CHAPTER 2 (iii)
Grey's POV – Present
There's a tightness in my chest I can't shake.
Not fear.
Something more primal.
Like a wire pulled taut beneath the surface, humming with a warning I can't name.
We move.
No one says it, but we're all thinking the same thing. That SUV didn't just pass by. It scanned.
Looked like it had purpose.
And now there's a target on our backs.
A weight pressing against my spine like someone's watching, just out of sight.
"Where next?" Scarlett whispers, low and sharp.
Luke points ahead, toward the old metro station. "If we cut through the underpass, we can loop around the crowd. Less open."
I nod once, motion to the others.
Amy doesn't move.
She stands frozen behind the broken column, hands trembling as she clutches Jane's sleeve.
"I can't," she says. " I'm scared."
Jane tries to soothe her, but the words barely register — Amy's staring at the street like it's going to swallow her whole.
People are running now.
Scattered shapes dart between ruined cars and collapsed walls.
Screams cut through the air, not constant — but close enough to keep the fear raw.
"This isn't optional," Scarlett snaps. "You stay, you die."
But I step between them. Not harsh. Just… quieter.
"Let her choose," I murmur. "Not everyone survives the same way."
Amy's eyes meet mine.
There's nothing brave in her face — only a hollow ache.
She lets go of Jane and slinks backward into a shop doorway, vanishing like a ghost.
We don't wait.
We press on.
The streets feel tighter now. Like the buildings themselves are leaning in, listening.
The metro entrance is ahead, partially collapsed, steel railings twisted like vines.
We move fast.
Through the shadows.
Past the wrecks.
Past what seems to be blood of the undead.
Over shattered glass and the smear of something that was once a person.
6 years ago <<
"You always draw alone?" Luke asked.
We were sitting by the edge of the school field, notebooks in hand. Mine was full of lines and dark skies. Monsters with blank eyes.
"It's quieter that way," I answered.
He nodded, thoughtful. "You ever draw people?"
"Sometimes."
"Me?"
I looked at him for a second. "No."
He laughed. "Why not?"
"Because I'd have to understand you first."
That shut him up. For a moment.
Then he grinned. "Good luck with that."
Present <<
We reach the train station.
And that's when it happens.
A voice — "Hold it right there."
We freeze.
Three men step from the shadows of a burned-out bus.
Dirty jackets, makeshift knives, one of them holding what looks like a crowbar wrapped in barbed wire.
It hasn't been 3 full days since this ..bad dream began, humans are already showing their dark sides.
"Food. Water. Bags. Now."
Scarlett steps forward, her stance calm but ready.
Luke's hand twitches toward the inside of his hoodie.
I raise mine slightly, non-threatening.
"Look, we don't want trouble," Luke said. "There's enough of that going around."
The guy with the wire-wrapped crowbar grins. "That's cute. Like you think this is about what you want."
Jane tenses beside me.
I scan their eyes.
They're not desperate. Not completely. Thugs.
They're organized.
Used to this.
Which means this won't end with just taking our supplies.
3 years ago <<
Eva stood by her room window, arms crossed as rain traced patterns on the glass.
"I don't dream anymore," she said.
I leaned against the far wall, watching her. "That's probably a good thing."
"Why?"
"Because what they're doing there… you're better off forgetting."
She turned slowly. Her eyes locked on mine.
One green. One blue.
"I don't forget. That's the problem."
She's speaking in parables again, i say nothing , partially because i love the silence and i love her voice... present, stable, not fake . She sounds real .
Present <<
Scarlett moves first.
Quick. Precise. Knife out.
The man closest to her stumbles back with a grunt.
Luke lunges into the second — they collapse into the gutter in a flurry of fists and dirt.
I step in before the third can react, swinging a random broken sign post into his ribs.
They're not expecting resistance.
That's our only edge.
Seconds later, it's over. They scatter, limping and cursing.
We don't wait to gloat. We run.
Down the station stairs.
Into the dark.
Panting. Bruised. Intact.
But as we descend deeper into the tunnels, the silence grows heavier.
And the further we go…
The more I feel it.
We're not escaping something.
We're walking into it.
"Grrrr" ....