"Move!" Cain pushed them forward.
They stumbled down the stairs, emerging into the courtyard of broken statues—the place they'd entered hours ago before everything went sideways. The sky burned orange across the horizon, the last light of day washing over fractured marble and dried grass.
Susan doubled over, bracing on her knees. "Okay. Think we bought time."
The wall behind them imploded.
The creature crawled out, its movements jerky and fast, like each limb operated on its own mind. No eyes. Just that slit-mouth, opening wider now, peeling up toward where its nose should've been.
Steve choked out, "You've got to be kidding me."
Cain grabbed the nearest intact statue piece—a broken arm carved in granite—and hurled it at the creature. It hit the thing dead center. The creature absorbed the impact like clay, body denting inward before snapping back into shape.
"Great," Susan muttered, pulling a knife from her boot. "It's elastic."
