This Broken Earth

Chapter 8: Shadows and Sparks

Chapter 8: Shadows and Sparks


Lex ran through the ruins, boots slapping against broken pavement, flashlight beam cutting through the dark. The sky above was a hazy slate, heavy with clouds. Her breath came quick, each inhale burning, but she didn’t slow. Not yet.

Then she saw it.

A glint of metal caught her eye. Just above the rooftops, barely visible through the drifting fog—a drone. Silent. Watching.

She froze mid-stride, pulse hammering. The light in her hand flicked off with a sharp click. Darkness swallowed her.

Without thinking, she ducked into the nearest building. A warehouse. The door hung crooked on its hinges, creaking faintly as she pushed through. She didn’t stop at the entrance. Didn’t look back. Just moved, deeper and deeper into the hollow, echoing space.

The silence inside was worse than the night outside.

She paused at last near the center, where a sliver of moonlight filtered in through a jagged hole in the ceiling. Her breathing was loud in the stillness. Too loud. The flashlight trembled faintly in her hand, the cool metal slick against her palm.

There was something wrong about the air in here. Not just the dark, not just the dust and decay—but the feeling.

Her body sensed it before her mind could catch up. A prickle along her spine. A weight to the shadows.

She clicked the glass light on.

The beam swept slowly across the warehouse—exposing nothing. An overturned shelf. Empty crates. A rusted forklift. All quiet.

Until the last corner.

The light caught movement.

A shape. Wrong in all the ways that made her skin crawl.

It stepped forward, half-revealed in the glow. Skin mottled and pale, long limbs bent in angles that defied comfort. Its eyes glinted red in the light. Faint, but unmistakable. It hissed, low and sharp.

Lex stumbled back a step, a jolt of fear flashing through her chest. Her breath hitched, a small sound slipping out—barely more than a gasp.

But she didn’t scream.

She didn’t run.

She wanted to. Every part of her wanted to. But something rooted her in place. Not just fear. Not just defiance.

Curiosity.

It tilted its head, almost like it recognized her. Like it had been waiting.

Her heart thundered, every instinct screaming to move, to hide, to disappear. But still she stared. Frozen. Captivated.

Because the worst part wasn’t the creature itself.

It was the way it looked at her.

Not like prey.

Like something else.

Her breath quivered in her chest. “What do you want?”

The creature didn’t move. It just watched. Then made another sound—stranger this time, a kind of guttural click layered with static, like a language warped by something broken.

Lex blinked. “Are you trying to—talk?”

No response.

It tilted its head again, claws flexing slightly, and let out a longer, more urgent version of that same warped sound.

Lex’s heartbeat thundered in her ears. “Do you… know me?” she asked, the words tasting ridiculous in her mouth. “Why are you following me?”

Still no real answer. But its posture shifted. Restless. Like it was growing frustrated.

Its hands twitched at its sides. Shoulders rolling tight. A low, vibrating growl began to hum through its chest—not directed at her, but still enough to make her stomach turn.

Lex took a step back without meaning to. Her voice cracked. “I don’t understand—”

Suddenly, the air split with a sharp mechanical whine.

A swarm of movement swept in from above and both sides—too many to count, moving in perfect sync as they encircled her and the creature.

Lex spun just in time to see the drones flooding through the broken windows and side entrances, their light panels blinking cold and fast.

Her fear shifted in an instant.

The creature didn’t move. Not at first. It stared at the drones, then glanced back at her.

Their eyes met. Just for a second.

Then it launched forward with blinding speed.

Metal shrieked as it tore into the first drone—ripping it down and slamming it into the ground with terrifying force. Sparks flew. Another drone fired, catching the creature in the side, but it didn’t stop.

Lex hit the ground and scrambled behind a nearby forklift, her flashlight clattering out of reach. She crouched low, heart pounding, watching the chaos unfold in jagged flashes of muzzle light and sparks.

The creature moved like a storm—claws slicing, limbs bending, dodging, shredding.

A drone fired again. This time, it hit the creature square in the shoulder. It reeled but didn’t fall.

Lex watched, stunned.

Even wounded, it didn’t back down.

It was protecting her.

A sudden beam of light cut across the far end of the warehouse.

She turned, squinting as the beam swept toward her.

Nate.

He sprinted toward her, rifle slung across his chest, flashlight in his other hand. His boots pounded against the concrete, breath ragged.

“Are you okay?” he asked, dropping to a crouch beside her.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “I’m fine.”

He let out a huge sigh, chest sinking with the force of it. “Let’s get out of here.”

But she didn’t move.

“Wait—look.”

She pointed back toward the open warehouse floor, where another drone crashed to the ground in a spray of metal and sparks.

The creature stumbled, another shot hitting its side—its shoulder already scorched, dark fluid leaking down its arm. But it didn’t fall.

It kept fighting.

Each movement was ragged now, more desperate than before—but still full of impossible speed and power.

Nate stared, trying to process what he was seeing.

Lex’s voice was quiet, almost awed.

“It started protecting me,” she said. “It doesn’t want to hurt me. Only to look out for me.”

Nate didn’t respond right away. His eyes were still on the fight, jaw clenched, muscles coiled like he was deciding whether to jump in or drag her out.

“That’s great,” he said, voice tight. “But we need to get out while we still have the chance.”

Lex rolled her eyes—maybe for the first time ever at him.

Because she knew he wasn’t really listening.

His only mission was getting her to safety. No questions. No hesitation. No time to consider the fact that maybe, just maybe, this thing wasn’t their enemy.

Nate reached for her hand, and Lex took it without argument—but her steps lagged behind his.

Too slow for his liking.

Her eyes stayed on the creature, still locked in a brutal fight with the remaining drones. She listened to the sounds it made—low, ragged growls and sharp bursts of pain that didn’t seem entirely inhuman.

There was something familiar in the way it moved. In the way it endured.

With each hit it took, each blow it returned, something inside her twisted tighter.

It was once human.

A sudden, broken sound escaped its throat—something halfway between a roar and a cry—and Lex felt her heart squeeze.

She hadn’t asked it to protect her.

But it had.

And now it was suffering for it.

A blast cracked through the air—something hit metal hard, and a chunk of debris tore from the ceiling above.

Lex barely had time to flinch before it came crashing down.

Nate yanked her sideways, shielding her as they both ducked. The slab of concrete hit the floor inches from where they’d stood, scattering dust and broken shards across the ground.

“Lex,” Nate said, tugging on her arm. “We gotta go.”

She didn’t move fast enough.

He sighed, long and frustrated. “Fine. I guess we’re doing it this way.”

Before she could ask what that meant, Nate turned, grabbed her by the waist, and hoisted her over his shoulder in one swift motion.

“Hey—!” she squealed, not loud enough to draw more attention, but clearly startled.

His grip was solid. Unapologetic.

“We can talk about your new pet later,” he muttered, already moving toward the exit.

Over his shoulder, Lex could still see the creature—wounded, surrounded, refusing to fall.

And though she hated it, part of her was afraid she’d never see it again.

They didn’t make it far before another drone fired—this one hitting a beam just above them. The impact sent a shower of sparks raining down, followed by a cascade of shattered glass and splintered wood.

Nate didn’t slow. He ducked under it, one arm braced around her legs, the other steadying her back.

“We’re almost out,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

They burst through the broken warehouse door into the night air, the chaos of the fight still echoing behind them.

Nate didn’t set her down until they were clear of the building. His grip was firm but gentle as he lowered her to her feet.

Lex stumbled slightly, heart still hammering—but not entirely from the danger.

She didn’t love how impatient he’d been. But she didn’t exactly hate being in his arms either. Not the way it made her pulse jump. Not the way it stayed with her even now, buzzing beneath her skin.

Not how it felt a little too memorable for a moment like this.

Nate met her eyes, breathing hard. “We need to run all the way back. No stopping, okay?”

She nodded, still unsure how to process everything that had just happened.

They ran through the broken streets, boots pounding against pavement slick with scattered debris. The night air cut sharp through Lex’s lungs, and though her legs burned, she kept pace—mostly.

By the time they reached the old parking structure, she finally slowed, stumbling to a stop just inside the shadowed entrance.

“I need to breathe,” she panted, doubling over.

Nate stopped beside her, barely winded. His chest rose and fell steadily, but he didn’t say anything right away. Just glanced at her, eyes flicking from her face to the way she braced her hands on her knees.

“Don’t bend like that,” he said gently. “Arms over your head. You’ll catch your breath faster.”

“I know,” she snapped, sharper than she meant to. She straightened, breathing hard, arms raised. “I know.”

Nate paused, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly.

“That was a lot back there,” he said, voice quiet. “But we’re okay. That’s what matters.”

Lex didn’t answer.

She leaned back against one of the cold concrete pillars, eyes scanning the darkness outside but not really seeing it. Her thoughts spun too fast, looping on the same questions:

If that thing was protecting her…
If it had once been human…
If it somehow recognized her—

Then why couldn’t she understand it?
Why hadn’t she felt anything stronger?

Wasn’t she supposed to?

Her chest tightened—not from the run this time, but something deeper. Uneasier.

“Sorry I got a little protective,” Nate said quietly. “You bring it out of me.”

Lex turned toward him, breathing steadier now.

“I’m not mad,” she said softly. “Just… overwhelmed.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound their breathing and the distant hum of a broken world.

Then—a noise.

A soft scuffle echoed from the shadows ahead.

Nate tensed, stepping slightly in front of her.

Lex’s hand moved without thought, fingers curling around his arm in reflex.

Nate didn’t look at her, but she felt the slight shift in his posture—like he’d noticed. And didn’t mind.

The sound came again—then a blur of movement.

They both froze.

A possum darted out from behind a broken column, its pale eyes flashing briefly before it disappeared into the dark.

Lex let go, clearing her throat like it hadn’t happened. “Seriously?”

Nate exhaled too, tension melting from his stance. “Gotta admit, I was prepared to throw hands.”

She almost laughed—almost.

But instead, they stayed where they were. Still close.

Maybe too close.

The moonlight filtered down through the crumbling levels above, soft and pale. Lex looked up—and found Nate already watching her.

Her breathing had slowed. But her heart hadn’t.

He lifted a hand before she even realized what he was doing. Gently, he brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, fingers grazing her temple before tucking it behind her ear.

“You know,” he said quietly, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud, “your eyes look really blue in the moonlight.”

Lex blinked, her breath catching just slightly. He wasn’t teasing. There was no grin, no smirk—just honesty.

Warm. Quiet. Vulnerable.

She could feel the weight of his hesitation after that. The way he leaned in just enough to make her wonder.

Then he paused, hand hovering for a second like he wasn’t sure if he should’ve touched her at all—before slowly pulling it back.

“We should really get going,” he said, softer this time.

Lex looked down, hiding the flicker of disappointment she didn’t want to show. “Yeah,” she murmured. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

They moved in silence at first, footsteps echoing softly through the lower level.

Then Nate broke into a jog, and Lex followed without question.

Side by side, they ran through the fractured streets, the bunker, a short distance a way.

But her thoughts stayed behind.

She didn’t know why Nate was torn. Didn’t know what held him back.

But it had her heart on a whirlwind of a ride—and it didn’t show any signs of slowing down.