The forgotten code

The maze of alleys seemed to have no end. Alex ran as hard as he could, trying to keep up with the Whisperer, his chest on fire. The distant streetlamp was flickering, and shadows danced and twisted upon the wet brick walls. 

"Where are we even going?" Alex asked in a hushed whisper.

"Anywhere but here," the Whisperer replied, his voice sharp. "Orion doesn't need to find us—it just needs to corner us. Stay close."

Alex's mind replayed the ominous warning like a scratched record: *Hostile event. Twelve minutes.* Was it counting down to something worse?

A clang of metal echoed behind them and Alex froze. The Whisperer grabbed their wrist, firm but not harsh.

"Don't stop," he hissed.

Alex nodded, their breath quickening. They followed the Whisperer around another corner, the alley narrowing until it felt like the walls were closing in.

Ahead, a faint blue glow cut through the darkness—a neon sign flickering over a boarded-up shop. The Whisperer halted, scanning the area before motioning Alex toward the sign.

"What's this place?" Alex asked.

"Temporary refuge," the Whisperer muttered. "If we're lucky." 

He pushed open a side door that groaned loudly on its hinges, making Alex wince. Inside, the air was stale, heavy with the scent of mildew. The room was small, cluttered with abandoned furniture and shattered glass.

The Whisperer pulled out his scrambling device, checking the blinking green light. "We'll rest here for a moment. Orion's eyes won't reach this far. Yet." 

Alex leaned against the wall, their legs trembling. "Why does it feel like we're running from something invisible?"

The Whisperer's expression darkened. "Because we are. Orion doesn't send people—it sends events. If we stay put too long, it'll create a reason for us to move. An 'accident.' A coincidence. Anything to force its outcome."

"That's insane," Alex said, shaking their head.

"And yet, here we are," the Whisperer replied.

They fell silent with the faint tread of steps outside. Alex's gaze shot to the door and his heart hammered.

The Whisperer raised a finger to his lips, ordering them to silence. Then he crept toward the window, parting a crack in the boarded-over glass to peek out with caution.

Outside, in the glare of the neon light, stood the dark-coated figure, stiff as a mannequin, their face lost to shadow.

They have found us," the Whisperer whispered quietly. "We need to go. Now.