They moved out at dawn—or whatever passed for dawn underground.
Nice checked his gear by the old subway map pinned to a steel wall. His vest was tightened. Knife sharpened. Pistol loaded. He didn't speak much. Neither did Mara.
Ezra, on the other hand, wouldn't shut up.
"This'll be easy," Ezra said, adjusting the battered laptop hanging from his chest. "In and out. No contact. Unless we trip the motion cluster again—then it's just a full-on sprint and pray situation."
Nice looked at him. "You always this optimistic?"
"Only when I'm terrified."
Mara double-checked the chamber in her rifle. "You two good?"
Nice nodded. "What are we after?"
"Medical cache," she said. "Old FEMA drop site on 39th. We've cleared most of the area before. Should be quiet."
"Should," Ezra muttered.
The three of them moved out, stepping through a barricade tunnel reinforced with scrap metal and welded rebar. Cleo watched them go, silent as ever, her braid brushing her shoulder.
Nice caught her eyes just before turning the corner. She didn't say a word.
But he got the message anyway.
Come back alive.
The tunnels narrowed into old maintenance access ways, clogged with broken cable and collapsed ceiling panels. Rats skittered. The smell of damp concrete and mold was heavy.
Nice took point. Mara watched the rear. Ezra hovered in the middle, laptop clutched to his chest like it was a crucifix.
"So," Ezra said, trying to keep the silence from eating him alive, "you, uh, got anyone out there? Family?"
Nice didn't turn around. "Had a brother. Lost him in the hospital."
"Oh. Shit. Sorry."
"Don't be. He's the reason I'm here."
They walked in silence for another minute.
Then Ezra cleared his throat. "I had a cat. Name was Muffin. Weird little gremlin. Ate half my sock drawer."
Nice chuckled despite himself. "Muffin, huh?"
"Yeah. Swarm took my parents. I hid in a vending machine for a whole day with that cat in my hoodie."
"Sounds like he kept you alive."
Ezra smiled, then quickly looked down. "I think about him a lot."
Mara interrupted. "Save the trauma share for later. We're close."
They climbed up a collapsed stairwell and emerged into a loading dock buried under wreckage. The surface was quiet. No wind. No birds. Just the eerie whine of a dying world.
The FEMA crate was there—half-buried under twisted metal and caution tape. Nice and Mara pried it open. Inside: painkillers, antibiotics, and two sealed IV kits.
"This is it?" Nice asked.
"Good enough," Mara said. "Ez—scan for patrols."
Ezra dropped to a knee and pulled out a jury-rigged scanner—a mess of wires and old phone parts. "Give me sixty seconds."
Nice looked at Mara. Her eyes scanned the horizon constantly, finger twitching near her trigger. She didn't flinch, didn't breathe wrong.
"You served?" he asked.
"Army. Six years. Didn't prepare me for this."
"I can see the edge on you," he said. "You don't sleep much."
She glanced at him, surprised.
"You don't talk like most scavengers," she said. "Too observant."
"Biology major. Before all this."
Ezra looked up. "That explains the muscle and the metaphors."
Then the scanner beeped.
"Oh shit."
"What?" Mara asked sharply.
"Three heat signatures," Ezra said. "Close. Coming fast. Not human."
Nice pulled his pistol. "Which way?"
"West. Near the overpass."
Mara grabbed the crate. "Move. Now."
They ran.
Behind them, the shriek started—high-pitched, like a thousand broken voices screaming together. The sound of the Swarm.
Nice turned and fired at a blur coming around the corner—bone, muscle, multiple eyes. The shot hit its shoulder. It didn't stop.
Mara unloaded a burst from her rifle. The creature shrieked again, tumbling sideways into the wreckage.
"Keep going!" she shouted.
They dashed across the rubble field, boots slamming into rusted steel and concrete. Ezra tripped—Nice caught him.
"Thanks," Ezra gasped.
"Don't thank me yet."
Another creature dropped from the wall—smaller, faster. Nice didn't aim—he just swung his blade and slashed upward. The thing screamed, spewing dark fluid across his vest.
Ezra hit a button on the scanner. "EMP pulse out—ten meters!"
A small pop went off. One of the creatures jerked mid-air and collapsed, twitching.
They reached the tunnel again, slipped into the black, and kept moving until the shrieking faded behind them.
Back in the station, everyone was breathing hard.
Ezra sat on the floor, legs sprawled. "Okay. That was… technically a success."
Mara dropped the crate. "We got what we came for."
Nice wiped blood from his jacket. "And confirmed they're learning."
"They waited," Mara said. "They tracked. That's new."
"They moved like a unit," Nice added. "Like they were communicating."
Ezra looked between them. "What if they're not just sharing movement patterns?"
"What if they're evolving language?" Mara asked.
Nice's expression darkened. "Then we need to evolve faster."