The Incursion

Episode2

There were seven other people in that cellar besides me. Jack, the bar owner, the bartender, and Lena the serving girl were huddled by the ladder, talking low. Two customers crouched between the shelves. Another one was in the corner, hugging his knees, shaking. And then there was the blond kid, pressed up against that crack in the wall, not moving a muscle, staring outside.

I'd been watching him the whole time. Blond, skinny as a nail, seventeen, eighteen maybe. He'd been at that spot from the start, keeping watch on the street, scanning left and right like a hunter.

But now? He hadn't moved in a long while. No neck turn, no head tilt. Just frozen in one position, stiff as a board, wound so tight he looked like he was about to snap.

Something crept over me—this weird, nameless dread. Gut told me the kid was in trouble. Gut also told me not to get involved. First lesson this town ever taught me: mind your own damn business. Why the hell would I stick my neck out for some kid I don't even know?

But my legs were already moving. The bartender and Lena gave me a look, but I ignored them, walked straight over to the boy. The second I got close, cold hit me like I'd cracked open an ice cellar. Bone-deep cold—and not the cellar's. It was seeping in through that crack in the wall, crawling up his body inch by inch. My hand barely touched his arm and I knew something was wrong—it was stiff as a corpse. Skin cold, joints locked. Something had him locked up from the inside out.

I gritted my teeth, grabbed his arm, and yanked him back.

Sss—

A tiny ripping sound. Like paper tearing. Right by my ear. So soft only I could hear it. I'm sure I didn't tear his clothes. The bartender didn't turn around. Lena didn't look up. Even the kid himself didn't react—like he hadn't heard a thing. That sound was for me and me only.

At the same time, this biting cold shot up his arm and slammed into my palm, numbing my fingers. Then something inside me woke up. Warm. Pushing out through my arm, into his. Like sticking a frozen hand into hot water. I could feel the stiffness melting off him.

His whole body went slack. He stumbled back hard from the pull, his back hitting my chest.

He whipped around. His face was dead white, forehead slick with sweat, lips still trembling—but his eyes. Bright as hell. Relief, and something else underneath. Something hungry. He stared at me, gaze dropping under my hood, pupils shrinking like he'd just seen something he didn't know how to process.

He opened his mouth. I gave a small shake of my head, pulled him back to the center of the cellar, alert. The bartender and Lena were still standing there, looking at me like they'd just watched a play they didn't understand. I didn't explain. I turned and looked back at that crack in the wall.

Outside, the man in the fog had stopped. He'd lost his target. Slowly, he rotated his head, tilted it up just a little, and started to sniff. He was smelling. Trying to track his prey.

Nobody in the cellar dared make a sound. I felt that crushing dread again, waited. After a long while, the pressure finally faded. The man turned, slow, step by step, and disappeared into the fog. The pressure was gone, but I knew he hadn't left. He was still hunting.

I let out a breath, released the kid's arm. His lips were moving again, everything he wanted to say about to spill out of his eyes. I didn't give him the chance. Turned, walked back to my corner, sat down on a wooden crate, pulled my hood down lower. Don't talk to me. Until I figured out how the hell I got here, I didn't want anything to do with anyone in this town. I knew better. And yet I'd just pulled that kid back from the edge.

I closed my eyes. Thought about the way he'd looked at me. The kid sized me up different from everyone else here—he didn't check my face first, calculating what it'd fetch in the Inner City. He looked at my eyes first.

I heard his footsteps shift half a step, hesitate, stop. Then the bartender—everyone called him Bamboo Pole—walked over, patted him on the shoulder.

"Quit staring," Bamboo Pole said, voice low, teasing. "He's not your type."

"W-what—he's... he's a guy?"

"A guy." Bamboo Pole snorted. "Jack checked. Kid stumbled in this morning, looked like he'd seen a ghost. Took him forever to pull himself together. Jack took him in. Bet he's some Inner City big shot's plaything."

"Inner City..."

"Yeah. Inner City. Look at that face, kid. Outer City doesn't grow that kind. Inner City lords pay top dollar for that—they got a taste for it. How many men you seen that pretty?"

"Then why doesn't he run?"

"Run? You think anyone calls the shots around here?" Bamboo Pole dropped his voice. "This shithole's packed with fugitives, exiled nobles, dead-broke losers. The rich and powerful took the Inner City, shoved everyone else out here to scrape by on bounty money. There's no law—Inner City lords are the law. How far's he gonna get? They drag him back, beat him to death, nobody says a word."

"When the black fog lifts, we take him back to the Inner City, find his owner," Bamboo Pole said, even quieter. "Jack gets a fat reward. This is a walking payday. Can't let him die in the street."

I opened my eyes. Under my hood, I watched those two backs turned to me, and let one corner of my mouth curl up.

Sell me out. Sure. Good luck to whoever tries to drag me back.

"Ah—!" A scream cut through the cellar air. Lena. One hand clamped over her mouth, the other pointing straight at the wall, shaking like a leaf.

I followed her finger.

The wall was aging. Literally. The smooth surface had gone mottled in seconds, paint peeling off in strips, revealing pitted concrete underneath. Black-green mold sprouted from the cracks, layer after layer, like it was alive, spreading at a speed you could watch. Cans on the shelves started rusting, water stains blooming across the tin. Bread turned green, caved in, rotted into a mush. Even the floor was weathering—cracks spiderwebbed across the packed dirt, fine sand bubbling up through the gaps.

In an instant—in just these few dozen seconds—it felt as if decades had passed in this cellar.

A cold, damp, musty odor filled everyone's nostrils. Some retched, others screamed; fear erupted in an instant.

Lena slumped to the floor, sobbing so hard her whole body shook. "How could this happen… Oh God. Someone, please save me…"

"Everything was fine just a moment ago… How did this suddenly happen…" The customer by the shelves spoke, his voice trembling so much he couldn't form a coherent sentence, his lips turning pale and bluish. "Are we going to die here…"

"Shut the f**k up, all of you!" Jack's voice came from over by the ladder. He'd pulled out a gun at some point; he racked the slide, his face grim, his voice low but laced with ferocity. "What's all this screaming for?! If you lure that thing in here, none of you will get out alive!"

No one dared to speak. All that remained were choked sobs and the faint, dying hiss of the incandescent lightbulb hanging overhead.

I stared at the crack—the last glimmer of light beyond it was being swallowed up, bit by bit, by something. Black fog crept in along the base of the wall, like a rising tide, slowly squeezing its way into the cellar.

"Have we been discovered after all?"

Just then, a man started convulsing. Violent. His whole body went rigid—toppled backward, hit the floor. In seconds his skin went dull. Flesh caving in, inch by inch. Like an apple sucked dry. Cheeks first. Neck. The backs of his hands. Something was draining him from the inside out. Muscle gone. Fat gone. Shriveled. Ashen. Skin stretched tight over bone. His eyes stayed open, staring hollow at the ceiling.

He had turned into a dried corpse—just thirty seconds ago, he had been a living person.

"Ah—!" The crowd erupted into chaos, screaming as they scattered in all directions; some scrambled and crawled toward the ladder. Terrified, Lena covered her eyes, her wails escaping through the gaps between her fingers.

"Clang—" The hatch above the cellar was yanked open, and dust and light came crashing down together. Someone screamed at the top of their lungs, "Go! Go—!"