Pending Chaos

Sarah's heart was still racing by the time they reached Leo's apartment.

It was a three-story building, each floor packed with six, two-bedroom flats—more than the usual two-per-floor setup found in that area. For an average citizen, Leo's flat was solid. The rooms were clean, well-furnished, and had the kind of comfort that made it easy to forget the world outside was falling apart.

Surprisingly, the city felt calm. Too calm.

It was a strange shift from the chaos they'd just escaped. Military trucks rumbled down the roads every hour, drones buzzed above, scanning the skies and streets. People walked around with nervous energy, trying to act normal. But deep down, everyone knew the truth: it was only a matter of time before hell found its way here too.

Those who escaped the destruction from the other part of the city had taken shelter here. The air was thick with unspoken fear. The news kept airing real-time drone footage of the carnage—sharkmen tearing people apart, mutated monsters ripping through buildings, blood everywhere. The whole world was watching it unfold.

Inside the apartment, Sarah couldn't stay calm.

"Leo, I told you to report that monster, but no, you said no one would believe us!" she snapped, voice rising. "Now look where we are. He saw my face! That flying freak could show up any second and kill us, just like he did with that couple at the amusement park!"

She was pacing now, her tone loud enough to echo across the hallway. But Leo didn't flinch. He was used to Sarah's outbursts. His eyes stayed glued to the glowing screen of his laptop, fingers tapping quickly as he zoomed in on a set of satellite images.

"I think I'm starting to get it," he muttered, mostly to himself. "It's all linked to the meteors…"

Sarah kept ranting in the background, but Leo was deep into the data.

On his screen were clear satellite shots—raw images of something terrifying: a dark hole in space, appearing and disappearing randomly. And each time it did… something dropped.

"Meteor rocks," Leo whispered, narrowing his eyes. "Three times now… the hole appears, then boom—impact. The last one released two."

He pointed at the display, highlighting images of two distinct meteor rocks. One shimmered with a glowing blue liquid, almost like magma frozen mid-burst. The other had the same pattern, but the glow was red—darker, almost angry in color.

He clicked again, comparing images.

"The first meteor to crash… the one that took down Tony's plane. It was blue," he said. "Same color as the one that fell into the Pacific ocean.

More satellite data popped up on the screen. Dots. Coordinates. Timelines.

"Then the third one dropped both colors—blue and red—into the ocean, ten miles from where that massive cruise ship disappeared."

His eyes lit up as the puzzle clicked into place in his head.

"The blue meteors... they give supernatural powers. No disfigurement. But the red ones? They twist whatever touches them—humans, animals—it doesn't matter. They turn into something else entirely. Blood-hungry, twisted... primal."

He leaned closer to the screen, voice now a whisper.

"And if something touches both…" he paused. "They evolve. They get smart. Stronger. Like the sharkmen."

Behind him, Sarah's voice cut through his thoughts again.

"LEO!"

He snapped out of it.

"There's nothing in your damn fridge," she said, standing with the door open, scowling at the empty shelves.

Leo groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Alright. I'll head to the store. Get something that'll last us a while."

"You better," she shot back, crossing her arms.

Just as Leo turned to grab his keys and left the apartment, Sarah's phone buzzed. A WhatsApp message.

She glanced at it.

It was from her manager.

She opened the WhatsApp message and paused.

A picture filled her screen—one of the finest bottles of wine they used to serve at the bar, sitting beside a full roast chicken, its skin golden and perfectly crisp. Around it were plates of steaming white rice, thick slabs of peppered goat meat, fried plantains glistening with oil, and a saucy plate of seafood pasta, the prawns arranged like they were calling her name. The whole setup looked like a royal feast on a silver platter.

Her mouth watered instantly.

Below the photo, her manager had typed:

"The world might end any minute now. Why don't you come enjoy all this at my place… while you still can?"

Sarah stared at the screen, her stomach growling. She hadn't eaten since the chaos began. Everything inside her wanted to say no, but the food—God, the food—was hard to ignore. And she knew Mr. Wan lived just a few blocks away. It wouldn't take more than five minutes to walk.

She already knew it was bait. He didn't send that message just to feed her. He wanted company. Warm company. She wasn't stupid. In fact, Sarah had once tried to seduce Mr. Wan back before she met Leo, but the man had never looked her way—not with Clara around.

Clara was the kind of woman that made every man in a room stare. Big, juicy melons that bounced like they had a life of their own, thick hips that filled her jeans to the limit, and those dangerous bedroom eyes. Her voice alone could make a man weak in the knees. Mr. Wan was all over her. Everyone at the bar knew Clara was his favorite—his weakness.

But Clara had left during the first wave of the chaos with some coworkers and customers. No one had heard from her since. For all they knew, she didn't make it.

Now he wanted Sarah.

That was clear.

And even though she knew it, she told herself this wasn't about sex. It's just food, she reasoned. Just a plate or two. Nothing more.

Besides, Sarah was no stranger to bending the rules when it came to survival—or comfort.

Her eyes lit up as she remembered the stories Clara used to tell about Mr. Wan's apartment. Big flat screen, full AC, marble floors, and a jacuzzi in the bathroom. Sarah's interest doubled. Her steps were already heading toward the door when a warning flashed in her mind.

Leo told me to stay in.

That freak—the flying one—could still be watching. He saw her face.

She paused, then quickly rushed back inside, grabbed one of Leo's oversized hoodies, and pulled it over her head. It smelled like him—mild cologne and fabric softener—but it would do a good job hiding her face.

She glanced at the wall clock. 7:03 p.m.

The city was beginning to glow with its usual night lights. Street lamps flickered on. People moved with quiet fear. The military patrols were still in place, keeping the peace, but everyone knew one thing for sure:

Peace was only temporary.

Sarah stepped out, hoodie pulled low, her heart racing—not from fear, but excitement.

Meanwhile Leo moved quickly through the aisles, tossing canned goods, bottled water, energy bars, and anything non-perishable into his cart. He already had two full baskets stacked and ready to roll. He wasn't playing around—he'd seen enough chaos to know what was coming.

This city wasn't safe. Not for long.

It wouldn't be long before people turned on each other—fighting, looting, burning, killing—all for food. For survival. That's why Leo kept his hoodie up, head low, and shotgun strapped under his clothes. It wasn't just for show. The manager at the checkpoint earlier had wanted the gun back, but Leo had looked him straight in the eye and gave him a glare cold enough to make his lips lock.

That was Leo.

He had a way of making people back off when he needed to. Unless, of course, there were boobs involved. Then his knees got soft, and his brain fried like granded beans in hot oil.

The store was tense. Everyone pushing their carts, grabbing items like they were racing a silent clock. No one smiled. No friendly nods. Just stiff bodies and cautious eyes watching one another like any second, someone might lose it. Everyone moved with the same fear:

What if the person next to me isn't human anymore?

Then came trouble.

The front doors burst open and five guys strolled in—guns drawn, faces hardened. No masks, no hiding. One of them pointed a rifle at the cashiers and barked:

"Don't move. Don't scream. Don't be stupid."

The others spread out, waving their weapons.

"Keep shopping," another ordered the shoppers. "Act normal. Nobody move funny or I'll paint these walls with your brains."

They weren't after cash. They were here for food—grabbing baskets, knocking over shelves, shouting at whoever stood in their way.

Leo froze, hand halfway to a can of sardines. He eyed his cart. Maybe I can sneak out with it, he thought. If everyone was looting, he might as well walk out like the rest.

Then…

Another figure entered the store.

He moved like a ghost—slow, calm, confident.

He wore a long, dark overcoat that brushed the floor as he walked, black gloves tight over his hands, and a round, jet-black hat that cast a shadow across his face. His skin was pale, lips curved in a calm smirk, and his eyes… hollow. Cold. He looked like a Nazi hitman mixed with a priest and a serial killer—all in one.

He stopped in the center of the store.

"Well, well…" His voice was smooth but carried like thunder. "What do we have here?"

One of the armed looters turned and raised his gun. "Shut the fu—"

BOOM.

The man's head exploded—like a balloon filled with blood and brains. Chunks splattered across the aisle. The body dropped, lifeless.

Screams were about to erupt when the man in the hat lifted a single gloved hand.

"Now, now," he said with a smile. "I forgot to mention—screaming makes me nervous."

The cashier girl behind the counter couldn't hold back her fear. She gasped—about to let out a scream.

Pop.

Her head burst just like the first.

Blood sprayed across the counter. The entire store went deathly still.

The man clapped his hands softly. "Much better. Let's try and keep the decorum, shall we?"

A man beside Leo whispered, eyes wide in shock, breath caught in his throat: "Shit… he's a supe."

No one dared speak after that.

You could feel the fear in the air—thick and choking. A woman in the baby aisle dropped a packet of diapers, her hands shaking like she had a fever. A young boy clutched his mother's hand so tightly his knuckles turned white. An old man dropped to his knees, whispering a prayer under his breath. Everyone else stood frozen, breathing hard, afraid to even blink wrong.

The hat man walked slowly past the shattered remains of the looter he had killed. He looked around like he was shopping.

"If everyone just stays calm and follows instructions," he said gently, "no more heads need to pop today."

He smiled again.

But no one dared smiled back.