Dümped

Sandra struggled to swim, bumping into unseen obstacles as the river carried her away. At some point, something struck her, and darkness consumed her mind.

She awoke still floating in the water, dazed and disoriented. Gasping, she reached for the nearest thing she could grasp—a low-hanging branch from a fallen tree. With effort, she pulled herself onto it and dragged her body onto the muddy riverbank.

Unsure of where she was, Sandra began walking along the river, hoping to find something familiar. As she moved, a thin column of smoke rose from deep within the forest.

"It might be someone who can help," she thought, changing course toward the smoke.

Just as she neared her destination, figures emerged from the shadows, surrounding her.

"Hank, check her," ordered a man with a gun trained on her.

A burly man with an overgrown beard and the stench of fish stepped forward, running his hands over her pockets and clothing.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" the armed man demanded.

They tied Sandra's hands behind her back and marched her toward their camp. A flag fluttered above it—one she recognized. It bore the image of a massive meteorite engulfed in flames, and beneath it, a single word spelled in block letters: DAY.

An old man stepped forward as they approached. His sharp eyes studied Sandra.

"What do we have here?" he asked.

"We found her wandering near the perimeter," the armed man replied.

The old man hummed in thought before turning Sandra around. "Let's see if you're one of us or against us."

He pulled out a penknife, and two men seized Sandra's shoulders, holding her still. Just as the blade neared the nape of her neck, a voice rang out.

"Stop!"

All eyes turned toward the speaker.

"I know her," the voice said firmly. "She's not one of them."

The men hesitated before finally releasing Sandra. She spun around and saw him—Ray. He looked different, rougher, more worn, but she recognized him instantly. Without thinking, she ran to him and threw her arms around him.

The men tensed as if to intervene, but the old man held up a hand, silently telling them to stand down.

"Ray, you know that's not how it works," the old man said, slipping the penknife back into his pocket.

Ray let out a breath. "Sorry. I assumed you checked her before bringing her here." His gaze flicked to the armed man.

"We did," the man insisted.

Ray folded his arms. "Moses, I think you just like cutting napes for fun."

Moses scoffed. "Of course not. We just have to be sure." He shook his head and walked away.

"Where's Mike?" Sandra asked.

Ray's expression darkened. "Long story. I'll tell you later."

Sandra glanced up at the flag. "Zero Day since when?"

Ray sighed. "Unfortunate coincidence. I'll explain everything once you're ranked." He motioned for her to follow him toward another building.

"Ranked?" Sandra echoed, frowning.

Inside, a young boy—no older than fifteen—sat behind a desk.

The moment they stepped through the door, he spoke. "Sandra Styles, Nullifiers ID 312500."

Sandra stiffened.

Ray gestured toward the boy. "This is Matthew. He remembers everything since the day he was born. Lucky for us, he spent a lot of time in activist groups and forums."

Sandra studied Matthew. He sat silently, staring into space.

"What's he doing now?" she asked.

"Ranking you based on those who are no longer with us," Ray said.

A few tense moments passed. Then, Matthew spoke again.

"Sandra Styles. Rank: Sergeant."

Sandra opened her mouth to correct him—she wasn't Sergeant anything—but Ray clapped a hand on her shoulder.

"Congratulations, Sergeant Styles," he said with a grin.

Sandra blinked. Oh my God.

Her apocalyptic surname had just been decided for her.

Back when she signed up for the Nullifiers' forum, she had used a fake last name to protect her identity. She'd kept her real first name—too many bad experiences trying to remember a new one—but for a last name, she'd chosen Styles.

All because of Harry. Because she'd been obsessed with him since his One Direction days.

And now, in the middle of all this chaos, that teenage decision had just become her new reality.

She smiled at Ray.

What was all that with the old man?" Sandra asked, her voice low but firm. "Who are the Zeroday fighting now? I thought this was what you guys wanted."

Ray exhaled sharply. "You really don't know."

He gestured for her to follow him.

Sandra's stomach tightened as they walked down a dimly lit hallway. Ray led her into a small, windowless room.

Her breath caught.

Mike was there—chained to a table.

But he wasn't the same Mike she remembered. Branches twisted from his arms and shoulders, sprouting like unnatural growths. His skin was cracked, bark-like in places. He let out a low, guttural growl and fought against the restraints, the chains rattling violently.

Sandra's heart dropped.

She flinched every time the chains jerked.