Kael Veyris turned off the ignition of his delivery van and sat in the driver's seat, staring at the duplex in front of him.
Rain tapped against the windshield in a steady rhythm, blurring the view of the sagging porch and the chipped paint on the front door. It was 8:47 p.m. on April 04, 2025, and his shift was supposed to end at 8:00.
He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, feeling the grit of a twelve-hour day. The tablet on the passenger seat glowed with his last order: a small cardboard box containing vape coils, destined for unit B. He grabbed it, opened the door, and stepped out into the drizzle.
The air smelled of wet asphalt and faint exhaust from the highway a mile off. His sneakers squished in a shallow puddle as he crossed the uneven lawn. Water soaked through the canvas, chilling his toes. He climbed the two steps to the porch, set the box against the door, and pulled his phone from his pocket.
The flash clicked as he snapped a photo for proof of delivery. A dog barked somewhere down the street, sharp and insistent. Kael glanced over his shoulder, saw nothing but the glow of streetlights cutting through the rain, and headed back to the van.
Inside, the cab was a mess. Three empty energy drink cans rolled on the floorboard, clinking against a crumpled burger wrapper from lunch. A spare jacket hung over the back of the passenger seat, still damp from yesterday's downpour. The radio played low, a local station cutting in and out.
A woman's voice mentioned power outages downtown, blaming a faulty substation. Kael adjusted the volume knob, but the static only grew louder. He twisted it off, started the engine, and pulled away from the curb. His stomach growled. Marla had texted him at 6:00 about leftover meatloaf waiting at home. He just wanted to eat and sleep.
The van's headlights swept across wet pavement as he turned onto Maple Street. The streetlights flickered once, then twice, casting brief shadows over the row of modest houses.
Kael squinted through the windshield, wiping a streak of fog with his sleeve. A block ahead, near the abandoned gas station, a faint green light shimmered in the air. It hung low, maybe ten feet off the ground, no brighter than a dying bulb. He slowed the van, craning his neck to see better. The rain made it hard to tell if it was real or just a reflection. He shook his head, pressed the gas, and kept driving.
Two streets later, the headlights caught something else. A distortion hovered over a drainage ditch by the curb, a patch of air that rippled like water disturbed by a stone. It was small, about five feet wide, and colorless except for a slight shimmer at the edges.
Kael frowned, easing off the accelerator. Before he could decide what it was, a shape darted out from the center. The creature was the size of a large cat, with thin legs and a body covered in slick, black skin that gleamed under the lights.
It moved fast, skittering across the road and into the shadow of a parked car. Kael's pulse jumped. He blinked hard, trying to convince himself it was a stray dog or a trick of the dark.
Then another came. This one crawled out slower, its spines twitching as it emerged. A third followed, identical to the first, and bolted up a telephone pole. Its claws dug into the wood, sending splinters raining onto the sidewalk.
Kael's hands tightened on the steering wheel. His throat felt dry. He slammed his foot on the gas, and the van lurched forward, tires squealing against the wet road. In the rearview mirror, he saw more shapes spilling from the distortion, small and quick, scattering into yards and alleys.
Glass shattered somewhere behind him, followed by the faint wail of a car alarm. He didn't look back again. The van rattled as he pushed it to forty on the narrow street, passing a sedan stalled in the middle of the lane. Its hazard lights blinked yellow. A woman stood beside it, rain plastering her hair to her face, waving a phone with no signal.
Kael swerved around her, his jaw clenched. The radio crackled back to life, spitting fragments of an emergency broadcast: "Stay indoors, avoid contact with unknown entities." The voice cut off, replaced by silence.
Ahead, another shimmer appeared, this time in the parking lot of a shuttered convenience store. More creatures poured out, their bodies low to the ground, moving in jerky bursts. Kael turned onto his street, the van's suspension groaning as he took the corner too fast.
His house sat at the end of the block, a single-story ranch with peeling siding and a chain-link fence. The windows were dark, the power out here too. He pulled into the driveway, killed the engine, and jumped out, leaving the door open. Rain soaked his hoodie as he ran to the front door, fumbling with his keys. They slipped once before he got the lock open and stumbled inside.
"Mom?" His voice echoed in the quiet. The living room smelled of stale coffee and the lavender candle Marla liked. He kicked the door shut, locked it, and called again. "Marla?"
A beam of light swung toward him from the kitchen. Marla stepped out, holding a flashlight, her graying hair pulled into a loose bun. She wore a faded bathrobe over sweatpants. "Kael? You're late. What's with the yelling?"
He crossed the room in three strides, his wet shoes leaving prints on the linoleum. "Something's wrong outside." His breath came fast, chest tight. He moved to the sink, grabbed a chef's knife from the block on the counter, and went to the window over the couch. The blinds rattled as he parted them with his fingers.
Across the street, shadows shifted in the neighbor's yard. Small shapes darted between bushes, too fast to count. A scream pierced the air, short and sharp, coming from a few houses down. Marla stepped closer, her flashlight beam trembling slightly.
"What the hell is that?" she asked, her voice low.Kael didn't answer. He held the knife tighter, watching the darkness swallow the street.