SCI FI Friday — 9 6

4 min readSep 6, 2024

The boy crouched in the shadows. Breath shallow. His heart thumped hard against his ribs. Dirt smeared across his face. Eyes wide, scanning the ruins around him.

The sky above was a sickly red, scorched from decades of war. The buildings — what remained — were crumbling husks. Skeletons of a lost world. Jagged walls. Broken windows. Silence. Except for the slow, heavy footsteps.

The aliens were hunting.

Nine feet tall. Skin like old leather. Heads like lizards. Eyes black, unblinking. They sniffed the air, tongues flicking out, tasting for him. They were close. Too close.

He pressed tighter against the rubble. Hands trembling. But he couldn’t move. Not yet. One wrong step and they’d hear him. One wrong breath and they’d find him.

The ground trembled beneath their weight. They moved slow, but sure. Calculated. They never rushed. They didn’t have to. Their prey — humans — were weak.

The boy’s stomach growled. He clenched his fists, forcing the sound down. His back was pressed to a wall, rough bricks scraping his skin through his torn shirt. He dared a glance around the corner.

One of them stood not five feet away. Clawed feet crushing debris beneath it. Its massive body loomed, casting a long shadow. The boy held his breath.

The alien turned its head, scanning the area. Its nose twitched, nostrils flaring. Then, it let out a low hiss, a sound that rattled the boy’s bones. It moved on.

The boy exhaled slowly. His lungs burned from the effort. But he couldn’t stop. Not yet.

The aliens communicated in clicks and growls. Low, guttural noises that echoed through the dead city. Another one, smaller but still monstrous, stepped into view. This one crouched low, inspecting the ground. It sniffed, its tongue flicking out like a snake’s. Its eyes locked onto the dirt near where the boy had been hiding.

A footprint.

The boy’s footprint.

It hissed louder, alerting the others. They moved, more urgent now. Closing in.

The boy’s chest tightened. His eyes darted to the side, searching. There — an alley. Narrow. Dark. If he could make it, maybe they’d lose him in the maze of debris.

He couldn’t wait any longer. His legs screamed in protest, muscles stiff from fear and cold, but he pushed himself forward. Fast, but quiet. A sprint without sound. His bare feet slapped the ground, but not loud enough for them to hear. Not yet.

He reached the alley, slipped into the shadows. His heart pounded.

Behind him, the aliens hissed again. Louder. Closer. They had found his trail.

The alley twisted, a jagged scar between collapsed buildings. Sharp turns. Dead ends. But he knew it. Knew how to move through the wreckage, how to survive.

He scrambled over a fallen slab of concrete, ducked under a rusted metal beam. His hands bled from the sharp edges, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

The aliens were right behind him now. He could hear their claws scraping, their breath heavy and wet.

Another turn. Another sprint.

Then — silence.

The boy stopped. Pressed himself against the wall again. Listened. Nothing.

He’d lost them.

For now.

His legs shook. His hands stung. His breath was ragged. But he was alive. He had escaped.

This time.

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