat, fecal decay, and bitter copper tang. My stomach heaved dangerously, but I refused to falter. The roamer reeled, mouth yawning in a hideous rasp as it staggered, half its shoulder caving inward. Instinct screamed for me to back away, to flee. Instead, I gritted my teeth and heaved the rebar overhead again, ignoring the filmy gore that dripped from the metal.

  The roamer’s eyes fixed on me with mindless hunger. It reached out, elongated fingers stiff with rigor, nails caked in grime. I swung again, aiming for the side of its skull. Crunch—the blow connected, caving in rotted flesh and bone with a nauseating wet pop. The creature collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been severed, slamming onto the asphalt so hard that its ribcage burst with a muted crack.

  Panting, I stood over the twitching corpse, every muscle taut. The rebar trembled in my grasp, flecks of gore running down the length and pattering onto the ground in sticky droplets. Flies buzzed around the fresh wounds, an angry swarm drawn to the stench of newly exposed rot. My breath rattled in my chest, adrenaline spiking so high I felt dizzy.

  Anna approached quietly, baseball bat at the ready in case the roamer somehow stirred again. Her gaze flicked from the twisted corpse to me, a hint of approval—tempered by necessity—shining in her eyes. “You did it,” she said, voice taut but not unkind. “Check if it’s got a pearl. Hurry.”

  I nodded, swallowing thickly. My stomach twisted at the thought of slicing open that reeking flesh, but there was no time to be squeamish. We needed pearls if we wanted any chance of trade or survival. And if I was truly going to get stronger, I had to do it.

  Dropping to one knee, I pulled out my battered pocket knife with trembling fingers. The roamer lay face-down, its skull half-cracked open, a thick stew of dark fluids and tissue pooling onto the street. Gagging softly, I gripped the creature by what remained of its scalp and tried to roll it over. Its body was slack, riddled with spongy pockets where the flesh had disintegrated. A squelch accompanied each shift, slick with rot, and the acrid stench intensified to the point of near blackout.

  Flies scattered in a buzzing swarm, some crawling over my sleeves, tickling my ears in their frantic search for fresh gore. I nearly vomited, choking on the bile, but I forced myself to keep going. With a trembling hand, I guided the knife to the base of the creature’s neck, cutting into putrid flesh that offered almost no resistance, splitting easily like spoiled fruit. Blackish fluid dribbled out, hot and reeking of foul decay.

  Focus. Just find the pearl and get it over with.

  Seconds dragged like hours as I fumbled blindly through collapsed tissue, all slick and slippery, until my fingertips grazed something spherical and smooth, incongruous against the rotting mass. A savage chill ran down my spine. The core—the pearl—emitted a faint warmth even as the rest of the creature was cold as death. Carefully, I pried it free, feeling it pop loose with a grotesque little squelch that made my stomach lurch again.

  Clutching the pearl, I staggered back, gasping for air not tainted by necrotic stink. The orb was slick with gore, shining dully in the harsh morning sun. My entire body trembled—part revulsion, part adrenaline. Anna nodded her approval, though her gaze flicked over my shoulder, scanning the street. We only had minutes, and the city was far from safe.

  That was when I noticed something else. A flash of green caught my eye, half-protruding from the roamer’s tattered pants pocket. A small, rolled wad of money, smeared with dark grime but unmistakable. Gasping softly, I reached out and tugged it loose, a swirl of uncertain excitement roiling in my chest.

  “Cash?” Anna muttered, stepping closer to peer at it. “That doesn’t do anything around here why are you looking like you just stumbled upon a stash of beans?”

  I stared dumbly at the roll, flipping through the bills. They were mostly ones, fives, tens, plus a few fifties and hundreds all wadded together. Filthy, stained with rank fluids, but money nonetheless. My mind reeled. This was at least five thousand dollars—a small fortune in the world I came from. Enough to maybe buy some relief from the nightmare of debt, or to help me start over. If I ever made it back.

  My breath caught. Thirteen minutes. The building was in sight. I clutched the cash, hands shaking. “We have to go,” I whispered urgently. “We’re so close.”

  Anna jerked her head in assent. “Then move.”

  We left the roamer’s remains behind, stepping quickly over the dark puddle of congealing fluids that shimmered with sickly rainbows under the morning light. The flies buzzed after us for a moment, but the promise of fresh decay quickly brought them swarming back to the corpse. My stomach rolled again as the stench trailed behind me like a noose. But I’d done it—I’d killed a roamer, claimed the pearl, and found money. Some small piece of me felt… not proud, exactly, but less like a cornered animal, more like a man who could fight for himself.

  Despite the lingering horror, a ragged spark of something close to hope lit in my chest. Anna glanced over at me, her expression unreadable, but a faint nod confirmed what we both sensed: I’d taken a step forward—an ugly, violent step, but forward nonetheless.

  Time was running out, so we ran, footsteps echoing across the damaged streets, ignoring the burn in our lungs, the ache in our legs, and the specter of the undead that lurked in every alley. The building was just a few blocks away now, its collapsed roof curving in a jagged silhouette against the brightening sky. We pressed on, My heart hammering with urgent purpose. We drew closer to that battered structure, weaving around rusted vehicles and chunks of smashed concrete. Each step reminded me that I had only minutes left—thirteen had become nine as we navigated the labyrinth of rubble and ruined architecture.

  A ragged sense of relief warred with a rising tide of dread. I had to make it. If the key refused to work, or if we were ambushed, or if something had changed in my absence…

  No time to worry. We crept around a corner, stepping carefully past an abandoned pick-up truck whose bed was filled with broken mannequins and half-burnt furniture. The metal squealed softly under Anna’s cautious hand, but she paused mid-step, lifting her bat in readiness.

  My heart lurched in my throat. From behind the truck came the rustle of movement—low, scraping footsteps, accompanied by a faint, rasping moan. Another roamer? My skin prickled with sweat, lungs tightening as if a band of iron had snapped around my chest.

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  A shape lurched into view: a figure hunched low, limbs stretched and elongated unnaturally. Its hair hung in greasy strands over a face half-melted with infection, the flesh riddled with open sores. It advanced with purposeful steps, more aware than the typical roamer. Perhaps a feral or some variant creeping on the edges of consciousness, hungry eyes scanning the street.

  Anna’s lips drew back in a silent snarl. “We can’t fight that quietly,” she breathed. “Not if it’s feral.”

  My mind raced. The building was just ahead, maybe fifty yards away. The feral stood between us and the last stretch of open road. If it spotted us, we risked a full-on confrontation. That might draw more roamers. Or worse.

  Glancing at Anna, I forced down a tremor of fear. “We run?” I mouthed.

  She grimaced but nodded. “Careful. If it sees us, we fight. Understood?”

  I swallowed, shifting my grip on the rebar. “Understood.”

  Without another word, Anna dashed forward, hugging the side of the street, moving in a low crouch. I followed, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. Broken shards of glass crunched softly beneath my feet, sending a spike of panic through me. My eyes darted toward the feral—it paused, sniffing the air like a dog that had caught a whiff of prey. My breath caught.

  Anna and I froze, pressed behind a decaying dumpster that reeked of rancid garbage. My skin crawled at the filth beneath my hands, but I didn’t dare move. Slowly, the feral resumed its slow shuffle, half-bent over, fingers curled into lethal claws. No moan accompanied its steps, just a raspy, almost thoughtful growl.

  Seconds ticked by, each one an eternity. Then, miraculously, the feral veered left, vanishing behind a collapsed awning. Anna flashed me a wordless signal. We took off again, sprinting around the corner. My lungs burned, every muscle screaming, but adrenaline carried me forward. Just a little more. We were so close.

  PART 2: The Door that wasn’t

  A faint, insistent ding echoed inside my skull—like an elevator bell ringing somewhere distant yet unignorable, resonating in the hollow space behind my eyes. My entire body went tense, a hot jolt of adrenaline surging through my veins. I knew exactly what that chime meant. Time was up.

  I skidded to a stop on the wide, cracked sidewalk, boots sending shards of broken concrete scattering as I fought to catch my breath. Around me, the city’s once imposing architecture lay in ruined disarray—a corporate sprawl of steel and glass now twisted into shapes of despair and emptiness. The building in front of us had once been a gleaming testament to commerce—reflective windows that soared skyward, polished marble lobbies, shining chrome pillars in the entrance. Now, it was just another husk, marred by spiderweb fractures in its facade, windows caked with grime and speckled with bullet holes, metal signage drooping from rusted brackets. A ragged tear in the roof hinted at an interior half-open to the elements and any roaming horrors.

  Yet the front of this decrepit corporate monolith still led straight onto the concrete, forming a partial plaza that might once have boasted potted trees, manicured flowerbeds, or benches for employees to enjoy a quick break in the sunshine. Now it was a wasteland of smashed planters, toppled trash cans, and scraps of filth swirling in a stale breeze.

  I tasted copper on my tongue, heart slamming as I recalled the calm ding in my head. The Key was calling me—warning me, truly. My chance to leave was about to vanish like a dream on waking. I whipped around to Anna, who stood beside me, panting quietly, her bat resting across a broad shoulder. She glowered at me, eyes narrowed, as if sensing that something had changed in the atmosphere.

  “What’s wrong?” she demanded, voice low but urgent.

  A single bead of sweat trickled down my temple. “The time,” I rasped, forcing myself to swallow. “I heard it. That… that bell. It means the window’s closing. I need to find a door. Now.”

  Her gaze flicked across my face, no trace of understanding. “Bell? You’re—” She clamped her jaw shut, then sucked in a sharp breath as if reminding herself that I was the one from another world. “Fine. A door. There are a hundred doors around here. Which do you need?”

  I swallowed again and twisted in place, scanning the building’s front—what remained of a grand, sweeping entrance. Glass doors, mostly shattered, ringed the threshold. A revolving door lay on its side in a tumble of twisted metal, half-swallowed by debris. Chunks of stone from the upper floors littered the plaza, forming waist-high mounds of rubble. I realized with a pang that none of these battered portals might function as a standard “locked door.” And locked was the key: the skeleton key demanded a working lock. Or so I believed.

  Ding.

  The noise in my mind pulsed a second time, more insistent now. Anxiety twisted in my gut. If I didn’t find a door soon, the Key’s power would slip through my fingers like water through a sieve. Then I’d be stranded in this rotting realm, left to scavenge pearls and watch my back until the day I messed up or lost a fight. That was not an option. Clinging to the Key in my pocket, I stepped onto the filthy remains of what must have been the building’s main entrance, broken glass crunching underfoot in a hideous symphony.

  There.

  Off to one side, mostly overshadowed by a collapsed chunk of the awning, was a nondescript metal door—perhaps an employee entrance or maintenance access, sturdy and plain. Its surface was pitted with rust, the signage that once might have labeled it lost to time. A battered push-bar was visible, crumpled from some old impact. More importantly, the door looked intact, still snug in its frame. That meant it might have a keyhole on the outside.

  Heart beating a rapid staccato, I gestured sharply. “Anna—over here.”

  She turned without question, scanning for threats. I didn’t see any immediate roamers or ferals, but that only made me more skittish. This part of the city had a habit of turning silent ambush into an art form. We picked our way across the littered plaza, stepping around twisted rebar and smoldering piles of old refuse. A pungent stench of burned plastic stung my nostrils, underlaid by the omnipresent tang of decay that haunted these streets. The building’s shadow loomed, devouring us in heavy gloom even though sunlight still slanted overhead.

  My gut clenched. The closer we got, the louder the invisible ding hammered behind my eyes. Time’s almost gone. My left hand shook with the Key’s faint warmth. Anna’s suspicion radiated from her in waves—she clearly sensed something intangible was at play.

  When we reached the door, I ran my trembling fingers over its handle. The surface felt damp and grimy, coated in something that might have been old grease or congealed water trickling from the damaged roof above. My heart thudded. “Let me see,” I whispered, stepping back to look for a keyhole or any sign that the door locked from the outside.

  And then, as if in answer to my silent plea, I spotted it: a small, corroded lock near the handle. So rusted it was nearly invisible, but definitely present. Relief warred with fear. That’s it. I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, focusing on the Key’s hum, letting the adrenaline crest. I had no guarantee this would work. The last time I’d departed was in the half-flooded basement of the cottage. Now I was facing a corporate building’s side door.

  Ding. The final note, a gentle echo inside my skull. Now or never.

  I slipped the Key from my pocket. At once, the world around me seemed to flicker. Edges swam, intangible illusions overlaying the battered metal door. Gleaming copper replaced the rust, engraved lines forming twisted cityscapes much like the ones on the door in the cottage’s basement. Anna gave a small gasp, stepping back. To her, I guessed the door had not changed—she only saw me standing there, possibly trembling like a madman, Key extended. But I could see a new portal superimposed upon the battered metal, swirling with faint lights at the edges as if alive.

  Her voice rose, laced with confusion: “What the hell are you doing? That door’s locked from the inside. You… you can’t just—”

  But I could. The Key’s form matched so perfectly that it slid into the lock without resistance. A gentle click reverberated up my arm, sending a shiver coursing down my spine. I felt the door’s surface ripple under my fingertips, saw the swirl of copper detail intensify—like liquid metal flowing in fractal patterns that danced in my peripheral vision. My heart hammered.

  Anna barked, “Are you listening? We’re—”

  Crack. The lock turned, releasing a short hiss of air. For an instant, a quiet hush descended, as though the city itself was sucking in a breath. My body twitched, nerves raw. I could sense the realm shift around me, gravity bending. My feet seemed to sink a fraction of an inch into the concrete, then rebound.

  Anna swore under her breath, gripping her bat with white-knuckled intensity. “Hey, what’s—holy shit—”

  I glanced at her, found her eyes locked on me in something akin to horror. She saw me flicker, a shimmering outline dancing over my body like the beginnings of a hologram. To her, the door was still just a battered steel plate. She likely saw me push a key into a bare patch of metal, the blade passing through the rust as if intangible. My shape quivered like ephemeral dust.

  “Anna,” I managed, voice ragged. “I—this is how I go.”

  She took a half-step forward, expression raw. “Don’t—”

  But there was no time. A wave of numbness broke over my shoulder, and I felt my entire left arm waver, fractals of light rippling outward. My breath caught. My sense of self began to unravel, as though someone was carefully picking apart each thread that made me real. Spots of color swam in my vision.

  Anna stared, wide-eyed. The ends of my hair broke into shimmering fragments, drifting upwards before vanishing like pixels in a glitch. She extended her free hand to grab me, but it slipped through my shoulder with no resistance. Her face contorted with a guttural mix of disbelief and anger. “No, no, no—what is this?”

  “It’s the Key,” I whispered, fighting the urge to panic. My voice cracked. I wanted to thank her for saving my life, for showing me how to survive, or at least making me try to survive. But the words tangled in my throat, overshadowed by the dizzying sense that my legs were dissolving.

  Anna’s gaze locked on me. “You can’t just—just vanish. Damn it, we were almost there.” She slammed her bat on the ground with a jarring clang, frustration boiling over. “Is this—are you being ripped apart?”

  Her question stabbed me. In many ways, I felt torn, not just physically but mentally. My heartbeat throbbed, adrenaline warring with a bleak sense of finality. “I don’t know how it looks to you,” I said, struggling to remain coherent as the fractals spread across my torso. “But I’ll be… gone. And I can’t—”

  I couldn’t finish. Another wave of distortion rolled up my chest, turning my limbs faintly transparent. My entire left side was an aurora of glitching geometry. The Key turned in the lock on its own, rotating in slow increments that made the building’s door shimmer between battered steel and a luminous copper gate. The threshold to somewhere else. My realm, hopefully.

  She lunged as though to yank me back by the collar, but her hand passed through my chest. A quiet exhalation escaped her, the fury in her eyes giving way to a painful acceptance. “This is insane,” she said hoarsely, voice thick with an emotion I’d never heard from her before. “Fine. Just… go. You only had one foot in this world anyway, right?”

  I tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked whimper. My entire body was flickering, as if an invisible wind was scattering me like dust motes in sunlight. Beyond Anna’s tense silhouette, I glimpsed the empty streets, the corporate building’s ravaged plaza, the filthy horizon. In my ears, the city moaned with faint echoes: gusts of wind through debris, maybe a roamer’s distant shuffle. Then the fractals consumed my last shred of vision, and the real world melted to black.

  Her voice faintly reverberated in the emptiness, calling my name with a raw edge that softened at the final syllable. And in that hush, I recognized that I was truly departing. The final vestiges of my form peeled away, fractal lines converging into the Key’s shape. Time froze. The door—whether steel or copper—yawned open like a hungry mouth, swallowing me.

  I never saw what Anna did after that. Maybe she pounded a fist against the metal door in rage. Maybe she lowered her bat and stared at the spot where I’d stood, cursing the twisted nature of a cosmos that would dangle salvation in front of me only to whisk me away from her realm. Maybe she simply turned on her heel and vanished into the ruinous streets, carrying on with the same brutal determination that had kept her alive so far.

  All I knew was that for me, the world ended in a swirl of intangible geometry, and the last thing I saw was her face locked in a helpless sort of anger. I wanted to say I was sorry, that I wished there was a way for her to come with me—some new dimension that didn’t revolve around survival at the edge of a blade. I wanted to explain that it wasn’t my choice to vanish, that I had to chase the only hope I had. But none of that came out.

  The apocalypse blurred and collapsed, leaving me with only the echo of her parting gaze as I dissolved into swirling light.

  One moment, I was in that shattered corporate plaza, Key in the lock. The next, everything was gone.

  And so was I.