Shayne

Chapter One: The Ghost in Zone Zero

The rain never touched Zone Zero.

Not because the clouds avoided it, but because the sky above it was fake.

Projected light, recycled storms, engineered silence—everything about the place was artificial, even the air. They called it “Cleansed Territory.” A zone built for the undesirables, the expired, the erased.

Shayne Marrow had lived here for seven years.

He sat inside a dim repair booth that barely qualified as a room. Wires hung from cracked ceilings. The glow of half-dead monitors flickered against his unshaved jaw. A vintage scripture was projected across a cracked lens screen in front of him—faint, encrypted, and written in fragments only he could read.

Blessed are the persecuted…

A spark popped from a broken drone core he was welding. He didn’t flinch.

Outside, a woman screamed—then silence. That was normal here. Screams came and went like passing taxis. Zone Zero didn’t ask questions. It just swallowed.

Shayne leaned back, staring at the screen again. His fingers trembled, not from fear—but from knowing. He had felt it since morning, deep in his chest.

Today would be different.

He reached beneath the workbench and pulled out a worn leather pouch. Inside it: a tattered photograph, a rusted silver cross, and a smart chip. The photo showed a little girl with gap teeth and fire in her eyes. She was the last one he saved. The cross… that was from his mother. The chip?

That wasn’t for him. That was for the world.

A soft knock echoed from the sealed door.

Shayne’s hand hovered near the power switch. No one ever knocked in Zone Zero. They either barged in or blasted through.

“Marrow?” a soft voice whispered.

His chest tightened. No one had used that name in years.

He opened the door, and the figure that stepped inside wore a hood, soaked in synthetic rain from outside the Zone’s core. Small, slender. Female. Her voice trembled.

“They’re coming,” she said. “Not scanners. Not enforcers. Unity Division. They’re tracking belief again.”

He looked her over. He recognized her. Daughter of a black-market medic. Quiet, helpful. She once smuggled Bibles disguised as network drives.

“How far?” he asked.

“They already breached the outer checkpoint.”

He exhaled.

Not in fear.

In acceptance.

“Then it’s time,” Shayne whispered.

She looked confused. “Time for what?”

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he reached for the cross, placed it gently over his head, and slid the smart chip into his palm.

The prophecy had spoken of a day like this. A day when belief would cost him everything.

And yet—he felt more alive than he had in years.

“Tell the others,” he said. “Underground church goes dark. Code Exodus goes live. If they find me… they’ll try to silence me on air.”

“And if they do?”

He paused, turning toward the monitor one last time.

“I won’t speak for survival,” Shayne said.

“I’ll speak for awakening.”

Another knock.

This time, it wasn’t soft.

It was metal. Rhythmic. Government-issued.

His visitor turned to run, but Shayne held her back.

“No more running,” he said quietly. “Let them come.”

The door vibrated. Lights dimmed. Outside, drones buzzed like insects. The monitor blinked rapidly—a silent alert from Elder Jonah:

“The Lion will roar. The world will burn. Then rebuild.”

The door exploded open.

Shayne didn’t run.

He stood. Unshaken. Waiting.

As the smoke cleared, boots thundered into the room. Drones hovered. Guns raised.

But the soldier who stepped forward did not fire.

She pulled back her helmet.

And the face staring at Shayne was one he’d never expected to see again.

“Hello, Marrow,” she whispered.

“You remember me?”