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"Excuse me!" Greg called, trying to be heard over the din of the massive crowd.  "Excuse me, I need to get through!" "Screw you, man!" a 20-something you man said back.  Others gave Greg angry looks and one teenage girl shot him the finger.  He wilted and looked away, taking a deep sigh.  The foot traffic in Century City had been intense, but the crowds downtown were far, far worse.  It was body to body for blocks and blocks, and the motorists didn't have it any easier – traffic was still lined up as far as Greg could see.  As he milled through the thick crowd, Greg wiped the sweat from his brow and was careful not to fling it on anyone

"But we're gonna fix that right now.  All right, first we gotta . . ."  Sasha's eyes grew wide as a discordant chime rang in her ears. "What was that?" Greg asked, sticking a finger in his ear and wiggling it.  "Did I just hear something like . . . bells?" "Greg," Sasha said quietly, gesturing for him to come closer.  "Get behind me, and do exactly what I say, all right?" His eyes enlarged, but he did as she asked and walked closer, taking position behind her. "I told you that there were things worse than in the horror movies?" Sasha said, reaching inside her waistband to pull out a small pistol. ". . . yes?" Greg asked, his stomach sour

Greg couldn't sleep.  Again.  He looked over at his clock and groaned when he saw the time.  4:03AM. After dropping back into bed, Greg let out a long sigh.  Nothing he could do made sleep feel any closer.  He would roll, fluff his pillows, look at the ceiling, hum to himself, count sheep.  He had already tried all the usual methods, and after lying there for a few more minutes, he gave up trying to get any rest.  Instead, he laid on his back and listened to his ceiling fan chop the air of the room in its steady rhythm, creaking as it went.  The sound was tolerable for only so long, and when he tired of it, Greg got to his feet and pulled ba

Sasha's splashing footfalls echoed in the darkness of the rotting apartment building. She kept her revolver pointed forward and her eyes trained on the ground so that she could follow a trail of tiny, algae-smeared footprints.  Vision was possible only thanks to the goggles that Thomas had lent her, and in this case, she had them set on nightvision mode.  While she stalked forward, an inhuman melody plagued her thoughts, but it wasn't anything more than a minor distraction, so she kept going, straining her eyes to see the impressions left by the little girl's passage.  The prints led to a wooden staircase, then ascended them.  All of the mat

A shrill, glass-shattering cry pierced the stillness of the night.  In a blur, Thomas and Sasha drew their firearms, irrepressible quakes going down their bodies as Sasha's stomach soured. "What is . . ." "Panther-type," Sasha said, gulping.  "Fast.  Very, very fast." No quaver entered Thomas' voice, even as he leveled his gun against a hulking shadow a few strides away.  Its growl vibrated through them, even from that distance, as red eyes kindled in the dark. "Aim where you think it will be," Sasha said, stepping back as she slid her knife out of her holster.  "Not where it is." Thomas nodded and pulled the receiver on his rifle.  The

Milli 12:22PM Milli looked over her draft table as she sang along with the scratch-riddled song. “When you're down and out When you're on the street When evening falls so hard I will comfort you . . .” Blueprints for structures both majestic and practical covered the table, with more rolled up and placed on shelves, each labeled and put in its place.  Milli prepared to make a note on her current design when something pricked her awareness, something so small as to almost be imperceptible.  Even after closing her eyes, it was hard to determine what it was, but her heart jumped at a possibility. It can't be. She ran to her re

Sasha May 22nd 1:32AM Sasha's splashing footfalls echoed in the shadows of the rotting apartment building. She kept her revolver pointed forward and kept her flashlight trained at the ground so that she could follow a trail of tiny, algae-smeared footprints.  While she walked, an inhuman melody plagued her thoughts, but it wasn't enough to prevent her from pushing past it, so she kept going, straining her eyes to see the impressions left by the little girl's passage.  The prints led to a wooden staircase, then ascended them.  All of the material was rotted, so Sasha took a cautious step on the first level, only to have floorboard snap off