A cacophony of shuffling feet and angry hisses came from the narrow suburban street below us. My heart raced.

"Tomek, duck!" Hubert urged me in a whisper.

I splashed into the puddle by the short wall surrounding the rooftop that had served as our hiding place since the previous night. My wet jeans clung to my left ankle, cold like slime. I should have avoided the water, but I registered my surroundings too late. As usual.

The stench of carrion hit my nose, making me gag. I stumbled back down, clutching the gold cross hanging on a chain from my neck, and wishing it was all just a glitch in the matrix. But the apocalypse had been real for two years now. I would have never expected the end of civilization to begin in Poland.

The emojis were swarming among the abandoned houses and wrecked cars. If those human-shaped raptors noticed us, we were as good as dead. My back and legs stiffened before the pack moved down the street and disappeared around the corner. I took my fingers off the sweaty pendant and let out a long sigh.

"Seriously, you should get used to them by now," Iza teased, nestled comfortably against Roman's chest, and he offered a confirming nod.

I waved it off.

The cute lovebirds were our muscle. The first werewolves I'd ever seen shift. My eighteenth birthday would have been my last if they hadn't torn the emojis to pieces.

"Check your backpack," Hubert reminded me with a scowl. Last time we'd been foraging, I had to carry my stuff in my arms like a baby when one of the straps broke.

"Everyone has their knife and torchlight?" Hubert asked, looking through his equipment for the fifth time today.

The flashlight was strapped to my belt, but I couldn't find my Swiss Army Knife. Iza facepalmed.

"You've dropped it," Roman said, handing me the mudded tool he'd taken out from the puddle.

I blushed. "Thanks," I said, cleaning the knife with a handkerchief and stuffing it deep in my pocket.. The rough metal dug into my thigh through the fabric.

For today's target, Hubert picked the old snack factory. The complex was too close to the First Lab, but it was probably still full of valuable things, unlike most of the more easily accessible locations. Hubert, as always, led the way. If it hadn't been for him, it would have been game over for me two years ago, on the first day of the apocalypse.

                                                                                                 * * *

The desolate factory loomed over the concrete parking lot, the blue and white paint peeling from the crumbling walls. A small rock rustled on the broken concrete. I jumped. When I whirled around, a crow was taking flight. I clenched my teeth and turned back to my friends.

Roman and Iza were cuddling, like they were in the first phase of the infection. Those two couldn't keep their hands off each other since they were sixteen, which meant four years of over-the-top sweetness. I had once asked them about the whole fated mates thing. Iza went all starry-eyed, the way people used to look at cat videos before the internet died. Roman growled, so I took it as a yes.

When we slipped into the factory through a side door, the stiff air assaulted my nostrils, and the thick layer of dust made me wish for a mask. In the dim light coming from the small windows beneath the ceiling, Hubert started his methodical inspection of all the locked doors and cabinets, and I lagged behind him, trying to hold in the sneezes. My hands were shaking, but I kept telling myself this was just another problem to solve, like fixing a broken code. Except this time, the errors could actually kill me.

Faint rustling came from the production hall. I froze, my sweaty hands tightening on my backpack straps. I held my breath. Blood thrummed in my temples. The emojis had no reason to be there. They only went for flesh. I inhaled before I suffocated. There could be other survivors around. Maybe the dangerous kind. We'd have to find out.

We crept through the factory, everyone busy with their own endeavors. Or so I thought. I thought wrong.

When I turned to check a nearby corridor, Iza was right beside me. My face heated up as her hazel eyes met mine, flickering with flirtatious sparks. She wrapped her arms around me, making me freeze like a deer in headlights. When her hand squeezed my backside, I let out a yelp that echoed through the hallway. Her cute, oval face was right beside mine when she whispered, "You know, you're so sweet I could eat you."

This couldn't be true. She could literally devour me, but that wasn't what she meant. She must have gotten infected, and the parasite made her all hot and searching for males. I struggled to push her away, but I was no match for her strength. Her grip tightened, and her hot breath prickled my skin as her soft tongue trailed my cheek.

Roman snarled, staring at me in his girlfriend's embrace. His face elongated into a snout, showing massive canines dripping with saliva. My poor attempt at reasoning with the maddened werewolf failed, and Roman's nails morphed into claws. I jerked, but I couldn't break free.

"Stop it!" Hubert yelled and rushed to us.

The werewolf spun around and, with a single hit, sent our leader flying, his gut spilling on the way. He hit the wall hard, his skull cracking like a mug on the pavement.

Bile rose in my stomach. Distracted, Iza loosened her grip on me, so I slipped from her, leaving my backpack in her arms. I sprinted down the corridor, fleeing from the now rabid pair of werewolves. The dust I kicked up from the floor settled on my glasses, transforming the decaying factory around me into a hellscape. My heart raced and my lungs burned with exhaustion. I kept running till I burst into the production hall.

The yellowish autumn sunlight, flooding the high room through the vast broken windows, turned my dusty glasses into golden plates. I tore them off, my hands trembling as I wiped the grime away with the edge of my T-shirt. I tried to catch my breath, my head swimming, and my heart pounding a frantic rhythm.

The massive door at the hall's end exploded inward, crushed by a wave of hissing emojis. Our noise had drawn the ever-hungry monsters from the factory's outskirts, and now they stampeded toward me, their angry footsteps making the ground shake so hard I stumbled. Roman's howl echoed in the corridor behind me.

I scanned the room for cover and darted for a small door at the far edge, praying it wasn't locked. The cold metal of the handle slipped in my sweaty grasp as the enraged crowd surged closer, its snarls and hisses spitting into the silence and reverberating in the high chamber. The door gave in, and I burst into a tiny, cramped office, slamming it shut. The first predator bounced off the door's smooth surface.

The darkness clung to me like tar. Sweat beaded on my forehead as, with shaking hands, I fumbled around my belt for the flashlight. I breathed only when a thin ray pierced the blackness, letting me take a look around the windowless cell.

I kept quiet in the stale air, not to stir up more dust from the few cabinets stuffed with old papers and a little desk, sagging under the weight of discarded documents and sample packaging for the snacks. Maybe if I stayed put long enough, the emojis would start looking for more accessible food.

Who was I kidding? They must have lived close by to arrive that swiftly. In the third phase, their minds were gone, but they still could leave a guard, the skillful and patient predators that they'd become.

The door groaned and shuddered under the constant onslaught from the emojis ramming into it. How much longer would the thin barrier hold?

I remembered Hubert lying in a heap under a wall, like a discarded doll. But he at least wouldn't get eaten alive. The emojis would devour his corpse. They didn't leave meat behind.

And I, I would feel as they tear me limb from limb. If it came to that, wouldn't it be better if I just... if I couldn't feel it? An invisible fist clutched my heart as I slid off my glasses to rub at my eyes.

I checked my pocket. A cold dread coiled in my gut as my fingers brushed against empty fabric. My Swiss army knife was gone. I must have dropped it when I was struggling with Iza or during my frantic flight. I scoured the office again, hunting for a suitable tool. The desk drawers I yanked out spat only old brochures and a few paperclips. The cabinets held more folders and a set of spare, unsharpened pencils under a thick layer of dust. I coughed.

The flashlight flickered and dimmed. The battery was dying, and I didn't have a spare. Hubert had always carried spares for everything.

The banging turned into thunder, and the flashlight snapped, drowning me in darkness. I hurled myself into the corner furthest from the shrieking door. I clutched the gold cross, my fingers slipping as I squeezed it tighter. The sharp edges dug into my palm, and blood trickled over my damp skin. The door buckled, and I jumped. The chain broke and drooped around my fist.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I folded in on myself, knees locked tight against my chest, my head hurting from the echo of the onslaught. My eyes burned with tears, but I was too numb to wipe them off.

My lips moved without uttering a sound, as I whispered the words of the prayer Milen had taught me after my Batman accident.

Angel of God, my guardian dear,

To whom God's love commits me here,

The banging intensified, resounding in my head like artillery.

Ever this day be at my side,

To light and guard, to rule and guide.

I repeated it once, twice, my heart outpacing the rhythm of the words, my breath hitching on every syllable.

I repeated it for the third and fourth time, the relentless battering shaking my body. I'd never been a believer. Milena's father had taught her the faith. She'd taught me only the rhyme.

I repeated it for the fifth and sixth time to drown out the thoughts of the impending end. It wasn't working. I continued, nevertheless.

I was saying "to rule and guide" for the twentieth time when the banging gave way to shuffling and mumbling. I froze. Was it possible that Roman and Iza found me and were trying to help?

They were still more or less human, or as human as a werewolf could be. Only the emotional control was dwindling. Iza was still in the first, romantic phase, searching for mates. Roman was already in the second, aggressive phase, so he had to contract the parasite earlier and infect Iza. I hadn't seen him get bitten, and that meant he had gotten intimate with a carrier. And I thought werewolves were all about commitment and mate bonds.

Screams erupted, intermingled with foul, wet sounds, splashes, and swishes. The time slowed down, my breath came ragged and hard. Maybe the monsters fought among themselves. Maybe I was imagining things.

I got back to my faithless prayer. Wouldn't it be great if a guardian angel could actually get me out of this pit? Hubert used to be my guardian angel since we were kids. I sobbed. The flecking Batman accident.

All sounds ceased. In the eerie silence, the knock on the door sounded surreal.

"Open the door. It's safe now," a calm woman's voice drifted through the door. It was raspy but friendly.

I stood in the dark, breathing hard, convinced that I'd imagined it out of fear and despair. But the voice spoke again, soothing as if coaxing a frightened animal. "It's all right. They're gone."

My outstretched hands brushed against the dented metal of the door, and I pulled it inward. The influx of light seared my retinas, just as I stepped forth with a sickeningly wet thump. I winked, waiting for my eyes to adjust.

In a halo of warm afternoon light, a tall figure towered over a heap of bodies. In her right hand, she was holding an enormous axe. From a bald head to massive, soldier boots, her curvy body was covered in gore. My savior looked like a character from a horror movie, the one chasing a group of teenagers to cut their throats, or worse. I gasped.

I backed toward the door and stumbled on the remains of the emojis. The woman remained still, watching me with a soft smile, warped by the thick layer of grime.

"It's safe now," she repeated, motioning with her free left hand to show me the dead monsters. "I won't hurt you, unless you're one of those beasts after all," she added with a hint of laughter in her voice. Her calm and composure seemed unreal. "Come. Or do you want to stay in that black hole?" she asked, unfazed by my silence.

Each step sent a sickening shudder through the piles of dead that carpeted the floor as I scrambled to follow my savior toward the exit from the production hall. My stomach clenched as I remembered the slasher movies we used to watch with Hubert. Fleck.