Sally's breath rose in slow, measured waves, pale hand against cold metal of the core pressed deep into her heart. It hung from a black, thin chain, stone beating dully, pulse-like beneath the surface of her skin. Her eyes shut tight, chin on fist, leaning back against the railing of the balcony, surrounded by raw power sweeping down upon her like liquid fire burning through her veins. She had known their purpose long before their whispered horrors reached her, had felt the hum of their resolve like a distant, fading noise. The center had been hers before they entered the tunnel, before their headlamps cut through the darkness, before Vielle's screams were muffled by the walls that collapsed. It pulsed against the side of her neck, a dark, hungry form, its voice whispering in her mind like the caress of a lover. She smiled, teeth flashing white in the smoky illumination, and watched the world shake at her feet.
Lei and Gabriel stumbled through the market, their breath coming in harsh, jagged bursts. The neon lights overhead flickered, shadows shifting and stretching like skeletal fingers reaching for their ankles. Lei's heart raced, her hand still tight around Gabriel's wrist, dragging him through the narrow, trash-strewn alleys, the shouts of vendors and the clatter of falling metal fading behind them.
They ran from the market, the pavement beneath their feet giving way to the wet, crunching softness of forest floor. The trees towered above them, their twisted trunks and gnarled branches reaching up like the arms of the dead, their leaves whispering secrets to the wind. Gabriel stumbled, almost falling, his chest heaving, the iron taste heavy on his tongue.
A figure out of the darkness—a boy, not much larger than Gabriel, his hair all matted and black, his eyes enormous and glinting with the silver moonlight that filtered down through the canopy. He approached, his bare feet making no sound on the moss.
"Lost?" he asked, his voice a dry scrape from the bottom of an empty can.
Lei stepped back, almost colliding with Gabriel, who caught her with a trembling hand. The boy leaned his head to one side, his thin smile spreading across his lips, pointed teeth and white in the black.
"I can do it," he said, looking over his shoulder at the dancing shadows behind them. "Come."
They trailed behind, their steps soundless on the damp, soggy ground. The boy took them through the crooked labyrinth of trees, the air colder, the shadows darker, whispering secrets as they went by. At last, they arrived at a small cottage, its wooden walls slouching, the windows misted and smashed, the door partially ajar, its groaning hinges drawn taut with each breath of the wind.
The boy flung the door wide with a sweeping arm, standing aside to let them come in. Within, the air lay thick and close, having the wet, smoky smell of wood and fire. He lit an oil lamp, the small flame casting hard, jagged shadows that writhed and twisted like living things. He filled unworthy cups out of a broken kettle with tea, pushing them across the rough-hewn wood table.
"I'm Matt," he said, sitting across from them, his eyes catching the flicker of the flame, his hands pale against the rough, splintered wood. "I don't have a last name."
Lei and Gabriel shared a look, gasps of air still jagged in their mouths, the bulk of the forest pushing against their frames. Gabriel risked a small sip, the tea sharp and bitter in his mouth, with a metallic aftertaste reminiscent of rusty metal.
The door swung open and an older woman staggered in, her eyes wild, her hair a mess and streaked with gray. She stood, her gaze on the two strangers at her table. Her lips curled up, showing broken, yellowed teeth.
"Thieves," she spat, her voice shrill, bouncing off the buckled walls. She reached out a claw-like hand to a battered, antique phone mounted to the wall, her yellowed and cracked fingers.
Matt sprang to his feet, the chair creaking across the wood floor, and in a silent tantrum, he seized a flaky pan on the counter and whirled it in a wide, savage arc, the metal cracking with a spongy sound, the woman falling to the floor, her wind gasping, blood seeping from a jagged cut above her temple.
Gabriel flinched, the cup clattering from his hand, its contents spilling across the table, dark and steaming, pooling on the rough wood.
"We're trying to save my friend," Gabriel whispered, his voice trembling, eyes locked on the woman's limp form. "She's trapped. Under the market. The walls collapsed."
Matt regarded him, his dark, uncompromising eyes, shadows dancing on his face. He placed the pan down, its metal clashing with the red-streaked floor, and leaned forward.
"I can fix it," he stated, low, hissing, the edges of his mouth rising in a small, crooked smile. "But you must trust me."
Margo was in darkness, her body pushed in among splintered, fractured rocks, her breathing short, wild gasps. She struggled with the rocks, her fingers bleeding, nails broken, but the rocks remained unmoving, unyielding, pinning down like a hundred fingers thick. She pushed her eyes hard shut, weighted stone pressed on her back, her heartbeat smashing inside her skull, each a searing, wild agony.
Her belly rumbled, the hollowness nibbling at her with small, chipped teeth. She clutched at her bag, trembling fingers scrabbling through the zipper, shivering hands spilling out a crushed bite of bread, a dry little bottle of water, the water sloshing helpless within. She ate blindly, gritty crumb shards stuck in her mouth adhering to the roof, her aching, dry throat.
And then the earth shook. Dust poured out of the heavens, the stones next to her shifting, cracking, the air thinned out, chilled, became colder, thinner. She stood still, her breath stammered, stuck in her throat, pounding heart. High up somewhere above, through strata of earth and darkness, she heard the sound—a laughter, a chilled, shrill laughter, repeating in the septic earth.
Sally.
The stones shook, cracks racing through the dripping, wet walls. Margo gripped her bag, holding the wet, cold stone close as the world shook around her, the laughter louder, clearer, cutting through the blackness like a sawed knife. The walls creaked, groaned, the air becoming thick, dusting out in her lungs, and she closed her eyes, tears etching paths through the grime on her cheeks.
Far above, Sally was on her balcony, the center burning against her breast, her hair streaming in the cold, whirling wind. She laughed, her voice soaring, calling out over the broken rooftops, the ravaged streets, the broken, twisted world she had taken as her own.
And miles away, somewhere, her husband heard it, his blood growing cold, the taste of fear bitter on his lips.