Only after putting three blocks between him and the building did his wired nerves loosen slightly. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and slammed his palm against the steering wheel. "Fuck, tonight is a goddamn freak show."
To calm his hammering heart, he blindly dug into his windbreaker pocket, pulling out a squashed cigarette and biting it between his lips. He pushed the cigarette lighter in. Drawing a deep drag, the harsh nicotine hit his lungs, finally steadying his trembling fingers a fraction.
Taking a drag, Arthur glanced at the terminal on the passenger seat. The queue showed four urgent deliveries left for the night.
Right then.
Grumble— A loud stomach growl echoed abruptly in the quiet cabin.
With the adrenaline finally crashing, a ravenous hunger mixed with bone-deep exhaustion washed over him. Arthur rubbed his empty stomach, crushed the cigarette stub into the ashtray, and muttered, "...Only four left anyway. Better get some food first."
He stepped on the gas, swinging the wheel toward his go-to fast-food joint.
Pulling into the drive-thru of a 24-hour Dick's, he ordered a double beef cheeseburger, heavily salted fries, and a cup of scalding black coffee.
Food secured, Arthur parked the van near an abandoned industrial pier on the Seattle waterfront. Free from the claustrophobia of high-rises, the view was wide open. Next to him was the rolling, pitch-black water of the bay. No one to bother him. Perfect for calming down.
He threw the van into park. He took a massive bite of the sauce-soaked burger, burning his tongue on the hot coffee. Chewing vigorously, he swiped through Reddit with his free hand.
On the r/Seattle homepage, someone posted a complaint about hearing strange, wet sloshing sounds from the apartment next door. Another user asked why black water was surging out of their toilet. But seconds after they appeared, a quick refresh turned them into "Page Not Found" 404 errors.
Arthur chewed a fry, watching the text blocks vanish in real-time. The scrub rate was insane. The atmosphere of the city felt like a cold, damp membrane, slowly wrapping itself around everyone's skin.
Finishing the last bite of the burger, he wiped his hands with a napkin and vigorously rubbed his stiff cheeks. He dug out the crushed pack of cigarettes again, pulling one out and catching it between his teeth.
The dash clock clicked to: 11:55 PM.
He pushed the lighter in.
The exact second the lighter popped out.
The rain stopped.
Not a natural tapering off. One millisecond, heavy rain was violently hammering the windshield; the next, every drop falling from the sky simply froze in mid-air. Even the beads of water on the hood stopped rolling.
Then, the sound vanished.
It wasn't just quiet; it felt as if the air itself had died.
Arthur's hand froze halfway to his mouth. He realized he couldn't hear the waves crashing against the rocks. He couldn't hear the distant hum of tires on the interstate. Even the low-frequency rumble of the idling van engine was completely gone.
It was an "absolute silence" so profound it physically hurt his eardrums. As if someone had grabbed the volume dial of the entire world and brutally yanked.
Arthur's breathing hitched. He turned his head and looked out the window.
Pop... pop... pop... The streetlamps around the pier and lining the roads died out one by one, falling like dominoes without warning. Darkness swallowed the industrial zone like a tidal wave.
Stripped of artificial light, the only source of illumination left in the sky took over.
The moonlight.
The moon was piercingly bright tonight. A sickly pale light bled straight through the windshield, dragging Arthur's shadow to distorted lengths across the upholstery.
The clock read: 11:59 PM.
The air in the cabin felt as thick as mercury. He couldn't feel oxygen entering his lungs; his chest felt crushed under a boulder.
12:00 AM.
The exact second midnight struck.
Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw his shadow—cast over the passenger seat—move.
He was sitting perfectly rigid in the driver's seat, yet the edges of his shadow began to writhe and boil like scalding water. The black mass fractured, extending dozens of writhing, tentacle-like shadows that crawled frantically over the interior door panel as if possessed by their own life.
And not just his. Outside the window, the shadows of the street signs, the shadows of the telephone poles—every shadow sprang to life, breaking the chains of physical law.
A crushing pressure descended vertically from directly above. This wasn't a fear of anything tangible; it was a genetic shudder buried deep in his biological instincts. Like an ant sensing the sky collapsing.
Arthur's brain completely lost admin rights to his body. Driven by some irresistible compulsion, he mechanically turned his head and pressed his finger against the window switch.
The window glided down. The absolute stillness of the freezing air flooded in.
Arthur leaned his head out the window, craning his stiff neck to stare directly into the night sky.