{TIME: 2:36 a.m.}
Location: Stairwell - Lower Emergency Level
Our steps echoed down the staircase like whispers of everything we were trying not to become—loud, reckless, doomed.
We didn't speak. Just the rain outside and the thunder cracking like a whip across the sky filled the silence. Each boom matched the pounding in our chests.
Then—movement.
Those things were in the building. Again.
"Hide!" Zayn hissed.
We ducked behind old water filters and dusty storage crates shoved into the corners of the stairwell—barely enough cover, barely enough hope.
That's when I saw it. A tiny square frame, half-lost in spiderwebs and rust. An emergency exit window.
"Guys," I whispered, nudging Insha and pointing. "Look."
It wasn't big. Barely shoulder-width. But it was hope. And that's all we needed.
Zayn grabbed a busted pipe and started tapping it against the metal banister on the other side of the stairs—CLANG—CLANG—CLANG!
The creatures turned.
Insha and I bolted for the exit. My hands wrapped around the rusted handle—it wouldn't budge.
"Come on, COME ON!" I growled, twisting, kicking, shoving my entire body against it.
Aaron joined in—together we threw our weight until—
CRRRRK—BANG! The door flung open with a scream of metal against metal.
But instead of freedom… it was a half wall which could be easily trespassed,but nevermind. it was a parking's backside of an apartment, barely a meter away.
Just enough space.
An alley. Wet. Narrow. But clear.
We looked at each other. One breath. One nod.
Jump.
One by one, we leaped into the narrow space, landing with heavy thuds, scraping knees and souls in the process. Thunder lit up the sky like a warning from the gods.
Behind us, the stairwell burst with snarls and slams.
But we were already gone.
Soaked, bruised, hearts hammering—but not dead. Not yet.
And now... the real run begins.
We were out.
Out of the venue. Out of the nightmare... or so we thought.
That's when Zayn's phone vibrated again.
{TIME: 2:45 a.m.}
His face dropped. "The base camps—they're compromised."
"What?"
I said "It's not the time for another of your jokes, SHUT THE CRAP!!!"
Insha and Aaron were now terrified with it, "tell the message Loud and Clear".
He stated: "FROM GOVT. TO THE SURVIVORS : THE CAMPS ARE COMPROMISED STAY AT YOUR PLACE"
"Yeah, the camps were close, but honestly? That meant nothing now. Hope didn't live there anymore—and neither could we."
We had barely made it across that narrow alley behind the apartment, lungs burning, hearts tripping over themselves. Every step we took felt heavier, like the weight of what we just left behind was catching up. No words. Just us, dragging our bags, gripping our makeshift weapons like they were lifelines.
Then it happened.
A sudden BOOM ripped through the silence like a war drum.
The sky—already furious with lightning—lit up in a firestorm.
We froze.
Turning slowly, our eyes followed the orange blaze swallowing the horizon.
The camps.The ones we were just planning to reach. Gone. Like that.
{TIME: 2:50 a.m.}
Flames spiraled upward, illuminating shattered walls, flying debris, and a thick black cloud rising like a curse. It looked unreal—like the kind of thing you see in movies right before the hero loses everything.
But this time, we were the heroes. And we were watching what should've been our "safe zone" burn like a funeral pyre.
In that moment, none of us breathed. Not even a blink.
"In another timeline… that would've been us," Zayn muttered.
Insha just nodded, silent. Aaron gripped the edge of his hoodie like it was keeping him from falling apart.
And me? I whispered to the wind:"Okay… so no Plan A. Guess it's Final Act from here on."
We didn't cry. But something inside all of us cracked.
And still, we moved.
Because now we knew—no one was coming. So we'd just have to save ourselves.