Content Warnings:
- Physical Pain: Chronic Injury (Hip)
- Phobia: Loud Noises (Deafening Siren)
- Post-Apocalyptic Themes
As I walk outside, the air is thick with a dark, cloudy smoke. Payton’s vehicle is waiting—an old 2017 model that looks out of place against the ruin of the city. I limp over and pull open the back door. My hip cramps painfully as I slide onto the seat, the sharp spike of nerves making my breath hitch. Shit, this hurts.
In the rearview mirror, I catch Payton Blackthorne watching me. His eyes aren't hungry like the creatures in the lobby; they are cold and sharp, as if he’s weighing my worth against the fuel he’s burning to drive me. He doesn't say a word, just shifts the car into gear. The silence is heavy, filled with the weight of the XVII Omens and the secrets this family keeps.
As the car begins to move, I look out the window and see the skeletal remains of the old café where my mom used to work. She was a single mom, and when I wasn't in school, I was always there. The owner was so nice; she always gave me hot cocoa with extra marshmallows.
I miss you, Mom.
My mind drifts back to the day the world ended: December 30, 2020.
I was waiting for her at the café, watching her flash that bright smile at a customer. When her shift finally ended at 6:00 PM, she looked exhausted but happy to see me.
"Let’s go, baby," she said. We walked to the car and buckled in. "Matt, I'm sorry it took so long. I really tried to hurry."
"It’s okay, Mom. I understand."
She smiled, that familiar warmth radiating from her. "How did I get so lucky to have you as my son?"
"Well, I think it's because you're my mom. That's how," I said. She laughed, the sound the safest thing I had ever known. "So, Matt... I know Christmas was a little bit ago, and I wasn't able to get you much. What do you want? I'll get it for you."
"All I need is you, Mom," I told her.
She started to reply, her eyes soft, but suddenly, the car's radio blared to life with a deafening siren. The sound was a physical blow, vibrating through my chest.
"WARNING. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. SOMETHING IS HAPPENING... THESE MONSTERS... EVERYONE STAY IN YOUR HOMES. LOCK YOUR DOORS."
The broadcast cut to static, leaving a ringing silence that felt worse than the noise. Fear flooded the car, thick and suffocating.
"I don't know, Matt," she said, her voice trembling as she gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. "We’ll get home and listen to the news, okay? Nothing is going to happen to you.”
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