Chapter Nine: The Hall of Shadows
The lecture hall erupted as the Retrievals surged inside. Their forms bent unnaturally to fit through the shattered doorway, arms twisting at impossible angles.
Sameer grabbed Mira's hand and pulled her between rows of desks. "Move! Now!"
The air grew heavier with every step, as if gravity itself wanted to drag him down. Sameer's legs screamed, but adrenaline shoved him forward.
One of the Retrievals lunged, its arm stretching across two rows like tar, fingers grazing his shoulder. The touch burned like ice, searing through his shirt. He stumbled, almost falling—
—but Mira yanked him upright, shouting, "Don't stop! If they touch you, it's over!"
They scrambled toward a side exit, Sameer shoving a chair through the glass window of the door. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the empty campus. Shards scattered as he pulled Mira through.
Behind them, the Retrievals shrieked—not with voices, but with static. The walls quivered as if the sound itself tore through matter.
Sameer and Mira burst into another corridor, sprinting toward the stairwell. Their footsteps pounded in rhythm with the deep, resonant hum that followed—the sound of the Retrievals closing in.
As they descended the stairs, Sameer risked a glance back.
The creatures didn't run. They folded down the stairwell, their bodies dripping like liquid, reforming on each step closer and closer.
Panic clawed at him. "We're not gonna make it—!"
Mira's eyes locked on a door at the end of the stairwell. "Basement! Go!"
They slammed through the heavy metal door and plunged into darkness. The air was damp, thick with dust. Pipes ran along the ceiling, dripping occasionally.
Mira pulled out a small flashlight from her pocket—its weak beam cut through the dark just enough to reveal long rows of storage crates.
They ducked behind one stack, collapsing to the floor, gasping for breath.
Silence.
Only their breathing.
Sameer pressed his back against the crate, forcing air into his lungs, trying to quiet the pounding in his chest.
Minutes passed. No sound of pursuit. No static hum.
Finally, Mira whispered, "They… didn't follow us."
Sameer shook his head, sweat dripping down his temple. "No… they did. They just don't need to hurry."
Mira's flashlight flickered.
For just a second, the light cut across the concrete wall—revealing something scrawled in thick, black strokes.
Words.
Hundreds of them, layered over each other, written by desperate hands.
Sameer leaned closer, squinting.
At the center of the wall, a single phrase stood out, written in larger letters than the rest:
"DON'T LET THEM TAKE YOU TO THE CORE."
His breath hitched.
And then, faintly, from somewhere deep in the basement—
Slap. Slap. Slap.
Wet footsteps.
Coming closer.