Chapter 3:

Alan’s breath hitched in his throat, and his body stiffened as he stared at the figure in the distance. The outline was blurred, barely discernible in the dimming light, but unmistakably human—or at least, it looked human. It didn’t move. It just stood there, unnervingly still, watching him.

His mind raced. Was this it? The answer? Or was this something far worse?

He wanted to call out, but his throat was dry, the words lodged in his chest like stones. The figure remained motionless, a dark silhouette against the dying light. Alan's heart pounded in his ears, and despite the eerie stillness of the world around him, he felt the growing tension, the creeping realization that this wasn’t a friendly face.

Slowly, almost instinctively, Alan backed away, his footsteps careful and quiet. The street was long and open, offering no cover. If he ran, there was nowhere to hide. But staying here felt like waiting for something far more terrifying than loneliness.

The figure still didn’t move. But Alan could feel the weight of its gaze, heavy and penetrating, as if it could see right through him. And then, without warning, the figure shifted.

A step forward.

Alan’s pulse skyrocketed. He stumbled backward, almost tripping over his own feet. He turned quickly and broke into a run, his briefcase dropping to the ground, forgotten. His shoes slapped against the pavement as he sprinted down the street, the world around him blurring into the background. He didn’t dare look back.

He dashed through the empty town, the streets all beginning to look the same—vacant, eerie, and endless. His breaths came in sharp, ragged gasps, the quiet amplifying the sound of his own panic.

Finally, he reached an alley between two buildings and darted into it, pressing his back against the cold brick wall. His chest heaved as he struggled to catch his breath, his eyes wide, scanning the street he’d just come from. The figure hadn’t followed him—or if it had, it wasn’t in sight anymore.

Alan’s head spun. What was that? A person? A hallucination? Or something else entirely?

He couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever he had just seen wasn’t normal. And worse, that it was only the beginning.

After what felt like an eternity, he cautiously peeked around the corner of the alley. The street was empty again, just as it had been before. No sign of the figure. But the oppressive silence weighed on him more heavily now, like a predator stalking its prey.

Alan turned back into the alley, leaning against the wall, trying to compose himself. His mind raced, searching for answers. If everyone was gone, who—or what—was that? Was it possible someone else had survived, only to become…something else? Or was it part of the reason for the emptiness in the first place?

He needed to figure this out, but fear gnawed at him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the truth anymore.

As he pressed forward, deeper into the alley, he heard it—footsteps. Quiet, deliberate. Approaching. Alan froze, every muscle in his body tense.

The footsteps grew louder, closer. He looked around desperately. There was no exit from this alley other than the way he had come. He could run, but his legs felt heavy, and the fear paralyzed him.

Then, the figure appeared at the mouth of the alley.

It stood there, shrouded in shadow. Alan’s heart raced so fast he thought it might burst. The figure was closer now, its shape more distinct. It was human, or at least it resembled one—a tall, thin silhouette. But something was wrong. Its movements were too smooth, too precise, like it wasn’t entirely real.

Alan took a step back, his back hitting the wall. The figure didn’t speak, didn’t make a sound. It just stood there, watching him.

“What do you want?” Alan’s voice came out in a hoarse whisper, barely audible even to himself.

The figure tilted its head slightly, as though considering his question. Then, it took another step forward.

Alan’s breath caught in his throat as a cold, creeping terror washed over him. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to move. He was trapped.

Just as the figure took another step, something strange happened. The air around them seemed to ripple, like a heatwave distorting the space between them. Alan blinked, his vision blurring for a moment. When his eyes refocused, the figure was gone.

He staggered backward, his body trembling. Had he imagined it? Was his mind playing tricks on him?

But no—he knew what he had seen. Whatever that thing was, it was real. And it had vanished just as mysteriously as it had appeared.

Alan stood there, shaking, the silence once again pressing in on him. He was alone…or at least, that’s what he wanted to believe.

But deep down, he knew the truth: He wasn’t alone anymore.

Something else was out there, something watching, waiting. And Alan couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a nightmare far worse than simply being the last person alive.

He had to find answers—before whatever was stalking him found him first.

With a deep, shaky breath, Alan pushed himself away from the wall and started walking again. But this time, every step was filled with dread, every shadow hiding a new terror.

And as the sun set on the desolate town, Alan couldn’t help but feel that the true horror hadn’t even begun.


© Brian C. Jobe