The electronics store felt both like a sanctuary and a trap. As morning broke, thin beams of pale light filtered through the cracked skylights, casting the room in a washed-out glow. For the first time in what felt like days, the team wasn’t running, fighting, or scrambling to stay alive. But the weight of what lay ahead pressed heavily on all of them.
Lex stood near the barricaded entrance, her crossbow slung over her shoulder. She scanned the corridor beyond, her eyes sharp and alert. Despite the eerie calm, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching them. The Wraith had ignored them before, but that didn’t mean it always would.
Behind her, Damien and Brandon were sorting through their supplies, dividing up the Ex-Marine’s weaponry. Maya was tying up her bandage again, grimacing as she pulled the cloth taut around her injured arm. Sophie sat cross-legged on the floor, her tablet resting on her knees as she scrolled through the Hive Mind’s files.
“You ready?” Lex asked without turning around.
“Almost,” Damien replied, his tone clipped. “We’ve got enough ammo for a couple of firefights, but we can’t afford to waste a single round. And these grenades? We use them only when we’re out of options.”
Lex nodded. “Got it. Make sure everyone knows.”
Brandon zipped up the tactical pack and stood, his expression grim. “I still think we should’ve ditched the family,” he muttered, glancing toward the corner where Elliot and his parents sat huddled together. “They’re going to slow us down.”
Lex turned to him, her gaze hard. “They’re not slowing us down. They’re survivors, just like us.”
“They’re a liability,” Brandon said. “You know it. They can’t fight, and if something goes wrong—”
“If something goes wrong, it’s on all of us to fix it,” Lex cut him off. “We’re not leaving them behind.”
Brandon scowled but didn’t argue. Damien smirked faintly from his spot by the gear. “Don’t waste your breath, man,” he said. “You’re not winning this one.”
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Once they were ready, the group dismantled the barricades and stepped out into the corridor. The air felt heavier here, damp and stale, and the faint hum of the mall’s power grid buzzed in the background. Shadows stretched long and thin along the walls, making every movement feel like a potential threat.
“Where to now?” Maya asked, her voice hushed.
Sophie glanced at her tablet. “There’s a service corridor up ahead that should connect to the mall’s west wing,” she said. “It’s a bit of a detour, but it’s safer than the main walkways.”
“Safer,” Damien echoed with a dry laugh. “Not exactly a high bar around here.”
The group moved cautiously, their footsteps muffled against the cracked tile floor. Elliot stayed close to his mother, his eyes darting nervously to every shadow. His father walked beside him, gripping the rebar tightly, his knuckles pale.
As they turned a corner, the faint scent of decay grew stronger, making Lex’s stomach churn. The corridor ahead was littered with debris—overturned shelving units, scattered clothing, and splatters of dark, dried blood. But it wasn’t the carnage that made Lex pause. It was the message scrawled on the wall in jagged, frantic letters.
LEAVE THIS PLACE. NOTHING IS SAFE.
Maya stopped beside her, her eyes fixed on the words. “That’s… comforting,” she muttered.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“It’s old,” Sophie said, her voice tinged with unease. “Look at the blood—it’s dried. Whoever wrote it is probably long gone.”
“Or dead,” Brandon added grimly.
Lex stepped forward, her crossbow raised. “Stay sharp,” she said. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us.”
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The deeper they moved into the corridor, the worse the air became. The faint hum of the power grid was replaced by a low, rhythmic thumping sound, like distant machinery struggling to stay operational. The walls were marked with more messages, some scrawled in blood, others etched into the paint with sharp objects.
SHE IS WATCHING. DON’T LISTEN TO THE SONG.
RUNNERS IN THE DARK.
BEWARE THE QUEEN.
Sophie’s face grew paler with each message they passed. “These aren’t just warnings,” she said softly. “They’re about the Siren Queen. People knew what she could do, and they were terrified.”
“What does ‘don’t listen to the song’ mean?” Maya asked.
“I don’t know,” Sophie admitted. “But whatever it is, it’s bad.”
The corridor opened up into a larger atrium, its skylights shattered, letting in faint beams of daylight. The space was eerily quiet, the air thick with the scent of rot. Broken storefronts lined the walls, their shattered windows displaying only darkness beyond.
Lex motioned for the group to spread out, her eyes scanning the room for any signs of movement. “Stay close,” she said. “And keep your weapons ready.”
As they moved through the atrium, Elliot let out a faint gasp, his hand flying to his mouth. “What is that?” he whispered, pointing toward the center of the room.
The others followed his gaze and froze. At the center of the atrium, a pile of bodies was stacked haphazardly, their limbs twisted and broken. The bodies weren’t fresh, but they weren’t entirely decayed either. Most of them were human, but a few bore the grotesque features of zombies—rotting flesh, missing limbs, hollow eyes.
“That’s recent,” Lex said, her voice grim. “No way that was here yesterday.”
“Do you think it was the Wraith?” Brandon asked.
“Maybe,” Damien said. “Or maybe it was one of the other Psychos.”
Sophie crouched near the edge of the pile, her eyes scanning the bodies for any clues. “It’s hard to tell,” she said. “But this was deliberate. Whoever did this wanted to make a statement.”
“What kind of statement?” Maya asked, her voice tight.
“Fear,” Sophie said simply. “This was meant to scare anyone who came through here.”
Lex straightened, her gaze fixed on the far end of the atrium. “Well, it’s working,” she said. “Let’s keep moving.”
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The group pressed on, their nerves raw as they made their way into the west wing of the mall. The corridors here were narrower, the walls lined with broken displays and shattered glass. The rhythmic thumping sound grew louder, accompanied by the faint hiss of air escaping through unseen vents.
As they rounded a corner, Sophie suddenly stopped, her eyes widening as she stared at her tablet. “Wait,” she said, her voice urgent. “I’m picking up movement.”
“Where?” Lex asked, immediately tensing.
“Two floors down,” Sophie replied. “It’s fast—moving through the maintenance levels. But it’s not coming this way.”
“What is it?” Damien asked. “More zombies? A Psycho?”
Sophie hesitated, her fingers tapping rapidly across the screen. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “But whatever it is, it’s big.”
The group exchanged uneasy glances. They’d faced enough horrors to know that “big” was never a good sign.
“Let’s keep moving,” Lex said. “The sooner we’re out of here, the better.”
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As they made their way through the west wing, the air grew colder, and the faint sound of whispers began to fill the corridors. At first, Lex thought it was her imagination, but the others heard it too—a soft, rhythmic murmur that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
“What is that?” Maya whispered, her voice trembling.
Sophie’s fingers flew over her tablet, her face pale. “It’s not on the cameras,” she said. “There’s nothing here.”
“Then where is it coming from?” Damien asked, his machete at the ready.
Before anyone could answer, the whispers grew louder, merging into a haunting, melodic hum. It was faint, almost beautiful, but there was something wrong about it—something that made Lex’s skin crawl.
“Don’t listen to the song,” Brandon said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what the wall said, right?”
“It’s her,” Sophie said, her voice shaking. “It’s the Siren Queen.”
The group froze, their fear palpable as the humming grew louder, echoing through the corridors like a ghostly melody. The sound seemed to seep into their bones, pulling at their thoughts, their emotions.
“We need to go,” Lex said, her voice firm. “Now.”
They turned and ran, the sound of the Siren Queen’s song following them like a shadow. It grew fainter as they moved further from the atrium, but the fear it left behind lingered.
As they finally emerged into a safer part of the mall, the group slowed, their breaths ragged, their hearts pounding. They had escaped the song, but the message was clear.
The Siren Queen was close.