Joe knelt quietly inside the bedroom with the woman, while the monster walked the blasted streets outside.

Its footfalls were deep, gravelly booms, sending shudders through the walls and dusty rain seeping to the old carpet from the crumbling drywall above. Through the powder air, Joe crept over to the window and peered out of it. It was striking to realize they were up high, way up high, and far down below were city blocks that were empty and abandoned. The streets and sidewalks were strewn with rubble and debris, and the pavement was crisscrossed with gaping chasms, as though the world itself had been shattered. The high-rises lining either side of the avenue were each in ruin, mere shells of what they once were, and like precarious Jenga towers they swayed, as though ready to topple over at any moment. They were in one of those high-rises—Joe could feel its unsteadiness. The sky above was a haze the color of blood, and like stage lights from a concert it painted the entire city in crimson. That same radiance filtered in through the window and set their room aglow in vivid red.

The woman lay on the bed and Joe knew she looked at him. He could feel her eyes. Meanwhile the monster’s footsteps outside sounded like a distant jackhammer.

He felt his body shaking from pent-up energy. The power was like a firehose within him, but he didn’t know where to focus it. It felt like he needed to sprint as fast as he could, but there was nowhere to run.

“You need to decide, Joe,” said the woman on the bed. Her voice was soothing and calming, a buoy in the madness. It was also familiar. He peered more closely at her, and then a feeling of awe came over him—it was a wave that coursed through his entire body.

She was Jennifer Carter, the first serious girlfriend he’d ever had. Though they hadn’t spoken in years, he knew he still cared for her more than any other. So it made sense that it was her, and that she was with him now, during these troubling times. Unlike him, she appeared quite relaxed, and very comfortable in the bed. There was an object in her hand—a glass ball, tinged royal blue, a curious bauble that she clutched onto and occasionally rolled in her palm. Joe stared at it, and her, hypnotized, before snapping his attention back to the street.

The monster’s footfalls crept ever closer, and actually sounded like thunderclaps. It was searching for them, he knew. It was stalking them. Though they were quite high up—maybe ten floors—he still had no trouble at all spotting the beast as it walked the desolate streets, pacing steadily across the debris and cracked pavement. It was not a giant, thus its march should not have been so deafening—and yet it was. It was a wretched thing—wiry and strong, with pipe-like limbs, claws like steel, its skin as black as night. Its hide was iron, its eyes piercing, its mouth fanged, and it breathed with a tiger’s hoarse rattle. Its roar would echo for miles about the empty city that surrounded them.

For the city was empty, Joe knew. Except for him, Jennifer, and the monster outside that stalked them.

“Decide what?” Joe asked her. His voice was lost, confused. He gazed at her and saw the white sheet clinging to her body, accentuating those curves that were like the gently rolling hills and slopes of a majestic landscape. Like a sorceress, she continued to gently roll the blue glass ball in her palm. His eyes lingered on her again before finally the thunderclaps of the monster’s footfalls brought his attention back to the street outside.

He peered out the window just in time to see the hulk pass by once more, its claws twitching in anticipation, ready and eager to rend and kill. Then the monster stopped its deathly march, and the entire city was a silent shell, and only the three of them existed—Joe, Jennifer, and the monster. With the beast standing idle, an impossible quiet fell over the city, and Joe feared their slightest movement or even whisper would alert the monster outside to their presence.

Jennifer drew his attention, as she turned toward him in the bed while slipping the sheets away. Underneath she was unclothed, and so having removed the sheet she exposed that majestic landscape of her torso. Her eyes had fallen shut but now they fluttered open and looked at him again.

He returned her gaze, his expression raw, his eyes intense. He’d lost his virginity to her, once upon a time. She’d lost hers in the same moment—they’d lost it together. That meant for a special bond between them, Joe knew. That bond was important—it was some kind of an ingredient, for whatever was going to happen.

“Just decide,” she whispered.

Joe could think of nothing else as he moved in smoothly on top of her, their bare skin meeting together warmly and pleasantly. For Joe realized then a startling thing—that he was as naked as she.

The bedsprings groaned with the additional weight though, and out in the street, the monster turned its head briskly toward their building and growled in suspicion.

Joe could see all this, the monster moving steadily across the block, approaching them, baring its teeth. But then the beast stopped and the world was deathly quiet.

It was the integral moment. In an instant the monster would be ready to dismiss any noise it had heard and be on its way, continuing its imposing march down the empty city streets. It would reign terror wherever it went, but they’d be safe—at least for the time being.

Their faces were just inches apart, and their gaze never broke, save for her eyelashes batting once or twice. The monster was already turning away, but Joe couldn’t stop himself as he slid his way in, relishing the sight of her eyes falling shut, her mouth agape in pleasure.

“Jennifer… what’s happening?” He could barely speak the ecstasy was so great.

“Joe…” she said, the pitch and intensity of her voice rising.

In his peripheral vision he vaguely noticed how she never let go of the glass ball—she clutched it tightly in her palm all along. And what had started slowly and gently became like a snowball tumbling downhill, picking up speed and momentum and utterly impossible to stop. First the bedsprings groaned and screeched, and then the headboard began to smash against the wall with absurdly massive clangs. It became so loud that Joe thought he heard it echoing up and down the block. Still he didn’t care. It was worth it.

The beast on the street roared in triumph, realizing it had found its prey. Its footfalls grew louder and louder as it crept closer, soon becoming more than thunderous and shaking the very earth itself. Joe and Jennifer could hear it coming, and they knew it was something terrible—yet still they could not stop. Their actions only grew in intensity, and soon their vigorous motion caused the entire building to sway from side to side like a hula dancer.

She screamed and so did he, the natural progression taking them there, neither of them with any say in the matter. Their voices drew the beast forward with renewed quickness, the sound of its massive clawed feet hitting each stair like a hammer to an anvil.

Still Joe didn’t care. He’d made his decision. And moments later he was finished. Jennifer’s eyes, seconds ago closed in ecstasy, now looked up at Joe hopefully, and with gratitude, like something important had been accomplished.

Splinters and fragments of wood that had once been the door exploded backwards into the bedroom. The beast stood in the empty doorframe, its eyes black and dead.

Joe stood to his feet as the dust and splinters rained through the air. He stared at the beast with a focused hatred, watching it as it changed. It became no longer a monster, but a man, its face devious, and mockingly it looked just like Joe, albeit a twisted version.

This was the ultimate evil, Joe knew. It looked like you, and it mocked you. It knew all of his worst thoughts and fears. It was his inverse; his shadow.

But no matter. He was ready. With Jennifer—he was ready.

Joe charged, and the villain reared to meet his attack head on. Upon clashing together, the two figures tumbled to the floor, where they grappled, Joe’s body a mass of taught, rippled muscle, and his opponent one of inky blackness. Amidst the struggle, the floor beneath them gave away, as did the one below that, and several more thereafter. Eventually, Joe was all by himself as dust and debris from above poured a heavy, continuous rain upon him. The shadow had come apart entirely, and in his hands he held what looked like black cords and gallons of ink coated his arms and much of his body.

He cast the sick cords aside and climbed to his feet, splashing through the ink, barely able to see through the falling debris. But amidst the mayhem he saw before him the man with the wrinkled face and long, thin black and grey hair. He wore clothes of rough leather. His slanted eyes were piercing, and his thin smile was wide and smug. Joe knew he looked upon the Trickster for the first time, or at least some version of him. But Joe didn’t care. The Trickster meant nothing to him. He thought only of Jennifer.

The stairs were still intact, at least enough to be used, and Joe took them several at a time on his way up. More than once his foot fell through the decaying steps, but each time he popped it back out and continued the ascent. He called out her name, and just barely he heard her calling back, her voice a faint song amidst the groaning walls and falling debris around him. But it was just enough to direct him to the right floor, and then to the right room. The doorway was mere hinges with scattered wood and sawdust on an old carpet.

Darting inside, he leapt over the hole in the floor that he and the shadow had fallen through. The bed was empty though—Jennifer was gone. Joe froze, his body heaving, covered in blackness and debris, processing her absence into a renewed rage. Then he noticed that she’d left something behind—the blue glass ball. It sat on the sheet, nestled up against a pillow. He snatched it off the bed and clutched it tightly in his palm as she had done before. He stared blankly into the dark blue glass, wondering what it meant, and why she had carried it.

Then he felt the presence behind him.

It was the Trickster yet again. He stood by the window, the light from the crimson sky behind him turning his body into a ghostly silhouette. It seemed impossible the Trickster had made it up there so quickly. But there he was, still with the smug grin that also seemed to be mocking him.