Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Silent Hunters

The headlights of Zack's cruiser cut through the dark streets of Oakwood Heights. Rows of houses stood in tense silence, their windows darkened, curtains drawn tight as though the residents feared something lurking just outside. The eerie stillness was broken only by the low, restless hum of his car engine and the distant, sporadic barking of dogs.

Ethan sat in the passenger seat, his fingers tapping nervously on the dashboard. "Every night, more reports come in," he muttered. "No bodies. No blood. Just... clothes."

Zack's jaw tightened. The same thought had been haunting him for weeks. His mind raced back to the initial report that had brought him into this mystery—no signs of struggle, no physical evidence beyond the empty garments left behind. It defied logic.

"People don't just vanish," Ethan continued. "There has to be something we're missing."

Zack didn't respond. His eyes scanned the street ahead, hyper-aware of every shadow, every flicker of movement. He had learned not to trust his senses entirely—this thing, whatever it was, thrived in darkness, moving unseen.

As they neared the source of the latest complaint, a chill swept through the car, and a sudden, piercing howl shattered the silence.

"That's close," Zack said, pulling the cruiser to a stop.

They stepped out into the night, the air heavy with an unnatural cold. A wave of barking echoed from every direction, a cacophony of fear and desperation. Dogs, their eyes wild with terror, clawed at windows and doors, trying to escape.

"Over there!" Ethan pointed to a narrow alley between two houses.

The two officers moved cautiously, their flashlights slicing through the darkness. A series of paw prints led into the alley—deep, frantic scratches marked the ground, as if something had been dragged away.

Zack knelt beside the prints, his heart thudding in his chest. The tracks were interrupted halfway down the alley, fading into smooth, undisturbed earth.

"What the hell?" Ethan whispered.

Zack rose slowly. "It's as if it was... lifted. Taken right off the ground."

A sudden, metallic clatter behind them made both men whirl around, guns drawn. Their flashlights illuminated a trash can, now lying on its side, its contents spilled across the pavement.

They held their breath.

Then came the sound—deep, guttural, and wrong. It wasn't human. It wasn't animal. It was something between a growl and a sigh, a sound that vibrated in their bones and sent ice down their spines.

Ethan's grip on his weapon tightened. "Did you hear that?"

Zack nodded, his eyes fixed on the shadows. "Stay close."

The darkness seemed alive, shifting, pulsing. Every instinct told Zack to back away, to leave this place behind—but he forced himself to stand his ground.

"Listen carefully," he whispered. "We don't run. No matter what happens. We hold our ground."

Ethan swallowed hard. "You think it can smell fear?"

Zack didn't answer. Instead, he focused on the sound of his own breathing, steadying it, refusing to give in to the terror clawing at his mind.

Suddenly, the air grew colder, and a faint shimmer passed before their eyes. It was as if the very fabric of reality rippled for a brief moment.

Zack's finger tightened on the trigger. "There!"

The shimmer moved, a blur of distorted air. Bullets fired, the sharp retorts echoing through the alley.

The rounds hit something—there was a visible impact, a burst of sparks as if striking a shield. The creature, unseen but undeniably present, let out a screeching wail that seemed to tear through the air itself.

Ethan stumbled backward. "What the—"

"It's shielded," Zack shouted, his voice strained. "Bullets aren't enough."

The creature lunged, its presence a rush of cold wind and pressure. Zack felt it brush past him, an overwhelming force that sent him sprawling to the ground.

"Move!" he shouted, rolling to his feet.

The shimmer darted away, vanishing into the night. Silence fell once more, heavy and oppressive.

Zack's breath came in ragged gasps. "Did you see it?"

Ethan nodded, his face pale. "I didn't see it. I felt it. Like... a shadow made of ice."

They exchanged a glance filled with unspoken fear and understanding.

---

Back at the station, Zack stood in front of the large kennel where Max, the blind bloodhound, lay quietly. Unlike the other dogs, Max remained calm, his breathing even, his ears twitching only slightly.

"He didn't react," Zack murmured. "Even when the others went wild, he stayed calm."

Ethan leaned against the doorframe, his expression grim. "Because he couldn't see it. Whatever it is, it's tied to sight."

Zack nodded slowly. "It's like... a predator that hides in our vision. It's there, but only visible in glimpses."

"How do we fight something we can't see?" Ethan asked.

Zack's jaw clenched. "We find a way to make it visible. Every predator has a weakness."

Ethan gave a bitter chuckle. "Weakness, huh? Well, I hope we figure it out before my wedding. Two months to go, and Jennifer's insisting on that damn cruise."

Zack rubbed his temples. "Ethan..."

"I know," his partner said, holding up a hand. "I'll talk to her again. But she's not going to be happy."

"Better unhappy than gone," Zack muttered.

---

Later that night, as Zack sat alone in his apartment, Duke lay at his feet. The German Shepherd's eyes flicked toward the window, ears perked.

"What is it, boy?" Zack asked softly.

Duke didn't move, but his growl was low, a warning.

Zack turned toward the window. Outside, the streetlight flickered.

Then, for a split second, he saw it—a distortion in the air, like heat rising from pavement. It hovered near the light, motionless, watching.

Zack didn't blink.

The streetlight went out.

And the night swallowed the shimmer whole.