Cars droned past as shadows on the sidewalk trudged monotonously forward in the failing twilight and drizzling rain. Shoulders were slumped in their black and white suits from the daily toil they had just completed, and they began the journey home towards light, warmth, sleep and the promise of yet another draining day. One of the soulless husks raised a vibrating phone from his pocket and sighed deeply, looking at the caller ID. Answering quickly, he spoke in a clear, bright voice that was entirely at odds with his previous post-work survival state.

“Hi, Mum”

“Can you swing by the shops before you get here for Sarah’s birthday”? a shrill voice exploded into his ear.

No hello again, he reflected as he winced before lowering the volume on his phone.

“What do you need”? He asked before suppressing another sigh.

Rapid-fire instructions followed as he turned down a side street. At this point, getting home was looking like a losing prospect. As the list continued, his voice became flat as his responses grew shorter. “I can get that from—I’ll need to—yes, but—okay, yes, yep, okay, yes, yes, I’ll see you soon.”

He was sure she had hung up before he even finished saying goodbye, as he ended the call and placed the phone back in his pocket. Getting everything she needed would mean a 20-minute detour across town, plus another delay to catch another train after the one he would now miss before he could make it to his parent’s house. As he walked down the street towards the busier shopping areas, the heavens opened, and a deluge poured from the skies. The soulless husk turned his face to the skies and sighed for the 3rd time in as many minutes.

“Well, crap.”

As he resumed his trudging, his phone rang again. Taking the phone out again and looking again at the caller ID, he frowned before answering in the same happy voice he had used.

“Yes, mum”

“And Thomas, this time, don’t be late. I don’t want us to have to wait for you like every other family event,” his mother spoke coldly.

“Yes, mum”, He responded dully, but his feet increased in speed regardless.

He ended the call and pocketed the phone again, striding quickly to the end of the street and making his way to the crossing nearby. His mother was usually dismissive of him, ignoring him in favour of his ‘smarter, better looking and overall, much better sibling’, at least in her eyes. But he was weary of attracting her ire. His mother pretending he didn’t exist was a much preferable alternative to her lectures and scathing critique of his life, job and, well, everything. She didn’t even use Tom like he preferred people to, which he reflected on, was just like her.

Tom stopped at the crossing, drenched, waiting for the green signal to cross the road. Looking around, he saw others shuffling along the streets under the safety of their umbrellas or running around trying to find some of the scant shelters in the shadows of the buildings while preserving some of their dignity from the falling torrent.

Looking across the street, Tom could see others in a similar predicament. A flash of white amongst the black and dark blue suits caught his eye, and his attention was drawn to a small cat sitting on top of the pedestrian signal box.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The cat was completely white except for the middle of its forehead, where a tuft of black fur in the shape of a diamond sat.

As he looked, Tom was reminded of his childhood, a Christmas gift from his father that arrived wrapped in a box and had jumped purring into his arms as a tiny kitten. Misty had been his best friend right up until his sister had developed allergies, and she had been summarily booted from the house over his desperate pleading.

This cat looked identical to Misty, although she would have been well and truly dead by now, being that she had been kicked out of the house twenty-odd years ago. Not surprising, he thought to himself, there must be thousands of cats like that out there.

He turned to look at the cars passing and resume his wait in the downpour when a thought occurred. Looking back at the cat, he noticed two things. One, the cat was still sitting on top of the signal box and was staring at him. Two, the cat was bone dry. There was no sign that the cat was sitting in the middle of the early evening rain storm.

The second point was a tad confusing to Tom. He was pretty sure that the city hadn’t recently installed random cat shelters, certainly not ones five meters up a pole with no roof. However, the more concerning point was that he could feel its eyes boring into his. It was staring at him. Its eyes never wavered and remained locked on his, like a predator hunting its prey.

Tom shuddered as he looked into its eyes. It should have been too far to see anything. The road was twenty meters across, but Tom could see into its eyes as they drew him in. As he stared back, a vortex of swirling lights rotated silently in its eyes.

The pedestrian signal changed to green and started to chirp its song. Without taking his eyes off the cat, Tom stepped forward onto the road with the other waiting people.

He had not gone more than a few steps when the blare of horns, the crack of glass shattering and screech of mutilated metal assaulted his ears. He felt his body wrench sideways, and he saw only darkness.

Despite what had just happened, there was no pain. On a slightly more concerning note, however, despite opening his eyes and looking around, he saw only darkness. All the sound had disappeared as well. He tried to shout out, but he couldn’t hear anything. He could feel his limbs moving, but they touched nothing. It was like he was submerged in a swimming pool of nothingness.

Tom’s mind raced. What the hell is this? Where am I? What happened? Ah crap, mum is going to kill me.

Before he could catastrophise what his mother would do to him for being late to his sister's birthday, a white light slowly grew in intensity until it blinded him.

After a few seconds, the light receded, and he was left staring at a ceiling that looked like it was made of obsidian, dark blacks with hints of silver that ran through it like cracks. The feeling returned to his hands and feet; they felt like they had been in an ice bath, and agony rushed through him like thousands of pins and needles had suddenly been stabbed into his body. He groaned and registered that the sound had returned as well.

As the pain faded slowly from his limbs, he sat up and checked his body for damage, grasping each limb as if he expected them to fall off. Finding none, he looked around to find himself in a room that matched the ceiling, with strange silver markings on the walls. Confused, he found himself lying within a silver circle made of weird symbols that looked like they had been carved into the floor.

He realised he was lying next to three other people in similar circles. They looked just as confused as he did and checked their arms and legs just as he had.

He noticed that the circles were all connected by silver lines to a larger circle intricately decorated with swirls and multiple rings made of the same symbols and deeply engraved into the floor.

Just as he started to get to his feet, an explosion rang out from the circle in front of them, and a wave of black fire swept through the room.

A figure clad in black, torn and ragged robes rose from the floor as more black flames consumed the silver lines on the floor. Tom could only see two burning silver orbs within the deep hood the figure wore as it looked down at them.

It raised its arms wide as skeletal hands emerged from the ends of its robe, and a deep, cold, hollow voice rattled from the figure.

“Welcome to the apocalypse,” it said ominously.

“You have been chosen, and you will be my horsemen.”