Through the receiver came a heavy, panicked inhale, followed by a voice that sounded like gravel being crushed. "Aden... Aden... Aden." The line went dead.
Marcus stepped forward into a thin shaft of moonlight. He looked terrible. His coat was torn, a dark smear of what could only be blood staining his left side, and his eyes were wild with a brand of fear Elias had never seen in him. He was clutching a small, metallic briefcase to his chest like a shield.
The call came at three in the morning, vibrating hard enough against the wooden nightstand to wake the heavy sleeper beside him. Elias didn’t fumble. His hand clamped over the phone instantly, sliding the green icon before the second ring could cut through the silence of the dark bedroom. He didn't say hello. He waited.
Elias sat up, the chill of the room biting at his bare shoulders. His heart hammered against his ribs. He looked over at Elena, still breathing softly, oblivious. He carefully rolled out of bed, grabbing his jeans from the floor and his jacket from the back of the chair.
"Aden" was not a person. It was an old fishing outpost on the jagged northern coast, abandoned fifteen years ago after the Great Surge. It was also the codename for a contingency they all swore they would never have to use.
"You came alone?" The voice was Marcus's, but it was strained, thin. "Of course. What happened?"
"If the world falls apart," Marcus had said, half-joking over cheap drinks, "and you can only get one word out before they cut the line... say the location thrice. No questions asked. Just run there."
Elias looked at his oldest friend, then down at the heavy case in his hand. He didn't waste his five minutes on a goodbye. He turned and ran into the dark. What kind of genre or plot twist
