THE COLLAPSE
Reyan was two hours into his spreadsheet when something felt wrong. Not a sound exactly—more like the absence of sound. The usual hum of Niraya outside had changed pitch, gone discordant. The metro schedule that ran like clockwork was silent. No temple chanting. No car horns. Just... nothing.
He saved his work and stood, stretching his back.
The main office was still empty when he stepped out. Samir and Taj hadn't returned yet. Their desks sat abandoned, coffee cups still steaming faintly. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, too loud in the silence.
Then his phone buzzed.
Priya: Are you okay? News says there's some kind of attack downtown. Please call me.
Attack?
He blinked, confused — until something moved outside the window.
On the street below, two people were struggling. No—not struggling. One was on top of the other, and the way they moved was wrong, violent, animal. The person on the ground was thrashing, screaming, a sound that carried even through the glass. Reyan could see the splash of red on the pavement, spreading like spilled paint.
Then the screaming stopped abruptly.
The person on top stood. Even from this distance, Reyan could see the blood dripping from their mouth, the way they moved—jerky and wrong, like a puppet with tangled strings.
More people appeared. Running. Screaming. And more of those... things. Chasing them. Catching them. Bringing them down with savage efficiency.
"I need to go to my family," Reyan whispered, his voice barely audible over the hammering of his heart. His hands shook as he tried to call Priya, but the line wouldn't connect. Network busy. He tried again. Nothing. Again. Nothing.
Panic clawed up his throat. His daughter. His wife. Alone. He had to get home. Had to.
He turned toward the exit, every instinct screaming at him to run, to get home, to get to them.
He turned — and something grabbed his shoulder. Cold fingers. Iron grip. The smell hit first — rot, metal, and something worse.
Then that sound. Low. Inhuman.
Before he could scream, someone yanked him aside.
"MOVE!"
The creature slammed into the wall. Bone cracked.
"Inside!" someone shouted.
Reyan stumbled into the storage room. The door slammed. THUD. THUD.
They shoved a cabinet against it. The pounding stopped.
Breathless silence.
Reyan looked at the others, "Who—who are you?"
"Quiet," one hissed. "Sound draws them."
He looked down at the knife. It looked stupidly small.
One of them smirked. "Better than a stapler."
"Not the time."
"Just saying."
The tension cracked for half a second. Then outside, the groans grew louder. More bodies joined the assault—THUD-THUD-THUD—the cabinet creaking under the relentless weight. Through the thin walls, Reyan could hear screams from other parts of the building, each one cutting off too abruptly. The wet sounds of feeding. The groans multiplying like a chorus.
The sounds of a world ending.
Reyan pressed his back against the wall and closed his eyes, seeing his daughter's face. Priya's worried expression that morning. The drawings on the fridge.
Before you even miss me, he'd said.
He'd lied.
And now he might never get the chance to make it right.