A Man Through Time

Brittle concrete crunched beneath my boots as I sprinted along the terminal's western edge. The tarmac stretched like a battlefield graveyard—charred fuselages of broken aircraft rusted in the heat haze, their wings bent like shattered limbs. The wind stung with heat and the acrid bite of old fuel.

I stayed low, slipping between shattered cargo pallets and the skeletal remains of service trucks, heart pounding in my ears. A shadow passed across the sun—something avian and massive overhead—but I didn't stop to look.

I reached a side gate partially hanging from its hinges and darted back into the terminal through a shattered security checkpoint. The sudden darkness inside forced my eyes to adjust. My breaths came shallow and controlled as I slowed, slipping between the skeletal remains of yesterday's soldiers and survivors.

Back inside, I moved slower.

The terminal was not as quiet as before. Something had changed. I crept through the shadows of the old food court, eyes scanning. The scent was what hit me first—fetid and musky, like a mix of rot and predator urine. Then came the claw marks on the floor. Deep. Heavy.

Droppings.

Not human. Not Zero. Beast scat—fibrous and thick. I found a carcass nearby, its bones cracked and marrow sucked clean. Flesh gone. Ribcage gnawed.

I pressed forward. At the far end of a baggage carousel, partially obscured by shattered vending machines, I found it.

The nest.

Torn seat cushions, blankets, clothing—matted together with fur and filth. Embedded in it, bits of bone and twisted metal. And a stench that made my throat tighten.

Then I saw the prints.

Four-toed. Heavy. Clawed.

I'd seen them before.

Hyena-like beasts, their backs hunched, covered in spines like a porcupine's. Fast, vicious, with serrated jaws that snapped bone like crackers. I called them Shriekers.

And from the looks of this nest, they were nearby.

Too nearby.

I backed away slowly, steps measured, heart hammering.

Slipping away from the last encounter left my nerves frayed. My pulse hadn't come down, my breath ragged in my throat. The Zero's blood was still drying on my blade. I could still feel the strange resistance of the core just before it shattered. The memory lingered like heat after lightning—intense, primal, electric. I'd kissed death and pulled away just before it could devour me.

But the mission wasn't over.

Somewhere in this cursed airport, a pulsed signal had gone live. Drone recon had caught the geo-tag hours ago, but it was too weak to identify. Now it was all legwork if I wanted to know more. The coordinates were glowing on the cracked screen of my small tablet. 

"Should've stolen a new one of these too." I chuckled, tapping the glitchy screen. 

I moved with purpose, weaving through the dim corridors and decaying bones of Terminal D. Every echo could be a Zero. Every shadow might hold something worse. I kept to cover, hugging walls, slipping between overturned kiosks and frozen escalators.

Eventually, I found it.

A metal door—reinforced, old-world tech. It matched the coordinates. A maintenance access point half-buried behind a collapsed section of roofing and ductwork. I stepped over the debris, grabbed the twisted handle, and turned.

Unlocked.

I pulled. Nothing. The door wouldn't budge. Something jammed it from the other side.

I needed another way in.

Before I could backtrack, a sharp screech echoed down the corridor. I turned, bow already in hand.

More Zeros. These were different—faster, leaner. Their bodies weren't decaying husks like the one I had fought earlier. These had muscle. Purpose. Their eyes glowed faintly, as if they'd been active longer. Or recently reactivated.

No time for arrows.

I switched to my sword, ducking low as the first charged. Its speed was jarring—a blur of flesh and fury. I side-stepped, slashing upward. The blade met bone, sheared through clavicle and neck. Not enough.

Another came from behind. I spun, reversed my grip, and drove the blade deep into its chest. It screeched but didn't fall. I twisted, yanked the sword free, then plunged it into the solar plexus. There—the same shattering sound. The core. Again.

The Zero collapsed.

Three more surged forward. I didn't wait. I ran.

Through a shattered window, across a baggage ramp, I leapt down to a lower level, skidding along rusted flooring slick with oil and blood. Ahead, an old vent—large enough to crawl through. I ducked inside, hearing the echo of claws scrabbling behind me.

The vent groaned as I shimmied forward. Sweat poured down my face. My blade scraped the side wall. One wrong move and I'd get stuck.

Then the floor beneath me gave way.

I dropped into darkness.

Metal clanged beneath me as I landed hard on a cold tile floor. Pain bloomed up my side. But I was alive.

And alone.

The room was sealed. Dark. With my flashlight, I looked around. Filing cabinets. Steel shelves. A large generator dead in the corner.

And there, in the center of the room, slumped in an office chair, was a corpse.

Not a Zero.

I approached slowly, hand on my blade.

It was a man—middle-aged, uniformed. Not military. At least not any military I knew. His body hadn't decayed like the others.

"He's not from my time...." I realized, " He's a native..."

Although he was dead, he was evidence that not all of humanity had been wiped out. Within the last few years, something had brought him here. I approached his body and searched for something that could transmit. I didn't find anything.

I continued my search with the lockers and the file cabinets. I then kicked myself as I went back to the desk and opened the draws. 

"That's it." I said.

In the drawer lay a transponder. The pulse. I reached down and picked it up. The screen on my tablet blinked. With a few taps, the data came in, slowly, but surely.

"Signal broadcast: Autonomous Beacon – Code Echo-12. Containment breach status: RED."

.Nothing was given but that line. I looked back in the drawer again, finding tools, an old data terminal, and a sealed case marked PROPERTY OF THE CDC.

I cracked it open.

Inside were vials. Notes. A familiar SIG .45…

"This…" I frowned, inspecting the pistol, the pistol grip had a capital L between two angel wings, "Lainey?"

"No…Lainey went missing…" I told myself, I remembered Lainey, a young, lovable brunette and teammate with a fiery personality, disappeared in 2025.

"What the hell was she doing here?" I asked myself, returning to my search.

I then found my answer — a photo. A group of scientists. Yanna Tejada among them. On the back of the photo read: PENN STATE '27

My pulse quickened. I was just there. Was that before or after? I looked back at the photo and had many questions.

I pocketed the photo, slung the case over my back, and glanced once more at the corpse. My brow furrowed as I spotted something new from this perspective. 

A faint light surges beneath the light coat of dust over the brace that covers the corpse's forearm. The brace was unlike any I'd seen. Reaching out to touch it, it unfolded like mechanical petals, revealing a glowing node. Light burst outward, forming a projection against the nearest wall.

"Stardate 262. August 10th."

The man's voice, faint and cracking with static, filled the room. It was his log—pre-recorded.

"I don't know if this'll be my final message, but if it is... I hope someone kind finds it. My name is Bren Salkin. I came here scavenging—not out of greed, but out of desperation. Thankfully, I found this old world ruin, and surprisingly, this area is in pretty good shape. Anyway, my sister, Naya, she's sick. The kind of sick old medicine can't touch anymore."

His face, youthful yet drawn from stress, flickered into view.

"They told me about the Bloodglass Lily—how it reverses cellular decay. It can save Naya... and a girl from the Alcost family, too. Her name's Samira. They promised me one dose of the cure if I brought back enough of the lilies. Just one dose..."

The image shifted, displaying a map—hand-drawn, marked with a red X near the northern ridge.

"I almost made it back," Bren whispered. "Hopefully, I will. But if you're hearing this, I didn't get to deliver it."

The screen trembled. His eyes locked onto the lens.

"If you're here, please… find the lilies if the ones on my person rot. Save them both. It's a big ask considering how far we are from the City Fort. Consider this payment."

A small compartment opened beneath the projection node. Inside sat the Genemod—sleek and alien in design. A biotech piece with dozens of micro-ports and soft blue light pulsing along its frame.

"This Genemod is yours now," Bren's voice continued. "It took everything I had to steal it. It'll adapt to your DNA—enhance what's already strong. And the chain around my neck holds a storage ring. It has my maps, gear, and data on the Wilder Lands. It's yours, too."

The projection dimmed. Then one final screen appeared.

Coordinates.

City Fort: Latitude 32.8201, Longitude -96.8003.

Job Request: Courier and Retrieval. Emergency Cure Transport. 

Then the light faded, and silence reclaimed the room.

I stood motionless, overwhelmed.

I took the Genemod. The brace turned to sand and found a new home on my forearm. I took a deep breath and reached out to take the necklace to pocket for later.

"I…Can this shit get any more crazy?" I muttered.