The werewolves came in a pack of five, yellow eyes low and hungry. Their claws raked the carpet, tearing long furrows through the aisle. I kept moving, never letting them close the gap. I planted a regular arrow in the first one’s shoulder and a second into its thigh. It barely slowed. I loosed a flame arrow at the lead wolf. The tip bloomed in orange and swallowed its fur. It howled and thrashed, but the others spread wide to pen me in.

  I cut across a row, boots sliding on spilled popcorn. Two more shots landed, one in a neck and one in a rib cage. The pack split, two to my left, three to my right. I retrieved the [Buzzsaw Arrow] from my inventory. I did not have many of these. I nocked it and the arrowhead spun to life with a hungry whirr. I took the shot at the closest wolf. The blade punched through its brow, chewed a line through skull, and exited the back of its head, still whirring like a demonic table saw. The body folded as if the strings had been cut.

  I kept backing toward the exit. Another flame arrow lit a second wolf like a torch. It leapt anyway, claws out, more rage than flesh. I dropped low and felt its heat as it sailed overhead and smashed into a row of seats. The remaining two fanned to either side. I fired fast and ugly, more to steer them than to kill. A chair back exploded in splinters. A wolf snapped at my bow hand. I pulled a last regular arrow and stabbed its muzzle, buying a heartbeat. Teeth closed on wood where my wrist had been.

  They circled. I could feel the hot breath on my neck and the screen glow on my face. I had one [Buzzsaw Arrow] left. I did not like those odds.

  The wall at my back buckled. Plaster burst like a wave and Siva crashed through the drywall shoulder first, half-rolling over a seat and coming up in a wobble.

  Siva blinked hard, dazed for a heartbeat. “Next time a heads up would be nice,” he said, already lifting his sword.

  “Working on it,” I answered, and put an arrow through a lung.

  We fell into rhythm without speaking. Siva met the first lunge with a low cut that hamstrung it. I finished it with a clean shot through the eye. Another wolf vaulted the armrests and found Siva’s blade instead. The last two came together, one flaming, one fresh. I shot my final [Buzzsaw Arrow] at the unburned one. The saw sang, bit into its chest, and the body pitched into the aisle. The burning wolf dug claws into the carpet and came at us like a comet. I grabbed Siva’s arm and hauled him sideways as it slammed into the row we had occupied a second earlier.

  The seats were too tight. The sight lines were terrible. The howls echoed against the ceiling and turned our aim sour. We both knew it at once.

  “Food court,” I said.

  Siva nodded. “On you.”

  We broke for the exit, kiting the last straggler through the doorway and into the multiplex corridor. I peppered it down the hall with regular shots until it skidded and stopped moving. We cleared the corner into the food court and ran straight into chaos.

  The area was filled with survivors fighting monsters. Swords clanged against claws as shouts mingled with roars.

  The loudspeakers came alive with a blast of synth and guitar, the kind of drum fill that belonged to a montage. A heroic choir whoa-whoaed from somewhere in the ceiling.

  Siva glanced up as we prepared to join the fray. “Where’s the music coming from?”

  “No clue,” I said. “But it had better be fair use.” I grinned.

  The music pumped as figures spilled in from every direction. Jess came in first from the side exit, her morningstar already moving in a tight circle. She crashed it into a leathery thing with too many teeth and its head vanished in a wet mist. A woman-shaped ghost reached for her with open arms just as a man with glowing hands flew to intercept. Jess’s jaw tightened and she turned her back on that fight, choosing a spider the size of a motorcycle instead. The morningstar landed on its carapace and split it like a coconut.

  Shawn joined us from the ceiling, bursting through the aircon duct and executing a perfect superhero landing, his scythe throwing sparks. He slid on the floor, swept low, and took the legs from a pale man in a black suit with a smile carved too wide. A moment later he raised his free hand and skeletal arms erupted from the tiles to hold a pair of lurching shapes at bay.

  How the hell did he get up there, I thought, glancing at the torn duct. I did not have time to dwell on it. I activated the Boots of the Speeding Garrick and sprinted through the battlefield, sniping any mob I could see to help the survivors.

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  A ripple of white light rolled across the food court from a cleric squad near the dessert stalls, and Shawn flinched as it brushed his skin. He gritted through it and sent a wraith forward to slam into a horned silhouette that rattled with chains.

  The creatures kept coming. A long-haired girl crawled out of a toppled menu display and dragged herself over a table. A dog split down the middle and tried to be two dogs. A porcelain doll sprinted at ankle height with a paring knife held like a lance. A rubber tire bounced end over end with malicious intent. Shawn hooked the tire with the crook of his scythe and flung it into the long-haired girl. Jess punted the doll into a drinks machine with a metallic clack and did not look back.

  Survivors flooded up the escalators and out of the elevators. A woman in chainmail planted a banner that shimmered, and three archers gathered under it to loose in rhythm. A pair of robed casters raised a translucent dome over a cluster of injured and began chanting. Somebody in work boots and a safety vest swung a sledgehammer like he had been waiting his whole life to do it. A teenager in a bloodied school uniform jabbed with a mop handle like a spear and whooped when it worked.

  Music blasted higher, all toms and power chords. I joined Siva as my spell ran out and we moved like anchors on either side of Jess. I shot fast and kept us clean of anything that tried to flank. Siva stayed in the pocket and hacked down anything that got inside my range. We were a machine for a few perfect minutes. Ahead, Shawn alternated between carving and commanding, the scythe singing in hard arcs before he flicked two fingers and a bone cage snapped around a shaggy brute long enough for Siva to step in and finish it.

  Shawn fell to a knee, breathing hard. Jess ran forward, hands glowing, but stopped abruptly. She raised her hands to her mouth, eyes wide, just as Shawn lifted a palm.

  “No, don’t.”

  Purple and black tendrils rose from the dead survivors and flowed to him, entering his chest as he shuddered. This… this was like Azim.

  What the fuck was going on.

  A private message pinged in my chat from Jess. I read it.

  Jess: Chris… He’s… He’s reading as Chaotic Evil…

  I stared at Shawn as he stood, rejuvenated. He turned to us, a grim look on his face. “Explain later,” he said, and moved off to hack through some knee height trolls.

  Tightness gripped my chest. Jess put a hand on my arm. She looked worried, about to speak, when we were interrupted.

  Across the food court, Shen rose above us on a short platform near the exit to a children's water park that adjoined the food court. He looked out over the chaos as if he stood in a balcony seat, eyes bright and alert. He spread his arms wide. His voice carried without a microphone.

  “Do you understand why horror is honest?” he called. “Comedies end when the laughter stops. Dramas end when the tears dry. Fear stays after the credits. It lingers in your bones when you go home. It reminds you that you feel something. That you are real. That you matter. And that is why—”

  His head snapped back. A neat hole opened in the center of his forehead, small as a coin. There was a beat where nothing moved. Then the back of his skull exploded in a bright, dirty pop.

  I followed the shot line by instinct. From behind a kiosk, half-hidden by a bent metal sign, a skinny kid in a torn hoodie lowered a slingshot. The pouch smoked. He looked as shocked as the rest of us. He blinked at his own hands as if he had not expected that to work.

  Shen swayed. His knees gave out and he folded sideways on the platform. The music cut off. Every monster froze like a paused video, swaying gently as if waiting for a player to talk to them.

  They dissolved a heartbeat later. The long-haired ghost evaporated into a curl of smoke. The gremlins popped into sparks. The wolves sagged and fell apart into ash. The chains crashed to the tile and then were gone as if they had never had weight.

  Silence settled over the floor. The fighting had stopped, leaving only the groans of the wounded.

  My HUD chimed.

  [Crimson Zone Objective: The monsters are loose — Resolved]

  [Announcement: All five Crimson Zones have been cleared]

  [Directive: You have 24 hours to choose your route. Central or West Singapore. Proceed to the designated Gate when ready.]

  No one spoke. For a long moment, we stood with our weapons half raised, stunned by the sudden emptiness where rage had been.

  Then someone near the escalators whooped. Another followed. It swelled fast into cheers and shouts and the sound of people letting out what they had been holding in since the world broke. Helmets knocked together. Arms went around shoulders. A banner lifted and waved. The kid with the slingshot stared down at the weapon like he had pulled a rabbit from a hat, then grinned so wide it looked painful.

  Siva leaned his sword on his shoulder and breathed hard. “We did it. We actually did it,” he said.

  Jess wiped her face with the back of her wrist and let out a laugh that sounded half like a sob.

  Shawn rested the butt of his scythe on the floor and watched the last sparks fade from the tiles. He glanced up toward where the clerics stood and then away again.

  I lowered my bow. The food court smelled like smoke, sugar, and the end of something. I opened the team channel.

  Chris: We have twenty-four hours. Let’s head back to the truck. I need food.

  Siva: And a drink.

  Jess: And sleep.

  Shawn: And cigarettes.

  We looked at each other and, one by one, broke into laughter, coming together in a group hug.

  Cheers still rolled around us, bright and ragged. Somewhere under it, I could hear the faint buzz of the building settling after the storm. I looked up at the dark multiplex sign and let my breath go. For the first time since we stepped in, the mall felt like a mall again. For the next twenty-four hours, at least, it belonged to the living.