The shout snaps me out of my thoughts. His blonde hair is slightly messy, and there's a rebellious air about him. He's dressed in a tattered red-and-gray school uniform and gripping a sword. The look in his eyes catches me off guard—desperation, confusion, like he's just as lost as I am.
"Hey Goldie, you see this?" Now that I think about it, can he see what I see? I pause for a moment but he doesn't answer. I start moving towards the shouting, hopefully this kid has a better clue on a way out of here than me.
I stand watching as he knocks over another lifeless husk, screaming, yelling for a reaction. But the figures just keep moving, unfazed, passing through an empty street.
Then his gaze locks on mine, and for the first time since waking up in this bizarre place, I feel seen.
I glance down at his uniform, then at my own. "We're wearing the same uniform," I say, curiosity lacing my voice.
The boy looks down at himself, frowning. His red hoodie bears the same Strivers' Row University emblem across the chest. The cuffs and hem are frayed, the fabric worn from use. "Huh… guess we are." he says while tugging at the frayed edge of his jacket.
"Jayden," I say, offering my name with a shrug. My gaze drifts to the unfamiliar surroundings.
He hesitates, studying me carefully before responding, his tone guarded. "Zack."
"Zack," I repeat, testing the sound. "Do you… remember anything?"
His expression hardens. "Some things" he admits, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword, "but nothing that makes sense." He looks at me sharply. "You?"
"Nothing." I replied.
Zack nods slightly, his eyes scanning the chaotic streets around us. I break the silence "This place—everything feels off. Like it's not real or something."
"Or like we're caged in here."
His hand flexing briefly on the sword. He looks like he wants to say something but stops himself, shaking his head. When he speaks again, his tone is clipped, defensive. "Doesn't matter."
I frown but decide not to press him. Whatever he's not saying hangs in the air between us like a heavy shadow. It's obvious there's something weighing on him.
We exchange a look, an unspoken understanding passing between us. Both of us are lost, searching for answers in a world that doesn't make sense.
"Guess we stick together for now," Zack says, his tone gruff but not unfriendly.
"Yeah, strength in numbers," I reply, trying for a faint smile, though it feels hollow.
I raise an eyebrow, gesturing toward his sword. "You any good with that, or is it just for show?"
He glances at the crimson hilt, frowning. "No idea. It doesn't feel like... mine. But I guess we'll find out if we have to."
"Let's hope we don't," I mutter.
He smirks faintly, then turns serious again. "Stick close. If something comes at us, at least we'll go down swinging."
"Comforting."
We fall into an uneasy silence, our footsteps echoing on the cracked pavement. Each step feels heavier than the last, but we keep moving forward, bound by uncertainty and the faint glimmer of trust.
"So, uh, Zack."
"Yo."
"The things you do remember—any idea how we got here?"
"Nah, woke up here with no memory, just like you. Found these robot things walkin' around, figured they'd know somethin', but they ain't respond at all."
"Cool, cool. And just to be sure, no voices in your head? No weird visions?"
Zack doesn't answer. He's too busy scanning the streets, his eyes flicking between every alley and window, like he's looking for something—or someone. Earlier, he was about to ask me something but stopped himself. I could push him on it, but that might ruin whatever trust we've built. Better to wait.
As we walk, lost in thought, Zack suddenly mutters, "Damn, this place is huge… just like the real New York."
I freeze for a second. I thought he didn't remember anything. Is that where we are? Is that where I'm from?
Before I can ask, something catches my eye—a bloodstain smeared along the pavement.
"Zack, over there! Blood."
Zack doesn't hesitate. He sprints toward it, scanning for a body, a sign of whoever was hurt. The trail continues, leading us forward. He stares at the stains, tense, then moves without a word. I follow.
Then, a scream.
"Run!"
I whip around the corner, nearly stumbling as I take in the scene. A tall man in a tattered army uniform and a younger boy sprint toward us, their faces twisted in fear. Behind them, two massive shadowy wolves tear across the pavement, their glowing eyes locked onto their prey.
"Dad!" the boy screams, his voice breaking with desperation.
I lock eyes with Zack for a second before I rush forward.
Zack lets out a sharp breath. "Aw, shit."
I reach the boy, grabbing him and pulling him up, while Zack moves to steady the man. The boy chokes back tears, his whole body trembling.
"But Dad! We can't leave him like that!"
The boy thrashes in my grip, his panic making him almost impossible to hold onto.
"We don't have a choice!" I grunt, tightening my hold and forcing him to move. His legs stumble forward, but his body resists, his fingers clawing at the empty air.
Zack pulls the wounded man up, slinging one of his arms over his shoulder. "Kid, we gotta move now, or none of us are makin' it outta here!"
A low, guttural growl rumbles from behind. The wolves are closing in. My stomach twists.
"Move!" I shout, half-dragging the boy as we break into a run.