"AAaAaaaaa-arghHHHH—!!!"
A blood-curdling scream echoed in the empty hallways of her mansion as the young woman jumped from her sleep in a cold sweat.
She lived alone in a spacious house filled with antique furniture and stunning paintings that lined the hallways, far from anyone who might disrupt her peace. However, solitude sometimes gave way to loneliness, where an unsettling dread crept in, stirred by the terrifying visions that had been haunting her nights.
In the dark of her bedroom chamber, her trembling hands clawed at her scalp, tugging at her hair until she nearly tore it out. The woman gripped her head with painful force, using the sharp sting to battle the drowsiness creeping in. The pain kept her awake.
"It happened again…"
Her chest heaved violently, struggling to draw any air inside. After experiencing it once more, she couldn't find any other way to calm herself down.
"This nightmare…" was too realistic not to hold any meaning.
It had been tormenting her for over ten days.
Each night, she was shown the same imagery. In complete darkness, a man clad in white stood before her, holding her slim neck caged in his fingers until they squeezed the last bit of her breath. She met his gaze, but there were no eyes—no features at all—only a blank whiteness shrouding his form.
His grip tightened.
Each time, she struggled to get away, and each time, she met the same fate—dying at his hands. The sensation of her soul leaving her body lingered long after she woke up, tethering her to the nightmare even in reality.
"So... terrifying…"
It felt like a premonition—a message sent to her consciousness by someone, or something—warning her of the enigmatic white figure.
"He's coming to kill me…!" Her voice was shaky. No matter how many times she had lived through this feeling, she could never get used to the trauma it brought. "I'm scared…"
Her hands wrapped around her body to soothe her nerves. The warmth of her palms was proof that she was still alive. Yet, she had no idea how long her life would remain intact.
The young woman's fragile frame trembled once more.
"I don't want to die—!"
***
In the early morning, the fog was gone after the sun rose over the horizon, emphasizing the beauty of forgotten old times. Clouds covered the sky, and the day seemed muted in color, but still enjoyable to take a long walk around town.
Inase and Hosen were already up for their breakfast in the local tavern, sitting across from each other at an unstable table. Inside, the air was filled with the fragrant scent of the broth.
"The cabbage soup here is quite tasty."
The blonde man spoke after shoving another spoonful into his mouth, the warmth of the meal spreading through him on the cold, autumn forenoon.
"Be careful not to choke." The other responded with a drop of cynicism. "I don't want to be giving you first aid on our first day."
Their exchange was dimmed by the ever-so-often crackling old radio—it played jazzy tunes to liven up the atmosphere in this empty tavern. In between the dynamic melodies, the usual program announced by a host's smooth voice brought bits of entertainment to the serene setting.
It was just them alone, the sound of their utensils, and the catchy music—aside from the cook and the waiter who brought Inase his third dish.
"I guess we're eating only cabbage for the next few days."
When Inase looked at the plate, all he saw were green leaves cooked in different ways for variety and a portion of fish as salvation for a weed-filled meal.
Indeed, in times of hunger and unemployment, the most they could eat was anything related to that vegetable, occasionally potatoes if one was rich enough to buy them. Meat was scarce, but this town had at least some fish to offer.
"You sure eat a lot."
Hosen scooped another, clinking the spoon against the bowl's bottom.
In his opinion, the tavern offered a better meal than whatever they could find after the apocalypse.
"Gotta add fuel to this ever-active body."
Inase figured he'd end up doing the heavy lifting for both of them in this pair.
He was just about to down another spoonful when a small hand tugged at his sleeve. A child had run up to him, and before he could react, the portion vanished—not into his mouth, but the boy's belly.
"Hey! Get your own food!"
The little thief beamed, clearly proud of himself.
"Yummy!"
"Don't bother strangers, kiddo…" A familiar voice echoed from the tavern entrance. "Apologies. My son likes to play pranks. Go on, now. Say sorry."
"Shorry…"
"You still haven't conquered that lisp, huh? We'll work on it tomorrow—I'll make it a game."
"Yay!"
Inase looked up, following the voice until it met a face he recognized fairly well.
"Ah. You two again."
It was Dick—the ever-smiling drunkard. Though, at the moment, he was surprisingly sober.
He was accompanied by two children. One, a boy, a wiggly ball of energy, running around the tavern without a worry. The other was sleeping in his arms—an angel in miniature.
"Nice to see ya again, fellas. Even though we did bump into each other just last night."
His grin never faded. Something about the man's big, friendly frame and that soft, round belly made him feel like a living hearth—warm, steady, comforting. Soothing.
"Likewise." Inase offered a nod. "With how much you drank, I expected you to be knocked out until dusk, sir."
"My wife's resting."
As if anticipating the question no one yet asked, Dick replied smoothly, "She was taking care of them all night while I was… well, away. So it's time for us to switch the roles. It's my turn to take care of our scrubs now."
He sat at their table like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Thought we'd take a stroll 'round the square while she sleeps," he added, putting a finger to his lips. "Don't want to wake her. She's scary when she's tired."
Eric giggled.
"Mama shcary!"
"Shh. Don't wake your sister."
He rocked the baby gently in his arms. She settled back into slumber.
What a loving family they were…
They felt real. Intact. Whole. They complemented each other very well.
Hosen and Inase weren't used to it—not after growing up in the ruins of the old world. In their timeline, seeing an infant this small was… so rare, almost surreal—people barely had time to think about finding a family when they were solely focused on survival.
And yet, here she was, living in the past, sleeping soundly in her father's arms. Her golden curls caught the morning light like strands of late-summer wheat.
Such an innocent, angel-like being.
"You like kids."
Inase was caught intently watching the little girl.
"No, I don't," he said, arms folding. "She just happened to be in my line of sight, is all."
It didn't sound convincing.
"Wanna hold her?"
The man proposed seeing how the lad held himself from poking her cheek.
Inase's eyes widened.
"I'm fine, really—"
"Don't be modest," Dick grinned, already passing the child into his arms.
"I don't—"
He froze, closing his eyes shut.
At first, he was afraid he would accidentally crush her with a single twitch. But slowly, he felt the warmth of another human being spreading through his arms.
He reluctantly opened one eye, then the other.
"…"
…so tiny.
She stirred, wrapping her tiny hand around one of his fingers in her sleep.
A simple gesture. A miracle, even.
Inase hadn't expected such calm to settle inside him. He didn't know children had such a calming effect. Her unconscious grip made him realize how fragile life could be.
He was reminded why they were fighting in the first place. Against horrors no one should have to face. For moments like this—where a child could sleep in peace. For the future—where humanity could embrace their children without fear creeping around the corner.
This brittle flame of life trembling in his arms was a miracle that could never exist in their times.
"Cute, isn't she? Her name's Angela."
Inase hesitated, but couldn't deny it.
"…yeah."
She really was.
The serene moment broke when Eric zipped past the waitress, nearly knocking over a tray.
"Papa! I wanna play ball!"
This five-year-old clearly didn't enjoy being upstaged by his little sister.
"Calm down, Eric! Let Miss Waitress work." Dick steered him to the table. "Eat first. Then we play."
Inase found himself smiling in the warm chaos. He wiggled a finger gently near Angela's cheek. She tried to catch it in her sleep, and he chuckled.
That is, until a painful kick was aimed at his shin under the table, out of everyone's eyes.
Hosen glared across from him, eyes like daggers; "She's not a toy. Remember the rules. No attachments."
That is why he didn't interact with them at all, in contrast.
Inase winced, his smile fading.
I know, okay?
He frowned, reluctant but resigned. After a moment, he carefully handed the baby back.
"Here. Don't want to interrupt your family time."
Dick just laughed.
"Fella, you're no bother." He cradled his daughter fondly. "Ah, that reminds me. How's that thing going?"
The two companions exchanged confused glances.
"You know… what you were asking me about last night."
"Oh. That."
Inase looked to Hosen.
"What are we gonna do today? Walk around the town… Talk to people… Roam freely until the night comes?"
That was exactly their plan.
"We can't do much anyway unless something happens," Hosen said, shrugging. "No point rushing."
"Shomething happensh?" Eric piped up.
"Mm." Inase nodded. "Nothing important."
That was a lie. It was very important.
"With no leads," Hosen added, "we don't even know what we're up against."
"True." Inase leaned back, hands behind his head. "Guess we'll see what comes our way."
Hopefully, something would come soon. He was getting sick of the cheap tavern.
Though the food was tasty.
"Big bad monshter?"
They all laughed.
"Nah," Inase smirked, ruffling the kid's hair. "Not that big. Not that bad. Just an adult adventure."
Eric pouted and ducked behind his dad.
"I wanna be an adult then!"
"You will. In a few more years."
The waitress returned with Inase's new dish—his third, or fourth plate already.
"And in the meantime…" Licking his lip, he sank his teeth into the fish. "Let's dig in!"
***
"It's nice to see Dick doing well with his family."
Inase sighed, leaving the tavern first. Hosen followed closely behind.
After their breakfast, the two took their time to walk around the area, then repeated it like a routine for the following few days.
The times were dire, and the lifestyles even more. Each house they passed resembled a chapter in a collective story, filled with the routines of ordinary families.
From what they noticed, locals planned a different activity arranged each day.
On the hand-washing day, women gathered on a broad square where all carried buckets filled with soapy water for laundry. There, they shared their daily stories about their families and chattered about exciting rumors and unreliable but confirmed hearsay.
Whilst the scent of soap and damp fabric drifted through the air, recalling a sense of hard work and community, it also refreshed their fatigued minds.
The sight of clotheslines strung between buildings, arching under the weight of freshly laundered garments ready to dry under the gray sky, created a patchwork of colors—the center of a vibrant place in town.
Watching over them, elderly folks shared their stories on weathered porches; their tired faces revealed the wisdom of years gone by. It was a reminder that amidst the struggles of the era, there was joy to be found in the simplest of moments.
Then, on ironing day, mothers walked outside their homes, filling their front yards with clean clothing. They wielded steaming irons with practiced ease whilst the sound of fabric being pressed faded in the air.
Children darted between their legs, dangerously so, but the mothers didn't worry about their carelessness too much; the kids knew better than to touch a hot metal tool and get themselves hurt.
Everywhere the two men looked, they saw families—mothers and fathers tossed their responsibilities in between. While one did the work, the other took care of their many offsprings.
"They are productive."
Inase whistled after he counted at least five brats in each family, earning a jab of an elbow to his side.
The said young ones ran wild around the yard full of laughter, playing with a deflated soccer ball, used and dirty, a wreck of what once was the best toy of modern times. They paid no mind to the state of it, though—as long as they could have fun, was all that mattered.
Next, the fish-cutting day brought its unique charm, their catch glistened in the morning sun.
The sharp scent of saltwater lingered, mingling with the chaos of bargaining voices. Men gathered around, discussing new recipes and sharing tales of their adventures during net-fishing.
Such was the usual day brimming with anticipation as townies stocked food for the week ahead.
Except, not today.
Something was wrong, Inase and Hosen felt the uneasy tension from afar.
Confusion between the fishermen spread like a contagious sickness, and dreadful whispers mixed with shocked gasps had replaced the usual cheerful conversations.
"What's happening out there?"
Inase pointed to the crowd with his chin, to which Hosen shrugged.
"Don't know. Let's check it out."
Therefore, they approached the sailors. The closer they got, the more these men's concerns became apparent.
"What's going on, fellas?"
With hands in his pockets, the blonde mingled into the crowd like he was a native.
"We dunno." One of them responded. "It just happened overnight, but the fish from our emergency resources be dead."
"How can that even happen? It's the shores we talkin' about. There shouldn't be any predators nearby!"
"That can't be. They don't even have bite marks on 'em!" Another few added in disbelief.
The townies' discussion continued as the two glanced at the dead haul from the sea.
The fish were indeed dead. They didn't appear to have any outer injuries nor bitemarks in their flesh, but their empty, bulging eyes stared at them wide-open.
The image was even more haunting knowing these sea creatures do not have any eyelids.
Strange.
Inase's brows furrowed.
What might have caused them to die on such a large scale? A mass hysteria? A widespread disease? Maybe poisoning? Or perhaps something else contaminated the waters surrounding the harbor.
Then, the question would be, what exactly?
"Any ideas, doc?"
Inase turned to Hosen, but the man was nowhere to be found—only an empty space left where he should have been standing.
"Huh-?"
He looked around, puzzled.
Though luckily, just a moment later he could find the monochrome figure behind the crowd.
Once spotted, that man was already kneeling by the water source with a glass flask in his hand—his fingers stretched when he reached down to take a sample.
"This much should be enough…"
There was a limited amount of tests Hosen could do in this situation—he didn't have a proper lab or tools to conduct anything more, but was eager to get to the bottom of this issue.
So, he took the mini-bottle, sealed it carefully, and slipped it into the inside pocket of his coat with all the other hidden vials.
"You sure are fast to disappear on me."
Inase sighed in resignation before he approached Hosen, who by now, sank deep into his own world of deductions and theories.
"Not listening, I see." He approached closer. "Found out anything?"
"Not yet."
An instant response came from Hosen in an almost robotic manner—as if he practiced it beforehand.
"I'll need to experiment before I can come to any conclusions."
He finally stood from his weird crouching position.
"But for now, I'm guessing that toxic waste must've spilled recently," He pointed at the oil rig barely visible on the horizon, "and it drifted here, of all places."
How unfortunate, but so far he hadn't felt any ancient powers being involved. Who knows, though? Maybe he could find something in the water that hinted at the supernatural.
"That's just more work for us. I wish something happened that made our jobs much easie-"
"Eeeeeek!"
As though on cue, a terrified cry cut Inase's complaints short.
"Wh-what- What?"
Disoriented at first, his head perked, turning in every direction to get a grasp on the situation. But soon, he realized he needed to act quickly, as the scream didn't sound right.
"Gotta check it out."
The hot-headed man sprung on his feet, and darted ahead in a blink of an eye—soaring through the air, jumping through obstacles, and leaping over fences.
Everything happened so suddenly that he left the scientist far in the dust.
Not waiting for his slow-paced trudge, Inase raced toward the source of the scream without looking back. And, thanks to his enhanced physical abilities, he was able to get on the scene almost immediately—not even a drop of sweat formed on his forehead.
"What happened?"
He blurted out, scaring the passersby into a startled jump.
"Y-you're fast, sir." Said the shaking local, his jaw quivering visibly from his unexpected discovery.
Nearby, a crowd of gawkers gathered around, making it hard to see what was ahead.
"Whatever, there's no time to be impressed. Let me through."
Inase frantically pushed passed concerned masses until eventually noticed a grim scene unravel…
"What the…"
A dead body spread on the ground, halfway decorating the fence with a bloody stain. While it wasn't the most gruesome death Inase had witnessed, it was still unsettling enough to haunt the minds of ordinary people who saw it for the first time.
The blonde, just like the others, couldn't take his eyes off this harrowing scene.
While in the background, the worn-out radio quietly hummed, skipping a beat occasionally—interrupted by eerie cracking audio. It played a happy tune reminiscent of old vinyl records meant for a rusty gramophone.
This stark contrast only deepened the divide between the upbeat music and the grim atmosphere hovering above them.
Like a powerful force of gravity, the air grew heavy, sending chills to the curious mob once their eyes spotted fresh blood.
Yet, none of them knew that the chill they felt wasn't caused by just looking it was still unsettling enough to haunt the minds of ordinary people who saw it for the first time.
They had no idea that shadows lurked at them from far away, slithering around corners and crawling out of sight as though they were alive.