Chapter 2: The Hidden Menace in the Ruins

The ruins clawed at the ashen sky, their skeletal remains twisted like the ribs of a long-dead giant. Dust hung thick in the air, bitter and metallic, stinging our throats with every ragged breath. My fingers brushed against Jack's arm—warm, solid, trembling—as the ground shuddered beneath us. His grip tightened around mine, a lifeline in the chaos."Hold on," he said, voice frayed at the edges.The earth split with a roar, swallowing chunks of rubble into its blackened maw. When the tremors ceased, silence descended—heavy, unnatural. Tom's voice shattered it, sharp with urgency. "Jack! You okay?"He emerged from the haze, face streaked with grime, eyes scanning the wreckage. Relief flickered in Jack's gaze as they clasped forearms. "We're intact. For now."Tom jerked his chin toward the horizon. "Shelter. Now. This ground's got more rage left in it."We navigated the corpse of the city, boots crunching over glass and splintered concrete. Shadows pooled in the hollows of collapsed buildings, and the wind carried whispers—of rot, of rust, of something watching. Jack moved like a blade, alert and deliberate, while Tom's knuckles whitened around his crowbar.I froze."Tracks," I whispered.They snaked through the debris, deliberate and fresh. Jack crouched, tracing a gloved finger over the imprint. "Not survivors. Hunters." His jaw tightened. "Move quiet. Kill noise."A whimper pierced the stillness."Please… anyone…"The voice trembled—young, female, raw with terror. Jack's hand locked around my wrist. "Trap.""She's hurt," I hissed."Or bait." His eyes hardened, but the plea came again, weaker this time. A girl's face materialized in the gloom: tear-streaked, bloodied, huddled beneath a fractured beam. Olivia."Help me," she rasped. "They left… the tremors…"Jack's knife glinted in the half-light as he stepped closer. "How'd you survive alone?""I—I hid." Her lashes fluttered. "Please… don't leave me."Tom shouldered past, gruff but gentle. "Stick close. Run when we say run."She limped behind us, her breaths shallow, too rhythmic. My nape prickled. The shelter we claimed—a gutted library—offered little comfort. Jack rationed water; Tom scavenged splintered wood for a fire. Olivia crouched by the flames, her reflection warped in the broken windows."Food?" I asked.Jack's pack gaped empty.Olivia's hands flew to her mouth. "I'm sorry—I was so hungry, I—""Bullshit." Jack's blade kissed her throat. "You're no scavenger."Her fear dissolved into a smile—cold, serpentine. "Clever boy."The fire hissed as she stood, her stance shifting from cowed to predatory. "You're exactly what he wants.""Who?" Tom growled.Her laughter skittered up the walls. "The Architect. He's been waiting for specimens like you." She backed into the shadows, voice dripping mockery. "Sleep well. Tomorrow… you meet the maze."The floor erupted.Concrete cracked beneath us as the ceiling collapsed, sealing the exit. Olivia's silhouette melted into the dust, her final words echoing: "Run, little rats. Run."Jack seized my arm. "We don't run." His eyes burned with a ferocity I'd never seen. "We hunt."