As the group moved cautiously inside the store, following Nox, the memory of the toy-like creature lingered in their minds. They hadn’t expected such an innocent gesture, and it unsettled them deeply. That moment forced them to question everything they thought they understood about the monsters now invading their world. Instead of chaos and blind hostility, that image—the creature cradling a simple toy—carried a weight that collapsed their assumptions.

  The aisles of the warehouse store were eerily silent, save for the faint sounds of distant shuffling and the low hum of machinery still operating.

  “We should first grab the meat and vegetables,” Nox said, breaking the silence.

  “Huh?” Mike blinked, pulled from his thoughts.

  With a sigh, Nox turned to face them. “Right now,” he began, tilting his head as though speaking to children, “the electricity is still working—but we don’t know how long it’ll last.” He pointed upward, to the lights still humming faintly above.

  “When it goes, all the refrigerated items will spoil. Fruit and vegetables too.” He stepped forward and grabbed a cart. “It wouldn’t hurt to stock up on basic medicine while we’re at it.”

  The group was still reeling from confusion and fear, but Nox’s calm, practical tone felt like a lifeline.

  “He’s right,” Nataly agreed, grabbing a cart and falling in beside him.

  With a plan starting to form, the group began to move. Nox’s mind worked quickly as he scanned the shelves of food, water, and supplies.

  “We’ll split into groups,” he said suddenly, turning around.

  “What?!” they all cried in unison. The idea of separating felt suicidal.

  “The creatures in this store aren’t all hostile,” Nox explained. “Only one of them is truly dangerous.” He paused. “That I’ve seen.”

  “You seem to know a lot about them,” Mike said, eyeing Nox with suspicion.

  “I’ve been here before,” Nox lied smoothly.

  The others hesitated, still unsure. For all they knew, this stranger could be planning to separate them and pick them off, one by one, using one of the knives sold in aisle three.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Sensing their hesitation, Nox headed toward the nearest department—the children’s section. He passed the toy display and moved purposefully down the aisles until he found what he was looking for.

  “Here.” He grabbed a box. “Walkie-talkies. They’re made for kids, but—according to the packaging—they should work anywhere inside the store.”

  He grabbed a nearby pack of batteries and popped them in. The group followed suit, tearing open boxes and syncing the devices until they were all on the same frequency.

  “What’s your plan?” Mike asked, his voice sharper now, steadier.

  The others, too, were shifting from frightened to focused. The situation had changed. The world had changed. They could either collapse or adapt.

  “We split into teams of two,” Nox explained. With him included, that made three groups. “I’ll show you where the dangerous one is. Last I checked, it wasn’t moving around. If it’s still in place, we just need someone to keep an eye on it.”

  His tone made it sound simple. It wasn’t.

  As always, Nox paid attention to the monsters—watched their behaviours. But something had changed. They were becoming aware of the material world. The very idea made the group look around uneasily, checking every shadow, every aisle.

  Nox sighed and pointed upward. Their eyes followed—and the message clicked.

  They could come from anywhere.

  They moved carefully, bringing nothing but their new communication tools. Nox crouched low, every step cautious. They were nearing the location. He could already see it—the smoke, faint but steady, rising between the towering shelves.

  It’s still there, he thought, a small, private relief.

  He held up a hand and stopped. The others froze. He said nothing, simply crept to the edge of the aisle and peered around the corner.

  “It’s still there,” he whispered.

  The others went pale.

  Nataly knelt beside him and peeked, only to recoil and slap a hand over her mouth to suppress a scream.

  That alone was enough for the rest to drop low. No one wanted to see what had shaken her—but some terrible need drove them to look.

  And when they did, the last fragments of normalcy they held onto were ripped away.

  It was an enormous, spider-like monster—easily twice the size of a man. It hung in a web spun high between shelves that seemed to scrape the ceiling, a vast lattice of thick, gleaming silk that shimmered like oil.

  Its legs were long, jointed at unnatural angles, and ended not in points or claws—but in fingers. Thin, twitching, almost-human fingers that flexed with unsettling curiosity.

  Its body was a grotesque patchwork of textures—hard chitin streaked with hairline cracks, patches of something disturbingly flesh-like stretched over its swollen abdomen. Each movement it made was slow and deliberate, as though it wasn’t just seeing them—but thinking.

  Worse, its face was hidden behind layers of tangled silk, but behind the veil… something pulsed. A soft glow. A suggestion of eyes, perhaps dozens of them. Or something else. Something worse.

  It didn’t move. It only watched.

  The group said nothing. They couldn’t. Their breath caught in their throats, their bodies locked in place by fear and the horror of understanding.

  There were monsters here. Not metaphors. Not nightmares. Real monsters.

  And the world they had known—grocery aisles, bright lights, safe routines—was already gone.