The sound of BREATHING — ragged, panicked.
Suddenly— a pulse of dim light.
KYLE bursts into motion.
He’s RUNNING.
Barely visible flashes of environment appear in short, stuttering intervals— not light, but PULSE.
With each pulse:
Concrete walls flicker into existence.
Shadows stretch and collapse.
Then darkness again.
Kyle stumbles, catches himself, keeps moving.
His footsteps SLAP against wet concrete.
Behind him—
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
Kyle whips his head back—
Nothing.
He runs harder.
The tunnel BREATHES with him.
The pulse intensifies.
Kyle skids around a bend—
DEAD END.
Concrete. Solid. Close.
No way out.
Kyle slams his fist against the wall.
Breathing fast. Too fast.
The clicking is closer now.
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK.
Kyle turns sideways, pressing himself flat against the wall, inching into the darkest corner he can find.
He slides down, knees to chest, forcing himself smaller.
Trying to disappear.
The pulse hits again.
For a split second—
A SHAPE is there.
Not solid.
Not fully visible.
Like smoke shaped into something wrong.
It’s inches from his face.
Kyle freezes.
The clicking stops.
A SHORT PIERCING SCREECH cuts the air.
Kyle flinches but doesn’t move. He squeezes his eyes shut. He didn't think about removing his shades to see better. He didn't want to see the Howler anyway.
His hand tightens around Lolita's SILVER ANKLET, clenched in his fist. Kyle’s lips tremble. A whisper. Almost silent.
KYLE:
“I love you.” His girlfriend's image in his mind.
Silence.
The pulse slows.
Kyle hears sonar clicking.
He opens his eyes.
The shape is still there. He sees the creature loses more of its smoke when using its sonar. Doesn't make it less scary. Seeing more of the creature is definitely worse.
Sensing.
Waiting.
Then—
Another SHORT HOWL-SHRIEK.
Violent. Focused.
Kyle's body WHIPLASHES.
Like a spinal punch. Jamming his nervous system.
His eyes begin to pulse PURE WHITE!
All sound cuts out.