Hassan had always hated heights.
Not the dramatic kind. Not the "look over the edge of a cliff and feel alive" kind people bragged about. He hated the quiet heights, the ones that made you think about how far the ground really was.
So, it felt deeply unfair that he was the first one going down.
He stood at the broken east edge of the apartment, toes inches from nothing, with the city yawning beneath him. The wind brushed against his face, carrying dust, smoke, and something metallic that made his nose itch.
Abdi stood behind him.
Close. Too close.
"Don't look down," Abdi said.
Hassan laughed once. "Little late for that."
Abdi's hands settled around Hassan's ribs, firm but careful. He didn't grip as if he feared Hassan might fall, but rather like he already knew Hassan wouldn't.
That scared him more.
"Listen," Abdi said quietly, his voice steady despite everything. "I'm not dropping you. I won't lose you."
Hassan swallowed. "You sound real confident for someone who learned this yesterday."
Abdi didn't respond.
The building creaked.
Hassan's stomach clenched.
"Okay," Abdi said. "We're going."
There was no countdown.
No warning.
The ground vanished.
Hassan yelped as his feet left the concrete, instinctively grabbing at Abdi's arms. Air rushed up at him, cold and fast, tugging at his clothes. His brain screamed that this was wrong, impossible; bodies weren't meant to do this.
They dropped quickly but not freely.
It felt like falling through thick water.
Abdi adjusted midair, shifting his weight and angling them away from the web's hanging strands. Hassan felt the subtle corrections through Abdi's body, tiny movements that somehow kept them steady.
"Breathe," Abdi said.
Hassan tried.
The web loomed beside them as they descended. Massive strands stretched upward, torn and frayed where the wasp had ripped through it. The crack was wider close up. Ugly. Uneven. Alive in a way that made Hassan uncomfortable.
Below them, the street waited.
Cars lay crushed and wrapped in webbing. Glass glittered in the morning light. The supermarket entrance was half-collapsed but still standing, its sign hanging crookedly.
"Almost there," Abdi murmured.
Then they hit solid ground.
Abdi slowed sharply, bending his knees as Hassan's shoes hit asphalt. Hassan stumbled forward, heart pounding and lungs burning, but he stayed upright.
He was alive.
He laughed, breathless and hysterical. "Oh my God. Oh my—Abdi, I'm alive."
Abdi let go and staggered back a step, bracing himself as if the landing had cost him something. He bent slightly, hands on his thighs, breathing harder now.
"Give me a second," Abdi said.
Hassan nodded, then froze.
Something moved.
Not fast.
Not sudden.
Heavy.
A shape emerged from behind an overturned bus at the far end of the street. Its body scraped against concrete, producing a low, grinding sound that vibrated through Hassan's bones.
The beetle.
It was massive—longer than a car, its shell thick and dark, layered like overlapping armor plates. Its legs were short but powerful, digging into the street with each step. Its mandibles clicked softly, tasting the air.
Hassan's mouth went dry.
"Abdi," he whispered. "We've got company."
Abdi straightened slowly.
The beetle turned toward them.
It didn't charge.
It just angled its body in their direction and began to move.
Slow.
Purposeful.
"Okay," Abdi said softly. "We don't run."
Hassan stared at him. "You want to say that again?"
"If it sees movement—"
"It's looking right at us!"
Abdi shook his head. "No. It's not."
The beetle stopped ten meters away.
Its head tilted slightly.
Its antennae swept back and forth, brushing the air.
It clicked again.
Hassan's mind raced.
"Abdi," he whispered, barely breathing. "Why isn't it attacking?"
Abdi's eyes flicked to the beetle's face.
To where eyes should have been.
There were none.
Just hardened ridges.
"No pupils," Abdi said. "No lenses. Nothing."
The realization hit Hassan like ice water.
"It's blind."
The beetle shifted again, its legs scraping, and its antennae twitched faster now.
Listening.
Feeling vibrations.
Abdi tensed. "Don't move."
Hassan's foot itched.
His heart pounded loudly enough that he was sure the creature could hear it.
The beetle took another step.
Concrete cracked.
Hassan's gaze darted around desperately.
Glass.
The street was littered with it.
Broken bottles. Shattered windows.
An idea sparked.
Risky.
Stupid.
But better than standing still until the beetle decided to test them.
Hassan reached down slowly, carefully, fingers closing around an empty glass bottle near his foot.
Abdi noticed.
His eyes widened slightly.
Hassan mouthed the words.
Trust me.
Before Abdi could respond, Hassan hurled the bottle as hard as he could far to the left, toward a pile of wrecked cars.
It shattered loudly.
The sound echoed down the street.
The beetle reacted instantly.
It spun toward the noise, mandibles snapping as it charged—not fast, but with terrifying certainty—toward the sound.
The ground shook with each step.
Hassan didn't wait.
"NOW."
Abdi grabbed him again.
They lifted off just as the beetle slammed into the cars, metal screeching and glass exploding outward. Its mandibles tore through steel as if it were foil.
Hassan screamed—not from fear this time, but from adrenaline.
They rose quickly, with Abdi pushing harder now, angling them back toward the building. Hassan clung to him as the wind ripped tears from his eyes.
Below them, the beetle thrashed, confused and furious, tearing into the wrong target.
"Hold on," Abdi gasped.
They cleared the web's lower strands, rising through the cracked opening. Hassan risked a glance downward and immediately regretted it.
The city looked dead.
Empty.
Desolate.
They reached the edge of the broken apartment floor, and Abdi pulled them onto solid concrete again. Hassan collapsed forward, hands shaking, laughing and crying at the same time.
Craig was there instantly, grabbing Hassan by the shoulders.
"You good?" Craig demanded.
Hassan nodded wildly. "Yeah. Yeah. We—there's a beetle. Big one. Blind."
Craig blinked. "Blind?"
Abdi dropped to one knee beside them, breathing hard. "Sound-based. Vibration. We can work around it."
Craig stared at him.
Then he looked out at the crack in the web.
Then back at Hassan.
A slow, dangerous smile tugged at his face.
"Good work," Craig said.
Hassan lay back on the floor, staring up at the broken ceiling, chest still heaving.
Below them, the beetle roared—confused and alone.
And for the first time since the world ended, Hassan felt something dangerously close to confidence.