Kill Everything That Moves – Part 1

Science Fiction Story 'Kill Everything That Moves'.

Oca 2, 2025

Year: Unknown

The air was ice. I lifted my head from the ground, choking on the thick, metallic stench of the air. A swirling dust storm clung to everything—powdered concrete, vaporized steel, something far worse.

What the hell happened?

Freezing wind. Poisonous haze. The sour tang of burning flesh. As if a colossal wave had scoured the world clean, leaving only ruin.

I tried to stand. My body screamed—muscles shredded, bones hollow. Something indescribable had passed through me. But I rose.

No memory of war. No clue what could’ve done this.

My skull pulsed. A survivor’s guilt I hadn’t earned. I wiped grit from my eyes and forced myself to look.

There was no “city” left. Buildings pancaked into graves. The screams—god, the screams—echoed like a chorus of the damned. People clawed at rubble, calling for children, lovers, ghosts. A judgment day without angels.

Then I saw them.

Things dripping from the sky.

Where they landed, flesh dissolved. A man’s face collapsed mid-sprint. A woman’s outstretched arm liquefied. No explosions—just silent, relentless erasure.

Panic. Running. Useless.

The droplets hit pavement and morphed, taking new forms—gelid puddles that slithered toward heat. Toward life.

I vaulted over debris, lungs burning. A collapsed factory loomed—my only chance.

Behind me, the sounds ceased one by one.

The droplets weren’t falling anymore.

They were hunting.

And they’d begun to coalesce…