Chapter 1
The morning began with the heavy, rhythmic thumping of rock music echoing through the kitchen. Alice was moving to the beat, occasionally humming along to the lyrics as she casually prepared breakfast. The routine shattered when the front door clicked open. Edward, her father, stepped inside. Alice, currently flipping an omelet, caught his reflection in the polished tiles—he hadn't just walked in; he had rushed. His breathing was shallow, his posture tightly coiled with a frantic, protective panic, yet beneath the fear, his eyes carried a crushing, unspoken sorrow.
Alice turned, raising an eyebrow. "Weren't you supposed to be asleep?"
Without a word, Edward lunged forward, catching her in a fierce, desperate embrace. Though entirely bewildered by his sudden intensity, Alice didn't pull away. She wrapped her arms around him, offering a soft, defiant smirk. "Don't worry, I always have plenty of room for affection."
Edward broke the embrace, his hands sliding down to grip her arms with terrifying firmness. His eyes locked onto hers. "No matter what happens today, Alice, do not leave this house. Stay inside."
"But I’m supposed to go pick up Elara today," she protested, frowning.
"I will fetch her myself," Edward interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. "You stay home."
Alice sighed, yielding to his uncharacteristic sternness. "Fine, have it your way... but why the sudden panic?"
Instead of answering, Edward turned to the sink, grabbing a glass and filling it with running water. Before he could speak, a sharp, bitter scent cut through the air. Alice’s eyes widened. "My beautiful omelet is burning!"
She spun around to salvage the charred breakfast, venting her frustration at the stove. Smash. The sudden, violent shattering of glass erupted behind her. Terrified, Alice whipped around, her heart plunging into her throat.
The kitchen was empty.
The heavy rock music had vanished, replaced by an oppressive, suffocating silence. On the floor lay the fractured shards of the glass and a pool of water. But her father was gone.
"Dad?" she called out, her voice swallowed by the stillness. She checked the corridors, stormed into the bedrooms, but found nothing. Panic driving her forward, she threw open the front door and stepped outside.
The world had gone dead. There was no wind, no rustling leaves, no birds chirping in the trees—not a single soul in sight. The crushing isolation gripped her as she walked down the cobblestone street toward the neighborhood park. It was deserted. The only movement was a single, empty swing, swaying slowly back and forth in the breathless air.
As she rounded the intersection, the true horror materialized. Several cars had collided in a tangled wreck, smoke billowing from their crumpled hoods. Yet, there were no drivers, no passengers, no bystanders. Just empty metal husks.
Cold sweat breaking across her skin, Alice ran toward the nearest house. The front door was slightly ajar.
"Hello? Mr. Jack?" she called out, her voice trembling. "It’s Alice Morven. Is anyone home?"
Silence answered. Stepping inside, a thick, gray cloud of smoke choked her throat. Coughing violently, she pulled her shirt up over her nose and mouth, pressing forward toward the kitchen. The stove was roaring, the food atop it black and burning. She quickly turned off the burner, but unable to withstand the blinding smoke any longer, she stumbled back outside into the clearing.
Nefes nefese kalmıştı. Her eyes watered from the smoke, tears blurring her vision as she wiped them away. Then, it hit her.
An unnatural, droning hum pierced the silence—a long, agonizing reverberation that sounded like the haunting, icy ring of a glass harmonica. The sound vibrated through her very bones, freezing the blood in her veins.
Suddenly, a voice echoed. Not in the air, but inside the cavernous depths of her own mind.
Go back inside the house. Take the weapon hanging in the living room. Take the one in the drawer, too.
Alice froze, turning into a living statue. "Who are you? Where are you?!"
No response came. Driven by pure survival instinct, Alice bolted back toward her home, her boots pounding against the asphalt. She burst through the front door, the silence of her house now broken by a rhythmic, low hiss. The television in her living room was turned on, its screen flashing with a blinding, violent gray static.
Her gaze slowly drifted down to the wooden table beneath the screen.
Resting there, side by side, were a pump-action shotgun and a black pistol.
Alice stared at the weapons. They didn't belong in this house. The pump-action shotgun was definitely Mr. Jack’s, yet here it sat, perfectly aligned on her table.
Suddenly, the violent gray static on the television screen began to change. It didn't just flicker; the chaotic movement of the pixels began to slow down, growing thick and heavy like sinking mud. The loud hissing sound deepened into a low, rhythmic thumping, almost like a massive, mechanical heartbeat. The gray static bled into pitch black, and the noise cut out entirely.
From the dead speakers, a voice spoke. It was completely flat, devoid of any gender, emotion, or breath.
"Lock the door. Close the windows. Draw the curtains."
Instantly, the screen snapped off. The house plunged back into a suffocating silence.
Alice stood frozen. Her breathing was the only sound left in the world. Slowly, her trembling hand reached toward the table. She touched the cold, dark steel of the shotgun with just her fingertip first, as if expecting it to be an illusion. It was real. She gripped it firmly and lifted it.
Holding the weapon tight, she crept to the front door and opened it just a crack. The world outside was still entirely dead, but the sky had begun to bruise. Heavy, dark clouds were rolling in, swallowing the light; a storm was brewing. Without wasting another second, she locked the front door. She moved through the house like a ghost, sealing every window and pulling every curtain shut.
She gathered whatever food and bottled water she could carry and barricaded herself in her bedroom. As the darkness of the night consumed the house, Alice sat on her bed, her mind racing, desperately trying to make sense of the nightmare.
"This can't be real," she muttered into the dark, her voice trembling. "None of this is real." Exhaustion eventually overpowered her terror, dragging her into a restless sleep.
When her eyes fluttered open, morning light was trying to bleed through the edges of the curtains. "Please let it be a dream," she whispered. She peeked through the window. The street was still dead. Still empty.
It wasn't a dream.
Gripping the shotgun, she stepped out of her room. Her steps were cautious but determined as she navigated the silent hallway toward the front door. She unlocked the deadbolt. But the moment her fingers wrapped around the door handle, that sound returned.
The glass harmonica. Only this time, it was louder, longer, vibrating so violently it made her teeth ache. Terrified, Alice snatched her hand back. The agonizing hum instantly stopped. She stood there, her chest heaving, staring at the brass handle. She swallowed hard, forcing her courage to the surface, and reached out again.
"Whatever happens, happens," she breathed.
She yanked the door open.
The breath was punched out of her lungs. The landscape had completely changed. The paved road was split open, choked with dead, overgrown weeds. The cars on the street weren't the smoking wrecks from yesterday; they were different vehicles entirely, completely devoured by thick, orange rust, as if they had been rotting there for decades.
Horrified, Alice slammed the door shut. She spun around, leaning against the wood, only to find the nightmare had followed her inside. Her house was no longer the home she knew. The wallpaper was peeling off in sickly strips, the floorboards were warped and water-damaged, and the furniture was covered in a thick layer of undisturbed dust and decay.
She locked the door in a panic and bolted up the stairs. She stormed into her bedroom, locking that door behind her too. Her legs gave out. Slipping down the decaying wall, she hit the floor, pulling her knees tight against her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs, burying her face in them.
The silence of the dead world pressed against her as she finally broke down, crying softly into the dark.
"Dad..." she sobbed. "Please come back."
Alice remained in that state until midday, silent, her eyes welling with tears. Then, she suddenly lifted her head and picked up the family photo from the coffee table. She stared at it for a long, quiet moment before placing it back down. Standing up, she walked toward the window and parted the curtains just a fraction to look outside. Rain was falling, but there was absolutely no movement.
She quietly ate and drank the provisions she had brought up to her room. She was entirely unresponsive, moving mechanically like a robot; eating was her only action, with no other sound or movement coming from her.
Dusk slowly began to settle. In the fading light of the day, she searched for a light source inside the house and found some half-burned candles left over from birthdays. She returned to her bedroom and locked the door. Sitting on the floor, she struck the lighter she had taken from the kitchen and lit a candle. The room became dimly illuminated by the faint glow.
Suddenly, the room was plunged into darkness. The candle’s light seemed restricted, trapped within a dark space of just a few centimeters. Out of the darkness, a hand with pitch-black, elongated fingers reached toward the flame. Terrified, Alice scrambled backward on her hands and feet until her back hit the wall. There was nowhere left to run. The hand wrapped its palm around the candle, snuffing the light out completely.
Then, her father’s voice echoed through the room.
"My daughter, do not be afraid. Do not make a sound, and absolutely do not leave this house."
"Dad? Where are you? I can't see you," Alice cried out.
The voice cut out, and the room was suddenly illuminated by a dim, yellow light. Tears streamed down Alice's cheeks, tracing paths down her face. She stood up and walked to the window, pulling back the curtain. Her eyes widened in shock. She yanked the curtain completely open—the window was gone. Where it used to be, there was now nothing but a solid wall.
She slowly backed away, and as she retreated, her legs hit the bed. She sat down in pure shock, only to notice how soft it felt. Looking down, she saw that her bed was clean and looked brand new. She rubbed her eyes, but the wall remained where the window had been, and the bed was still pristine.
She quietly lay down on the bed. Before closing her eyes, she whispered, "I hope all of this is a nightmare." Then, she closed her eyes.
Alice’s eyelids fluttered. As she opened her eyes, chaotic lights danced across the walls, accompanied by the deep, muffled thuds of distant explosions. She spun around. The window was back. The suffocating dim light from before was gone, yet her bed remained completely pristine. She scrambled to her feet and approached the glass.
Far in the distance, a chain of explosions lit up the horizon. At the base of the blasts, she could make out vague shadows scattering in all directions. Suddenly, her gaze dropped to the street below. Staring up at her from the pitch-black street were two glowing white eyes.
Alice instantly dropped to the floor, her hands desperately grasping for the pump-action shotgun. Clutching the weapon, she slowly raised her head just enough to peek over the sill. The explosions abruptly ceased. A heavy silence descended.
Then, a voice echoed inside her room. It was the exact same flat, emotionless voice she had heard in her mind and from the dead television.
"Do not be afraid. I came to help."
Alice whipped around. A man was standing right in the middle of her bedroom. She leveled the shotgun directly at his chest.
"Who are you? How did you get in here?"
The man took a calm step toward her.
"Stay back!" Alice yelled.
He took another step. Without hesitating, Alice jerked the barrel toward the ceiling and pulled the trigger. The deafening blast rocked the room. She immediately aimed the smoking barrel back at the man.
The man didn't flinch. He just looked past her, toward the window. "You shouldn't have done that."
Hearing this, Alice risked a quick glance outside. At first, she couldn't see much in the darkness. Then, a horrific, piercing shriek ripped through the night. Instantly, more screams joined it. Out of the darkness, terrifying silhouettes began sprinting wildly toward her house. Alice snapped her head back to the man. His eyes had changed; the pupils were entirely gone, replaced by a blinding, solid white glow.
"Sleep," he commanded.
Instantly, Alice fell into a deep slumber. When she opened her eyes again, it was morning. She was lying on her bed. She sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her head, desperately trying to piece together the events of last night. Suddenly, the man materialized in the room again. He raised an arm, pointing toward the west.
"Go that way."
Before she could even open her mouth to speak, he turned and walked out of the room. Alice scrambled out of bed and rushed into the hallway after him, but he was gone. He had completely vanished.
She took a deep breath. Finding a backpack, she quickly filled it with water and whatever food she had left. Just as her bag was ready, she stopped, grabbed her family photograph, and gently tucked it inside. She shoved the black pistol into her waistband, gripped the shotgun firmly, and headed for the front door. Her hand hovered over the handle. After a brief hesitation, she opened the door and stepped outside. The world was exactly the same—rotted and decaying—but there was absolutely no trace of the shadowy creatures from the night before.
Alice began walking west, muttering bitterly to herself.
"'Go that way.' Yeah, right. How about telling me what the hell is going on here? Where did everyone go? Answering those questions would have been a lot more helpful. 'I came to help,' my ass."
Suddenly, a loud explosion rocked the earth somewhere far ahead of her. Alice immediately dropped to a crouch. A split second later, a mechanical drone shot through the sky directly overhead.
What the hell is this now? she thought. Were those the explosions from last night?
Driven by adrenaline, she moved quickly toward the site of the blast. When she reached the area, she froze. Sprawled on the ground was a mangled, humanoid corpse. Before she could process it, a sound startled her. Just a few meters away stood a nightmare: a humanoid creature with sickly green skin and jagged bones protruding violently from its back.
Alice instinctively aimed the shotgun at it. The creature locked eyes with her and charged. Alice squeezed the trigger, taking the creature down in a single blast. She didn't stay to check on it. Panic took over, and she turned and bolted.
"Shit, shit, shit! What the fuck was that?!"
She ran until she was far from the blast site, finally stopping to catch her breath, panting heavily as her eyes darted frantically around her surroundings.
Alice forced herself to calm down, pulling her fractured focus back together. She continued with quick, urgent steps, her eyes darting in every direction as she strained to listen to the environment. Terror still burned bright in her eyes. Suddenly, she collided hard with someone.
She scrambled back and whipped the shotgun up, her finger heavy on the trigger. But as her eyes focused, she recognized the man—the one who had claimed to be helping her. Slowly, she lowered the barrel to the ground.
"What kind of help is this, exactly?" Alice demanded.
"You will understand," the man replied. "But for your own sanity, it is better that you do not know right now."
"Sanity? Take a look around us—"
"Be ready," he interrupted.
"For what?"
Suddenly, reality snapped. The ground beneath Alice's feet warped and stretched like a giant rubber band. Space itself slid violently out from under her, dragging the entire environment past her eyes in a sickening blur. It lasted for only a single second, but when the brutal shift abruptly stopped, her equilibrium was utterly shattered.
Alice clutched her head and dropped to a crouch, violently throwing up onto the ground.
"I expected this would happen," the man stated coldly.
Coughing and gasping for air, Alice managed to pull herself together. As she wiped her mouth and slowly lifted her head, her blurred vision began to clear. A short distance away, rising above the ruined landscape, stood a massive military base enclosed by imposing, high walls. And descending directly into it, flying perfectly vertical, was a mechanical drone.
The man looked at Alice. "Go there."
Alice wiped her mouth, her legs still trembling. "I can't go there like this."
"Close your eyes."
Alice closed them, albeit with heavy distrust.
"Can I open them?" she asked after a moment.
There was no answer. Instead, a low, muffled humming sound began to vibrate in the air. Alice opened her eyes and gasped. She was standing directly at the base of the towering gates of the military facility.
"What— oh, God," she groaned, clutching her stomach. "You could have just done this in the first place..."
She looked around, but the man was nowhere to be seen.
The humming sound grew steadily louder. Alice weakly lifted her heavy head and looked up. From behind the imposing wall, a drone glided into the space directly above her. It descended slowly, hovering just out of reach. Alice stared at the drone, and the drone’s optical sensors stared right back at her. She looked utterly exhausted, pale, and thoroughly drained.
Then, a voice emanated from the machine—a mature male voice, edged with a slight mechanical filter.
"I can speed this up for you, if you'd like."
The moment the words were spoken, the chilling, metallic clack of a round being chambered echoed from the drone's mounted weapon.
