Into the Unknown

Ryan's heart pounded as he followed Rebel through the narrow, crumbling alleyway. His mind raced, trying to process what was happening. The reality he'd known—the one he'd woken up in that morning—seemed a lifetime away now. And the guy running just ahead of him, this alternate version of himself, was a constant, jarring reminder of how quickly everything had changed.

Another me? The thought was almost too big to grasp. It felt ridiculous, like something out of one of those comic books his little brother read. Alternate realities, different versions of yourself living parallel lives—it was the kind of thing you joked about after watching a sci-fi movie, not something you actually expected to experience.

But here he was.

Rebel moved fast, his steps confident and sure as he weaved between piles of debris, his body close to the walls as if to avoid being seen. Ryan was still stumbling, struggling to keep up, the muscles in his legs burning with the effort. Every few seconds, he glanced over his shoulder, expecting those strange, shambling figures to reappear at any moment.

"Where are we going?" Ryan finally asked, his voice breathless. He wasn't sure how long they had been running—it could've been five minutes or five hours. The endless maze of decaying buildings and debris-strewn streets all looked the same.

"Someplace safe," Rebel replied, barely glancing back. His voice was tight, focused. "For now."

Ryan's lungs burned as he struggled to keep up the pace. "And... where's that?"

Rebel slowed just enough to glance over his shoulder. His expression was hard to read—part annoyance, part frustration, but mostly caution. "Look," he said, "I get that you're freaked out. Believe me, I remember what it was like the first time this happened to me. But we're not safe out here. Those things back there? They're called Scrappers, and trust me, you don't want to be anywhere near them when the sun goes down."

Ryan swallowed hard, the image of those pale, vacant-eyed creatures flashing in his mind. "Scrappers? What… what are they?"

Rebel pressed his lips together as if he was considering how much to say. After a moment, he gave a curt nod. "Let's just say they used to be people. Or versions of people. Now they're more like... well, predators. They hunt. They track. And they're fast—faster than they look."

Ryan shuddered, his skin crawling with the memory of the way one of the Scrappers had paused near him, sniffing the air like some kind of wild animal. "Used to be people?" He couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice.

Rebel didn't look at him as he replied, "Yeah. But that was before this world started falling apart. Now they're just scavengers—scraps of what's left." He paused for a moment, then added, "And they're not the worst thing out here."

Ryan stopped in his tracks, the weight of Rebel's words sinking in. "Not the worst? What could be worse than them?"

Rebel turned to face him fully this time, his eyes locking onto Ryan's with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "There are a lot of things that'll kill you in this world, but not all of them will do it quick. Trust me, you don't want to find out. We need to keep moving."

Ryan swallowed the rising panic in his throat. He had questions—so many questions—but there was something in Rebel's voice, a quiet urgency that made him push them aside for now. He nodded silently and forced his legs to move again, trailing after Rebel as they pressed deeper into the ruined city.

The alley eventually opened into a wider street, though the scene didn't improve. The buildings were taller here, massive towers that loomed overhead like the skeletons of fallen giants. Many of the windows were shattered, their jagged edges glinting in the dim light, and the ground was littered with broken glass and rubble. Occasionally, they passed rusting cars, their doors hanging off their hinges or their frames twisted from some kind of impact. It looked like a war zone—though what kind of war, Ryan couldn't guess.

They turned another corner, and this time, Ryan noticed a difference. Ahead, one of the buildings stood relatively intact. It wasn't pristine—nothing in this world seemed to be—but the windows weren't smashed, and the walls, though covered in dirt and grime, hadn't collapsed. A small relief, but in a place like this, it was enough to make Ryan's pulse quicken with a small spark of hope.

"This is it," Rebel said, finally slowing to a stop. He cast a quick glance around the street, as if scanning for any signs of movement, before stepping toward the building's entrance.

Ryan hesitated for a second, then hurried after him. The door was heavy and creaked loudly as Rebel pushed it open, the sound echoing down the empty street. Inside, the air was cooler, though it carried the same musty scent of disuse that clung to everything in this world. They stepped into a large lobby—once sleek and modern, judging by the dusty remnants of a marble floor and high ceilings, but now faded and forgotten.

Rebel wasted no time, heading straight for a door at the far end of the lobby. Ryan followed closely, his footsteps muffled by the thick layer of dust underfoot. As they reached the door, Rebel paused, looking back at Ryan with an odd expression. "Stay close," he warned.

Ryan nodded, though he wasn't sure what else to do at this point but follow. He had no idea where he was, or what he was supposed to do. Rebel seemed to know more, and right now, he was Ryan's only lifeline. The thought of being alone in this place, with no answers and those Scrappers lurking nearby, was enough to keep him glued to Rebel's side.

Rebel pushed open the door, revealing a narrow staircase that spiraled upward into darkness. "Upstairs," he said, his voice low. "We're safer higher up."

Ryan blinked at the staircase, feeling a stab of unease in his gut. It wasn't that he was afraid of heights—it was more the idea of being trapped up there, with nowhere to run if something went wrong. But Rebel was already heading up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and Ryan didn't have the luxury of second-guessing. He followed, the steps creaking softly beneath his weight as they ascended into the shadows.

They climbed for what felt like an eternity, passing floor after floor of darkened corridors and empty rooms. Ryan's legs were burning again by the time they finally stopped, about seven or eight floors up, in front of another heavy door. Rebel pressed his hand against it for a moment, listening for any sounds beyond. Satisfied, he turned the handle and pushed it open.

Inside was a room that Ryan hadn't expected. It wasn't luxurious, by any means, but it was... livable. There was a small table near the window, an old couch pushed against one wall, and a few battered chairs. The floor was strewn with blankets, some crumpled, others folded neatly in a corner. The windows were intact, though grimy, and through them, Ryan could see the tops of nearby buildings and the swirling gray sky above.

Rebel moved quickly, heading straight to the window. He scanned the streets below, his eyes narrowing as he watched for any movement. After a moment, he nodded to himself and stepped away. "We should be good here for a while," he said.

Ryan stood awkwardly near the doorway, unsure of what to do with himself. "This is where you live?"

Rebel shrugged. "For now. It's safer up here. Fewer chances of running into trouble." He glanced at Ryan, his expression softening just a bit. "Take a seat. You look like you're about to pass out."

Ryan hesitated, then shuffled over to one of the chairs and sat down, his body sagging with exhaustion. His muscles ached, and his head was pounding, but the weight of everything that had happened in the last few hours—or however long it had been—was pressing down on him even harder.

After a few moments of silence, Ryan finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't... I don't understand any of this."

Rebel leaned against the windowsill, his arms crossed over his chest. He let out a sigh, his expression unreadable. "Yeah, I figured. It's a lot to take in."

"No kidding," Ryan muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "One minute, I'm standing in a lab, watching some experiment with a portal, and the next... I'm here. Wherever here is."

Rebel didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted to the window, and for a long time, the only sound in the room was the faint creak of the building settling, and the distant hum of the wind outside. Finally, Rebel spoke, his voice low and careful. "This is one version of the world. One of many. You got pulled into the wrong one when the portal malfunctioned."

Ryan frowned, trying to wrap his head around that. "So... I'm in another dimension? Another reality?"

"Exactly," Rebel said, turning back to face him. "This place used to be like your world. But things... happened. The cracks between dimensions started to grow, and everything started falling apart."

"Cracks between dimensions?" Ryan shook his head, the absurdity of the situation starting to overwhelm him. "This doesn't make any sense. How can that even happen?"

Rebel's jaw tightened. "It happens when people mess with things they don't understand. That's what your world is doing—Blake and his team. They're playing with fire, and sooner or later, they're going to burn everything down."

Ryan swallowed, a cold weight settling in his stomach. "And... and the Scrappers? The things we saw?"

Rebel's eyes darkened. "They're what's left of the people here. When the cracks started, reality started... splitting. Breaking down. The people couldn't handle it. Some of them just... fell apart. Scrappers are what's left when everything else gets stripped away."

Ryan stared at him, his mind reeling. This was too much. All of it. His entire life had been ordinary, uneventful. And now... now he was sitting in a crumbling skyscraper, talking to a version of himself from another dimension, in a world that had literally fallen apart.

"This can't be real," he whispered.

Rebel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Believe me, I wish it wasn't. But it is." He straightened up, walking over to the table and pulling out one of the chairs. He sat down across from Ryan, his expression serious. "You need to understand something. This isn't just about you being in the wrong place. The fact that you're here means that things are getting worse. The cracks are growing, and it's not just this world. If it's happening here, it'll happen in your world too. And if we don't find a way to stop it, there won't be any safe place left."

Ryan stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in like lead. "So... what do we do?"

Rebel's eyes hardened. "We fight back."