# ALIEN EXODUS: THE PORTAL WAR
## Chapter 1: The Gate Opens
The water was hot. It turned Kael's hands red. He did not mind the heat. The heat was better than the cold outside. It was better than the feeling of being nothing.
He scrubbed the plate. The sponge was rough. Gray water swirled around his fingers. Grease floated on the surface like oil slicks. He dipped the plate back into the sink. He scrubbed again. There was still a spot of dried food on the rim.
"Kael! Faster!"
The head chef shouted from the stove. Flames jumped up from the pan. The kitchen was loud. Pots banged. Knives chopped. People yelled orders. It was a busy lunch rush in Zone 4. The kind of place where people ate quickly and left quickly.
"I am going as fast as I can," Kael said. His voice was quiet. The chef did not hear him. Or he did not care.
Kael dried the plate. He put it on the stack. He reached for the next one. It was covered in sauce. Brown and sticky. He sighed. He dipped it in the water.
He was twenty years old. He was thin. His arms were long. His hair was black and fell over his eyes. He wore a white apron. It was stained with oil and soup. He had worn this apron every day for two years.
He looked at his reflection in the metal sink. He looked tired. His eyes were dark. There were shadows under them. He looked like a ghost. That was how he felt. Like a ghost. People looked through him. They did not see him. He was just the boy who washed the dishes.
"Did you see the news?" the waiter asked. He walked past the sink. He held a tray of empty glasses. He did not stop. He just talked.
"No," Kael said. He kept scrubbing.
"The Gate," the waiter said. "They are turning it on. Right now. Everyone is watching."
Kael glanced at the corner of the kitchen. A small television was mounted on the wall. It was old. The screen had a crack in the corner. The sound was low. It was hard to hear over the kitchen noise.
On the screen, a woman stood in front of a huge silver ring. She wore a white suit. She looked perfect. Her hair was gold. Her smile was bright. She stood in the middle of a desert. Behind her, the silver ring stood tall. It touched the sky.
"This is it," the woman said. "The Venus Gate. Today, we change history."
Kael looked at the screen for a second. Then he looked back at the plate. He did not care about history. He cared about the stack of dirty dishes. If he did not finish them, the chef would yell. If the chef yelled, he might not get paid. He needed the pay. Rent was due.
"Turn it up," the chef said. He wiped his hands on his apron. He walked toward the TV. "I want to see this."
The waiter reached up. He turned the knob. The sound got louder.
"Initiating sequence," the woman on the screen said. She put her hand on a glass panel.
The silver ring on the screen began to hum. It was a low sound. Even through the old speakers, Kael could feel it. It vibrated in the air.
Kael stopped scrubbing. He felt something strange. A pressure behind his eyes. It was small at first. Like a pinch. He blinked. He rubbed his forehead with his wet hand.
"Stabilization complete," a man's voice said on the TV. "The bridge is open."
The center of the silver ring rippled. It looked like water. The desert behind it disappeared. Instead, there were clouds. Golden clouds. They swirled around.
"Look at that," the waiter said. He stopped walking. He stared at the screen. "That is another planet."
"Venus," the chef said. He crossed his arms. "They say it is rich in minerals. They say we will be rich."
Kael looked at the screen. The golden clouds were beautiful. But the pressure in his head got worse. It was not a normal headache. It felt sharp. Like a needle. He winced. He put his hand on the edge of the sink to hold himself up.
"Kael! The dishes!" the chef yelled. He did not look away from the TV.
"Sorry," Kael said. He tried to focus on the plate. But his hands were shaking. The needle in his head pulsed. It matched the hum of the ring on the screen.
*Thump. Thump. Thump.*
On the screen, the golden clouds began to change. The color shifted. It went from gold to a deep purple. It looked like a bruise.
"Is it supposed to do that?" the waiter asked. He sounded worried.
"Probably just light," the chef said. But he leaned closer to the screen.
Kael closed his eyes. The pain was too much. He took a deep breath. He tried to push the pain away. But when he closed his eyes, he felt something else.
He felt a presence.
It was not in the kitchen. It was far away. But it felt close. It felt like a cold wind blowing on his neck. He opened his eyes. He looked at the TV again.
Inside the purple clouds, something moved. It was dark. It was long. It moved like a snake. It turned. For a second, it looked like it was looking at the camera. Looking at him.
Kael dropped the plate.
It hit the floor. It shattered. The sound was loud. Everyone in the kitchen stopped. The chef turned around. The waiter looked down.
"Damn it!" the chef shouted. "Look at what you did!"
"I... I slipped," Kael said. He knelt down to pick up the pieces. His hands were trembling. The pain in his head was gone now. But the cold feeling was still there. On the back of his neck.
"Clean it up," the chef said. He turned back to the stove. "And hurry up."
Kael picked up the shards. They were sharp. One cut his finger. A drop of blood fell on the white tile. He did not feel the cut. He was listening.
Outside, something changed. The noise of the city was different. Usually, there were cars. Horns. People talking. Now, there was a new sound.
Sirens.
They were far away at first. Then they got closer. Many sirens. All at once.
"Did you hear that?" the waiter asked. He walked to the window. It was a small window above the sink. It looked out into the alley.
"Hear what?" the chef said. He was chopping vegetables. The knife hit the board fast. Chop. Chop. Chop.
"Sirens," the waiter said. "Lots of them."
"Accident," the chef said. "Happens all the time."
Kael stood up. He wiped his hands on his apron. He walked to the window. He looked out. The sky was blue. But in the distance, over the buildings, black smoke was rising. It was thick. It rolled like a wave.
"That is not an accident," Kael said.
"Get back to work," the chef said.
"Look," Kael said. He pointed.
The chef walked over. He looked out the window. He stopped chopping. The waiter stood next to them. They watched the smoke. It got bigger.
"Maybe a fire," the waiter said. But he did not sound sure.
The lights in the kitchen flickered. They went dim. Then they came back bright. Then they went dim again.
"Power surge," the chef said. He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Then the lights went out.
The kitchen was dark. The stove flames were the only light. They cast long shadows on the walls. The TV screen went black. The hum of the refrigerator stopped. The silence was heavy.
"What is going on?" the waiter whispered.
"Stay calm," the chef said. "I will get the flashlight."
Kael did not move. He stood in the dark. The cold feeling on his neck was stronger now. It was not just a feeling. It was a warning.
*They are here,* a voice said in his head.
Kael froze. He looked around. The chef was digging in a drawer. The waiter was holding his phone. The light from the phone was weak.
"Who said that?" Kael asked.
"Who said what?" the chef said. He found the flashlight. He turned it on. The beam cut through the dark.
"Nothing," Kael said. But he knew someone had spoken. It was not a sound. It was a thought. And it was not his thought.
A sound came from the back door. It was the door that led to the alley. A scratch. Metal on metal. Slow.
The chef walked toward the door. "Probably a cat."
"Don't open it," Kael said. His voice was sharp.
The chef stopped. He looked at Kael. "What did you say?"
"Don't open the door," Kael said. He stepped between the chef and the door.
"Move, boy," the chef said. He was angry. "I need to check the lock."
"No," Kael said. He did not move. He could feel something on the other side of the door. It was big. It was cold. It was hungry.
The handle on the door turned. Slowly.
The chef stepped back. The waiter gasped. The handle stopped. Then it turned again. Someone was trying to open it from the outside.
"Who is there?" the chef shouted. His voice shook.
No one answered. But the scratching started again. Harder this time. Like claws on metal.
Kael looked around. He needed a weapon. He saw the knife on the prep table. It was long. It was sharp. He walked over and picked it up. The handle felt warm.
"Kael," the waiter said. "What are you doing?"
"Getting ready," Kael said.
The door bulged. The metal bent inward. Something was pushing against it. Not from the handle. From the middle of the door.
"Back up," Kael said. He pointed the knife at the door.
The chef and the waiter moved back. They huddled near the stove. The flashlight beam shook in the chef's hand.
The metal tore. A sound like a scream filled the room. A hand came through the hole. It was long. The fingers were too thin. The skin was gray. It gripped the edge of the door frame.
The waiter dropped his phone. It clattered on the floor.
"God help us," the chef whispered.
The thing pulled itself through the hole. It stood up. It was tall. It wore a uniform. It looked like a security guard. But its face was smooth. No eyes. No nose. No mouth. Just skin.
It turned its head. It scanned the room. It stopped on Kael.
Kael held his breath. He gripped the knife. His heart beat fast. But his hands were steady. He could feel the thing's mind. It was empty. There was no thought. Only hunger.
*Found you,* the voice in his head said.
The thing took a step forward. Its movement was wrong. It slid instead of walking.
Kael did not wait. He knew he could not beat it. But he could buy time.
"Run!" Kael shouted.
He threw a pot of hot oil at the thing. The oil hit its chest. Steam rose. The thing hissed. It was not a human hiss. It was like air escaping a tire. It stepped back.
"To the freezer!" Kael yelled. He pointed to the walk-in cooler at the back of the kitchen.
The chef and the waiter did not need to be told twice. They ran. Kael followed them. He walked backward. He kept the knife pointed at the thing.
The thing recovered. It lunged. Kael slammed the freezer door shut. He locked it. He dragged a box of frozen meat in front of the door.
Inside the freezer, it was cold. White walls. Shelves of food. The chef and the waiter sat on the floor. They were breathing hard.
Kael leaned against the wall. He slid down to the floor. He looked at the knife. There was black blood on the blade. He did not remember cutting it. But the blood was there.
He wiped the blade on his apron. He put the knife on his knee.
"What was that?" the waiter whispered.
Kael looked at the door. He could feel the thing on the other side. It was waiting.
"I do not know," Kael said. "But it is not human."
"We are going to die," the chef said. He put his head in his hands.
"No," Kael said. He looked at his hands. They were not shaking anymore. The cold feeling was gone. Now he felt warm. He felt alive.
"We are not going to die," Kael said. "Not today."
Outside the door, the scratching started again. Softly. Patiently.
Kael closed his eyes. He listened. He waited. He was just a cook. But now, he was something else. He did not know what yet. But he would find out.
He gripped the knife. He was ready.