Earth

  The news brought by Anita were terrible.

  Alessandro’s expression hardened. “Another portal?”

  Anita nodded grimly. “Yes, but this is different. The things coming out from there… they’re faster. About the size of a small child, but heavier, thicker-skinned. They look like some kind of salamander, but wrong—spined, twisted. They move in packs, not scattered like the others. That’s the real problem. They’re staying together, almost like they’re waiting for something.”

  Albert took a small step forward. “Packs?”

  “Yes,” Anita said softly, turning a moment to regard the child, then she continued. “They don’t disperse. They follow each other, like they have a purpose. We need help, Alessandro. Rinaldi wanted you to know. You fought well yesterday—you could make a difference.”

  He stared at her for a long moment, the hammer still in his hand. The faint wind stirred the edges of the boards they’d nailed, carrying the scent of sawdust. For a heartbeat, he saw again the plaza—screams, gunfire, and the terrible stillness that had followed.

  He shook his head slowly. “No,” he said at last, voice low. “Not this time.”

  Anita blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “I already gave what I could,” he said. “Yesterday… we fought until there was nothing left to fight with. So many died. And I have a family to protect. This house, these walls—it’s all we’ve got. Because of my actions… yesterday I wasn’t here when my family needed me. I won’t leave them again.”

  The conviction in his tone left no room for argument, though there was no anger in it—only regret and weariness.

  Anita hesitated, then sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I understand. Truly, I do. Everyone has to choose where to stand now. It’s just—” She glanced down the road toward the river. “We can’t afford to lose too many able people. Those things… if they start moving up from the river, none of the barricades will hold long.”

  From the doorway, Laura’s voice cut through the air, clear and sharp. “What about the army? Or the police. Communication still works, doesn’t it? Someone has to be coordinating.”

  Anita turned toward her, shaking her head. “We tried. The lines are jammed most of the time, and when someone does get through, the answer’s always the same—they’re overwhelmed everywhere. Major cities, small towns, it doesn’t matter. Whatever’s happening, it’s global.”

  “So we’re on our own,” Laura said flatly.

  “Yes,” Anita said after a pause. “That’s what it looks like.”

  A quiet settled over them. The morning light filtered through the gaps between boards, tracing golden stripes across Laura’s tired face. Behind her, Victor hovered near, hanging on every word.

  Alessandro rubbed the bridge of his nose, the hammer hanging loose at his side. “Then we hold here,” he said finally. “If things go bad, at least we’ll have sturdy walls between us and whatever’s out there.”

  Anita studied him for a long moment. There was something like disappointment in her eyes, but also understanding. “If you change your mind, the plaza’s still open. Rinaldi said to tell you that. Everyone who fought yesterday earned their place.”

  He nodded, though his eyes were distant. “Tell him thank you.”

  She adjusted the strap of her satchel, glancing once more toward the river. “Stay safe, all of you.”

  “You too.”

  When she was gone, her footsteps fading down the street, Alessandro stood in the doorway for a while, staring after her. The sun had risen higher, glinting off the boarded windows and catching the pale edges of the dust in the air.

  Laura’s hand brushed his shoulder. “I know you want to do more, but you can’t be there and here at the same time. You did the right thing,” she said quietly.

  He let out a slow breath. “Maybe. Or maybe I just chose the easier path.”

  She shook her head. “You chose to protect your family. There’s nothing easy about that.”

  He looked at her then, really looked—at the bruises along her neck, the stubborn line of her jaw, the exhaustion that hadn’t dimmed her resolve. He reached out, touching her hand briefly before turning back to the window.

  “We’ll need more boards,” he murmured. “And more nails. The back rooms still have gaps.”

  Laura nodded, already shifting her weight toward the kitchen. “I’ll make a list. The twins can help sort what we have left.”

  He watched her go, the sound of her footsteps grounding him against the uneasy quiet. For a moment, he let his eyes close. The echo of yesterday still lingered—blood, fire, the roar of a crowd that had felt less like people and more like something primal, driven by instinct rather than will. He didn’t know what that strange surge of aggression had been, whether fear sharpened into fury or something deeper and foreign, but he felt its absence now like the cooling of embers after a storm.

  He wasn’t sure if that made him relieved—or hollow.

  Outside, the light shifted again, sliding across the rough wood and cracked pavement, touching the silent street that was no longer home yet not entirely lost either. He picked up the hammer, set another board in place, and began to work anew.

  By the time they stopped, the sun had begun to dip behind the rooftops, staining the sky in shades of pink and orange. The rhythmic thud of hammering had filled the day, blending with the creak of old timber and the occasional murmur from inside the house. Albert had taken the first shift as his father’s helper, handing nails and steadying boards until his arms trembled with exhaustion, then Victor took over. They switched twice more as the hours dragged on, sweat streaking their faces and dust clinging to their hair.

  Laura stayed near the front door, alternating between resting and keeping watch through the cracks in the shutters. Every now and then she’d call out softly, warning of a sound in the distance or reminding them to drink water. Her presence, even from across the room, kept Alessandro’s thoughts anchored.

  By late afternoon, the house had changed. Every window that faced the street was barred and sealed, each door reinforced with nailed crossbeams. They’d left only two ways in or out—the main entrance, now strengthened with heavy planks, and a smaller door at the back, cleared for emergencies. The air inside smelled faintly of resin and old dust.

  It wasn’t much to look at, but it felt safer. Solid.

  The house was old but well-built, its thick stone walls holding a stubborn kind of strength. It had stood through decades of storms and winters, and Alessandro hoped it would stand through this too. Still, as he put down the hammer and rubbed the ache from his shoulder, he knew better than to mistake sturdy for secure. This wasn’t a fortress, and they weren’t soldiers. The best defense they had now was vigilance.

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  He moved to the window and peered out through a narrow slit between the boards. The street lay still beneath the fading light—no movement, no sound, only the distant caw of a crow circling above the rooftops. For a moment it almost looked peaceful, but he couldn’t shake the weight pressing at the back of his mind.

  Less than two kilometers away, another rift gaped open near the river. Anita’s words replayed in his head—faster, pack hunters, waiting for something. He could almost imagine them crawling through the mud and shadows, their slick bodies glistening under the fading sun, gathering in numbers too large to count.

  Alessandro felt himself aging ten years in a couple of days. The battle, the preparation, the danger all around — they were keeping his mind occupied with bad thoughts. But Raime, and the injuries his wife sported right now made him feel like he had failed his family.

  “I need to do better, to be better.” He murmured to himself.

  The smell of sawdust still hung faintly in the air, mingling with the scent of food. The table was cluttered—half-eaten plates, a screwdriver someone had forgotten to put away. The twins sat slumped in their chairs, the exhaustion of the day making their usual chatter sluggish but not enough to silence them completely.

  “I wish another one of those things showed up,” Victor muttered, pushing around the last bite of pasta on his plate. “Not a lot, just… something. We didn’t even get to see anything today.”

  Albert frowned at him. “You say that now, but yesterday you nearly pissed yourself when that monster screamed.”

  Victor shot him a look. “I didn’t! And anyway, that was different. Those were like demons. I mean the smaller ones. The ones Anita said looked like salamanders.”

  “Salamanders don’t sound very interesting,” Albert said, his voice low but filled with fascination. “Do you think they drop something? Like those crystals people were talking about online?”

  Laura, seated across from them, sighed softly, arms on the table. “You two sound like you’re playing one of your games again.”

  Victor grinned faintly. “Well, it kinda feels like one, doesn’t it? Monsters, skills, classes…” He leaned forward, eyes bright despite the weariness. “Dad, what do you think your class would be? You fought that big battle, right?”

  Alessandro paused mid-bite, setting the fork down. “I don’t know, I just hope to get something useful for keeping us alive.” And get your brother back, he thought.

  “Yeah,” Albert said, eyes gleaming. “Everyone’s talking about it. People are waiting for it, everybody have stats, maybe we will have skills too! And magic! And we saw the message, the System said we will get a class after this tutorial phase finishes.”

  “If I get something, it will be related to shooting. Hunter maybe? I really hope to not get something like street sweeper.” Alessandro gave a small, humourless chuckle.

  Victor laughed at that, but Laura’s smile was thinner, her eyes distant. “Whatever those classes are, I hope they make us safer. We’ve had enough excitement already.”

  The twins exchanged a look, but didn’t argue.

  Alessandro leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Tomorrow, we’ll need to go out,” he said quietly. The room seemed to still a little at his words. “We have food, but not enough to last long if this keeps going. I’ll take the pickup, look for supplies—the grocery stores were basically raided already, but maybe I can go to a couple of farmers I know, they will have cows or pigs, I can probably get something from them.”

  Laura looked up sharply. “You’re not going alone.”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” he replied, his voice calm but firm. “But we can’t all go either. The streets aren’t safe.”

  Her hand tightened around her cup. “We’ve already seen what happens when people split up.”

  “I know.” He glanced toward the boarded window, where faint light from the setting sun slipped through the cracks. “But we can’t just sit here and wait. I’ll go early, before anything starts moving again. Maybe stop by the plaza—see if the doctors are still there. Someone should look at you properly.”

  “It’s fine,” she murmured.

  “It’s not,” he said, a touch of warmth in his voice softening the words. “You were lucky all those cuts didn’t get infected, but luck doesn’t last forever.”

  Laura sighed, staring at the flickering lamp. “Then we all go,” she decided. “The boys stay in the car, we make it quick. We see how bad things are out there, and then we decide what’s next.”

  Victor looked up from his plate, excitement flaring again. “We’re going too?”

  “We can do it like this,” Alessandro said. “We can head to the plaza, get you checked out, and we can leave the boys with the other children for a bit. We can go ourselves and come back later, maybe even see if somebody else wants to join our search for food. We don’t have to do everything alone.”

  Laura’s brow furrowed as she set her cup down. “Leaving the boys with strangers doesn’t sit right with me,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “I don’t care how safe the plaza looks — if we don’t know the people.”

  Alessandro nodded slowly. “I know. I don’t like it either. But Anita said there were a lot of kids there, right? Some lost their parents… Maybe someone we know made it there too. If that’s the case, we could ask for help. Just for a couple of hours.”

  Laura looked unconvinced, fingers drumming against the wood of the table. “And if there isn’t anyone we trust?”

  “Then we don’t leave them,” Alessandro said simply. “But we have to look. We can’t keep pretending we’ll be fine if we just stay here. The longer we wait, the worse it gets.”

  Laura exhaled slowly, her eyes flicking toward the twins, who had gone quiet again. “Alright,” she murmured. “We’ll see when we get there. If we find someone—someone decent—we’ll ask. But no unnecessary risks, Ale.”

  He gave her a faint smile. “Of course.”

  The discussion shifted into quieter details—the route they’d take, the things they needed most, how to conserve what little fuel they had left. The map on the tablet they were using was smudged with dirt and fingerprints, their whispered plans mixing with the faint creak of the house and the sounds from outside. Eventually, exhaustion won over worry.

  They divided the night into shifts again, each taking turns to watch while the others rested. The hours passed in uneasy silence, the only sounds the wind rustling through broken fences and the distant metallic groan of the world rearranging itself. Once, Laura spotted movement near the corner of the street — a dark, lurching shape dragging itself along the pavement. She raised the rifle, finger brushing the trigger, then hesitated.

  Better not, she thought. The noise will bring more.

  The creature eventually vanished into the shadows. The rest of the night passed without incident.

  When dawn came, the sky was pale and heavy with mist. The family gathered what little they could carry, filled the truck’s tank with the last of the stored fuel, and climbed in. The engine’s low rumble broke the silence of the street, and they began their slow descent toward the plaza.

  The drive was quiet. The roads told their own stories — shattered windows, abandoned cars, and houses torn open like paper. The smell hit them before the sight did: blood, smoke, and the sour tang of decay. Even the twins, who had been so restless the day before, sat still in the back seat, eyes wide as they passed bodies half-hidden beneath debris.

  Laura reached back once, brushing Albert’s shoulder. He didn’t flinch, only nodded silently.

  When they finally reached the plaza, a barricade of overturned vehicles and scrap metal blocked the main entrance. A group of weary-looking people stood guard, their faces pale but alert. One of them stepped forward and squinted through the windshield.

  “Alessandro?”

  He stopped the engine, recognizing the voice. “Yeah. It’s me. Good to see you Gian.”

  The man’s tense expression softened. “You’re alive, thank God. Park it over there,” he said, pointing toward a line of cars. “No vehicles past this point. Too easy to draw attention. Go on foot — what do you need?”

  “We were looking for a doctor, the hospital is too far away.”

  “You’re not the only one who came looking for cures. You’ll find the medical tents straight ahead, you can’t miss them.”

  Alessandro nodded, and they did as told. The truck’s doors creaked as they climbed out, the air thick with smoke and the distant murmur of voices. Makeshift shelters sprawled across the plaza — tents, tarps, even bedsheets strung between lampposts. The faint smell of antiseptic mingled with that of sweat and exhaustion.

  They followed the directions toward the medical camp, weaving through clusters of survivors. Just before reaching the tents, a familiar voice called out:

  “Laura?”

  They turned.

  A young woman was running toward them, her hair tied back messily, face dirty but still beautiful.

  “Alice?” Laura’s voice faltered, disbelief flashing across her features. “What—what are you doing here? Weren’t you still in Milan!”

  Alice stopped in front of them, breathing hard, her eyes wide and shining with relief. “I was,” she said, voice trembling. “I came back to surprise Raime, I was still on the train when all this madness started. You have no idea what I went through to get here.”

  Laura stared at her, words caught somewhere between relief and shock.

  And as the plaza noise swelled around them — the cries, the distant shouts, the metallic clang of tools — the weight of the moment settled in.

  Alice caught her breath, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Her eyes darted from Laura to Alessandro, then to the twins clinging close behind them. For a heartbeat, she looked as though she wanted to say something—but after another round of inspecting the family, her eyes got large, fear painting her expression.

  Then her voice cracked softly. “Where’s Raime?”