Two days later.
Harshal woke.
No — he was already awake. But something pulled him forward. Out of bed. Feet on cold floor.
Vision blurred at the edges. Folded inward.
"Evan. Contacts. Now."
Evan moved. Didn't question. Didn't hesitate.
Harshal could see something without them. The barrier. Flickering. And beyond it—
Evan returned. Handed him the case. Harshal's fingers found the lenses. Seated them blind. Blinked.
The world sharpened.
A saber tooth stood at the barrier.
"Since when do we have a lion?"
"Saber tooth," Evan corrected. No smile. "After you fell, it went into a coma too. Transformed through seventeen forms in two days. Birds. Reptiles. A thing without a name. This is what it chose at the end."
Harshal looked closer.
One tooth was broken. Same side. Same angle.
The broken tusk.
The saber tooth opened its mouth. A sound came out—nothing human ears should catch. But something in Harshal caught it anyway. Translated. The words arrived behind his ears, in the space where dreams lived.
Master. Oo master. Thank you for the treat. But now I have to retreat.
His panel flickered. Irritation spike—shaped like recognition.
Beside him, Maya's jaw tightened. She felt it too. No one else noticed.
Harshal stepped forward. "Where are you going? Why did you come?"
The saber tooth's head tilted. I can't tell you that for—
It stopped.
Listened.
Something they couldn't hear.
The saber tooth turned. Gone.
Harshal exhaled. Let the breath take something with it.
Evan waited. Then: "What did it say?"
Harshal didn't answer.
Evan looked at Maya. She didn't answer either.
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The silence between them grew teeth.
Harshal walked back to his bed. Sat down. Leg still healing. Sarah sat nearby, monitoring.
"Sarah. Reports."
She handed him the tablet. Readings. Frequencies. His own vitals from the coma. He scrolled. Saw nothing new.
Then Maya's voice came from the corner. Quiet. Careful.
"Did you see a golden panel? Before fainting?"
Harshal stopped scrolling. Looked up.
Maya's face was blank. But her eyes weren't.
"Yes," he said. "I did. But after you came to me, it just disappeared. I couldn't see it properly."
He held her gaze.
"How did you know about it?"
Maya didn't answer.
Evan stepped forward. Voice calm. Measured.
"It's okay. Leave it. What we need now is rest. One month. No work. Basic things—I'll handle. Food. Monitoring. Everything."
Harshal stood. Grabbed Evan's wrist. Pulled him close.
"One month?" Voice low. Dangerous. "Do you even know what could happen in one month? And why do you need rest?"
Evan didn't pull back. Met his eyes.
"Your health is important. Since Maya, Michael, and Sarah came, your life has been a hassle. We've been working too long. You need to heal. Not just your leg. All of it."
Harshal held his grip. Searched Evan's face for something. Weakness. Fear. Lie.
Found none.
He let go.
"Okay."
Evan exhaled. Nodded.
Harshal sat back down. Looked at the wall. At the barrier beyond it.
One month.
The saber tooth was out there. The listening thing was out there. And now he was supposed to rest.
He looked at Maya. She was already looking at him.
Her broken hand rested on her knee. Palm up. Open.
Waiting.
One month later.
The bunker smelled like sleep. Unwashed bodies. Stale air. Empty plates stacked but not cleaned.
Harshal stood in the common area. Looked at them.
Michael and Sarah on one cot, barely awake. Sarah's head on Michael's shoulder. Eyes half-closed.
Maya in the corner. Sitting. Staring at nothing. Her broken hand still wrapped. Healing slow. Doing nothing.
Evan beside Harshal. The only other person standing.
Harshal's voice came flat at first. "What are you doing?"
No response.
Louder. "What are you all doing?"
Sarah's eyes opened. Closed again.
Michael shifted. Didn't get up.
Maya didn't move.
Harshal's voice rose. "Are you guys dead for one month? Or do you wanna be dead?"
A sigh. From Michael. From Sarah. From Maya. Three sighs. Synchronized. Like they'd practiced giving up.
Harshal moved.
Pistol in his hand. Didn't remember drawing it. Didn't care.
Evan's hand grabbed his wrist. Fast. Low voice. Urgent.
"We only have three members. We can't kill them."
Harshal looked at Evan. Eyes flat. "I'm not killing them."
Evan's grip loosened. Confused. "Then—"
Harshal aimed.
Fired.
The shot ripped past Michael's leg. Buried into the wall behind. Concrete dust rained.
Michael scrambled. Sarah screamed. Awake now. Both of them on their feet. Adrenaline doing what words couldn't.
Maya flinched. Just once. Then still again.
Harshal lowered the pistol. Voice calm. "Get up. Work."
He turned to Michael. "Did you fix the barrier and frequency radiators?"
Michael nodded. Fast. Too fast. "Almost. Today. I'll finish today."
Harshal turned to Sarah. "Reports."
Sarah's voice shook. "On your table. Two hours ago. You didn't—"
"I'll read them. Next?"
Silence.
Harshal turned to Maya.
She was already looking at him. Face blank. But her eyes—something behind them. Not fear. Not obedience. Something else.
Harshal held her gaze. "Get food. Cook."
Maya didn't move.
"First," Harshal said. "Fetch the food from the river. Which is being washed. Then cook."
Maya stood. Slow. Her broken hand hanging. She walked past him. Toward the door.
Stopped.
Didn't turn.
Her voice came quiet. "You didn't shoot near me."
Harshal said nothing.
Maya walked out.
The door closed behind her.
Evan stared at Harshal. "What was that?"
Harshal holstered the pistol. "They were dead. I woke them."
"With a gunshot."
"With whatever worked."
Evan looked toward the door. Toward where Maya left. "She's not afraid of you."
Harshal didn't answer.
"She should be," Evan said. "After that? She should be."
Harshal walked to his table. Sarah's reports waiting. Sat down. Started reading.
Evan stood there. Watching.
The silence between them wasn't silence anymore. It was something else. Something with teeth.
