Chapter 7
Alexa woke to screaming.
It took a moment to realize the sound was coming from her.
Her throat burned. Her head felt hollow, like something had been scooped out and left echoing space behind. She lay on cold concrete beneath a flickering emergency light, surrounded by dust and the sharp smell of blood.
Blood.
She sat up too fast and the world tilted.
“Easy,” a voice said urgently. “Alexa—hey—easy.”
A boy knelt in front of her.
Dark hair. Bruised face. Eyes frantic with relief.
Her heart jumped—but the feeling stopped short, like a song cutting off mid-note.
“Who are you?” she asked.
The boy froze.
The silence that followed was worse than the screaming had been.
“…Manny,” he said carefully. “It’s me. You’re safe. You’re—”
She pushed herself back instinctively, crowbar clattering as her hand found it. “Don’t come closer.”
The woman from the underground swore quietly nearby. Two other survivors stood watch, weapons raised, scanning the tunnels.
Manny’s face crumpled just a little. “Alexa,” he said softly. “It’s okay. You hit your head. You—”
“I know my name,” she snapped. “I don’t know you.”
The words landed like a gunshot.
Manny looked like he’d been physically struck. His hands trembled, then curled into fists. “No,” he whispered. “No, it didn’t— it can’t have taken that.”
The woman stepped between them. “What do you remember?”
Alexa searched herself.
The quake. The wave. Running. Killing. Being alone.
Fear.
Rage.
Survival.
“I remember the world ending,” Alexa said slowly. “I remember fighting. I remember… choosing.” Her head throbbed. “But I don’t remember why.”
Manny sucked in a shaky breath.
“You loved him,” the woman said quietly, watching Manny’s face. “Didn’t you?”
Manny nodded once. Hard.
“More than anything.”
Alexa looked at Manny again.
She didn’t feel nothing.
She felt… something unfinished. Like standing in front of a locked door she knew mattered but couldn’t open.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it. “I don’t—”
The tunnel shook.
Dust rained down.
A low, furious sound rolled through the underground like thunder with a heartbeat.
The creature screamed.
The survivors swore and scrambled.
“It’s alive,” the woman said. “And it’s pissed.”
Manny grabbed Alexa’s wrist without thinking. “We have to move.”
She almost pulled away.
Almost.
Instead, she let him lead.
They ran.
Through shattered tunnels and half-flooded corridors, through places that smelled like rot and old secrets. The dead were fewer here—but sharper. Faster. Younger.
A corpse lunged from a side passage.
Manny reacted instantly, shoving Alexa back and taking the hit himself. The thing slammed into him, teeth snapping inches from his face.
“Don’t be afraid to ask for help,” it whispered.
Alexa didn’t hesitate.
She smashed its skull with the crowbar, over and over until it stopped moving.
Her hands shook.
Manny stared at her like she’d just saved his soul. “You didn’t even think.”
She swallowed hard. “I don’t know why… but I won’t let them hurt you.”
Something flickered across his face—hope, pain, gratitude, all tangled together.
They burst into daylight minutes later.
The city had changed again.
A massive section of skyline had collapsed, smoke pouring upward like a warning flare. The dead were gathering in the streets below, drawn by the creature’s rage.
The survivors didn’t stop running until they reached an abandoned museum perched above the river.
They barricaded the doors.
Only then did Manny collapse.
Hard.
Alexa caught him just in time, easing him to the floor as his body shook violently.
“Manny?” she said sharply. “Hey—stay awake.”
Blood soaked through his shirt at the ribs. His breathing came shallow and uneven.
The woman knelt beside him, tearing fabric, swearing. “He’s in shock. Internal bleeding, maybe.”
Alexa’s chest tightened painfully.
She didn’t know why this hurt so much.
She pressed her hands to Manny’s, squeezing. “Hey. You’re not allowed to die. I don’t… I don’t remember you, but I know that much.”
Manny smiled weakly. “That tracks. I’m kind of hard to forget.”
She huffed a broken laugh.
Outside, whispers rose again—dozens, then hundreds.
“Write it down.”
“Don’t lose it again.”
“Leave proof.”
The woman looked toward the sound. “They’re circling. Waiting.”
“For what?” Alexa asked.
“For you,” Manny whispered. “They always are.”
Alexa looked down at his hand in hers.
At the notebook sticking out of her pack.
At the feeling in her chest that refused to go quiet.
She opened the notebook.
And began to write.
Outside, the creature’s shadow stretched across the museum doors.
And it spoke, loud enough for all of them to hear.
“You gave me love,” it called. “Now I want the rest.”
The doors began to buckle.
