Abdi
I knew something was wrong the moment the door opened. It wasn't the slow, careful way Craig usually returned, testing the hinges and listening for movement. This time, it was fast and urgent. The stairwell echoed with the sound of boots and sharp breathing.
Craig burst in first, crowbar raised, eyes scanning the room. "We're back," he said. "Lock it."
Zak shut the door behind them while Hassan slid the bolt. Chris leaned against the wall, pale, his knuckles white around a grocery bag half-filled with scavenged cans. Selma exhaled, as if she'd been holding her breath since dawn.
"You're early," she said.
Craig didn't relax. "Didn't feel right out there." That made Abdi uneasy. Craig trusted his instincts. When he cut something short, it meant he'd felt watched.
They dropped the supplies on the table—a couple of cans, a torn medical kit, and some bottled water. Not much, but enough. Abdi helped unpack, though his attention kept drifting toward the east side.
The web outside shimmered in the morning light, thicker than it had been yesterday. The hole from earlier had narrowed, with strands knitting back together like a wound healing. "That thing's rebuilding," Abdi muttered.
Craig followed his gaze. His jaw tightened. "Yeah. I see it."
The air vibrated. Not loud at first, but like pressure—a low-frequency hum that settled into Abdi's bones. Zak stiffened. "You feel that?"
Before anyone could respond, the sound sharpened. Buzzing. Fast. Aggressive. Selma turned toward the window. "Oh no."
The wasp came into view like a missile. It slammed into the web at full speed. The impact shook the building. Everyone reacted at once. "Back!" Craig barked. "Away from the east wall!"
The spider surged up from below, legs unfolding, body massive and terrible. Its scream cut through the air as it met the wasp head-on. They collided again—harder. Concrete cracked.
Abdi staggered as the floor shuddered beneath him. Dust rained from the ceiling. "Craig!" Hassan shouted.
"I know!" Craig snapped. "Move—NOW!"
Another impact. The web stretched, then snapped in places as the wasp tore through it, mandibles ripping silk apart. The spider struck back, driving the wasp sideways—straight into the building. The east wall exploded. Abdi felt the ground vanish beneath his feet.
"ABDI!" Craig's shout came too late. The floor dropped out from under him, and Abdi fell. The sky spun. The building rushed upward. His stomach lurched as the world turned into wind and screaming air.
I'm falling. Time slowed in a way that felt cruel. He saw Craig's face at the edge—eyes wide, reaching out instinctively, as if he could grab Abdi from six meters away. He heard Selma scream his name. He felt the emptiness open beneath him.
This is it. Something inside him broke open. The pressure in his chest—constant for days—burst. The air thickened. Pushed back. Hard. Abdi gasped as his fall suddenly came to a halt. Not gently. Not cleanly. It felt like hitting invisible water. His body jerked violently, limbs flailing as gravity suddenly loosened its grip.
"What—?" His voice shook, stolen by the wind. He was still moving, but slower and more controlled. Abdi realized he wasn't falling anymore. He was suspended.
"No," he whispered. "No way."
The air responded when he moved. He tilted his arm—and drifted sideways. Panic flared, sharp and wild, until instinct took over. Something deep and familiar guided him, telling him how to angle his body, how to lean into the pressure. He stopped moving downward completely.
Abdi hovered. The realization crashed over him. "I'm… flying."
Above him, Craig was staring. Not shouting. Not moving. Just staring, as if he'd watched reality tear in half. "ABDI!" Craig finally yelled. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"
Abdi laughed—short, breathless, almost hysterical. "I—I don't know!" Debris fell past him as the monsters continued their fight. The wasp drove into the web again, ripping a massive tear through it. The spider screeched, scrambling to hold on as the silk began to fail. The east side of the building crumbled further.
Abdi dipped instinctively, avoiding a slab of concrete as it plummeted past him. His body moved before his brain caught up. I've done this before. The thought scared him more than the fall.
The web finally gave way. A hole opened—wide, ragged, unstoppable. The spider lost its footing. The wasp rammed it one last time. Both creatures vanished downward in a storm of torn silk and dust, dragging half the web with them.
Silence hit like a slap. Abdi hovered there, heart pounding, arms outstretched, the ruined city yawning beneath him. Above, five people stared down at him. Craig's face was unreadable. Zak's eyes were narrowed, calculating. Hassan looked like he might throw up. Chris had dropped the supplies completely. Selma had both hands over her mouth.
Abdi swallowed. "I can explain," he said weakly.
Craig didn't respond. Instead, he stepped closer to the edge, careful despite the chaos. "Get back up here," Craig said, voice low and steady. "Slow. Don't do anything stupid."
Abdi nodded. He focused. Leaned upward. The air pushed back again, stronger now, lifting him. It wasn't effortless—his muscles burned, his chest ached—but it worked. He rose. When his feet touched solid ground, his legs gave out. Craig caught him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Craig pulled back, staring at Abdi like he was something new. "You could've died," Craig said.
"I know."
"You fell."
"I know."
"And then you didn't."
Abdi met his eyes. "I didn't know I could do that."
Craig studied him for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. "Yeah," he said. "I believe you."
No anger. No shouting. That scared Abdi more than anything else. Behind them, the east side of the building was gone—destroyed. But the web was broken. And Craig had seen everything.