When The Sun Died

Chapter 6

Serena Blackwood’s POV

The ascent was a nightmare of groaning metal and panicked scrambling.

When I finally hauled myself onto the narrow decking of the maintenance bridge, my heart rate was still a measured, steady drum, a mechanical rhythm refusing to acknowledge the horror I’d just witnessed.

I didn't look down. I couldn't afford the memory of the two bodies hitting the ground. They were casualties of poor tactical decisions, nothing more. My poor decision.

Kane Malric was curled in a trembling heap near the shattered railing, clutching his briefcase and some files like it contained his soul.

“They… they took him,” he whispered, rocking slightly. “They dragged him down li…like he was nothing.”

“He was nothing,” I said coldly, checking my rifle. “Dead weight dies first.”

Kane flinched, but I didn’t soften it. He needed sharp truths, not comfort.

Below us, the infected shrieked and scraped against the metal supports, their movements jerky and insectile. One leapt, slamming into a pillar with enough force to rattle the entire bridge.

“Sergeant…” Kane’s voice shook. “We can’t stay up here.”

He was right.

This bridge wasn’t stable it was a countdown.

“On your feet,” I barked.

Kane staggered up. His knees almost buckled but fear glued him together.

We moved quickly, crossing the ruined platform until we reached a collapsed section that sloped down toward the industrial district.

The city below was a graveyard of red shadows. Buildings eaten by darkness. Streets littered with overturned cars. Fires cracked through the blood colored gloom.

Hours of eclipse. No sun. No dawn. Just… red.

“We head for shelter,” I said. “There. Warehouses.”

Kane squinted through the haze. “W…We’re going down there?”

“You see a better option?”

He didn’t.

We descended the slanted metal, boots scraping. Every step made the bridge groan like it was begging to collapse and take us with it.

Once we hit the ground, I grabbed Kane by the sleeve.

“Don’t stop,” I growled, yanking him forward.

We darted between wrecked cars, past shattered shop fronts, until we reached the closest warehouse a massive, rusted box with its sliding door cracked open.

Perfect.

I pushed Kane inside, then slipped in after him and dragged the metal door shut, jamming a pipe through the handles.

Darkness swallowed us.

Not silence.

Never silence.

Dripping water.

Echoes of distant screams.

My rifle swept the interior shelves collapsed, machinery rusted, crates stacked like forgotten tombstones. Thin strips of red light seeped through the boards, painting everything in that hellish glow.

“Clear left,” I ordered.

Kane crouched instead, shaking hard. “I don’t have a weapon!”

“Use your brain. It’s bigger than your courage.”

He shot me a wounded glare but stayed quiet. Good.

I combed the warehouse corners, rafters, and shadows. No movement. No chittering. No breathing besides our own.

The place was abandoned.

For now.

“It’s clear,” I said at last. “Take a beat.”

Kane sagged against a crate, sliding down until he hit the floor.

“I can’t… can’t believe we’re alive.”

“You’re alive because I dragged you here,” I said flatly, setting my rifle beside me. “Don’t get romantic about it.”

His laugh came out cracked and humorless.

“What now?”

I checked the windows again.

“Survival camp. Twelve miles north.”

He blinked like I’d slapped him.

“Twelve miles? Out there?”

“Unless you want to wait here until the infected sweep buildings,” I said dryly. “They do sweeps. They learn.”

Kane swallowed hard and hugged his briefcase tighter.

A long moment hung between us, heavy, tense, punctuated by a distant scream that echoed through the rafters.

Then quietly, almost to himself Kane asked:

“Sergeant… why us? Why did we live when the others didn’t?”

I leaned back against a cold metal beam.

Because Morales’ scream still echoed in my skull.

Because Diaz’s plea Don’t let me turn still scraped at my ribs.

Because I could still feel Jenkins’ teeth snapping inches from my throat.

I didn’t answer.

Instead, I closed my eyes for two seconds only two and forced my breathing into a soldier’s rhythm.

“Get some rest,” I said. “We move when the world gets quieter.”

Kane laughed weakly.

“There is no quieter.”

I stared into the pulsing red cracks of light bleeding through the wall.

“No,” I agreed.

“But we move anyway.”

Kane curled into himself.

I kept my rifle ready and my back to the door.

And the night the endless red night dragged on.

The abandoned warehouse groaned in the wind, every rusted beam shaking like the whole structure wanted to collapse around us.

That sickening red glow of the eclipse bled through the broken windows, turning the air thick and metallic, like we were breathing inside a furnace.

Kane sat on the cold floor hugging his briefcase to his chest, rocking like a scared child.

“They..they dragged him down,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Those… things. They aren’t human.”

“No,” I said, scanning the shadows. “It wasn’t.”

I didn’t bother sugarcoating anything. He needed clarity, not comfort.

Kane wiped his face with trembling hands.

“Why did the eclipse stay?” he whispered. “It should’ve ended. It should’ve ended hours ago.”

“It didn’t,” I replied calmly, “so we adapt.”

A metal rattle echoed somewhere deep in the building.

Kane jumped so violently his briefcase slipped from his grip. “What was that?”

“Not friendly,” I said, stepping forward.

The warehouse was open, but the corners were drowned in darkness. The kind of darkness that felt… swollen. Alive. Something was inside.

Kane clenched his fists. “ are we safe?”

“No,” I said honestly. “But we can be quiet.”

I pulled him gently but firmly behind an overturned shelf.

“Listen,” I whispered.

The sound came again a dragging shuffle, slow but heavy, like something walking on broken joints. My body went cold.

Kane’s breathing became shallow. “ Tell me that’s not another one of”

“It is,” I cut in softly. “Stay low.”

A silhouette staggered into the thin beam of red light leaking from the window.

My stomach clenched.

Its spine was bent in three places, twisted like wet rope. The skin on its arms was torn, dangling in long strips. Its jaw hung open, unhinged, slanted too far to the left as if someone had ripped it loose and just let it dangle. Black veins crawled under its translucent skin like worms, pulsing to the rhythm of something deep and wrong.

Kane covered his mouth to stop a scream.

The creature lifted its head slowly, sniffing the air.

Hunting for us.

Behind me, Kane whispered, “We can’t go to the survival camp. We won’t make it, we…”

“We will,” I said sharply. “But not now. Not while this thing is inside with us.”

The creature dragged its hand along the wall, claws screeching against the metal. It was listening for movement.

Then its head snapped toward our direction.

Kane froze.

I froze.

The creature let out a low, wet gurgle.

“Kane,” I whispered, staring into its hollow eyes. “When it turns away… you run north”

He nodded, tears streaming silently down his face.