The crispy, stagnant atmosphere of Dengal hung thick in the air, black wisps curling off the roofs of the rows of mirrored houses. Through the dark sky echoed intermittent crackles of thunder, the sound bouncing off the cliff faces and rolling through the coastal valley. Above it all towered the mighty Verdant Elder, a colossal tree with luminous green leaves stretching in every direction. After twenty thousand years, the ancient monument finally split apart as a white bolt of lightning punched straight through its center. With a groan that shook the valley, the enormous tree toppled, crashing down onto the singular power plant that powered all of Dengal.
In a bio-lab on the outskirts of town, the lights flickered, struggled, and died. Electrified restraints—strong enough to hold an elephant—snapped apart with a sharp metallic crack, and from the musky gloom of a ten-foot containment cage, a mutated fist reached through the darkness and wrenched the bars open.
I woke up feeling well-rested for the first time in months. That was a bad sign. I rubbed my watering eyes and scrambled for my alarm clock. Blank. I flipped the light switch, nothing. The power was out. Panic hit me as I stumbled down the stairs, pants half on, shirt unbuttoned, my lanyard with "Jack Thornton, Level 2 Scientist" swinging wildly around my neck. A couple days ago, upper management had warned me that if I was late one more time this month, I'd be kicked off the project.
I dove into my beat-up Honda and hit the gas, going zero to fifty in an instant. The bumpy road seemed more dangerous than usual, probably because old Hondas weren't meant to hit potholes at that speed. But as I pulled into the lab's parking lot, I noticed something worse than potholes: there were way more cars than usual for this early in the morning.
Walking into the lab, a sick feeling crept up my spine. No one was at the front desk. No security guards. Chairs lay flipped over. And most ominous, dark-red handprints smeared across the pristine white walls.
I stepped back, but a distant crash made me freeze. Something heavy was moving deeper inside. I forced myself toward the wall phone, trying not to imagine what left those marks. The phone flickered weakly when I lifted the receiver.
I dialed the emergency number. A faint voice answered through static.
"Hello, someone there?"
"This is Jack Thornton, who is this?"
"Amy Walters," she said, "I'm in the genetics wing of the Dengal Lab. Something broke loose."
Before I could respond, the phone died with a soft pop.
I swallowed hard, then headed down the main hallway. The emergency lights pulsed red across torn lab doors and deep gouges in the walls. Every step felt heavier.
As I neared the genetics wing, a deep rumble vibrated up through the floor. I ducked behind an overturned cart as something enormous stomped past the intersecting corridor. Its shadow moved across the far wall — massive, hunched, and absolutely nothing natural.
When it was gone, I crept to a storage door and tapped lightly. "Amy?"
The door slid open an inch. A woman with tangled hair and terrified eyes pulled me inside.
"You saw it," she whispered.
I nodded.
"We don't have much time. The cryo-chamber still works manually. If we can get it inside, we can freeze it."
It wasn't a comforting plan, but it was the only one.
We slipped back into the hallway. The creature roared somewhere nearby, closer than before. Amy pointed, and we ran. The ground shook behind us as claws scraped metal, the thing picking up speed with each thunderous step.
We rounded a corner, practically sliding towards the cryo-chamber. I sprinted through the doorway, and the creature lunged after me, one massive arm ramming through the opening.
"Move!" Amy yelled.
I dove out the rear access tunnel as she slammed the manual lever. The chamber door slammed shut behind the creature, trapping it inside. A heavy thud shook the room as it threw itself against the steel, but the cryo-system hissed to life, frost blooming across the window. Its roars slowed, then faded into muffled silence.
Amy and I collapsed against the wall, trying to get our breaths under control.
"It's over," she said.
I wasn't entirely convinced, but I nodded.
Over the next few days, Dengal slowly recovered from the blackout and the loss of innocent lives. People kept thanking us. Me — the guy always late, always tired, always convinced I'd never amount to much.
A week later, the director called us into his office. "Your quick thinking saved lives," he said. "We'd like both of you to step up as regional co-managers."
I blinked. "Co-managers? Seriously?"
Amy gave a small, tired grin. "Could be worse."
After everything that happened, working alone didn't seem so appealing anymore. For the first time in Dengal, the future didn't feel like something to run from. It felt strangely like something worth stepping toward.