Maya

We huddled in the dark basement, our bodies pressed together, breath coming in tight, anxious gasps as we heard Reaper and his men encircling the compound. The tension was palpable, a living thing that wrapped around us like a suffocating shroud.“What about the others?” I whispered, my voice trembling. Armando stood nearby, his silhouette barely discernible against the shadows, the soft earth beneath us carrying a musty scent that filled my lungs with dread. Something brushed against my arm—was it a spider, or just my mind playing tricks? I fought to suppress a scream, clamping my free hand over my mouth while I frantically reached out with the other.

My fingers found him—Armando, appearing just beside me, his grip firm and grounding. “They’ll be fine,” he reassured me, his voice steady despite the chaos above. “Jake and I, along with the elders, have an escape plan. There’s a tunnel that leads us out.”

He tugged at my hand, gently urging me down onto my knees. “You’ll have to crawl from here. We need to keep quiet until we get to the bend.”

As I lowered myself to the cold ground, dread coiled tightly in my stomach. My heart thundered in my chest, each beat synchronized with the violent sounds above. I listened, horrified, as I heard the crash of furniture being overturned, the splintering of wood, the shattering of glass. Panic threatened to overwhelm me.

I shut my eyes, forcing myself to focus on Armando’s presence as he crawled ahead, his movements deliberate and calculated. I followed closely behind, my arms straining against the rough floor, pushing me deeper into the darkness. The world above us was unraveling, chaos erupting with every crash, but down here, in the suffocating silence of the basement, our fates hung in the balance. Would we make it out alive, or would the shadows consume us?

“We can’t fight him without the ammo from the compound’s ammunition room,” Armando mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, heavy with dread. “It’s buried to keep it safe.” I nodded, though I knew he couldn’t see me in the darkness. The tunnel felt alive around us, filled with the whispers of twisted spider webs and the scuttling of unseen creatures. My arms were smeared with dirt, leaves clinging to my skin like memories of where we’d been. I shuddered as I imagined the bodies of long-dead animals brushing against me, the thought almost made me scream, but I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood.

After what felt like an eternity of crawling through the suffocating gloom, Armando suddenly stopped, and I slammed my forehead into his boot. “Ouch!” I muttered, rubbing my head furiously.

“Why did you stop?” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady even as panic coiled in my stomach.

He shifted forward, then halted again, this time leaving only inches between us. “You hear that?” he asked, his tone urgent, a tremor of fear lacing his words.

I strained, but all I could perceive was the oppressive silence, thick as the dirt surrounding us. The air was stale, almost suffocating. “No, what was it?” I asked, my heart racing as unease flooded my veins.

The sounds of something—or someone—crawling towards us reached my ears, quick and menacing, an echo of impending doom that sent shivers down my spine. I backed up slowly, each inch a battle against the rising tide of panic, while Armando stood his ground in front of me, resolute yet tense. My heart raced, thudding violently against my ribs, and my hands trembled, betraying my fear.Was it The Death Dealers? Was it Reaper?

The scuffling grew louder, accompanied by heavy, labored breathing that seemed to claw at the edges of the dim tunnel. I steeled myself, prepared to confront whatever horror awaited us in the darkness, adrenaline coursing through my veins like wildfire.

“Oh, fuck. Armando,” Jake’s voice fluttered into the stillness, cutting through the tension like a knife, sending waves of relief and confusion crashing over me as flickering lights flooded our cramped space.

“It’s nice to see you here, Jake. Did everyone make it into the tunnel?” Armando asked, his tone a mixture of urgency and relief as he crawled forward, eager to reconnect with our scattered crew. I followed closely, heart still racing, until we emerged into a larger opening.

Armando helped me to my feet, and I stumbled slightly as I took in my surroundings. To my astonishment, the room resembled something out of a dream: tables scattered with maps and gear, members of our crew huddled around, their faces lit by the glow of overhead lights. A full bar, glistening with bottles of vodka, gin, and spirits, loomed across the way, its presence both inviting and surreal.

“What is this place?” I breathed, disbelief lacing my words as I tried to process the stark contrast between the terror we’d just escaped and this unexpected refuge.

Armando’s smile was warm, but it sent a thrill of uncertainty coursing through me as he leaned down to press a soft kiss on my forehead. “Welcome to The Club.”“What’s that?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, a mix of eagerness and trepidation bubbling within me.

He took my hand, the weight of his grip both reassuring and heavy with unspoken implications, guiding me toward a table surrounded by a few older gentlemen whose faces I didn’t recognize. My curiosity flared, mingling with an undeniable sense of foreboding.

“The Club is where we take our thoughts and move them around the table,” he explained, his gaze sweeping over the men who sat there with an air of authority, each one a silent sentinel of secrets. My heart raced as I realized I was about to occupy Armando’s seat—the president's chair. This was where decisions were made, where destinies were forged, and I was suddenly acutely aware of the weight pressing down on me.

As Armando let go of my hand, I remained silent, overwhelmed by the palpable disappointment emanating from the men around the table. Their eyes flickered between confusion and disapproval, glancing at me as if I were an intruder in their sacred space. I forced a smile, but doubt gnawed at me, settling like a stone in my stomach. I quietly stood up, desperate to escape the scrutiny.

My gaze drifted across the room until it landed on Luna, standing at the bar. Her hands were visibly swollen, yet she held herself with a grace that belied her discomfort. But it was Amelia who truly caught my eye—sitting in a cushioned chair, her face grotesquely swollen as if she’d been stung by a hundred bees. Panic surged within me, twisting the pit of my stomach. What had happened here? What had I stumbled into? The atmosphere felt charged, thick with tension.

I scanned the room, taking in the unfamiliar faces that surrounded me—strangers and a few small children who sat in unnerving silence as the chaotic noise above us began to fade. The low rumble of engines throbbed through the air, conjuring anxious thoughts. Were they gone? But I knew better than to assume anything. Armando was in charge; he would signal when it was time to leave.At a table with the elders, Jake and Armando were deep in conversation, their voices nearly swallowed by the eerie calm. I turned my attention to Luna, sitting beside me with her brown hair pinned up sharply, her eyes fixed on Amelia, who pressed an ice pack to her nose.

“You should have let her bleed out,” Luna murmured, venom lacing her words.

I leaned closer, picking anxiously at my nails, desperate to deflect the simmering tension. “And where would that leave me with my morals?”

Luna’s gaze remained glued to Amelia, a mixture of disdain and satisfaction churning in her expression. “She stole Jake away from me. That bitch had to learn.”

I stifled a huff, rolling my eyes with feigned indifference. But deep inside, I felt the conflict clawing at my chest. I had sworn an oath to help those in need, yet here I was, caught in a web of petty rivalries.

“Jake isn’t innocent either,” I replied, my voice steady despite the turmoil within. “He could have said something, but he didn’t. He’s just as much to blame as she is.”

Luna's breath hitched, and she redirected her focus to me, the intensity of her gaze pinning me in place. “You don’t get to blame Jake in this. You have no idea what really happened.”

The accusation hung between us like an unanswered question, thick with the weight of unspoken truths. My heart raced as I braced myself for the truth of the matter—a truth I was terrified to confront.

I stood up, meeting Luna’s fierce gaze with a steady resolve that belied the turmoil inside me. I wasn’t afraid of her; women like her passed through the emergency room every day, wielding their threats like weapons. “I don’t have time for your games, Luna,” I said, my voice sharp, slicing through the tension in the air.

My eyes fell to her hand as she balled it into a tight fist, rage simmering just beneath the surface, as if she were ready to unleash a storm upon me. The intensity of the moment crackled between us, and my heart thundered in my chest, pumping adrenaline through my veins. If it came to a fight, I knew I’d have to fend for myself—but I wasn’t prepared for that yet.

Before she could swing, Armando surged forward, stepping between us like a bulwark against the impending violence. “Luna, that’s enough!” His voice echoed through the dim, dirt-walled room, commanding attention as everyone instinctively shifted their focus from our confrontation.

Armando’s hand gripped my arm, drawing me aside and forcing me to sit next to a girl and her mother, who hastily moved over, deliberately avoiding eye contact. The air felt thick with unspoken judgments as I settled into their discomfort.

“Stay out of her way,” Armando warned, his tone low but heavy with urgency. “I can’t always be here to save you.” With a frustrated sigh, he strode back toward Jake, who stood with a glass in hand, casting an appraising glance my way. Jake slowly shook his head, an expression of quiet resignation etched on his face before he turned back to Armando, leaving me suspended in a web of unyielding tension. Each heartbeat thrummed with the weight of anger and uncertainty, leaving me to ponder the precarious balance of power that hung in the air like a loaded gun, ready to go off at any moment.

Time stretched and warped as I felt the heaviness of sleep pull me under, a soft fog enveloping my mind. In that twilight space, I drifted back to a warm memory, one that flickered like an old film reel. I was home again, with my mother—her laughter echoing through the air as she danced around the kitchen in her favorite peach dress, the fabric swaying with each step. White sandals adorned her ankles, and her hair was pinned into a perfect bun, every strand meticulously in place. I vividly remember the feel of the worn, familiar fabric of my Mickey Mouse onesie hugging my small body, the oversized ears grinning up at me like old friends. My mother approached, a plate of golden mac and cheese steaming in her hands, accompanied by a crisp, fried chicken leg. The aroma enveloped me, and instinctively, my little hands reached out. I grasped the chicken, its warmth comforting against my palm, and took a bite, savoring the blissful crunch.

But then, confusion washed over me. I glanced to my side and saw shadows of laughter—a glimpse of Reaper, grotesque and unnerving, chewing his food with an exaggerated enthusiasm that twisted my stomach. My mother laughed too, her joy piercing the bubble of my innocence, and a visceral scream erupted from deep within me, breaking the spell of the memory.

Suddenly, I jolted back into reality. My heart raced as I found Amelia hovering over me, her hands gently caressing my arms, grounding me in the moment. "You are okay," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm against the chaos still swirling in my mind. I blinked rapidly, my surroundings coming into focus, revealing an empty room bathed in shadow and echoes of what felt like a distant nightmare.

I took a few steadying breaths, scanning Amelia's face for any hint of reassurance. “Where is everyone?” The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears.She leaned back, her gaze shifting towards a ladder leading up into the shadows of the room above. A door was ajar, the light spilling in like a beacon through the darkness. “Jake, Armando, and some of the others left to check things out. They cleared it for us to come back up,” she said, her voice steady yet laced with an undercurrent of anxiety as she helped me to my feet.

“Is everything okay up there?” I asked, my voice cracking slightly as I pulled the sleeves of my shirt over my arms. A chill had begun to settle in the dirt room, creeping through the cracks of fear that had made a home in my heart.

Amelia met my gaze, a look of uncertainty flitting across her features before she shook her head slightly. “I think you may want to go check things out yourself.” The words felt like a cold slap, and I swallowed hard, trying to suppress the dread rising in my throat like bile. I could barely breathe, the air thickening as panic whispered in the corners of my mind.

My hands trembled, fingers slick with sweat as I made my way to the ladder, gripping the cold metal rungs with a desperation that threatened to crush my resolve. With every ounce of strength I had left, I pushed myself upward, each step feeling like a betrayal of my instincts, urging me to flee instead of confront whatever awaited me on the surface.

As I climbed, the darkness of the dirt room receded, replaced by the harsh glare of daylight. My eyes squinted against the brightness, adjusting slowly to the chaos that unfurled before me. The scene was more harrowing than I could have ever prepared for.