Book 3: Chapter 2
People were chaotic, racing to get into their cars and onto the road, but the streets were already full. Horns blared like angry alarms, and the smell of burning rubber mixed with the acrid scent of fear. Mothers clutched crying children, dragging them toward vehicles already packed beyond capacity. Stray bags and boxes littered the sidewalks, abandoned in the panic. The announcement kept playing on repeat, its mechanical voice slicing through the chaos like a blade.
“We have an emergency! Please stop what you are doing and move to the human block ASAP. I repeat, stop what you are doing and move to the human block ASAP. We repeat, this is not a drill. Stop what you are doing and move to the human blocks ASAP.”
The words were relentless, echoing from every speaker, every phone, every car radio. It was impossible to escape them. Even as I tightened the straps on my suitcase, the voice drilled into my skull like a warning from the gods themselves.
“I wonder how much time we have?” I asked Jasper, my voice barely audible over the chaos outside. We were crouched beside our motorbikes, strapping down the small suitcases that held everything we could grab in those frantic minutes. At times like this, I was glad Jasper had insisted I get a motorbike license. Cars were useless now—trapped in a sea of metal and desperation.
“I don’t know,” Jasper replied, his jaw tight as he yanked the last strap into place. “But I’m thinking we have to move really fast. You stick close and don’t stop for anyone.” His eyes locked on mine, hard and unyielding. There was no room for argument.
“Yes, I know the rules,” I said, climbing onto my bike. My hands trembled slightly as I gripped the handlebars, but the moment the engine roared to life beneath me, a strange calm settled in. The rumble vibrated through my body, grounding me in a way nothing else could. I always pretended I didn’t like riding, but the truth? The freedom was intoxicating—especially now, when the world felt like it was collapsing.
Jasper pulled out first, weaving between abandoned cars and panicked pedestrians. I followed close behind, my heart pounding in rhythm with the engine. The streets were a battlefield—horns blaring, people screaming, tires screeching. Weaving in and out of traffic became an Olympic sport, each maneuver a gamble between survival and disaster. There were plenty of close calls—too many to count—and every time I dodged a car door or swerved past a fallen bike, a string of curses escaped my lips.
The human block signs finally came into sight, glowing like a promise of safety in the distance. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived. The traffic ahead was a wall of chaos, and the clock was ticking.
“Miley, ten minutes and we’re there,” Jasper’s voice crackled through the radio. “The traffic’s getting worse, so make sure you don’t hit anyone and don’t fall behind.”
Before I could respond, the announcement changed, sharper and more urgent than before.
“WARNING! WARNING! Ten minutes till gate closure. The human block will close in ten minutes. If you have not reached safety, then please take refuge.”
The words repeated, louder, faster, like a countdown to doom. The warning was like an ice-cold bath, shocking me into motion. My grip tightened on the handlebars.
“Jasper, I don’t think we’re going to make it,” I called over the radio, my voice cracking.
“Punch it, Miley!” Jasper shouted back. His bike veered onto the grass verge, kicking up dirt as he accelerated. I followed his lead, heart hammering, dodging right and left while the never-ending countdown blasted from every speaker. The world blurred into streaks of color—green grass, gray asphalt, flashing red lights. Every second felt like a lifetime.
We were so close. I could see the gates now, towering and reinforced, guarded by officials in black uniforms. Jasper reached them first, skidding to a stop and thrusting his paperwork at the nearest guard. I pulled up behind him, relief flooding my veins—until it happened.
Out of nowhere, a deafening crash. My bike jolted forward, metal crunching against metal. Pain exploded through me as I was thrown into the air, weightless for a terrifying second before gravity claimed me. The world spun—a blur of sky, asphalt, and screaming voices—then darkness swallowed everything.
The impact was like being hit by a freight train. My body slammed against the asphalt, the breath ripped from my lungs in a violent gasp. For a moment, everything was soundless—just a ringing in my ears and the distant blur of flashing lights. Then the pain came, sharp and merciless, radiating from my shoulder down to my ribs. I tried to move, but my limbs felt heavy, disconnected, as if they belonged to someone else.
“Miley!” Jasper’s voice tore through the static of my helmet radio, raw with panic. “Miley, answer me!”
I wanted to speak, to tell him I was okay—or at least alive—but all that escaped was a strangled groan. My helmet had cracked on impact, the visor shattered, and the world around me was a kaleidoscope of chaos. Boots pounded the ground nearby, voices shouting orders I couldn’t make sense of. The gates loomed ahead, so close I could almost touch them, yet they felt like a distant dream.
I blinked hard, fighting the darkness clawing at the edges of my vision. “I’m… fine,” I whispered, though the taste of blood in my mouth betrayed the lie. My chest burned with every breath, and my left leg throbbed in a way that promised something was broken.
The countdown blared louder, more urgent now: “WARNING! Five minutes till gate closure. All remaining civilians must enter immediately.” The words sliced through the night like a death sentence. Five minutes. That was all we had.
“Help! She needs help!” Jasper roared at the nearest official. Two guards in black uniforms rushed over, their faces grim. One knelt to check my pulse while the other barked into a radio. “We’ve got an injured civilian. Gate protocol?”
“Gate closes in four minutes,” the radio crackled back. “If they’re not inside, they’re out.”
The words hit harder than the crash. Out. Left behind and exposed to whatever nightmare was coming.
“No,” Jasper snarled, his voice feral. “She’s getting through. Do you hear me? She’s getting through!”