Stanley kept moving.
He didn't know why, just that slowing down felt wrong. His legs carried him forward before his mind fully caught up. Every time he hesitated, a tightness gripped his chest, a warning he didn't quite understand.
So he walked.
The road ahead was a mess. Crushed cars lined the sides, some charred, others seemingly abandoned in a hurry. Glass crunched under his feet with every step.
He had no plan.
"First, I need a place to think quietly."
Clung
A movement stirred behind the truck.
Stanley slowed.
His footsteps stopped completely. A low vibration hummed in the air.
Metal scraping on the ground.
Stanley's head tilted slightly, his eyes scanning the area. People were still walking down the street, some alone, others in small groups, but no one else seemed to notice.
They walked like him, searching for something, guessing at an answer. He stood perfectly still.
The sound stopped. Stanley frowned.
The stadium was behind him, just a mangled outline among the buildings. The noise was just a memory. Here, there were no shouts, no exposed bodies.
This bothered him.
The sound returned, closer this time.
A dull clink, then a scraping drag.
Stanley crept towards the truck, crouching low. He peered around the side. Something moved.
Metal legs descended, one after another. Four of them. A machine emerged from behind the truck.
It resembled a dog, about a meter tall. Its body was made of steel plates precisely connected. The joints clicked as they moved. A red scanning light swept back and forth on its back.
Stanley gasped.
He pressed his back against the metal. His chest heaved. He forced himself to breathe slower.
The machine advanced.
A section of metal slid out from its body, long and tubular, extending inch by inch, snapping into place.
Stanley didn't move.
Voices drifted from the street ahead. Three people walked together, two men and a woman, arguing loudly about where to go.
"This place is dead," one of them said. "Nothing out here."
"Better than that stadium," said the woman. "At least we can see."
"He's coming," said Judah, nodding towards Jacob.
"There's a kid," Jacob said.
Stanley remained still.
Jacob squinted past him. "What's he hiding from?"
The woman slowed down, her eyes drifting past Stanley.
"Wait," she said. "Do you hear that?"
The red light stopped. The machine's legs were planted. The sound was swift, a sharp metallic pulse.
And then, the blast.
The street erupted. The sound slammed into Stanley's chest like something solid. Heat washed over him. The truck shuddered violently.
A shock wave ripped through the air, shattering windows on both sides of the street. Glass exploded outward in a sharp, stinging rain.
Stanley ducked, covering his head.
When he looked up again, the space where the three people had been was empty. Smoke billowed, flames flashed briefly, then died down.
Stanley gasped for air.
"What the hell was that," he whispered.
The red light turned. The metal tube rotated.
The machine took a step towards him.
Stanley glanced down. A loose metal pipe lay nearby. He grabbed it and pushed himself up.
Another blast fired.
The skyscraper next to him shook. Windows above shattered, and the glass exploded outward, raining down on the sidewalk. Stanley ran as the debris crashed behind him.
His shoes pounded against the broken road as he weaved between buildings. The pipe bounced with each step. His grip tightened.
Another explosion ripped through the air right behind him. The blast echoed down the street, slamming against the buildings.
Stanley instinctively ducked, darting into an alleyway.
The air grew thin. More skyscrapers. Less sunlight. The ash hung heavy, catching in his throat.
He bolted past a storefront, its face torn open. Shelves lay overturned, debris scattered everywhere. Burning daylight smoldered beneath.
The mechanical footsteps followed, each step a heavy thud on the ground.
A hunter stalking its prey.
Stanley pushed on, lungs burning, legs screaming. He cut a sharp turn, nearly tripping on loose debris, catching himself against the wall.
The road split in two. He veered left.
A blast erupted at the intersection behind him.
The shockwave hit him, shoving him forward. He slammed into the ground, tumbling, scraping his arm against the concrete. He lost his grip on the pipe, which clanged loudly against the wall.
Stanley scrambled up, snatching the pipe back.
He didn't stop running.
The road narrowed until the street was no wider than an alley. Trash bags and smashed boxes lined the sides. Pipes snaked along the walls, dripping a black fluid that pooled below. He slipped once but caught himself, pushing onward.
The footsteps grew louder.
Stanley burst from the alley, skidding to a halt in a wide-open space.
LA's road ended.
The concrete dropped away suddenly, revealing empty space. Buildings hung suspended in the mist below, their outlines blurred by smoke and distance. Others drifted slowly through the void, passing each other silently.
The mechanical process reached the mouth of the alley.
He turned.
The machine materialized between the buildings. Its red eye locked onto him instantly. The metal tube adjusted again, a gentle whine accompanying its rotation.
His eyes darted wildly.
To his side, a metal fire escape clung to another building. Some stairs were bent. The railing trembled gently in the breeze.
He made a run for it.
Another blast fired.
The explosion slammed into the ground behind him, tearing chunks from the concrete edge.
Stanley leaped, hauling himself up as the metal shuddered with his weight. He climbed quickly. The steps rattled violently with another strike. The fire escape shrieked, the bolts screaming.
Stanley reached the platform, rolling onto it, lungs heaving. He didn't stop. Again, he ascended, hoisting himself upwards, his arms burning.
Down below, the machine moved closer to the edge. The red light shifted higher.
Stanley threw himself over the edge of the roof, pressing himself flat against the surface. The roof was littered with old machines, cables coiled like snakes in their death throes. He scrambled to hide behind an old metal box.
The building shook.
One of the blasts struck the wall just below the roofline. The explosion sent a deep vibration through the structure, shaking everything around him. Stanley clamped a hand over his mouth.
The footsteps reached the edge. Metal scraped. Then silence.
Breathing heavily, Stanley's chest pounded in his ears. Sweat dripped through his shirt. His fingers cramped around the pipe.
Seconds passed.
Then more.
The red light flickered just beyond the edge of sight. It swept across the roof. Paused. Moved. Paused again.
The light withdrew. The footsteps retreated, until they faded into the alley.
He held his position, shaking, until the burning in his lungs subsided.
The city stretched before him. A plume of smoke billowed between buildings. Flames of fires dotted the horizon. In the distance, another explosion thundered.
Stanley didn't know how long this would last. He knew only one thing: to remain still meant death.