A new day, the same dark world.

The blue bus stopped at its usual spot inside NYU’s north gate.

I stared at it and wished, for once, I could have a normal day. I wished I could arrive at the hospital without any hassle, I could contain the urge to look out the windows and see the destroyed world, I didn’t hear anything about bats, my day at the hospital was easy and fast, and more than anything, I wished I could forget the last year of my life.

The doors opened, and I stepped into the blue bus, looking around. Only seven people, plus the other three that came in with me. Total of eleven. Less than yesterday, and much less than last week. Each day there were fewer people around, as if they had given up living in this world. Or they had been taken from it.

I chose a seat in the front of the bus, far from the others, and avoided looking out. However, once we were outside the campus, the pull was much stronger than my will, and I gave in. My eyes scanned the streets as the bus drove north.

Dark. Everything was dark. A few lamps illuminated the sidewalks here and there, but I would rather they didn’t, so I couldn’t see anything. Trash everywhere, broken doors and windows, dead bushes, people with crazed looks or holding guns assaulting others, people on the ground—if they were sleeping or dead, I would never know.

“Hold on, everyone,” the driver announced.

Holding my breath, I braced myself for it.

Screams and shouts surrounded the bus, followed by bangs on the metal, shaking the entire bus.

“Let us in!”

“I need to eat!”

“My kids are dying!”

“Please, help us!”

Tears stung my eyes. I wanted to clamp my ears, close my eyes, and sing so it would drown out the melancholic sounds from the streets. It was the same almost every day, but it never ceased to shock me.

The driver maintained his speed, ignoring the protests until a gunshot rang through the darkness. My heart stilled for a moment and I gasped. Cracks spiderwebbed over a glass window in the front.

I silently thanked God that the university had bought armored buses and vans a few weeks ago.

The driver cursed. “All right. Hold on.” He sped up. Many of the assailants stayed behind, but a couple ran with the bus. “I hate doing this,” the driver said, his fingers reaching for the red button under an acrylic cap on the dashboard. He pushed the button, and the cries of the people outside made goose bumps prickle my skin.

This time, I did clamp my ears and hum a song.

The button activated electric cables located under the bus’s bodywork. Anyone who touched the bus would receive a powerful electric charge. It wasn’t fatal, but it was enough to make them collapse on their knees.

I felt bad about it, but I couldn’t do much; I couldn’t change the world by myself.

Change the world.

I hadn’t heard from any of them—Victor, Micah, Ceris, Morgan, or the Fates—in three months. Which was good and should bring me relief, but it didn’t. It actually worried me. What if they had—?

The bus stopped in front of Langone’s courtyard, and I jumped from my seat. The others stood too.

“Thanks,” I said to the driver as we waited for him to open the doors. The drivers could only open the doors if the surrounding area looked safe—one of the many new rules.

I scanned around with him. The streets were deserted and almost clean here, save for a few ambulances coming in and out of the emergency entrance to the right and a couple of cars entering the garage—after being checked by the security personnel—to the left. The two guards walking around the hospital’s courtyard seemed relaxed, even though their hands rested over the guns at their waist, and the other two guards stationed at the main entrance past the courtyard were conversing as if they were old friends in a coffee shop.

Besides the darkness and the permanent feeling that the world was ending, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

The doors opened, and I stepped out of the bus clutching my tote close to me.

Two other buses stopped behind the one I had just disembarked. Red buses. I watched as the doors opened and armed police officers helped sick people out. They dragged themselves to the emergency entrance.

The red buses were a new thing, substituting most ambulances. They drove around New York City, including dangerous neighborhoods—thus the police protection. They stopped at specific, government-appointed places, where medics and nurses triaged to see who needed to go to the hospital and who didn’t, and then they brought them here.

At least four dozen sick people scrambled out of those two buses, some with only a heavy cough, others with open wounds and profuse bleeding.

A heavy sigh escaped my mouth. With the influx, I was going to have a busy day. Better get on with it then. Get in, check in, work, and help.

I was crossing the courtyard when the first shriek reached my ears.

My blood turned cold, and I almost tripped. “Oh no,” I muttered looking up.

A black cloud moved across the others, descending from the sky and coming toward the ground at incredible speed.

Another shriek echoed through the courtyard, waking me up from my stupor. Waking everyone. People screamed and ran. I raced toward the main entrance as the guards turned their guns to the sky.

“Hurry, hurry!” one of guards shouted.

They shot. More screeches and screams filled the air. The hospital alarm blared, and metal sheets slid closed over the windows and doors.

“Oh, God.” Cursing, I pushed my muscles as hard as I could and ran.

In front of me, a boy tripped and fell on his hands and knees. His mother yelled, but a guard pulled her forward. Without thinking, I skidded to a stop and hauled the boy up.

“Come on,” I said, putting one of his arms around my waist. He clutched at me and we ran.

Inside the glass doors, his mother wailed, pushing the arm of a guard, frantically trying to get to her child.

A man rushed past us, bumping his shoulder against mine and almost making me fall.

Jerk!

Then the first bat fell on top of a woman beside us.

The boy yelled. Heart pounding, I held my breath sure I was as white as the Fates’ hair.

I covered the boy’s eyes with my hand so he would not see as the bat clawed the woman’s chest, then bit into her face splashing blood everywhere. One big splat fell on the tip of my boot. Nausea revolved in my stomach and my knees felt weak, but I couldn’t give in now.

“Hurry,” a guard said. He stood in front of the glass doors, pulling people in before the metal sheet closed all the way down. “Hurry!”

I grabbed the boy’s shoulders and pushed him forward, hoping the guard would catch him first and help him. Ten feet from the main door, the guard stepped out and grabbed the boy’s hand. Then his eyes went wide and the air swished behind me.

Oh, God.

Blood throbbing in my ears, I glanced over my shoulder. A claw hovered a couple of feet from my face.

My body slowed down in shock. The claw came at me.

A bird flew directly into it, stabbing his beak into the creature’s skin, hard enough to make it recoil.

Rok, the raven.

What the—?

A hand closed around my upper arm and pulled me forward. The guard practically threw me past the glass doors. He came in right behind me. Then the metal sheet touched the ground and something large bumped into it.

My heart stopped, and I jumped back touching my back on the front desk.

“Damn bats,” said the guard, who had thrown me inside. His hands trembled.

Mine did too.

I turned around and stepped into chaos. The alarm still blasted, and the red lights flashed along the walls casting eerie shadows to the place. People cried and screamed. Some held bloody hands or arms or legs, while others lay on the ground barely breathing.

I pushed my feelings and shock aside and forced myself into action.

After throwing my tote under the front desk, I rushed around the place evaluating who was in a grave state and needed immediate attention, and who could wait until the mess around us subsided.

Three hours later, I leaned against a wall and took a deep breath.

“Jeez, that was close,” said Jill, a young nurse. Shoulders sagged and expression weary, she sat on a chair behind the desk at the nurses’ station and fidgeted with the computer. “Nadine, are you all right?”

I nodded. “I guess so.”

“You look pale.” She gestured for me to come around the desk. “You should sit down.”

“No, I’m fine.” What a lie. My heart still pumped in my chest, and my hands still shook.

“Those vicious bats. This is the third time this month,” she complained in a low voice.

Yes, the third time this month a group of bats had attacked people on the streets, close to the hospital. This was the first time I had seen it, been in it, and it was surreal. It was one thing to watch it on TV—a news channel had been able to record last week’s attack for two minutes—but another thing to live through it. The creatures simply flew over Manhattan in a solid black cloud and descended on the streets, slashing people with their claws and biting them with their teeth. It was a slaughter.

Of course, everyone still called these creatures giant bats, but I knew the truth. They were demons.

Nausea surged up again. God, I couldn’t think about it, or I would curl up and cry. “Yeah. Their attacks are becoming more frequent.”

“More frequent and just … more. It’s like they reproduce by the thousands. Soon, we won’t be able to leave our houses because not even armored cars will be able to protect us.”

Oh, if only she knew how true her statement was.

A loud bang came from the metal cover on the window across the hall. I jumped and Jill screamed. Whatever bat had bumped into the metal had actually left a dent on it.

“They can’t break through the metal, can they?” she asked.

I swallowed. “I don’t know.”

The alarm fell silent. My ears thanked whoever had a hand in it. However, the red lights continued flashing, indicating the doors and windows were locked. No one could get out or come in.

I tried not to think about the sick people who needed to get into the hospital now, or the people on the outside that weren’t able to escape and yet managed to crawl to the hospital, only to find its doors weren’t open. No. They would bleed to death outside, or they would end up eaten.

Jill touched my shoulder, bringing me back to the present. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

I blinked back tears. “Yeah, I am.” I went to the computer on the side desk and signed in. I should have done that the moment I arrived, but with all the craziness around us, it didn’t even cross my mind until now. “I think I’ll wash my face, then find something to eat before helping some more.”

“See you later,” she said as I walked away.

Besides these terrible moments, this job had been godsend. Almost literally. If it weren’t for Cheryl—or Ceris—I would still be making coffee and cleaning tables at the cafe. Here, as a patient care technician, I worked normal hours around my class schedule and was in the environment I wanted, where I planned to work in the future. I also made more money, which meant I could send more to my parents.

Since Victor and Micah found out who they were, things had gotten worse. Small businesses closed, the majority of the population was unemployed and some turned to robbery to survive, and agriculture was dead. Without the farm, my father didn’t have a job anymore. Now, he worked here and there, wherever he could find an odd job to do. Some days he helped in reconstructing the town’s church, others he was a chauffeur, while other days he cleaned the town’s streets. My mother tried to help by taking care of people’s children while they were at work—the ones who still had jobs. My parents’ place had become a daycare.

I halted when a woman stepped in front of me. I recognized her. The mother of the boy I had ran inside with. She had him tucked under her arm now. My heart squeezed. He was probably twelve years old, the same age Troy, my late brother, would be if he were alive.

“I wanted to thank you for what you did,” she said, her voice breaking.

I swallowed the tears. “It was nothing.”

“To me, it was everything.” Tears sprouted from her eyes, and she smiled. “Thank you.”

Holding an awkward, forced smile I hoped looked strong and sure, I touched her arm. “You’re welcome.”

The boy looked up at me, his brown eyes shining with reminiscent shock. “Thanks.”

I leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “My pleasure.”

Before I broke down and cried too, I walked around them and through an authorized personnel door in the corridor, intent on washing my face and sitting down for a minute on a couch inside the locker room. However, as soon as I crossed the doorway, a hand closed around my wrist and pulled me into the dark room. Fear shot through me. I was about to scream, but another hand closed over my mouth.

I jerked, but then his scent hit me and I froze, gasping. He let me go, and I quickly reached for the light switch turning it on.

My breath caught.

Victor squinted against the bright light. “Hi.”