“Your wife is already dead.”
Leo laughs. A small, broken sound. He looks at his scarred palm. He remembers the heat of a burning house, the way smoke curls under a door, the weight of an axe. That memory has weight. Lies are light.
At ninety seconds, a voice speaks. Not from a speaker—from inside his molars. A pleasant, genderless tone, like a GPS recalculating. How To Survive- Third Person Standalone
Ten. Five.
He circles the room for what feels like an hour. The voice speaks again. “Your wife is already dead
The floor opens. He falls. He wakes on a different metal floor. Warmer. Above him, a sky with two moons and a sun the color of rust. The air smells of rain and salt. Someone is shaking his shoulder.
Leo blinks. The voice is not inside his teeth. It’s outside, human, scared. A young woman with a cut on her forehead and a child clinging to her leg. He remembers the heat of a burning house,
“You volunteered for this.”
“Hey. Hey. You made it. What’s your name?”
That is how you survive.