Chapter 3 – The First Breach (Night Watch)

  “Seven, you’re up. Midnight shift.”

  Chris’s voice had been half-asleep when he said it, barely above a mumble. Still, it stuck.

  Now it was just me and the hum of the shelter's systems, the only light coming from flickering overhead panels and the faint glow of the map terminal in the corner.

  I sat at the edge of the common zone, rifle across my lap, sidearm holstered, boots planted firm on the floor. My gear creaked softly when I adjusted—just enough to remind me that I wasn’t dreaming.

  I checked my M4, then the Beretta M9 on my hip. Magazines full. Safety toggled off on muscle memory. Everything in order.

  Outwardly calm. Inwardly restless.

  Day 3 had been busy. Chris found a few emergency panels embedded in the corridors—sealed behind old maintenance boxes. One had a flickering red glyph and what looked like a quarantine lockdown system. We hadn’t touched them yet.

  No one wanted to see what they'd do.

  Everyone else was asleep now.

  Greg was snoring in his room with the door cracked open.

  Chris had passed out at the table mid-doodle.

  Jasmine lay curled on the lounge couch, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the faint pulse of light she always seemed to carry around her.

  Jake had frozen a line of his blanket accidentally—it still hung stiff where it met the edge of his foot.

  Yuri, as always, wasn’t where I expected her to be.

  She didn’t sleep like the rest of us. She sat. Meditated. Occasionally moved like a wind chime on a string of fate.

  My eyes drifted across the room, scanning for movement that wasn’t there. My body was still. My hands never strayed from the stock of my rifle. I couldn’t afford to relax.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Something about this place kept whispering to me.

  The numbers on our necks.

  The powers we’d started manifesting.

  The fact that this shelter had been prepped down to the last towel and freeze-dried packet—but no one had ever come back to check on us.

  A sound broke the silence.

  Not inside.

  Outside.

  Distant.

  But deep.

  A roar, low and guttural, like metal grinding through bone.

  I stiffened. Instinct took over.

  I rose slowly and crossed to the nearest slit-window shaft—just enough space to peer through the narrow reinforced glass. Nothing but snow. Wind. Shadow.

  But I heard it again. Louder this time.

  Closer.

  The W.M.B.s.

  We'd started calling them that—Wild Magical Beasts. Things that prowled beyond the walls. Creatures we’d only seen from a distance, silhouettes in the blizzard. Too big. Too fast.

  Too wrong.

  The shelter had held so far.

  But I couldn’t shake the feeling.

  Something was testing the edges.

  I tightened the strap on my vest and turned back to the others, still sleeping peacefully in the dim warmth of the Shelter.

  Whatever was out there… it hadn’t broken through.

  Not yet.

  Warning Signs

  My gaze drifted toward the far corner of the cafeteria, where Chris's makeshift workstation was sprawled across two tables. Wires. Old tech panels. Open hatches from exposed wall conduits. He’d been obsessed since day two—muttering about glyphs, trying to sync his portal ability with the shelter’s wiring.

  If anyone could crack the secrets of this place, it’d be him.

  And if he did… maybe we’d find a way out.

  Or at least figure out why we were brought here at all.

  I glanced once more at the others—Greg’s snores had faded into deep, steady breathing. Jasmine had curled deeper under her blanket, a faint shimmer of illusion mist curling at her fingers even in sleep.

  I stepped out, quietly.

  Boots barely touched the carpeted floor as I moved toward the central access ring—the heart of Shelter 17.

  That’s when it happened.

  THUD.

  A heavy impact, just above me—like something had dropped straight onto the roof.

  I froze.

  Finger instantly curled around the trigger of my rifle, barrel angled toward the ceiling. My eyes darted to every light fixture, every vent, every seam in the wall.

  Nothing.

  Then it came again.

  Scrrrrchk.

  A scraping sound, like claws against metal, skittering across the top of the shelter.

  My breath caught in my throat. Muscles tightened.

  Then I saw it—a shadow. Slithering across the frosted panel above the central skylight. Barely illuminated by the shelter’s emergency lighting. But definitely there.

  Big. Fast. Wrong.

  My heart slammed against my ribs.

  If that thing found a weakness in the structure…

  We wouldn't stand a chance.

  I backed toward the terminal panel just as the main entrance doors shuddered violently, a heavy BOOM shaking dust from the ceiling. The mag-locks groaned, then slammed shut with a deafening hiss and a locking click.

  Automatic lockdown.

  The shelter was sealed.

  “Shit.” I turned on my heel and sprinted back toward the sleeping quarters. “Everyone up! Get the hell up—we’ve got company!”

  My voice ricocheted down the steel corridors.

  Doors opened. Lights flickered on. One by one, groggy shapes rose from bedrolls and cots, confusion written on every face.

  Yuri stepped out first, already alert, her katana drawn before she even asked, “What’s happening?”

  “Something’s outside. Big. Fast. Not human.”

  She didn’t flinch. “W.M.B.?”

  I nodded. “Most likely. And the system just locked us in.”

  Jasmine blinked through a haze of half-sleep. “Wait... locked in?”

  Chris rubbed at his face, eyes wide as he realized what I meant. “Did it breach the roof?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “But it’s testing something. I saw movement—heard it. It's probing.”

  Greg cracked his knuckles. “Then we better be ready.”

  Jake stood, shoulders tense. “Do we have a plan?”

  I hesitated.

  No map. No clear exits. No idea if it was alone or part of something bigger.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But whatever’s out there… it’s not just wandering. It came here for a reason.”

  The shelter creaked again—one long, low groan of metal under pressure.

  And we all went silent.

  Weapons drawn. Eyes on the ceiling. Breath held.

  Waiting.