Out of the water and onto the sand, they kept coming—multiplying each time they devoured a human head."
Like they owned the land.
The screams were louder than before. Some didn't even make it ten steps before collapsing in the sand, paralyzed by shock. A kid dropped his ice cream cone, frozen in place as one of the walking sharks stepped onto the beach, towering over everyone.
The panic exploded.
More people ran. Some dove into parked cars. Others trampled each other in a wild rush to get away.
One shark snatched a man off his feet mid-run, jaws closing over his entire upper body and ripping him in half like paper. Blood sprayed across a parked lifeguard truck.
Another leapt onto the boardwalk, crashing into a group and tearing into the nearest body like it was raw meat on a cutting board. More screams as bodies fell, blood painted the sand.
They weren't just predators anymore.
They were invaders.
One second, they were walking—next, they were leaping, tearing across the beach with those monstrous legs that moved like springs.
The crowd didn't stand a chance.
One old man, trying to limp away with a walking stick, barely made it ten feet before one of the creatures landed right in front of him and bit his entire upper body off in a single snap—leaving just trembling legs behind before they crumbled.
A woman in a red bikini sprinted for her life, sobbing and screaming into her phone as she tried to call someone. She didn't see the one that had circled around. It pounced from behind, slammed her to the ground, and tore her apart like she was made of wet cloth.
A teenage boy holding his surfboard like a shield tried to fight one off. Brave kid. Stupid idea. The sharkman didn't even slow down—it just crashed into him, crushed his ribs on impact, and bit off his head like it was a watermelon.
Blood was everywhere.
The beach had turned into a horror movie on steroids.
The footage was already blowing up online. People screaming, bodies mangled, limbs flying. It was chaos on screen.
Leo stared, eyes wide, barely blinking as he watched the videos play over and over again on his monitor.
"The meteors… they're the reason," he whispered. "It has to be it."
His eyes dropped to the name of the beach in the news banner. His heart skipped. That wasn't just some beach.
That was their beach.
His city.
He almost brushed it off. Thought maybe the military would step in. Maybe the freak show would be stopped before it got out of control.
But then a sudden realization hit him.
Sarah.
Her office was just a few blocks from that beach.
"Shit!" Leo barked, shooting up from his seat. He snatched his car keys from the desk and bolted for the door.
"She's in danger," he muttered as he sprinted through the hallway, shoving past his confused coworkers. "I can't let anything happen to her.
And with that, he was gone.
Speeding through the streets.
Racing against death.
The city was in full-blown chaos.
People were sprinting through the streets, screaming their lungs out. Cars swerved, crashed, and honked like a it was war zone. Smoke and blood painted the skyline like some apocalyptic mural. But Leo didn't stop. Not for the red lights. Not for the panicked pedestrians. Not even for his own safety.
His only focus—Sarah.
She worked close to the coast. Too close. And if those freakish shark bastards had made it into the city, she won't survive it he said...
He slammed the gas harder, weaving through traffic like a pro. His hands were firm on the wheel, eyes locked forward, jaw tight. A family of four ran across the road in front of him, chased by one of the sharkmen. Blood sprayed behind them.
Then—
Boom.
Right in front of his car.
A massive shark-creature stood in the middle of the road, teeth flashing like knives. Leo didn't hesitate. He gritted his teeth and floored the pedal. The tires screeched as he slammed straight into the monster—sending it flying into the side of a building with a loud, meaty crunch.
"Fucking hell!" he muttered, adrenaline surging.
But before he could enjoy the victory, another one charged from behind. Leo jerked the gear, slammed the car into reverse, spun it in a perfect 180⁰ like he was channeling Vin Diesel, and rammed into the second one—boom—sending it crashing over a row of parked bikes.
For a second, he actually smirked. "Fast and fucking Furious," he whispered.
That smile didn't last.
A third sharkman lunged, jaws wide open, and bit right through the front bumper. Its teeth crunched metal like potato chips, then it lifted the entire car into the air like it weighed nothing.
"Shit!" Leo yelled, flinging the door open and jumping out just in time as the beast flipped the car over and ripped it apart.
Leo hit the ground, rolled, scrambled to his feet—but the sharkman was already on him. It charged with insane speed, its shadow casting over him as it lunged for his head.
"Fuck—!"
He dove to the side, just in time. The jaws snapped shut where his face had been a second ago, leaving deep bite marks in the pavement.
Trapped. Backed into a wall. No way out.
Leo's heart slammed in his chest. "This is it," he muttered. "This is how I die.
Then—bang!
A shotgun blast tore through the shark's fin, spraying blood across the street. The beast jerked, stunned. Bang! A second shot blasted through its skull, dropping it like a sack of meat.
Leo's eyes widened as the smoke cleared and the shooter stepped into view.
She was a walking fantasy—long legs wrapped in tight black jeans, white crop top hugging her curves like a second skin, blonde hair flowing past her shoulders in waves of gold. Her pink cap sat snug on her head, framing her icy blue eyes that sparkled like sin.
She looked like a warrior Barbie, but with a double-barrel revolver shotgun and the aim of a goddamn sniper.
Leo's mouth dropped. "Holy shit…"
The girl pumped her shotgun again with one hand—ka-chunk—and slung it over her shoulder like she just swatted a fly.
Leo couldn't stop staring. His jaw still hung open like his brain forgot how to work.
She raised a brow, clearly catching his dumbfounded look.
"Eyes up here, Romeo," she said, voice smooth as silk with just the right bite.
Leo blinked like a broken robot, then looked down, then up, then down again. "Sorry," he stammered. "Didn't mean to—uh—I mean—thanks—for not letting me get eaten."
She smirked, tilted her head. "You're welcome, handsome."
He coughed, scratched his head. "I, uh... I'll just bow now."
And he did. Like an idiot.
She rolled her eyes and started walking away.
Leo just stood there, totally ruined.
He stood frozen for a second, eyes locked on the blonde girl as she walked off like some kind of angelic hitwoman straight out of a fever dream. Everything about her—the way she moved, the way she carried that shotgun—was mesmerizing.
He almost forgot why he came.
Bang!
Another shotgun blast rang out. This time from across the street.
Leo snapped back to reality. His eyes darted toward the bar—Sarah's bar.
Without thinking, he dashed across the street, boots pounding the blood-stained pavement. He shoved the door open—
Boom!
A deafening blast tore through the air. A slug shot whistled past his head, just inches from smashing his skull into brain pudding. He hit the ground on reflex, ducking as the round shattered a bottle behind him. If he had been even a second slower, he'd be toast.
"What the fuck!" Leo shouted, heart hammering in his chest. "Do I look like a goddamn sharkman to you?!"
From behind the bar, he heard muffled voices.
"Did I get it?" a woman whispered.
Another voice fired back, "Why don't you get your ass up and check, you pussy?"
"Oh please," the first one snapped, "you're hiding down here with me!"
Leo narrowed his eyes. "Seriously?"
Then another voice, this one sharper, more annoyed, barked, "Both of you shut the hell up!"
Suddenly, someone rose from behind the wine shelf—Sarah.
She gasped when she saw him, dropped the shotgun immediately, and ran into his arms.
"Oh my God," she breathed, clinging to him like he might vanish. Then she kissed him—hard. Passionate. Desperate. Like it might be the last kiss they ever shared.
"Uhh… guys?" a voice broke in.
The manager stood awkwardly nearby, late 30s, balding, and clearly stressed beyond his emotional capacity.
"There are still monsters out there," he said. "You might wanna finish your reunion later."
Leo shot him a middle finger but kept holding Sarah. He kissed her again, softer this time, and whispered, "I told you I'd come for you."
Sarah smiled through her fear. "It's chaos out there…"
"We're not staying," Leo cut her off. "That's a suicide wish."
The manager frowned. "We've killed two already."
"Yeah," Leo said, eyeing the corpses. "And there's twenty more coming."
"So what now?" another bartender asked from behind the counter.
"Anything but staying here."
Leo caught the shotgun Sarah had dropped and held it with surprising confidence.
"You're not bad," Leo said, glancing at Sarah. "All that time on COD paid off."
She blushed a little, chuckling despite the madness. "Thanks, soldier."
The manager looked puzzled. "Wait—what's COD?"
The bartender beside him sighed. "Call of Duty. A video game."
"Like military training?"
"Bro, just… nevermind."
Crash!
A sharkman's body came flying through the open doorway, crashing into the center of the bar. The body twitched, teeth snapping, its flesh already beginning to shift—
Bang!
Leo didn't hesitate. He planted a shot right between its eyes. The creature twitched once and went still.
But then the real nightmare began.
Figures started emerging outside. Not just sharkmen—mutated horrors. Some had fish-like heads. Others looked like eels, octopuses, even stingrays twisted into humanoid shapes. They attacked without care, killing anything in sight—humans, sharks, even their own.
Blood drew them like wolves.
But then one of them stepped forward, towering over the rest. This one had a bear's head, hulking muscles, claws instead of fingers. Easily ten feet tall. It stared straight into the bar, right at Leo.
And now... the shattered doorway was wide open.
Leo's finger tightened around the trigger. Everyone behind him held their breath. He only had one gun, barely enough rounds, and no backup.
Just him… Sarah… a useless manager, a bartender… and a full of wine full
This was survival of the fittest.
And Leo knew—he might not make it out alive.