CHAPTER 2: AWAKENING
Darkness.
A gunshot cracked the silence.
Rick flinched awake—half a second, maybe less. His eyelids fluttered. Shadows moved, or maybe he dreamed them. Then—gone.
Silence.
Then a low groan—deep, ancient—rolled through the walls. Everything trembled. His restraints rattled. Something shifted beneath his skin, and for a second he thought he was dying again.
Blackness swallowed him.
Silence.
Then came the roar. Not just loud—wrong. It rumbled through the floor and into his bones. A sound that didn't belong anywhere near humans.
His eyes snapped open.
Dust. Ceiling. Panic.
Gone.
---
KRZZZT!
Pain like lightning tore through him. Muscles locked, every nerve screaming as the pod surged with energy.
The restraints clicked open.
And the door separating the pods from the other place was automatically open.
Rick gasped—gasped like he'd been drowning in tar. He sat up fast, lungs burning, like the world had just restarted and no one told him.
All around, pods hissed. People came alive—or something close. Screams. Vomiting. Hands clawing at thin scrubs, at their own skin like they didn't believe they were real.
The cold punched him in the chest. His breath caught. He looked down—sweat-slick scrubs clinging to his skin. Paper-thin. Useless.
We're gonna freeze before we even figure out what's happening.
A static-filled voice cracked overhead:
"Emergency revival protocol activated. All personnel proceed to Storage Wing B."
That was it. No "welcome back." No explanation. Just a broken voice barking orders like everything was normal.
---
STORAGE WING B
The door shrieked as they forced it open, metal scraping metal like the whole place resented being disturbed.
The room stank—wet rot and mildew, thick in the air.
Food.
Crates half-collapsed under their own weight, cans split open, leaking brown sludge. A woman—skin drawn tight across her face—stabbed a knife into one, gagged, then shoved a spoonful into her mouth anyway.
Clothes.
Stacks of old uniforms. Heavy. Rough. Rick grabbed the first jacket he could and threw it on. It scratched at his skin but felt like armor.
Then—guns.
He almost missed them in the shadows.
Rifles. Ancient. Rusty. Worthless at first glance. But a wiry guy stepped up, picked one up with something like reverence.
"Could clean it," he said, brushing dust from the barrel. "Might still fire."
A snort from the back.
A massive guy—built like a wall—crossed his arms. His face said he hadn't laughed in years.
"And do what? Shoot the goddamn wind?"
The wiry man didn't flinch. "Better than doing nothing."
The brute turned to the crowd, gesturing like a preacher. "Look at this tough guy. Thinks he's gonna save us with a museum piece. Y'all heard that thing up there. You really think bullets are gonna help?"
A woman stepped forward. Shoulders squared. Eyes steady. "The food's rotting. Power's dying. We can't stay down here."
The brute got in her face. His breath smelled like death.
"You volunteering, sweetheart?"
Rick saw it happen. The way her hand curled. The flicker in her eyes. The smug twitch of his lips.
CRACK.
Her fist landed square. His head snapped sideways.
He froze—just for a second. Then something twisted in his face. His smile vanished. Replaced by something uglier.
"Bitch!" he bellowed, swinging wide.
The whole room snapped.
People screamed. Some ran. Others surged in, trying to stop it.
The brute caught her by the hair and slammed her face into a metal crate. Blood splattered like paint.
"STOP!" someone shouted.
He turned, wild-eyed, and drove a punch into the wiry guy's throat. The man collapsed, gasping. No sound came out.
Then the brute dropped on him—relentless. A knee to the ribs. CRACK. Again. Then again.
Someone tackled him. A blur of motion. They hit the ground hard, rolling.
The brute came up first. He slammed his forehead into the guy's face—bone met bone. Blood sprayed. The body beneath him didn't move.
The guy started panting non stop.
Silence.
Then—he froze.
Like someone pulled the plug.
His fists dropped. Chest heaving. Face blank. And then...
He smiled. Soft. Peaceful.
Rick followed his gaze.
There was nothing there.
Just... empty air.