They had been walking for miles, and without the help of nanobots to aid their steps, they found it slow and hard to push on under their own weight.

The three refugees of course. Cali wasn't pure, that much was obvious, May was on her back, August, was well, August, and Bob was lodged in his armpit like a purse. So the four of them were quite fine.

As for the rest, I could watch envy grow in their hearts, and who wouldn't be mad. The four idiots were fine, never seeming to get tired or even care to take a break. I doubt that the tired could have even asked for a break, they would have simply been left behind and told to catch up later.

It was truly a sad state of affairs, they were tired, mentally, and physically, and there was nothing they could do about it, but walk of course.

It had been some stroke of luck or miracle, good or bad, that had prevented them from being attacked, and thus, they would take full advantage of that.

If they were to even hint at wasting such an opportunity, they might have been outright killed, and who wouldn't kill them.

They'd be dead either way, so it was simply their logical conclusion. As such, weak as they were, they stayed quiet.

It was amazing really, their perseverance, to stand up to such forces with a shred of hope, not many would have done so, nor do I think many could have.

It would become apparent that such a belief had in fact, transcended the world of abstraction and was truly only a matter of place and time, events if you would.

They'd continue their journey, navigating the rather self-inflicted danger, sky reaching buildings that once pierced the heavens were laid out on the pavement, mountains and beaches of shards and glass.

It was a precarious affair, being careful not to slip or fall as they passed through the forest of sharp and brittle edges.

There was no telling what a wound would have meant either, especially with the appearance of jet black shards scattered about, just as much as the glass. It danced in the sunlight, its surface a divergence of warping colors.

It was fascinating, the way they spawned from the center of the city, and engulfed the plaza, and even the streets. It was like a shattered vase, signaling some end.

It was an end only felt by August still. Though it would seem as they passed the things by the wayside, that they'd lose their spherochromatism.

The strange fact was given no time of day still, as in the reflections of the looming fragments still, would be images of red and faces, whole and broken.

The dead, buried by the structures they once praised as they absorbed themselves in their own egos. It was a harrowing sight, that of organs and entrails sprawled walls high due to nothing but chance of light. A view of the insides was tame none the less, as one did not have control over such a death, or desecration.

The real horror of where they found themselves was still in the glass, but of a different weight, because of a different conscious action.

A weapon crafted from alloy and leather rested in the hands of the dead, they themselves none the wiser, and due to their own actions.

It could have been a painting, the way the red and gray matter dried on the pillars of fallen glass behind them and gave the place a gorgeous pink-red hue.

As they sat having made a masterpiece though, they'd never see it, as it was an extension of themselves, and a rather brutal one.

It was a disgusting sight, for the humans anyway, even worse than the ones before. They'd look away, hoping to keep what little sustenance they had in their stomachs, in their stomachs.

As for August, he was not bothered by the sight, physically, though he did have his own thoughts regarding the matter.

In fact, those thoughts were prominent on his twisted face and in his red eyes, or were they. It didn't matter still, as the rest of the group wallowed in their own perceived superiority, thinking each that they'd never do such a thing.

He'd make his way to one of the fallen constructed giants, and leaning against it, he relieved himself of what was in his stomach.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

They'd then continue their journey, morale low, and lowering as they passed a new corpse made to be interesting in a new gruesome way.

It seemed a harder task than any of them were ready for, but they didn't have much choice, even if they had August.

The beach would soon come into view, relieving much of the burden they had on their shoulders. It was obvious looking at it that something was off still, as the sand was not only charred black but dyed red.

Cali was right, and it was apparent, but thankfully, they were not going to use the open water elevator, so the water was none of their concern.

As for what was of concern, to get to it, they still had to descend on to the beach, and on to the sand. Thus, they all looked to the one who would, in theory, survive 'any' threat.

As he hopped over the railing, he'd land on the grainy substance, sliding, but nothing was out of the ordinary.

Well, most was expected, even the fact that the red was indeed blood, and up close he could see eyeballs and teeth, bones and slithers of skin.

Yet, even as he looked upon the open sea of people, he was not afraid. He'd do his thing, and a very special thing it was, and thus, he could see it, and their eyes had met, even as it was submerged in the water.

It was a grim sight, but it was one that brought him glee despite the overwhelming threat that he could see. He knew what it was too, and if fictional creatures, and fairy tales were materializing from beyond the veil of reality, why not, no, but of course something like that would make its way into our world.

And so, with joy in his eyes and a smile on his face, he would say one word.

"Run…"

The calm waters rumbled, howled, as the ocean itself seemed to raise up. It was a mountain hidden in a mole hill, and it was tired of hiding.

The sun that was once showering the land with its golden rays would be stolen by the thing. The very air would yield to its might as above it nimbus clouds swirled, cracks and sparks of lighting dancing across the sky, thunder screaming in the ears of on lookers.

It was a sight to behold, and one that only got better as rain began to pour, making it a scene from one those dark aged books.

The ocean also did its bidding, spawning waves, tens of feet, and soon hundreds, or rather, the thing was just that big.

Though, all that, for one man, one, naked man. August had long abandoned his trench coat as he was sure it would be in the way, and thus, as all the magnitudes of water finally unveiled the thing, they'd look each other straight in the eyes.

The tentacles that hung from its face were distracting still, and even more distracting, was the state of the things. They all had some affliction, whether it was rips, tears, burns, slices or holes, hell, whole chucks of them were missing. It had wings too, bat like in nature, but they were no exception.

It spread them wide, further veiling the place in its shadow, but all could not cast darkness. There were holes and tears in the them, like an old rag. Thus, its shadow was incomplete. It would crawl from the depths still, clawed humanoid hands pulling the sand into the abyss, and pulling it out, even if a few digits were missing.

Its ascent would continue, bringing more of it into view, and it got no better. Its dark green, almost grey, spongy, nigh rubbery skin reflected the spontaneous plasma above, but not in earnest. There were patches of it that seemed burned, and worse, grafted together, as if it had put itself back together. The things covered its entire body, ley lines of scarred flesh marking points of affliction. They even appeared on its elongated squid like head.

It would set but one leg down, shaking everything as it did so, its beaming red eyes never loosing track of its target.

It stood tall, as tall as the skyscrapers had, and it was hunched down on one knee, preparing to stand up fully. There was no one, sane or mad, that would have stood up to such a being, such an incomprehensible evil, yet, there he stood, a smile on his face, ear to ear, defying logic.

As for all who were not concerned, the barely sane and escaping, it wouldn't be so easy. The waves that had been generated by the magnificent creature, tangible and not, had put them in quite a predicament.

All of them were not able to anchor themselves like the mad man, an oversight perhaps. Thus, as they ran to the building, but barely protruding from a hill to the side of the beach, they were forced to take hold of the rails and weather the storm.

It was a brutal onslaught, wave after wave as the thing moved, and as such, as one of the many waves washed over, the three refuges were washed away.

They were not dead, but they had a journey on their hands to get back to the group. As for Cali, May and Bob, thankfully, one of them could anchor themselves.

Cali had ejected spikes from the sole of her mechanized feet and thus, she had pinned them in place, the two others holding on to her for dear life.

It was painful, holding one's breathe beneath such turbulent waves, especially with invading and surrounding whispers telling them to breathe.

They echoed like thoughts— the voices—ones about to manifest, but those small pockets of resistance present in their impurities, proved triumphant, though not by much.

They did survive nonetheless, and they kept running as the tempest came to a clam. Thankfully, Cali was balanced by no organic means, and the shifting world was discernible to her.

They'd descend the beach themselves, guts swirling with their vision, vomiting at the twisting feelings in their skulls and ears.

They'd make it to the whitewashed concrete structure, a small square tunnel before an impenetrable steel door.

There was an interface, sparking and failing as all other technology had, but Bob wasn't a genius for nothing.

The place was his family's specialty; it was a part of the energy sector after all. Thus, he'd look at the thing, and even as the world spun, he tapped into it.

His eyes lit up as he rested his augmented appendage on the thing, arcs of current forming. Thus, the large doors were 'supposed to' open to relative 'safety', but what did they unleash unto the world in a form none of them present could see. I suppose it would be a problem for the future, if they had one.