Chapter 1Not On The Survival List

That goddamn video was the last thread I had to pull.

In the grainy footage, at three in the morning, my parents were standing perfectly still by my bedside. They stared at me for what felt like an eternity before finally turning toward the door.

"Don't wake him," my mother’s voice whispered through the crack in the door, fragile and haunting. "Just let him stay here. Alone."

By the time I clawed my way out of sleep, the world had fundamentally shifted. The entire city looked like someone had hit the pause button. The streets were hollowed out, filled with a silence so thick it was suffocating.

Three hundred million people—gone. Vaporized.

My hands shook as I dialed every number in my contacts. All I got was the rhythmic, mocking pulse of a busy signal.

…

* * *

My name is Ben Beckett. I’m twenty-six.

Last night was Christmas Eve. We’d finished the big family dinner, and I was so wiped out I crashed early. The last thing I remembered was my mom in the kitchen, nagging my sister to help with the dishes. Everything was normal. Routine.

But when I opened my eyes, the sun was already high.

I checked my phone: 9:47 AM.

The first thing I noticed wasn't the time, though. It was the quiet. On Christmas morning, there should have been the muffled sound of neighbors’ kids screaming over toys, the hum of traffic, the distant chime of church bells. Instead, the house felt like a tomb.

I got up and pushed open my bedroom door.

"Mom? Dad?"

Nothing.

The living room was empty. The remains of last night’s dinner were still on the table, the gravy congealed, the wine glasses stained red. My dad’s ashtray had a few fresh butts in it. His coffee mug was sitting on the coaster, stone cold.

Where the hell were they?

I shouted my sister’s name. "Zoe!"

Still nothing.

I went to her room and nudged the door open. Her bed was made, the duvet pulled tight and neat. But she wasn't in it.

A cold prickle of unease started at the base of my spine. I pulled out my phone and called my mom.

Ring... ring... ring... No answer.

I tried my dad. No answer.

I tried Zoe. Straight to voicemail.

I stood in the middle of the living room, my brain struggling to process the data. It was Christmas morning. Had the whole family just... gone somewhere without me? That made zero sense.

I threw on a jacket and stepped out into the hallway. The silence out there was even worse. I knocked on the door of our neighbor, Mr. Henderson.

"Mr. Henderson? You home?"

No sound.

I tried the door across the hall. Nothing.

I started to run. I hit the stairs, flying down flight after flight, pounding on every door I passed. No one. Not a single soul.

I burst through the main entrance and stood in the courtyard of our apartment complex. Usually, at this hour, you’d see people walking dogs or loading gifts into their cars.

Today? It was a ghost town.

The playground was empty. The benches were empty. Even the stray cats that usually hung around the dumpsters had vanished. My heart started hammering against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird.

I ran to the gate. The security booth was abandoned. The barrier was up.

Out on the main road, there wasn't a single car moving. There were vehicles parked along the curb, but they were empty shells. The Starbucks was closed. The grocery store was shuttered. The pharmacy, the salon, the deli—everything was locked tight.

I stood in the middle of the wide, vacant boulevard, surrounded by skyscrapers and glass, yet I was the only thing breathing. The city hadn't just paused. It had been drained.

I started to sprint.

I ran through block after block. I passed the mall, the high school, the hospital entrance. Empty. Empty. Empty.

I stopped, gasping for air, my lungs burning. This was impossible. This was some kind of sick, large-scale prank.

I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

It picked up. But no one spoke. Just that steady, mechanical beep... beep... beep...

I tried the fire department. The hospital. Same result.

I dialed my fiancée, Bella.

"The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please try again later."

I dialed my best friend, Wes.

"The power to this device is off."

I went through my entire contact list. Fifty people. Not one voice.

I collapsed onto the curb, my mind a white-hot blank. Everyone was gone. The whole country, maybe the whole world, had vanished overnight. And I was the only one left.

Why?