Prehistoric Nightmare

Thomas and Anna pressed their backs against the cold, unforgiving surface of the door, their bodies trembling under the relentless pressure from the other side. The low, guttural growls and sharp screeches were inhuman, primal, and filled with a hunger that made the air feel heavier with every second. Whatever was outside wasn't just strong—it was calculating, testing their resolve. Thomas clenched his jaw so tightly it felt as though his teeth might crack, while Anna's breath came in ragged gasps beside him, her strength clearly dwindling.

"I—I can't... I can't keep this up!" Anna gasped, her voice breaking as she dug her heels into the floor, trying to push back harder.

"You have to," he barked, the desperation edging into his voice betraying his own fear. His eyes darted to the doorframe, where the metal was starting to warp under the pressure. "Just a little longer—come on!"

Suddenly, the screeching grew louder, piercing the stale air like nails on a chalkboard. A clawed paw, long and sinewy, slipped through a small gap in the doorframe. The limb was grotesque—scaled like a reptile's but with twisted, almost birdlike talons that flexed and scraped against the metal. For a split second, Thomas froze, his mind racing with the horrifying realization of how close death was. Then instinct kicked in.

"Move!" he shouted, shoving Anna aside as he swung the metal rod he had scavenged earlier. The rod smashed into the creature's wrist with a sickening crack. The thing let out an otherworldly scream—a sound so shrill and alien it made Anna clap her hands over her ears. The paw retracted quickly, leaving jagged scratches along the doorframe as it disappeared.

For a moment, there was silence. No scratching. No hissing. Just the sound of their labored breathing as they leaned against the door, their bodies trembling from the adrenaline.

"Are they gone?" Anna whispered, her voice barely audible as she wiped sweat from her brow. Her fiery red hair stuck to her forehead in damp strands.

Thomas held up a hand, signaling for her to be quiet. His ears strained to pick up even the faintest sound from the other side. The silence was almost unnerving, broken only by the faint drip of water somewhere in the distance. Then, faintly, he heard it—the scuttling of claws retreating, the guttural growls fading into the depths of the building. He exhaled, his breath shaky, and finally allowed himself to ease off the door.

"I think..." he started, but his voice cracked. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "I think they're gone. For now."

Anna slumped onto a nearby stair, her hands trembling as she stared at the door. Her chest heaved with each breath, her face pale and streaked with grime.

"What the hell were those things, Thomas?" she asked, her voice trembling but tinged with anger. "What are we even dealing with here?"

Thomas leaned against the wall, running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. He let out a humorless laugh, the sound bitter and hollow.

"You think I know?" he said, gesturing vaguely toward the door. "They're... I don't know, some kind of demon dinosaurs or something." He shook his head, his voice rising slightly. "Does it even matter? All I know is they want to rip us apart, and we're stuck in here with nothing but a damn metal rod and whatever's left in this building."

Anna glared at him, her fear starting to give way to frustration. "You're not helping! I was at my desk ten minutes ago, typing up reports, and now I'm running for my life from prehistoric monsters! Someone has to know what's going on!"

Thomas sighed, his shoulders slumping. He crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor.

"Look," he began, his tone softer now. "It's not just here. This... whatever this is, it's everywhere. I saw it on the news before everything went to hell. Dinosaurs—real, honest-to-God dinosaurs—started showing up all over the world. Cities were being overrun. People were—" He stopped, shaking his head as if trying to banish the images from his mind. "I don't know how or why, Anna. All I know is we're in the middle of it."

Anna's face fell as the weight of his words sunk in. "Everywhere?" she whispered. "This is happening everywhere?"

"That's what it looked like," he said grimly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence in the room felt oppressive, the kind that weighed down on their chests and made it hard to breathe. Finally, Thomas stood, gripping the rod tightly in his hand.

"We can't stay here," he said firmly. "If those things come back—and they will—we're sitting ducks. We need to get out."

Anna looked up at him, her expression a mix of fear and determination. "And go where? You think we can just walk out of here and not run into more of them?"

Thomas pointed toward the staircase at the far end of the room. "The parking garage," he said. "If we can get down there, maybe we'll find a car. Something—anything—we can use to get the hell out of here."

Anna hesitated, her eyes flicking toward the door as though expecting it to burst open at any second. Then she nodded, standing slowly and brushing the dust off her torn sleeve.

"Alright," she said, her voice steadier now. "But if this plan gets us killed, I'm coming back to haunt you."

Thomas managed a weak smile. "Fair. But let's aim for staying alive, yeah?"

Together, they moved toward the staircase, their footsteps cautious and deliberate. The building was eerily quiet now, the kind of quiet that felt unnatural, as if the creatures were lying in wait. Anna glanced over her shoulder one last time, her heart pounding as she half-expected the door to explode inward. But it didn't. The silence remained.

"Ready?" Thomas asked, his voice low.

Anna nodded, gripping his arm tightly. "Let's go."

And with that, they descended into the unknown, the faint echo of their footsteps swallowed by the darkness below.

******

As Thomas and Anna descended the narrow, dimly lit staircase, they moved in tense silence, each step carefully placed to avoid making too much noise. The metal stairs groaned under their weight, the sound amplified by the cavernous space, and both of them winced at every creak. The air was oppressive, thick with a musty, sour smell that made Anna wrinkle her nose. It wasn't just dust—it was something else, something decaying. She didn't want to think too hard about its source.

Thomas glanced back at Anna every few steps, his dark eyes scanning her face for any hint of doubt—or worse, panic. She, in turn, kept her gaze locked on him, her green eyes sharp and probing. An unspoken tension hung between them, a fragile truce forged out of necessity rather than trust. They had shared an office for years, exchanging polite greetings by the coffee machine, but that familiarity now felt hollow. In the chaos of their new reality, Thomas was no longer just her subordinate; he had become a stranger. And strangers, Anna reminded herself, could be perilous.

"What about the others? The rest of the office? Have you seen anyone else?" she finally whispered, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft but carried an edge of urgency.

Thomas hesitated, his jaw tightening as he adjusted his clenched fists. The emergency lights above flickered ominously, casting unsettling shadows on the walls. He let out a heavy sigh, slowing his pace just a fraction.

"No," he admitted, his voice low and clipped. "Not since things went to hell. You're the only living person I've seen."

Anna frowned, catching the subtle bitterness in his tone. "So you think... you think they're all gone?"

Thomas hesitated, his shoulders stiffening as if the weight of her question had physically landed on him. "I don't think," he muttered. "I know."

Anna froze mid-step, her breath catching in her throat. "What... what do you mean?"

Thomas stopped as well, turning to face her. In the faint, flickering light, his face looked haggard, his features drawn tight with exhaustion and something darker—guilt, perhaps.

"When I was on the third floor," he began, his voice quieter now, "I looked through one of the holes in the wall. I saw those... things. They were out there, in the streets, tearing through people like... like animals." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his fingers trembling slightly. "I saw some of our coworkers, Anna. They didn't make it. I don't think most people in the building did."

Anna's stomach churned, her knees threatening to buckle. She reached out, steadying herself on the railing. "You're serious," she whispered, though she already knew the answer. The haunted look in Thomas's eyes was enough.

"I'm sorry," he said, his tone softening. "But I did see a few people—maybe from our office, maybe not—running toward the parking garage. There's a chance they're still down there, hiding. That's why we need to keep moving. We might not be alone."

Anna swallowed hard, nodding. She wanted to cling to that sliver of hope, no matter how small. "Okay," she said, her voice steadier now. "Let's just... let's just get there. Fast."

They descended another flight of stairs, their footsteps quickening despite their attempts to stay quiet. The emergency lights grew dimmer the lower they went, some flickering erratically, others burned out entirely. The shadows seemed to stretch and shift with every step, playing tricks on Anna's already frayed nerves. She kept glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting to see one of those clawed creatures lunging out of the darkness.

When they reached the next landing, Thomas suddenly stopped short, his eyes locking onto something ahead. Anna nearly bumped into him.

"What is it?" she whispered, her heart pounding.

He didn't answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the vending machine standing against the wall. The glass front was intact, and inside, rows of chips, candy bars, and bottled water gleamed faintly under the emergency lights.

"Food," he said finally, his voice low but certain. "We need it."

Anna blinked, her nerves still on edge. "Are you serious? Now?"

"Yes," Thomas said sharply, stepping toward the machine. "We don't know how long we'll be running—or hiding. If no one comes to save us, we're going to need supplies."

He raised his rod, angling it toward the glass. Anna's hand shot out, grabbing his arm.

"Wait!" she hissed. "That's... that's company property! And what if the noise—"

Thomas gave her a withering look, yanking his arm free. "Company property? Really? You think those dinosaurs care about corporate policies? Because I'm pretty sure they don't." Without waiting for her response, he swung the rod, shattering the glass with a loud crash.

The sound echoed up and down the stairwell, making both of them freeze. Thomas held his breath, listening intently for any sign of movement. When nothing came, he quickly began grabbing snacks and bottles of water, stuffing them into his shirt, which he knotted at the bottom to form a makeshift bag.

Anna sighed, crouching down to help him. "Fine," she muttered, scooping up a handful of candy bars.

Once the vending machine was picked clean, Thomas reached for the bag Anna had grabbed, but she shook her head and slung it over her shoulder. "I've got it," she asserted, her tone resolute. "You've already saved my life once. Let me do my part."

Thomas hesitated, then nodded. "Thanks," he said simply. "But if we get cornered, drop it. Food won't save us if we're dead."

"Got it, Captain Obvious," Anna replied, rolling her eyes. But there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. Even in the face of everything, his dry humor brought a strange sense of comfort.

They continued downward, the air growing colder and heavier with each step. The musty smell had become sharper, more metallic, and Anna's stomach tightened as an uneasy feeling settled over her. Somewhere below, a faint, rhythmic clicking sound echoed through the stairwell.

Thomas stopped abruptly, raising a hand to signal Anna to stay quiet. He strained to listen, his grip tightening on the rod.

"What is that?" Anna whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Not sure," Thomas murmured, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the darkness below. "But it's close."

The clicking grew louder. Anna clutched the bag tightly, her knuckles white. Thomas stepped forward cautiously, his posture tense.

"Stay behind me," he said, his voice low and firm. "And whatever happens... don't scream."

Anna nodded, her breath shallow. Somewhere in the shadows below, something moved, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Thomas," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Please tell me that's a rat."

Thomas swallowed hard, gripping the rod so tightly his knuckles turned white. "If it is," he said grimly, "it's the biggest damn rat I've ever seen."

******

From the darkness came footsteps—steady, deliberate, and entirely human. Thomas and Anna froze, their bodies tensing as adrenaline surged through their veins. It wasn't just footsteps; muffled voices accompanied them, low and cautious, reverberating faintly through the stairwell. Anna clutched the bag of food against her chest. She took a small step back, her pulse pounding in her ears.

"Who's there?" Anna whispered, her voice trembling but sharp enough to cut through the oppressive silence.

Thomas raised a hand, signaling her to stay quiet as his eyes darted toward the shadows. The dim, flickering emergency lights barely illuminated the landing ahead, but he stepped forward anyway, his muscles coiled like a spring, ready to strike.

The voices grew louder, the footsteps closer. Then, figures emerged from the shadows, their shapes sharpening into view. Thomas squinted, his breath catching as he identified four people, led by a man wielding a fire axe. The man's face was drawn and lined with exhaustion, but his eyes burned with a mixture of determination and wariness. Behind him, three others followed—two men and a woman, their expressions a mix of fear and relief.

"Hey!" the man with the axe suddenly barked, stopping short. His voice echoed through the stairwell as his grip on the weapon tightened. He raised it defensively, his body shifting into a ready stance.

Thomas, startled, reflexively swung his rod back in preparation to defend himself. "Don't come any closer!" he shouted, his voice sharp and cracking with tension. "I swear, I'll take you down if you make a move!"

The landing became a charged standoff, the air thick with mistrust and fear. Anna, her breaths shallow, pressed herself against the wall, clutching the bag tightly. Her wide eyes darted between the two men as the tension spiraled out of control.

"Walter, stop!" the petite woman behind him cried, her voice trembling. "They're not—look, they're people!"

"Don't!" Anna shouted at almost the same moment, her voice breaking with urgency.

The two men froze, their bodies still poised for a fight, but reason slowly began to creep back into their expressions. They blinked at each other, the absurdity of the situation dawning on them. Thomas was the first to relax, lowering his rod cautiously. Walter hesitated, his grip on the axe tight, but after a moment, he exhaled sharply and let the blade drop to his side.

"Tom? Is that you?" Walter said, his voice softening, though disbelief lingered in his tone. He stepped closer, his eyes scanning Thomas's face. "Damn, man, I didn't recognize you for a second. I thought you were one of those... things."

Thomas blinked, recognition finally settling in. Relief washed over his face like a wave. "Walter? Bloody hell, it is you!" He let out a half-laugh, half-sigh, wiping a hand across his forehead. "Man, I thought I was done for."

Walter chuckled, though the sound was tinged with exhaustion. "Same here. I was about to swing first and ask questions later."

The tension in the group eased slightly, though the fear in their eyes never fully disappeared. Walter stepped aside to let the others approach. Chloe, with her blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail, offered a shaky smile. Jeremy, with glasses that sat crookedly on his nose, gave Thomas and Anna a nod. Lewis, stood at the back, his face grim but his posture protective.

"Good to see a familiar face," Chloe said, her voice soft but warm. "We thought we were the only ones left in this place."

"You're not alone," Anna interjected, stepping forward. She still held the bag tightly, her knuckles pale against the fabric. "But we're all in the same nightmare."

Walter's gaze shifted to her, recognition flickering in his eyes. "Boss?" he said, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Wow, I didn't recognize you at first. You look, uh... different."

Anna narrowed her eyes, unimpressed. "Let's skip the commentary, Walter," she said curtly. "I'm alive, thanks to this guy. That's what matters."

Walter raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough."

"We thought we were alone too," Thomas said, steering the conversation back on track. "When this all started, Anna and I were stuck on the upper floors. We barely made it down here. We're heading to the parking garage—figured it's our best shot at finding a car and getting the hell out of here."

Walter nodded slowly, scratching at the stubble on his chin. "The garage, huh? Makes sense. We've been holed up higher up, but... we haven't dared to go down there yet. No one knows what's waiting for us."

"You have a car down there?" Anna asked, her voice a little too eager. Her anxiety was bubbling just beneath the surface, but she was determined to keep it together.

Walter smirked, pulling a set of keys from his pocket and jangling them for emphasis. "Damn right I do. And it's got a full tank. We've been waiting for the right time to make a move. Guess we've got a better shot now, with all of us together."

Thomas let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Then we stick together," he said firmly, meeting Walter's gaze. "Safety in numbers, right?"

Walter nodded, extending his hand. "Agreed."

Thomas took it, shaking firmly. The others exchanged glances and nodded in silent agreement. Chloe stepped forward, her eyes darting nervously toward the dark staircase below.

"Let's just be careful," she said quietly. "Those things... they can come out of nowhere. I don't want to end up like the others."

"None of us do," Jeremy muttered, adjusting his glasses. "But she's right. We need to move fast and stay quiet."

Walter hefted his axe, his grip steady. "Alright, everyone. Let's get to that garage and out of this hellhole. But keep your eyes open. No mistakes."

As the group started their descent, the atmosphere grew oppressively heavy. The flickering emergency lights cast long, distorted shadows that danced on the walls, and the stairwell seemed to grow darker and colder with every step. The faint sound of dripping water echoed somewhere below, joined by the occasional creak of the building settling. Every sound felt amplified, every corner a potential ambush.

Anna clutched the bag tightly, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds. Thomas walked just ahead of her, his rod held at the ready, while Walter took the lead, his axe gleaming faintly in the dim light. The others followed in a tight formation, their faces taut with concentration.

Somewhere in the depths below, a low, guttural growl echoed faintly, just barely audible over their footsteps.