Paul 2.
The creature comes crashing into the restaurant, sending tables and chairs flying. Screams fill the air as people scramble for cover, tripping over each other in panic. Some dive under tables, others cling to walls, while a few desperately search for family or friends separated in the chaos. The place is a nightmare—bodies pressed into corners, shattered glass underfoot, the acrid smell of fear permeating everything.
The creatures tear through people as if they're made of paper. Arms, legs, and faces vanish into their massive claws. It's a massacre.
I turn to Khalan. He's frozen, staring wide-eyed at the carnage, his breath shallow and rapid. Beads of sweat are already forming on his forehead. He's terrified, and honestly—so am I. But he can't know that.
We can't die here. Not now, not like this.
"Come on, kid. On your feet. We need to move—quietly and quickly," I say, my voice low but urgent.
But he doesn't move.
"Khalan, I swear to God, if you don't move now!" I whisper-yell, trying not to attract any attention. The urgency seems to snap him out of it; he nods, breathing hard, and gets ready to follow.
We start crawling toward a smashed window, shattered when those things broke in. We're almost there when I stop. As if reading my mind, Khalan pauses, too. We exchange a look—neither of us can leave everyone behind. It's against everything we've trained for, everything we stand for.
He veers toward a group of teenagers huddling under a table, motioning them to follow him with a finger to his lips. Meanwhile, I spot an elderly woman and a child near the restaurant entrance, inching toward what they think is an exit. But there's a creature just above them, crouched and ready to strike.
Without thinking, I snatch up a chair from the floor and hurl it straight at the creature. It hisses and turns, its eyes locking onto me. Good. The woman and child shuffle away, unnoticed. But now I'm staring down those dark, soulless eyes, and it's readying itself for a kill.
It takes a stance—coiled, like a predator preparing to pounce.
I yell to the rest of the strangers gathered unfer the tables, "Go! Now!" And then, throwing caution to the wind, I bolt toward the window, hoping Khalan and the others have already gotten a head start.
The creature lunges just as I leap out of the broken frame, feeling shards of glass scrape my skin. Thank God I don't skip leg day.
But this thing is fast—faster than I imagined. It's already on me, its breath hot on my neck. I'm almost out of breath, but then I spot a set of collapsed railings just ahead. An idea forms, wild but maybe possible. I push myself harder, leading the creature straight toward the ruined barrier.
When I'm inches away, I grab onto the one remaining intact railing and throw myself to the side. The creature charges, unable to stop, and crashes through the weakened railings, falling with a vicious snarl.
"Khalan!" I yell, glancing around. He's at my side in seconds, the teenagers close behind him. For now, we're alive.
A shriek catches my attention. The woman from earlier—the one who gave us directions—is pressed against a wall, staring as one of the creatures comes toward her. But as it moves to strike, my fallen creature lands right on top of it, sending both tumbling.
Without another word, the woman bolts, disappearing into the shadows in search of safety.
"Khalan, we need to keep moving," I say, nodding at the terrified kids with him. He gives a quick nod, determination tightening his face.
We sprint, the sounds of destruction and horror trailing behind us. Creatures tearing through walls, screams ringing out. Hell has been unleashed, and all we can do now is survive.