The mother is desperately bashing the alien beast with a metal chair, her breaths coming in frantic gasps between guttural grunts and panicked screams. The thing writhes and spasms on the grimy floor, its movements increasingly feeble with each strike. Its carapace—a thin but unnervingly resilient shell like a crab’s—splinters under the relentless blows. Its strong, whip-like tentacles flop lifelessly, and the sickly green light fades from its stalked eyes, which retract as if trying to escape the inevitable.
Still, she doesn’t stop. The weight of her fear and desperation drives her, each swing a desperate attempt to destroy the horror before her. The chair splinters, one leg snapping clean off. She keeps going, clutching the broken piece and hammering down, her voice raw and hoarse. It might already be dead, but in her shock, she can’t stop. Not yet.
Finally, realization seeps through her adrenaline-fueled haze. The thing isn’t moving. It isn’t breathing, that is if it even breathes at all. With a shaky exhale, she lets the broken chair leg clatter to the floor. Her arms tremble violently as the tension drains away, leaving behind an unbearable emptiness. Silent tears stream down her dirt-streaked face as she collapses to her knees, crawling toward the restroom door. The dim, flickering light overhead buzzes faintly, casting uneven shadows on the dark bloodied floor.
She sits heavily against the wall next to the doorframe, her back scraping against it. Resting her head against the cool surface, she closes all four of her eyes, trying to steady her breaths. The sharp sting of reality creeps back in as she feels the dampness of the otherworldly ichor on her hands and the fatty and metallic smell of the creature’s remains. She raises a hand, slowly and weakly knocking on the restroom door.
— Kalene… Favo… — her voice is barely above a whisper, cracked and raw. — You can come out now… It’s gone.
For a moment, there’s no response, only the sound of her ragged breathing and the distant, haunting echoes of the city outside. Then, the door creaks open. Two small figures peek out, hesitant and wide-eyed. Favo, the older one, clutches her younger sibling’s hand tightly. Kalene clings to her arm, his face half-hidden in her torn sleeve.
They step into the dim light, their small feet crunching lightly over shards of broken tile and stretching to avoid stepping on the dark puddle ahead. Favo helps her mother to her feet, her young face strained with the effort but determined. Kalene grabs hold of his mother’s hand, his grip tight and trembling. But she forces a faint, weary smile.
— Let’s go… — she murmurs and gathers her strength to walk by herself.
Overturned cars litter the road, some with doors flung open, their interiors stripped of anything useful in the desperate moments before their owners fled. Storefronts sit eerily quiet, their glass shattered or smeared with dust and blood. Amid the debris, law enforcement vehicles still pulse with silent, strobing green and red lights, their beams sweeping rhythmically over the carnage. Mauled remnants of officers and civilians lie scattered near the vehicles. The signs of resistance, bullet casings litter the ground near barricades made from overturned tables and crowd control shields. Some cars are embedded into walls, their chassis twisted and crumpled, while others are crushed under now ominous footprints imprinted on the chassis.
High above, a haunting sight dominates the skyline. A helicopter stood lodged precariously into the seventh floor of a commercial building, its tail jutting out at an awkward angle. Flames lick hungrily at the wreckage, sending black smoke billowing into the sky. One of the crew dangles lifelessly from a parachute tangled around the landing skis, the body sways gently in the heat’s updraft.
Favo grabbed a piece of metal scrap from a car’s door and followed his mother, trying to stay alert with her, as his younger brother Kalene stayed close and held onto her waist. The cold air swept the streets in between the buildings, getting slightly warmed up as it passed over fires, carrying within it the smell of burnt plastic, slowly howling as distant sirens and gunfight persisted. Little flaming and bright debris penetrated the thick and swirling cloud cover above them, like shooting stars, bringing silent light and wishes, wishes that hope those may be their invaders losing the battle above the clouds.
Through the narrow gaps between the buildings, the sky seemed alive with activity. The lights of distant aircraft moved with coordinated precision, cutting through the clouds with deliberate purpose. A sudden roar grew louder, and two jets streaked overhead, their engines thundering as they passed low enough to rattle the loose debris on the ground. They flew through a flock of worm-like creatures, which wheeled and danced erratically as they skimmed high, afloat without wings or other visible mechanism. The jets split apart as they passed through the swarm, their paths diverging as the creatures scattered in panic.
Favo turned to watch one of the jets, its engine trail fading as it moved further away. His relief was short-lived. A searing red bolt of energy erupted from the clouds, striking the jet with unerring precision, the aircraft exploded into a fiery blossom following the net direction of the bolt and its own, its wreckage spiraling downward and disappearing into the haze below. The charged air particles lingered for a moment leaving a fading shadow of the bolt, its crimson hue casting an ominous glow across the nearby buildings. Favo froze, gripping the metal tighter as Kalene whimpered softly. Their mother took a sharp breath, tightening her grip on both children and urging them forward, her pace quickening.
The trio moved carefully through the debris-strewn streets, the mother’s eyes fixed on a seemingly untouched minivan parked partially on the sidewalk many meters away. Its clean exterior stood in stark contrast to the destruction around it. She stopped and turned to Favo, her voice firm but low.
— Stay here with your brother. Behind the car. I’ll check the car. — She grabbed a brick from the rubble nearby, its edges rough and crumbling, hoping it could protect her and her children a little more than her bare fists.
— Mom, I can– — Favo began, gripping his piece of metal tightly, but her sharp look silenced him. He exhaled heavily, nodding reluctantly.
— Just stay low. — She adjusted the brick in her hand and turned away, walking toward the minivan with deliberate caution.
Her footsteps were light but measured as she approached the vehicle. She moved slowly, leaning slightly to one side and then the other, scanning her surroundings for any movement. Her eyes darted to the dark windows of the nearby buildings, the heaps of wreckage, and the shadows cast by the flickering fires.
Reaching the minivan, she hesitated for a moment before grabbing the door handle. She pulled gently, the latch clicking faintly as the door swung open. Relief flickered across her face—until the sound of another door opening on the opposite side froze her in place.
Her breath caught as she turned her head, and she found herself staring at a figure stepping out from the other side.
— Freeze. Put your hands where I can see them. — The voice was masculine, commanding, but it felt… Off. It lacked a shared exhaustion, perhaps, or fear, adequate to such a dire situation. — Step back from the vehicle.
— It’s alright, it’s alright. — She swallowed hard, raising her free hand while letting the brick slip from her grip. — I’m not armed. Don’t shoot! I have my kids with me... I was just trying... I didn’t see you– — Her words trailed off as her gaze locked onto the figure now fully visible on the other side of the van.
A specter stood on the other side, his stance rigid and precise, rifle held like a textbook illustration. His appearance was strikingly alien, yet familiar, a geometric, vaguely hoku shape clad in a battered military uniform, its fabric and plating showing signs of heavy wear. Scratches and streaks of soot marred what might once have been pristine, the insignia on his chest faded but still identifiable. A blood splattered yellow armband marked him as a medic. Glowing matrix display-like eyes on his long face shifted subtly as if they could actually see her, scanning her as his mechanical ear-like antennae twitched and pivoted, keeping track of the environment. He stepped carefully toward the front of the vehicle, rifle still trained on her but now held with less tension.
— Are you injured? Are you alone? — His voice was direct, efficient, but not harsh. His antennae flicked again, catching faint sounds from the surroundings as his glowing eyes stayed locked on her.
— No, no... I have kids. They’re right there. — She gestured slightly with her chin toward the overturned car where her children hid, her hands still raised. Her voice cracked slightly as she added, — Favo! Come out. It’s a doctor... It’s a doctor that wants to see you. — She tried to sound calm, though a tremor betrayed her attempt. Slowly, the older boy emerged first, clutching the makeshift weapon tightly before noticing the specter and loosening his grip. Kalene followed closely, clutching his brother’s sleeve.
The specter’s head tilted slightly, his antennae twitching again as he assessed the children from a distance. Satisfied, he lowered the rifle, the weapon releasing a faint hum as it locked magnetically to his side. He raised a hand and motioned toward the van.
— … Good, bring them over. We need to get them checked. — His tone softened slightly, though it carried urgency. — My partner is two blocks down this street treating an injured man. I’m trying to get us another vehicle to catch up with our unit. — He stepped aside, gesturing again for the trio to move toward the minivan. The faint glow of his eyes dimmed slightly, his attention splitting between them and the empty streets around, ears still tuned to the distant chaos.
The mother, still cautious, began leading her children toward him, her instincts battling her relief at finding someone, something, that might help. The group settled into the van, the children huddled in the back while the mother sat in the passenger seat, still clutching her knees. Chase took the wheel, his movements precise and mechanical, yet his attention flicked between the road and the dashboard's cracked display, scanning for potential threats.
The van's interior was sparse, with a lingering smell of wet fur and chemicals—likely remnants of its original pet shop use. Chase’s glowing eyes dimmed slightly as he adjusted the vehicle’s settings, the engine coming to life.
— Where are they? The army, the navy? Why aren’t they pushing these things back? — the mother asked, her voice tense but not accusatory. Her gaze was fixed on the cracked windshield ahead as the city passed by.
— The army and navy are engaging the invaders on the coasts. Most of the conflict is concentrated on beaches and waterfront cities. Initial reports suggest the invaders are either drawn to these areas or started their assault there intentionally. — his synthetic voice responded evenly, though there was a weight behind it. He turned the wheel sharply to avoid a mangled streetlight lying across the road. The children jolted slightly in their seats, but Kalene clung tightly to his brother, staying quiet.
— And the civilians? Where are they taking us? — she pressed further, glancing briefly at the rearview mirror where her sons’ reflections trembled in the faint light.
— Inland, to army bases and hospitals. — his antennae twitched, and his glowing eyes flickered as he processed additional information. — But it’s slow. Supply lines are severed, and the creatures are spreading inland. Some fauna—smaller than their war units but no less lethal—have infiltrated further than expected. It’s creating bottlenecks everywhere.
— You… You mean it’s not safe anywhere? — the mother exhaled sharply, gripping her knees tighter.
— To my awareness, no. But the limited information we have suggested the people might be safe in the old wastelands. Long-range radio communications have been down for the last three hours. The hostile fauna has made it difficult to maintain small group cohesion for units like mine, so every… — He paused suddenly, glancing briefly at her before returning his focus to the road. — However, Expanse protocol states that I give you only the relevant, positive, information, in order to avoid panic and mass hysteria. — that last line felt awkwardly polite given the dying city outside.
She turned to look at him fully for the first time, noting the scratches across his uniform and the faint scuffs on his metallic limbs.
— You said ‘your unit…’ What’s left of it?
— To my knowledge, myself and my partner only. — He adjusted the wheel again, his voice steady but edged with something that sounded like regret. — Army medical unit, designation XAS3-KA25, callsign ‘Chase’, and sergeant Gora Honeda. We were assigned to extract wounded personnel and civilians. That mission continues. — the mother sighed and leaned back on her seat, not knowing what to make of it exactly. — Our best chance is to keep moving inland, away from the coast. If the navy can regain control of the seas and space, their efforts should alleviate the situation on land for the general population to re-settle.
The van hit a bump, and Favo winced as his head struck the side.
— Sorry about that, kid. — Chase’s voice carried a faint hum of reassurance, as if trying to sound less of a machine.
The mother didn’t respond immediately, her mind racing through his words…
— If there’s even a chance we’ll make it… — she turned back to look at her sons, then faced him again — you better get us there.
— That’s the plan, ma’am, — Chase replied, his antennae twitching slightly as he scanned the road ahead.
— Forget that… It’s… It’s Lalene.
— Alright, Lalene… Just hold on. — Chase’s voice was barely above a whisper as he brought the van to a slow stop. As soon as the door opened, the pungent smell of burning fuel and scorched metal hit them. The scene ahead was a nightmare in motion.
The overturned military truck was aflame, its twisted frame a grotesque silhouette against the dimming sky. The medic, dressed in army fatigues with the same yellow medical armband that Chase wore, worked desperately over the body—if it could even be called that anymore. It was from the chest down all reduced to a pulp, leaving behind an unrecognizable mass. The blood stains the pavement in dark streaks from the main pool. The medic’s hands moved feverishly, pressing into what remained of the torso as though they could somehow revive it. Her voice cracked with each utterance.
— No... No, no, no... We can't lose another one, not like this, not after everything... Stay with me, damn it! Stay with me! It’s an order, soldier! — behind her, a little girl, no older than seven, wailed. Another wounded man, his face hollow with exhaustion and pain, held her tightly, his arm around her waist, keeping her from running forward. His eyes were locked on the medic’s frantic efforts.
— Don’t look, son. — Lalene’s voice broke through the haze, her hand gripping her son’s arm. She glanced at the scene again and immediately wished she hadn’t. — Don’t look at that. — she gently pushed Kalene behind her seat, putting herself between them and the window, unable to look away from it as she covered her mouth from gasping.
Chase’s movements were methodical, his antennae flicking forward, trying to catch any sounds or signals. He knew this was only part of the nightmare, but even so, there was no hesitation in his voice when he spoke again.
— Gora? — he called, his voice slightly strained, but steady. No response. He stepped closer to the medic, his feet crunching against the debris as he raised his voice once more. — Sergeant Gora? My… My sensors indicate she is gone. — the specter seemed to hesitate as he spoke calmly.
— Come on! Please, don’t leave me... not like this, please, please… — Her efforts only grew louder, her face wet with tears as she cried out to the lifeless body beneath, giving harsh compressions over a red-soaked towel.
— You need to come with me. We’ve got more lives to save. — His grip on the medic’s shoulder was a quiet command, his tone more stern.
— We lost him... we lost them all... I... I couldn’t– — She broke off, shuddering with tears and anger, but Chase’s grip tightened, pulling her up with surprising gentleness but undeniable force. He placed a strong hand on her back, urging her away from the scene.
— Gora, I need you to focus. There’s nothing more you can do here. We’ve got a new mission now. — Chase spoke clearly and gently pulled on her shoulder.
— I’m not leaving him... I’m not leaving any of them! — Gora cried out in frustration, her voice breaking as her figure gave up to his gesture.
— We’ll honor them. But we can’t help them now. — He turned, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. — The van’s waiting. Get moving. — Chase looked at the man and his daughter remained frozen, too frightened to speak. — You two, in the van. Now. — his mouthless face ordered sharply through the speakers, his eyes steely as he glanced back at them.
The man nodded quickly, gathering the girl into his arms, and made his way to the van with hurried steps. The little girl clung to him, still sobbing, but with no words left to say. They both climbed into the back of the van, and the door slammed shut with a dull thud.
— Let’s go. We don’t have time to waste. — Chase stepped in behind them, his voice low, his gaze hard as he looked out the front window and turned the car on.
Lalene sat silently in the front, her face pale as she tried to reconcile what they had just seen. She caught the reflection of her son, his wide eyes filled with confusion and fear, staring at the shattered world outside as it began to slowly roll past her face.
— It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart. — She whispered, though her voice wavered. Everyone inside was then quickly alarmed when Chase’s face turned off and he plopped flat against the wheel, blaring the horn for half a second before it too went mute. Alarms and lights from cars around them too blared and blinked for a short moment before becoming mute, the city block now illuminated by the faint light from distant fires bouncing back from the clouds.
