Chapter One:
"Beyond the Rain"
Rain pounded relentlessly on the patched metal roof of Harbor Pointe Food Station, its drumming masking the distant hum of Greenville’s decaying infrastructure. John’s hands moved with machine-like precision, stretching processed dough into shapes that might, with enough imagination, pass for buns. Each one received a synthetic glaze under the flickering fluorescent lights. Through the gaps between steel counters, he watched Mike at the grill, spatulas flashing as steam curled upward from sizzling rat meat and slabs of ProcessedProtein™.
Beyond the smudged kitchen window, the world was a mess of storm and shadow. A figure stood motionless in the downpour. It was a woman, her silhouette distinct yet oddly blurred by the rain. Water seemed to bend around her, sliding off as though repelled by an invisible shield. When John blinked, she was gone. A chill crept up his spine, but his hands never faltered. The ancient Huckleburger sign loomed overhead, rusted and grimy, a ghost of a time when beef was real and hope wasn’t rationed.
“Order in!” Sarah’s voice cut through the kitchen noise, sharp and hurried. She slapped a damp server’s pad onto the counter. “Four number threes, heavy sauce. Table six wants to pretend it’s chicken tonight.”
John muttered under his breath, arranging synthetic lettuce with meticulous care. “Customers can pretend all they want. Just like we pretend these buns didn’t come from a chemistry lab.”
The Gamepass in his back pocket felt heavier with each passing moment, a constant reminder of the impossible choice it represented. Entering The Dive was widely regarded as a death sentence, a gamble where survival odds were microscopic—and yet, it was humanity’s last, desperate hope. The thought gnawed at John, as did Ryan’s earlier mention: “Heard you’re thinking about it. Brave if it’s true, but make sure you’re ready.” He caught Mike watching him again, his friend’s practiced movements momentarily pausing as their eyes met. They’d worked together too long to break rhythm now, even on this, their final shift.
Through the grease-smeared window, East Carolina University’s walls loomed resembling concrete teeth, their imposing height cutting against the storm-laden sky. John’s voice broke the quiet tension. “Remember when ECU was just a school? Now it’s got walls higher than my hopes for retirement.”
Mike grunted in agreement but said nothing. The kitchen’s oppressive heat and the weight of unspoken goodbyes pressed down on them as the night dragged on.
“Last call,” Ryan announced from the dining area, his tone carrying an edge of finality. John glanced up from the dough, catching something in the manager’s face—a resignation that mirrored his own. “Make it count, people.”
The staff dispersed one by one. Lisa left first, followed by Sarah, her wet apron slung over her shoulder. Mike hesitated at the door, exchanging a brief nod with John before stepping out into the storm. John almost called after him but stopped, the question lingering on his tongue. When they’d spoken earlier, John had asked Mike if he’d ever consider entering The Dive. Mike’s answer had been silence, his gaze dropping to the grill before retreating into his usual quiet. Ryan lingered, his hand on the frame. “Lock up tight,” he said, his voice low. It wasn’t just the doors he meant.
The walk home was a trek through a waterlogged wasteland. The rain soaked through John’s jacket, each step squelching in the puddles that lined the crumbling streets. His apartment building loomed ahead, a monolithic relic of a better time. Most of the windows were dark, save for the occasional flicker of illegal generator light. The elevator hadn’t worked in years. John took the stairs, thirteen flights of damp concrete that smelled of mildew and despair.
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Inside his apartment, the storm’s roar was muted but ever-present. Neon light filtered through the cracks in his newspaper-covered windows, casting jagged reflections on the water pooling on the floor. His resident rat, Maurice, sat in a corner, whiskers twitching. The roaches, ever-present, scattered into the walls as John entered. Thunder cracked, rattling the flimsy glass. Lightning followed, bathing the room in a brief, otherworldly glow.
Maurice froze, his tiny body rigid. The roaches stopped moving. An unnatural stillness settled over the room. John’s grip tightened on the chef’s knife at his belt—a habit born of too many close calls in a city that devoured the unwary.
“You maintain a certain dignity,” a voice said, low and melodic, from the darkest corner of the room. John’s pulse quickened as he turned, scanning the shadows. The air felt heavier, electric. “Even here, in this place of ended dreams, you keep your station clean. Your actions... pure.”
“Show yourself,” John demanded, the knife steady in his hand despite the fear gnawing at him. He’d faced desperate people, predators, and worse. But this felt… wrong. Impossible.
From the dim corner, a figure emerged, her presence bending the air around her, as though reality itself was drawn to her form. It was the woman from the rain, her form coalescing with an eerie grace, as if she had always been there, waiting for him to notice. The air grew heavier, a palpable pressure that hummed in his chest. Her cloak seemed to drink the light, an absence more than a color. She stepped forward, her features sharp yet ethereal.
“Tell me, John,” she said, her voice soft, almost kind, yet carrying an unshakable weight. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like to step beyond what you know? To leave behind the limits of this place and discover the truth of what lies beyond?”
John said nothing, his grip on the knife unwavering.
“Now imagine something grander,” she continued, gesturing toward the rain-streaked window.
Through the glass, the impossible unfolded. The decayed skyline of Greenville melted away, replaced by a city of light and wonder. Towers spiraled upward, their surfaces alive with shifting advertisements that seemed to sing a silent melody. The streets below thrummed with energy, as if the world itself breathed life into every motion. Vehicles hovered in streets suspended in midair, and the sky was a kaleidoscope of colors untouched by pollution.
“No tricks,” she said, her voice softening as John’s gaze remained fixed on the vision. “Just a choice. You carry it with you already.”
The Gamepass pulsed against his leg, each throb resonating in time with his heartbeat. John’s throat tightened, but the weight of the moment began to dissolve. If there was something better out there, beyond the endless rain, the synthetic food, and the decaying ruins of Greenville, wasn’t it worth trying? He had survived alone for as long as he could remember, scraping by when so many others, with guidance and privilege, had fallen. If he could endure that, wasn’t he already stronger than the odds The Dive could throw at him? He didn’t need to decide. There was no decision to make. Anything—anything—had to be better than this. “Why me?” he whispered, not in hesitation, but in quiet acknowledgment of what he already knew he had to do.
“Because,” she said, stepping closer, “you’ve endured. In a world where despair is more abundant than water, you still tried. You still cared.” Her gaze held his, piercing and unyielding. “That’s rare.”
The storm outside intensified, the rain now falling upward in defiance of gravity. Maurice darted into the darkness, retreating back into his own solitary existence. The roaches moved again, this time parting to clear a path for the woman as she began to fade.
“The choice is yours, John,” her voice lingered as her form dissolved. “Step into the unknown, John. There’s nothing left here for you.”
John’s gaze shifted back to the window. The neon-lit city beyond it pulsed with life, a stark contrast to the rot and ruin he’d always known. For the first time in years, he felt the stirrings of something he’d thought long dead—hope.
The storm raged on, but within it, a better world beckoned.