The Warning at Dawn
It started just after 4 a.m. when the pounding came. Not the polite, neighborly knock you could ignore, but a sharp, urgent barrage that seemed to shake the door itself. I woke with a start, heart hammering in my chest. The dream I’d been having dissolved into a cold, uneasy clarity: something was wrong.
I threw on sweatpants and shuffled to the door, hand hovering on the chain lock. Through the peephole, I saw Ethan, my neighbor of three years. Normally calm, courteous, the kind of person who would bring back a wayward recycling bin, he now looked like someone who’d just witnessed a disaster. His hoodie was damp, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes wide and darting down the deserted street.
“Ethan?” I croaked, opening the door just a crack.
“Don’t leave. Not today,” he said, voice low, urgent. “Call in sick. Tell them anything. But stay inside. Please. Especially you.”
“Especially me?” The words caught in my throat.
He nodded, swallowing hard, his gaze flicking to the street behind him. “If anyone calls, don’t answer. Just… trust me. I can’t explain here.”
Before I could ask another question, he stepped back and vanished down the sidewalk, swallowed by the gray light of early morning. My heart raced, the chain lock cold in my hand. Rationally, I told myself it must be a mistake, a misunderstanding. But the raw terror in his eyes refused to be ignored.
I called my supervisor, forcing a casual tone. “I’m not feeling well,” I said.
Hours passed slowly, each tick of the clock amplifying the anxiety coiling in my chest. I kept checking my phone, ignoring calls from unknown numbers. The street outside remained silent. It wasn’t normal silence—it was a suffocating stillness, as if the city itself were holding its breath.
At 11:47 a.m., a local news alert popped up:
I froze. My office—my courthouse—was the one under threat. Every instinct screamed at me that Ethan’s warning had saved me. And yet… I didn’t know why I had been singled out.
I tried to calm myself, pacing the kitchen, coffee untouched. Then came the low vibration beneath the floor, a metallic hum filling the air. My phone rang. Caller ID: “INSIDE.”
I stared at it, frozen. The screen flickered, displaying a message:
A choice. I had no idea what it meant. My hands shook as I glanced around the apartment. Doors locked, windows shut. The hum grew louder. Then, the lights flickered and went out, plunging the room into darkness.
Instinct drove me to the window. Peeking through the blinds, I saw a black van parked across the street. No markings, tinted windows. A figure stepped out, scanning the buildings, then vanished behind the corner. My stomach dropped.
I knew I had to act. But act how? Call the police? That would trigger… something, I had no idea what. Step outside? Suicide. Stay hidden? Maybe I’d survive—but for how long?
Hours passed. Every sound—the thump of a branch, the clatter of a trash can—sent my pulse skyrocketing. I tried texting Ethan, but no reply. Then, at 2:13 p.m., the doorbell rang. One chime. No one outside. A single envelope slipped under the door.
I picked it up with trembling hands. Inside: a single photograph of myself leaving the courthouse two days ago, the date stamped, and a note:
“You were meant to be here. But now, you’re in the game.”
A cold dread washed over me. Someone was watching me. Not random strangers—someone knew me, my routines, everything about me.
The phone rang again. This time, it was Ethan. Relief mixed with fear.
“Thank God,” I whispered.
“Listen carefully,” he said. “They know you’re cautious. They know you stayed home. But they won’t stop. You have to come with me—now. Take only what you need. No questions. No hesitation.”
I grabbed my backpack, stuffing in essentials, heart hammering. As I opened the door, a shadow darted across the hallway. A trap? An ally? I couldn’t tell.
We ran through the alleyways, Ethan leading, my mind spinning. Finally, we reached a nondescript van. He gestured for me to get inside. I hesitated—then something slammed into the van’s roof. Bullets? Metal? I ducked instinctively as the van screeched to life, tires burning rubber on asphalt.
Inside, Ethan finally spoke, voice taut.
“They’re not after the courthouse. They’re after the person the courthouse protects.”
“What do you mean?” I gasped.
“They think you have something no one else does. Something you don’t even know about yet.”
Before I could process, the van’s screen lit up—a live feed of my apartment. My cat sat calmly on the windowsill. Nothing seemed out of place. Until… a second figure appeared behind the cat. Someone wearing a mask, watching, waiting.
Ethan’s eyes met mine. “This is bigger than either of us. And it’s just starting.”
I swallowed hard, adrenaline and fear mingling. Somewhere in the back of my mind, one question burned:
What had I gotten myself into—and how could I possibly survive it?
The van raced into the city, and I realized that my life, my ordinary, safe life, had vanished forever.
The van cut through the city streets like a predator in the night. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might shatter my ribs. Ethan didn’t speak much, his eyes scanning every rearview mirror, every shadow. I wanted to ask him questions—thousands of them—but each glance at his tense expression told me this wasn’t the time.
“Where… where are we going?” I finally managed.
He didn’t answer at first. Then, his jaw tightened. “Safe… for now. But it’s temporary. You need to understand something. Whoever is after you—they’re not ordinary criminals. They plan, they watch, and they always anticipate the next move. You’ve been marked for a reason, but you don’t know why yet.”
A cold dread slid down my spine. “Marked… for what?”
Ethan’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. “That’s what we’re going to find out. But every second counts. If they figure out you’re moving, it could be over before we even start.”
I sank back in my seat, trying to absorb the reality. The photograph in the envelope, the masked figure in my apartment… none of it made sense. And yet, my instincts screamed: everything Ethan said was true.
Hours passed as we drove through back alleys and abandoned industrial districts. Then the van stopped in front of an old warehouse on the edge of the city. Rusted metal gates, broken windows. It looked deserted—perfect for hiding, perfect for a trap.
Ethan jumped out first, gesturing for me to follow. Hesitant, I stepped onto the cracked concrete. Inside, the warehouse was dark, but not empty. A single laptop sat on a folding table, its screen glowing. Beside it, a folder labeled “Project Sentinel”.
Ethan turned to me. “This… this explains a lot, but it’s dangerous. You weren’t supposed to know yet, but they left clues for you. Whoever is controlling this—powerful people—think you have access to something called the Sentinel Key. You don’t even realize you do.”
My mind reeled. Sentinel Key? What was that?
Before I could ask, the warehouse lights flickered violently. A metallic click echoed—then the door slammed shut. We were trapped.
A distorted voice crackled through hidden speakers:
“Thought you could hide? The game isn’t over. Step out… or pay the price.”
Ethan grabbed my arm. “Run. We split. Follow my lead.”
I hesitated. Then, as shadows began to move along the walls, I realized hesitation could be fatal. We sprinted, dodging automated laser traps that weren’t there a second ago, barely keeping ahead of mechanical drones scanning the area.
In the chaos, I noticed something impossible: one of the drones displayed my own face on a screen, live feed from earlier today. Someone was tracking me in real time. And the last message flashed across the drone’s screen:
“You can’t escape what you were born for.”
Ethan yelled over the noise. “This is bigger than both of us! We need to reach the secondary safehouse. It’s the only place with a secure connection to figure out who’s behind this—and why you.”
As we disappeared into a labyrinth of steel corridors, I felt it: a strange pull, like my destiny was entwined with something I had never understood. And deep down, I knew this was just the beginning.
Because someone—or something—had marked me. And they were never going to stop.
