The shop doorway where they had collapsed offered little protection, but Alvik's body refused to move. He sat with his back against the door frame, one arm around each child, all three of them still shaking from grief and exhaustion. Nisha had cried herself into hiccuping silence, her face buried against his chest. Rayan stared at nothing, eyes red and swollen, jaw clenched tight.
The street outside was dark and empty. No lights anywhere—the power grid had failed completely. Only moonlight illuminated the devastation around them. The buildings across the street showed damage from creature attacks, windows shattered, walls torn open. An overturned car burned slowly in the intersection, the fire casting dancing shadows.
A roar echoed from somewhere to the north, answered by another from the east. The creatures were active in the darkness, hunting and claiming territory. Alvik forced himself to listen past his grief, cataloging the sounds. Multiple creatures, different types based on the varied calls. Some nearby, others distant. All dangerous.
"Dad," Rayan whispered, his voice hoarse from crying. "We can't stay here. This doorway is too exposed."
He was right. Alvik's mind felt sluggish, wrapped in layers of pain and shock, but Rayan was thinking clearly. The boy was fourteen years old and had just watched his mother die. He should be allowed to break down completely. Instead he was assessing their tactical situation. Alvik felt a surge of pride mixed with heartbreak.
"You're right," Alvik said, his own voice rough. "We need better shelter. Somewhere we can defend if needed, with multiple exits."
"A basement maybe," Rayan suggested. "Underground, harder for the flying ones to reach us."
Alvik looked at the shop they had collapsed against. Through the broken window he could see empty shelves and overturned displays. This had been some kind of electronics store. Probably looted already, but there might be a storage area or basement.
"Help me up," he said to Rayan.
The boy stood and offered his hand. Together they pulled Alvik to his feet. Nisha clung to him, refusing to let go.
"Princess, I need you to be brave for a little while longer," Alvik said gently. "Can you do that?"
She nodded against his chest but did not release her grip. He adjusted his hold on her, taking her full weight. She was ten years old, maybe thirty kilograms. He could carry her if needed, though it would slow them down.
They stepped through the shop's broken doorway carefully, glass crunching under their feet. The interior was dark except for moonlight filtering through the broken windows. Alvik's eyes adjusted slowly, making out shapes—empty shelves, a counter, a door at the back.
Rayan moved ahead cautiously, checking behind the counter. "Cash register is smashed open. Someone already looted this place."
"Look for a storage area or stairs going down," Alvik instructed.
The door at the back led to a small storage room filled with empty boxes and packing materials. No basement entrance visible. But there was another door, this one marked as leading to an alley. Rayan tried it and found it unlocked.
"Alley leads to more buildings," he reported. "I can see one that looks bigger, maybe an apartment complex or office building."
"Show me."
They slipped into the alley, staying close to the walls, moving as quietly as possible with Alvik still carrying Nisha. The child had gone completely silent, just holding onto him with desperate strength. Shock, Alvik recognized. She was in shock, and who could blame her?
The building Rayan had spotted was indeed larger—four stories of what looked like mixed commercial and residential space. Several entrances were visible, all of them damaged or forced open. They chose one on the alley side, away from the main street.
Inside, a narrow stairwell led both up and down. Down meant basement, which was what they wanted. Alvik started descending carefully, each step taken slowly in the darkness. Rayan stayed close behind, one hand on Alvik's shoulder for guidance.
The basement level was pitch black. Alvik felt along the wall until he found a door. Locked. He tried the next one. Also locked. The third door opened under his hand, swinging inward to reveal deeper darkness.
"Wait here," he told Rayan, setting Nisha down gently. The girl whimpered but did not protest. Alvik pulled out his phone and used its light to scan the room.
It was a storage area for the building's maintenance—cleaning supplies, tools, spare parts. Shelves lined the walls, and in the back corner was another door. Alvik checked it and found a smaller room, probably an office or break room for maintenance staff. It had a desk, a chair, and a small refrigerator.
"This will work," he decided. "One entrance we can barricade, solid walls, no windows."
They moved inside and Alvik immediately started blocking the door. He dragged the desk across it first, then added the chair and anything else heavy enough to slow an intruder. It would not stop a determined creature, but it might buy them precious seconds.
Rayan checked the refrigerator. "Empty. Someone already took anything that was in here."
"Check the shelves in the main storage room. Look for anything useful—water, food, tools we could use as weapons."
While Rayan searched, Alvik finally allowed himself to sink to the floor, his back against the wall. Nisha immediately curled into his lap, still silent. He wrapped his arms around her and just held on, the only comfort he could offer.
His mind kept returning to Meera. The last moments replayed over and over—her final words, her final kiss, the determined look in her eyes as she chose to sacrifice herself. The sound of her screams cutting off. The guilt crashed over him again. He should have stopped her. He should have been the one to run out and draw the creature away. He should have protected her.
But she had been right. The children needed him more. He was stronger, more able to keep them alive in this nightmare world. She had made the logical choice, the tactical decision that gave them the best chance of survival.
That did not make it hurt any less.
Rayan returned carrying a few items—a large bottle of water, still sealed. A bag of salt meant for winter ice. A heavy wrench that could serve as a weapon. A flashlight that still worked when he tested it.
"This was all I could find," he said. "Everything else is just cleaning supplies and broken equipment."
"You did well. That water is valuable."
They shared the water bottle, each taking small sips. Alvik did not know when they would find more, so they needed to ration it carefully. Nisha drank a little when prompted but showed no interest in anything else.
"Try to sleep," Alvik told them. "I'll keep watch."
"I'm not tired," Rayan said, though his eyes showed exhaustion.
"Try anyway. We all need rest."
The boy settled against the wall, though he did not close his eyes. Nisha was already drifting, the emotional trauma and physical exhaustion finally overwhelming her small body. Her breathing evened out as she fell into restless sleep.
The night stretched endlessly. Alvik kept watch, listening to every sound from outside and above. Footsteps crossed the ceiling periodically—whether human or creature, he could not tell. Something large moved through the street outside, its heavy tread shaking dust from the ceiling. Screams rose occasionally from different directions, sometimes lasting several seconds, sometimes cutting off immediately.
Each scream reminded him of Meera. Each one could have been her voice. The guilt and grief threatened to overwhelm him again and again. He forced himself to breathe, to focus on the children who needed him, to honor the promise he had made.
Around what must have been midnight, Rayan spoke quietly from his position against the wall.
"It should have been me."
"What?" Alvik asked, pulled from his dark thoughts.
"The sacrifice. I should have been the one to run out. I'm young, fast. I could have led it away."
"No," Alvik said firmly. "Your mother made her choice. She did what she felt was necessary to protect both of you. Questioning it now dishonors that choice."
"But she's dead and we're alive. That's not right."
"Life isn't about right or fair anymore. It's about surviving. Your mother understood that better than any of us. She saw what needed to happen and she did it."
Rayan was quiet for a moment. "I miss her already. Is that stupid? It's only been a few hours and I already can't remember her voice clearly."
Alvik's throat tightened. "That's not stupid. That's grief. Hold onto whatever memories you can. We'll remember her together, help each other keep those memories alive."
"What do we do now? Mom said we were going to Grandma and Grandpa's village. Are we still going?"
The question had been circling in Alvik's mind as well. Their original plan was in ruins. They had no vehicle, limited supplies, and a traumatized child who might not be able to travel safely. But Meera's parents were still out there, hopefully alive, waiting for news of their daughter and grandchildren.
"We need to survive the night first," Alvik said. "Then we assess our situation in daylight. Make decisions based on what's actually possible, not what we wish was possible."
Another roar split the night, close enough to make them both flinch. Something was fighting out there—they could hear the sounds of combat, the crash of bodies against buildings, snarls and shrieks. Then silence returned, and they did not know which creature had won or what it might do next.
"Try to sleep," Alvik said again. "I'll watch."
This time Rayan did not argue. He closed his eyes and within minutes his breathing deepened. The boy was exhausted past his ability to stay awake, grief and fear finally allowing his body to shut down.
Alvik sat alone in the darkness with his sleeping children, keeping watch through the longest night of his life. His business mind, trained to analyze problems and find solutions, struggled to adapt to this new reality. There were no negotiations possible with creatures that only wanted to kill and eat. There were no contracts to sign, no deals to make. Only survival or death.
He thought about the voice that had started everything, announcing the Anex Circle and the journey to find truth. What truth? What was the point of any of this? Why had their world been destroyed, their civilization torn apart, their loved ones killed?
The questions had no answers. Or if they did, those answers were hidden behind the mysterious Anex Caves and the creatures they spawned.
Dawn came slowly, gray light filtering down from somewhere above. Alvik had not slept at all, keeping vigil through the entire night. His body ached from sitting in one position. His head throbbed. But they had survived the night, and that was something.
He gently woke the children. Nisha opened her eyes and immediately started crying again, the memory of yesterday crashing back. Rayan woke more quietly, his face set in grim determination.
"We need to see what's out there," Alvik said. "Assess the situation, look for supplies, maybe find other survivors."
They moved the barricade from the door carefully, listening for any sounds of danger before opening it. The storage room was as they had left it. They crept up the stairs to the ground floor and approached one of the building's exits cautiously.
The street outside was devastated in ways that had not been visible in darkness. Buildings were damaged or destroyed along the entire block. Fires had burned through several structures, leaving blackened shells. Cars were overturned or crushed. And bodies were everywhere—some partially eaten, some torn apart, some just lying still as if they had simply given up and died from fear.
Nisha made a sound of distress and turned away, burying her face against Alvik's side. Even Rayan looked sick at the sight.
"Don't look at them," Alvik instructed. "Look past them. Look for resources—stores that might have supplies, vehicles that might work, routes we could travel."
They moved into the street carefully, staying alert for any sign of creatures. The morning was strangely silent except for the crackle of fires still burning. No birds sang. No insects chirped. Even the wind seemed subdued, as if the world itself was in shock.
They were searching a convenience store that had been thoroughly looted when Rayan called quietly from the doorway. "Dad, there are people."
Alvik joined him and followed his pointing finger. Down the street, a group of people moved cautiously between buildings. Eight or nine individuals, carrying bags and supplies, staying close together. Survivors.
"Should we approach them?" Rayan asked.
Alvik hesitated. The soldier at the checkpoint had warned them—people were getting desperate, turning on each other. Could they trust strangers? But they also needed information, possibly supplies, and there was safety in numbers.
"We approach carefully," he decided. "Stay behind me. If anything feels wrong, we run."
They stepped out of the store and moved toward the group, Alvik raising one hand to show they were not armed. The group noticed them immediately, several people reaching for weapons—mostly improvised clubs and kitchen knives, though one man held a pistol.
"We're not a threat," Alvik called out when they were about twenty meters away. "Just a father and two children looking for shelter and supplies."
The group conferred quietly among themselves. Finally, a woman in her fifties stepped forward. She looked exhausted and frightened, but her eyes were sharp and assessing.
"Where did you come from?" she asked.
"We were traveling south when we were attacked yesterday. Our vehicle crashed. We've been hiding in a basement overnight."
"You're alone? Just the three of you?"
Alvik's throat tightened. "My wife didn't make it. She sacrificed herself so we could escape."
The woman's expression softened slightly. "I'm sorry. We've all lost people. That's why we're together now—better chance of surviving as a group."
She introduced herself as Mrs. Kapoor, a former teacher. The others were a mix of people who had found each other over the past few days—two young men who had been university students, an elderly couple, a middle-aged man who had been a security guard, and several others. Twelve people total including Alvik's group.
"Have you heard any news?" Alvik asked. "Radio broadcasts, government announcements?"
One of the students, a thin young man named Amit, pulled out a battery-powered radio. "We've been listening. It's all bad. Cities are falling everywhere. Military can't stop the creatures. They're talking about evacuating the entire country, but to where? Every country has the same problem."
"The caves are the source," Mrs. Kapoor said. "We've been watching them. The white ones produce steady streams of creatures, but they're the smallest threats—relatively speaking. The blue caves have stronger creatures, and they come out less frequently. The red caves—" she shuddered. "We saw what came out of a red cave yesterday. It destroyed three buildings by itself. Nothing could stop it."
"What about the black caves?" Alvik asked, remembering the voice had mentioned four colors.
"Haven't seen one yet. But the radio mentioned them. Apparently they're different—they don't spawn creatures. They're like doorways or something. The government tried to send soldiers through one but they never came back."
The security guard, a gruff man named Vikram, spoke up. "We're planning to leave the city. Head for rural areas, away from the major cave concentrations. You're welcome to join us if you pull your weight."
Alvik considered the offer. Traveling with a group offered protection and shared resources. But it also meant more people to slow them down, more opinions to consider, more potential conflicts.
"Where are you heading?" he asked.
"Southeast, toward the agricultural regions. Less population density means fewer caves, hopefully. We have two vehicles that still work and some supplies. We leave in two hours, soon as we finish gathering what we can from this area."
"Can we help with the gathering?" Rayan asked, surprising Alvik. The boy was thinking tactically—contribute to the group, make themselves useful, secure their place.
Mrs. Kapoor smiled slightly. "Smart boy. Yes, we need all the help we can get. We're looking for non-perishable food, bottled water, medical supplies, tools, weapons if we can find them. Also clothes, blankets, anything practical."
They split up, working in pairs to search the surrounding buildings. Alvik kept Nisha with him while Rayan went with Amit. The group had established a system—one person searched while the other kept watch. Every few minutes they would call out to confirm everyone was still safe.
Alvik and Nisha found a small pharmacy that had been partially looted but still contained some useful items. Bandages, antiseptic, pain medication, vitamins. They gathered what they could carry into a bag Alvik found behind the counter.
"Daddy," Nisha spoke for the first time since last night. Her voice was small and hoarse. "Is Mommy really gone?"
Alvik knelt down to her level, setting aside the bag. He took her small hands in his.
"Yes, princess. Mommy is gone. She loved us so much that she gave her life to protect us. Do you understand?"
Tears spilled down Nisha's cheeks. "I want her back."
"I know. I want her back too. But we can't have that. All we can do is honor her sacrifice by surviving, by staying together, by being as brave as she was."
"I'm not brave. I'm scared all the time."
"Being scared is okay. Being scared and still doing what needs to be done—that's bravery. Your mother was scared too, but she did what needed to be done anyway. That's what we have to do now."
Nisha threw her arms around his neck, sobbing against his shoulder. Alvik held her tight, letting her cry, offering what comfort he could while his own heart broke again.
When she finally calmed, they gathered the medical supplies and returned to the group's meeting point. Others were arriving with their own finds—bags of rice and dried beans from a grocery store, bottles of water from a warehouse, blankets from a department store. The collection of resources was growing into a decent survival stockpile.
Rayan returned with Amit, both carrying backpacks full of canned goods. The boy looked tired but focused, channeling his grief into action the same way Alvik was doing.
"We found a sporting goods store that wasn't completely looted," Rayan reported. "Got some camping equipment, water purification tablets, a couple of knives."
"Good work," Vikram approved. "That's practical thinking."
As the two hours passed, the group finished their scavenging and loaded everything into two vehicles—a van and a pickup truck. Alvik, Rayan, and Nisha were assigned to the van along with Mrs. Kapoor, the elderly couple, and one of the students.
"Everyone ready?" Vikram called out, standing by the pickup. "We drive southeast, stay on secondary roads, avoid any caves we spot. If we encounter creatures, we don't stop to fight—we run. Everyone understand?"
They all nodded. There was no glory in fighting, no honor in confronting the creatures. Only survival mattered now.
The vehicles started up, engines sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet morning. They pulled out onto the street and began their journey, leaving behind the destroyed section of city, the bodies in the streets, the burning buildings.
Leaving behind the place where Meera had died.
As they drove away, Alvik looked back one final time at the area where his wife had made her sacrifice. He could not see the exact location from this distance, but he knew it was there. A part of him would always remain in that parking lot, with the woman he loved, frozen in the moment he lost her.
But the rest of him had to move forward. For Rayan. For Nisha. For the promise he had made.
"Goodbye, Meera," he whispered, too quiet for anyone else to hear. "I love you. I'll take care of them. I promise."
Then he turned away from the past and focused on the present. On keeping his children alive. On surviving one more day in a world that wanted them dead.
The vehicles headed southeast, away from the city, toward an uncertain future. Behind them, the creatures continued to pour from the Anex Caves, spreading across the world like a plague.
And humanity's struggle for survival continued, one desperate hour at a time.
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