Chemicals

17

We continued down the narrow side street, the air thick with tension. The city was eerily quiet—too quiet. Every sound seemed amplified, from the scuff of our boots on the cracked pavement to the rustle of the occasional stray newspaper caught in the wind. Ivy was leading the way, her sharp gaze darting from side to side, always on alert for danger. Her hand rested on her gun, ready to draw it in an instant. Ethan walked next to me, his broad shoulders tense, his expression unreadable, but I could feel the quiet determination radiating from him.

The streets looked like a battlefield long forgotten. Cars were abandoned, rusting away where they'd been left in a panic, weeds growing up through the cracks in the pavement. Trash littered the ground, signs of a city that had once been full of life but was now nothing more than a graveyard. The oppressive atmosphere of the place was enough to make my skin crawl, but I kept pushing forward, one foot in front of the other. We didn't have a choice.

Ivy paused at an intersection and motioned for us to stop. I saw her jaw tighten as she peered around the corner, her blonde hair messy and sticking to her forehead. Something was wrong. My heart pounded in my chest as I strained to listen, but the only sound was the faint hum of the wind.

"Hold up," Chase whispered from the back of the group. He had been trailing behind, keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings, but now he moved up beside Ivy, his face suddenly serious.

"What's wrong?" I whispered, trying not to let the anxiety creep into my voice. I followed Chase's gaze, looking down the street ahead of us.

At first, I didn't see it. The street seemed empty, just more broken buildings and debris scattered everywhere. But then, in the shadows of a distant alley, I saw the movement—slow, jerky, unnatural. My breath caught in my throat. There were dozens of them. A horde of Psychoids, clustered together, shifting restlessly like a swarm of locusts waiting to descend. Some of them were hunched over, twitching sporadically, while others stood still, their heads bobbing from side to side in a grotesque rhythm.

"Shit," Ivy breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "There's too many."

Chase didn't move, his eyes locked on the horde. There was something unsettling about his expression—almost a hint of fascination, like he was observing them rather than fearing them. "They're everywhere," he muttered softly, as if speaking to himself.

I felt a chill crawl down my spine at the way he said it, his voice laced with something that didn't quite feel right. But before I could process it, Ivy took a step back, her voice calm but urgent. "We need to go. Quietly. We can't fight that many. We'll be dead in seconds."

I nodded, swallowing hard as I tore my gaze away from the Psychoids. My hands were trembling slightly, and I clenched them into fists to stop the shaking. My pulse raced, fear gnawing at the edges of my mind, but I forced myself to stay focused. There was no time to panic.

Ethan stepped up beside me, his body tense but composed. His hand brushed mine briefly, and though he didn't say anything, his presence was enough to steady me. We'd faced danger before, but this was something else. The sheer number of Psychoids lurking just beyond our reach made my stomach churn.

Mohammed shifted uneasily behind us, glancing nervously between the alleyway and the rest of us. "Are we seriously going on foot now?" he asked, his voice wavering with a mixture of fear and disbelief.

Ivy didn't answer him, her focus entirely on the horde. After a few long moments, she slowly raised her hand, signaling for us to fall back. We began retreating, step by cautious step, keeping as quiet as possible. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, my senses on high alert as if the Psychoids could somehow hear the sound of our footsteps, despite their eerie stillness.