We didn't wait.
The moment the Hollowed lunged, Kaela fired. Her bullet struck the closest one square in the chest. A clean shot. It stumbled, its chest cavity hissing and twitching from the impact, but it didn't fall. These things didn't fall easy.
The other two moved fast—too fast. Their legs propelled them with uncanny precision, like they'd studied us. Like they knew how we'd react.
We split without thinking. Years of rooftop drills, evasion tactics, and shared danger made it muscle memory. Kaela rolled behind a duct fan while I veered wide, trying to flank. The Hollowed followed, one toward her, one toward me, and the third still recovering.
"Flare!" Kaela shouted.
My hand flew to my belt. I twisted the canister and tossed it across the rooftop. It landed near the far edge, hissed loudly, and spat out a burst of white smoke and searing light. One of the Hollowed twisted toward it, reacting like a beast conditioned by pain. The one with exposed cables didn't move. Didn't even glance.
Kaela fired again—a shot to the leg. It slowed the Hollowed just enough for her to slide across the gravel and disappear behind another vent shaft. I saw her grip the edge of a loose tarp and slash the holding cord. The scaffolding above gave way with a rusty groan and crashed down on the one pursuing her.
I slammed shoulder-first into another, catching it mid-turn. We hit the rooftop hard. Its body crunched underneath the force, but I didn't wait to see if it was out.
"We need cover," I gasped.
Kaela nodded. We ran.
We sprinted toward the edge and leapt the short gap to the next rooftop. This one had collapsed sections and exposed rebar. We ducked through the wreckage and dropped into the hollow frame of an old apartment complex. The interior reeked of mold and rain-soaked wood. Vines crawled along the walls, clinging to every surface like veins.
Behind us, the Hollowed screeched.
Then Kaela hissed.
I turned immediately. Blood. A jagged gash ran along her forearm, and crimson stained the side of her jacket.
"You hit?"
"Shrapnel," she said, breath shallow. "I'm good."
"Hold on."
We ducked into a partially collapsed laundry room. The door barely held on one hinge, but it would give us seconds. Maybe a minute. I dropped my pack and pulled out a roll of scavenged bandage strips, a needle, and a thread made from melted polymer.
She sat against the wall, her breaths shaky. The wound was deep but clean. I worked fast, tearing her sleeve to get better access. She didn't flinch as I cleaned it with a few drops of scavenged antiseptic.
"You always carry this much gear?" she joked weakly.
"Always. You attract more shrapnel than a magnet."
"Romantic."
"Quiet now. This is the part where I save your life."
She managed a smile. I pressed the bandage down and began wrapping it tightly. Blood soaked through almost immediately.
"You're good to move?"
"I'm not staying here."
"Didn't think so."
Another screech echoed through the hall. Closer now.
We didn't wait.
Out the side stairwell and down to the lower rooftop. We hit the tiles running. A stretch of burnt-out shops ran ahead of us like a maze through the past. The sun had begun dipping lower, casting shadows across the rusted walls and broken glass.
We cut through a skylight and dropped into what used to be a cafe. Chairs overturned, tabletops coated in dust and broken mugs. I could still make out the menu on the wall. Coffee. Scones. Peace.
"That jammer site was a bust," Kaela muttered as we paused behind the counter, catching our breath.
"We head back. Camp's the only line left."
She nodded, wiping blood from her brow. We pushed through the kitchen door, kicked open a back exit, and scrambled up a drainage pipe.
I reached the top first and grabbed her hand as she climbed. One of the Hollowed was still following—its claws scraping the pipe like a surgeon's scalpel. We pulled up just in time.
We ran.
Rooftop to rooftop. The world blurred into rust and moss and the steady thrum of our boots on steel. We were almost there. The pulse of the outer jammers came into view. Faint. Fading. But there.
Then the screaming started.
Not ours. The Hollowed.
But not their usual scream.
This was something else.
A high-pitched wail that rose like a warning siren. It split the air, too loud, too deliberate. It bounced between the buildings, echoing across the city.
From the rooftops of Camp 17, I saw figures moving. Camp members. Dozens of them. They'd heard it.
"They see us," Kaela said between gasps.
"Let's move."
We dashed forward. Boss had appeared at the far rooftop of Camp 17. He waved others back and stepped into position.
One jump.
Just one.
Kaela went first. She sprinted toward the edge, leapt, and cleared it. Boss reached out and caught her arm. Pulled her in. Safe.
I backed up, lungs on fire, muscles trembling. I could taste blood from how hard I'd bitten my tongue.
I ran.
Then it hit me.
A freight train of metal and muscle crashed into my side.
I didn't even see it.
My body hit the rooftop hard. Concrete shredded my shoulder and sent pain exploding through my ribs. I rolled over, gasping.
The impact took my breath away.
Something slammed into me from the side with the force of a speeding vehicle, and before I could even react, I was airborne. The Hollowed had come from my blind spot, fast and silent, and its sheer momentum carried both of us across the rooftop in a violent tumble. I barely registered the crunch of its metal joints as it tried to halt itself, but the rooftop gave no room for error.
The edge came up too fast.
The Hollowed skidded—then slipped—its claws screeching against the concrete, trying to dig in. It pitched sideways and tumbled clean off the roof, vanishing from sight in a blur of limbs and cables.
I landed hard, rolled twice, and slammed into a rusted vent. Pain shot through my ribs and my shoulder screamed. Dust filled my mouth and lungs. I coughed, spat, blinked.
Alive.
Barely.
I could hear the scream of the Hollowed as it fell, and then—nothing. Just the heavy thud of something hitting ground that wasn't built to forgive.
My brain struggled to catch up. I blinked again. I was still here. Still breathing. The Hollowed was gone. Not because I outmaneuvered it—but because it overreached.
"Noah!" Kaela's voice tore through the air like a whip. Raw, terrified.
I forced myself upright, every part of me screaming in protest. My legs felt like dead weight, my breath came in panicked gulps, and my heart pounded so hard it drowned out the world.
That could've been it.
That should've been it.
For a moment I saw it—myself lying twisted and broken in an alleyway, Kaela screaming from the other side, Boss pulling her back. That alternate ending played out in my head in perfect, awful clarity.
But I wasn't dead. Not yet.
"Come on," I muttered to myself, dragging air into my lungs. I staggered to the far edge of the rooftop, where the jump to Camp 17 awaited.
Neither I let myself think nor I let myself feel. I just ran.
My boots scraped the surface. The ledge approached.
I leapt.
Mid-air, I felt the weight of everything—my aching body, the satchel tugging on my shoulder, the blood crusted into my sleeve.
Then my foot slipped. The rooftop's edge crumbled as I pushed off. My momentum faltered.
I was falling.
And then—a jolt. A hand.
Boss's fingers locked around my wrist with terrifying strength.
"Got you," he growled, voice like gravel and steel.
My legs dangled in empty space. I could feel every drop of sweat on my neck. My other arm flailed, then found the ledge. I kicked, pulled, scrambled, and with a shout and Boss's final heave, I collapsed onto the rooftop.
The breath tore out of me. My lungs didn't know what to do. My shoulder burned like fire. My vision danced.
But I was back.
Kaela dropped to her knees beside me, her hands on my face, checking for wounds. Her voice shook. "You're okay. You're okay, right? Say something."
"Still... here," I gasped, managing a broken smile.
I didn't stand. Couldn't. My back was flat against the rooftop, the sharp bite of gravel and rust pressing into every sore inch of me. Each breath came like I was pulling air through a closed fist. Kaela stayed beside me, kneeling, her hand resting on my chest as if afraid I'd slip away again. Her forehead was furrowed, eyes locked onto mine, scanning every tremor, every wince.
Boss stood just behind her, a silent shadow against the falling light, his posture square and unwavering. He didn't ask questions. Not yet.
Across the gap, on the rooftop where everything nearly ended, three Hollowed now stood.
Still and watching.
None of them moved. They just observed, eyes glowing faint in the daylight.
Like they had no intention of chasing. Like they knew this was enough for today.
And for once, we agreed with them.