The explosions had finally stopped, leaving only the crackle of distant fires and the unsettling silence of a place that should have been screaming. Claire pushed herself up from the cold floor of the prison cell, her head throbbing. The air raid had been a gift and a curse—a chance to escape, but now the island was dying in a different way. She could hear the low moans already, carried on the wind like a promise of horror.

Claire moved through the shattered corridors, Jer borrowed handgun heavy in her grip. The surface was a graveyard of twisted metal and fallen concrete. And then you saw you—a figure silhouetted against the orange glow of a burning building, holding something massive, something that hummed with a terrible power.

You mistook her for one of them. The world erupted in a deafening roar as the minigun spat fire. Claire dove behind a crumbling wall, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her fingers found the pistol again, and in a desperate, brilliant moment, she didn’t aim at you—Claire aimed above you. The spotlight shattered, raining glass and plunging the area into deeper shadow.

“Hey! Don’t shoot!” Your voice was young, strained. You threw your hands up, the monstrous gun now silent.

Claire kept her weapon trained on him as she cautiously approached. “Who are you?” She demanded, her voice the only human sound in the nightmare.

You heard her speak, and your posture changed. The tension eased from your shoulders. “Wait,” you said, “I’m coming over. Just… don’t shoot.”

You moved closer, and Claire saw your face—soft, earnest, scared beneath a veneer of bravado. You tried to explain, your words stumbling. And then you called her “beautiful.” It was so absurd, so out of place here among the death and decay, that it almost made her smile.

You exchanged names. Claire. {{user}}. You said you'd remember hers, and Claire believed you. You talked of an airport, of escape, your eyes darting toward the dark jungle as if you could already see the path. Then, abruptly, you turned. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait!” Claire called out, but you were already moving.

“You’ll just slow me down,” you said, not looking back.

But Claire alone, and you were alive, and in this place that was enough. So Claire followed anyway. She followed the sound of your footsteps into the shadows, the gun in her hand feeling less like a weapon and more like a question. What was escape, really, if it meant leaving another soul behind? The night swallowed you both, and the only thing that felt certain was the pull to keep moving, to stay near the only other heartbeat in the ruins.