Chapter 6 Omens of Disaster

City of Kazan

Just as John started his motorcycle to head home, a second earthquake shook the city. This time, the tremors were more intense. Aftershocks weren't uncommon after a major quake, but something inside him told him this wasn't normal. He couldn't explain it—just a gut feeling.

The shaking lasted for a full minute, and as soon as it stopped, John sped off toward his home. As he rode, he couldn't ignore the chaos unfolding around him—people running, damaged buildings, screams, and emergency sirens filling the air.

As he turned a corner, he was forced to slam on the brakes at the shocking scene before him.

Amid the rubble of what had once been the wall of a daycare center, a small hand was sticking out. A hand he recognized.

The little girl.

The same girl he had saved that morning from being hit by a truck.

John braked hard, his motorcycle's tire skidding slightly, but he didn't even notice. His mind was locked onto the scene in front of him.

Without wasting a second, he ran toward the pile of debris, where several people were desperately trying to clear the concrete blocks. A thick cloud of dust filled the air, stinging his throat and blurring his vision, but he didn't care. He dropped to his knees and began helping, using every ounce of strength in his arms.

Every second felt like an eternity.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, mixing with the dust and his growing desperation. His muscles burned, but he kept pushing, lifting, and tossing away the rubble alongside firefighters and other volunteers.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the girl's body was uncovered.

John felt his stomach lurch violently.

The upper half of the girl's body was intact, her face frozen in an expression of terror. But... her lower half... was gone.

A pool of dark blood spread beneath her, torn organs and mangled intestines spilling out. The metallic scent of blood filled the air.

John's world tilted. A wave of nausea hit him, making his vision spin.

And then, without warning, he threw up.

He couldn't comprehend it. He couldn't process it.

"Why...?" he whispered, his voice cracking.

Why did the girl have to die?

For some reason, he had assumed things weren't that bad. Sure, there had been an earthquake, but had it really been this strong? Why did the girl have to die like this? If he hadn't been late to the university that morning, she would have been killed by the truck instead… It was as if her death was inevitable. Like fate itself was mocking the fragility of life.

A deep sense of frustration consumed him. In a matter of hours, he had gone from indifference to worry, to joy after talking to his grandmother, and now to overwhelming sorrow for the little girl. He felt suffocated by it all.

But he needed to see his grandmother. To hell with his wallet—something in his gut was telling him that he had to see her right away.

Just as he was about to leave, a desperate scream stopped him.

"You! You saved her this morning!"

John turned slowly and saw a young woman running toward him. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her face twisted in raw pain.

"If only… if only I had been a better mother…" Her voice broke as she hugged herself. "This wouldn't have happened…"

John felt his heart clench.

"This is my fault…" he murmured, his stomach twisting. "If only I hadn't left her alone… If I hadn't rushed straight to class and had stayed with her… none of this would have happened…"

The woman shook her head furiously.

"No, it's not your fault," she sobbed. "It's mine. I saw you leave her on campus, and I tried to comfort her… but I didn't even stop to thank you. All because I was in a rush. All because I wanted to get to work on time… And now she's dead!"

Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.

John felt his hands tremble. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find the right words.

Without thinking, he pulled her into a hug.

It was the only thing he could do.

Her pain was something he couldn't ease with words.

He wanted to help, but there was no time. Things were getting worse by the second, and now his grandmother—his only family—needed him. During their call earlier, he had sensed that something was off. He hadn't noticed it at the time, but after witnessing this… he couldn't ignore it anymore. The situation was far more dangerous than it seemed.

After about five minutes of silently holding each other, the woman pulled away, noticing the worry on John's face.

"Go, son… Go see your family. They need you."

John nodded.

"I'm so sorry… I really am."

He stepped away, still hearing the woman's sobs behind him. The weight of the moment crushed him, but he had no time to dwell on it.

Just then, his phone rang.

"John, kid! Where are you?" It was his neighbor, Uncle Sam, and he sounded frantic. "We've got a serious problem! The house next to Miss Karen's is on fire, and it's spreading fast! If you don't get here soon, yours will be next!"

John cursed under his breath.

"Shit! I'm on my way!"

He revved his motorcycle and sped off without hesitation.

His house… The only physical reminder of his parents. The only thing they had left him.

He had to get there.

20 minutes later

John's Town

The ride back was a blur of adrenaline and urgency. He pushed his motorcycle to its limits, dodging cars and taking dangerously sharp turns.

When he arrived, the scene was devastating. Several houses were completely destroyed, some still engulfed in flames. The streets were littered with debris and ash.

But his house… was untouched.

John hit the brakes hard.

"What the hell…?"

Before he could fully process it, something inside his house caught his eye.

A glint.

Someone was inside.

Frowning, he walked cautiously to the entrance and stepped inside. But what he found wasn't a thief.

It was an object.

Sitting on the living room table… was an eye.

A real eye, with a golden, slit-like pupil, just like a reptile's.

A cold shiver ran down his spine as he stepped closer.

As soon as he reached for it, the glow vanished, and the eye dropped to the floor. When he picked it up, he felt its slimy texture.

It was definitely a real eye.

But… from what? And how had it ended up here?

John didn't know what to think. But now wasn't the time to solve this mystery. He ran upstairs, grabbed his essentials—his wallet, cash hidden in a shoebox, a folder with important documents, and a family photo album.

As he stepped outside, he ran into Uncle Sam.

"Uncle! What happened? How did the fire start?"

The older man, his face covered in soot, shook his head.

"That's what I wanna know, kid. Some folks say they saw a purple light fall onto the rooftops right before the fire started. Others think it was a gas leak or an electrical issue, but… I don't know what to believe anymore."

John frowned.

"That doesn't make sense… With how well-maintained these houses are, there shouldn't be any gas or electrical explosions. What the hell was that light?"

They both fell silent, pondering the implications. John couldn't help but think of the eye.

"Well, either way, your house is safe, kid," Uncle Sam sighed.

John smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Maybe it's my parents' spirits protecting it, hahaha."

Uncle Sam, who had just lost his own home, gave a weak smile at the joke.

"You heading out?"

"Yeah, I'm going to see my grandmother. If you want, you can stay here until I get back."

"No need. I was thinking of moving anyway. With the insurance money, I'll head to the city center. My daughter's starting college next year."

"I get it… Well, let me know if you need anything. Take care, Uncle."

"You too, kid. See you around."

Without wasting another second, John hopped on his motorcycle and sped toward his grandmother's house.

Something told him the disaster wasn't over yet.