No One Gets Out Alive Novels & Stories

A thousand instances I could have died, and a thousand reasons I still might. A yell broke through the din-masculine, enraged and in pain. Then I faltered on my step when I heard Knight's curse not far away from me. I spared a glance over, but I couldn't see anything through the monsters scrambling over corpses. I wanted to go, but being attacked left and right rendered me immobile. My brother screamed as well, but whether from rage or pain, I'm not certain. That's when I realized, in the far-off corner of my mind, that I am going to die. We all were. God, after years of fighting for survival, today might be the last time I would fight.

Then noise crept back in, low and fractured, the sound of four hundred people trying to process what they were standing in the middle of. My stomach turned. Every person in this room had just killed or chosen not to kill or survived someone trying to kill them. There’s no way of knowing who had aimed at us deliberately and who had just been swinging at anything that moved. We did not know who was calculating. We did not know who was desperate. Garrett leaned against the pillar, leg stretched out, jaw tight. Alvin crouched beside him, checking the wound with hands that stayed steady even when they came back soaked red.

Red emergency lights bathed the room in a bloody, pulsing glow. ​"There are no more credits to win," Franco smiled, a jagged, terrifying expression. "By sunrise, only two of you will remain on this island. The rest will be liquidated. And the only way to secure your spot... is to personally eliminate the person standing next to you." ​The floor shifted violently beneath their feet with a mechanical grind, and the lights plunged into total darkness. ​The darkness was absolute – a thick, suffocating blanket that swallowed the flickering candlelight in a fraction of a second.

Then reality returned. Quickly. "Everyone okay?" Damon called. Groans answered from throughout the wreckage. Cassian's voice emerged first. "I think my soul left my body." Good. If Cassian was complaining, he was alive. Nova appeared next. Covered in dirt. Covered in blood. Mostly someone else's. "Still breathing." Seraphine followed. Then Mira. Then Hale. Then Isabella. Bruised. Shaken. Alive. Everyone was alive. Barely.

" A few seconds later, a new notification popped up. "The second stage has concluded. Congratulations to Molly Hampton and Riley Johnson's team for securing first place with the most points. Both players will be advancing to the final stage, 'Survival of the Fittest', that will last a day." Frank's eyes widened. He looked as if he was teetering on the edge of a breakdown as he exclaimed, "No! That's impossible! Why would you team up with her, Molly? She's a serial killer! She sent so many people to their deaths!"

"Ms. Baird, this is the fake death service you booked with us. The time of death is set for three days from now, on your wedding day. The body will be delivered to the wedding venue, and you will be the deceased. Please confirm and sign here." I nodded and signed the end of the document without hesitation. On the way from the hospital to Dominic Cruz's company, I opened my phone and happened to come across a video interview of Dominic. "I owe all my success to my wife, Yvonne Baird. She is my greatest support and motivation."

He was staring at me with wide, shocked eyes. "Maya?" he whispered. "What are you doing here?" Before I could answer, a crackling speaker came to life above us. [WELCOME TO THE SURVIVAL GAME] [Congratulations, you are all dead! But considering the greenhouse effect, hell is on recycle mode right now, so you are being sent to dead worlds, as entertainment! Please, provide the fanciest death you can, for the audience!] “What audience?!” Damian asked, but nobody, well, no dead body on the bus is in a mood to answer him.

Text message. "Damien is alive. I kept him alive. Paid for everything. Experimental treatments. Best doctors. Because I need him. Need you. Need Hope. For what comes next. You have seventy-two hours. Come to Geneva. Bring Hope. Or Damien's life support ends. And thirteen other hospitals—thirteen other patients—also lose power. Simultaneously. One hundred seventy-three people die. Your choice. Come alone. Or come with blood on your hands. -M" M. Marcus. Impossible. But—

The morgue was cold, carrying a foul, sterile smell. Expressionless staff pushed me into a metal drawer. With a soft "click," the door closed. The system's voice echoed in my mind. [Death confirmed. Final storyline completed.] [Countdown to soul departure: 71 hours 59 minutes.] [Please await the opening of the passage.] I drifted in the cold, hollow air and let out a breath. Finally, things were coming to an end.

Their faces were just a few inches from each other. The turmoil surrounding them abated for a fleeting moment. Then Sharon pulled away. It's not the right time. Alex's jaw tightened. “No. It isn't.” Then there was a violent explosion that cut them short. The bunker doors were closed. The lights returned. Then suddenly there was no sound. No creatures. No screaming. Nothing. Sharon looked around. Everyone had disappeared. Alex was gone. Daniel was gone. Victoria was gone. The old Sharon was gone. The baby was the only survivor.