Mike slid the last few feet down the slope, boots digging into loose dirt as he fought to keep his balance. Gravel and small rocks gave way beneath him, skittering down ahead into the open.
He hit the bottom hard but stayed on his feet.
Lily shifted in his arms, a faint sound escaping her as the jolt ran through her body.
"I got you," he whispered quickly. "I got you…"
Behind him, Eric came down next—less controlled.
He half-slid, half-stumbled the rest of the way before catching himself at the bottom, one hand hitting the ground to steady himself.
"Damn—" he hissed under his breath, glancing back up the hill.
The woods loomed above them.
Dark.
Still.
Watching.
Mike didn't look back for long.
He turned forward.
And froze for just a second.
The trees ended abruptly behind them, giving way to a narrow dirt road that cut across the land like a scar. Beyond it—
An open field.
Wide.
Empty.
Exposed.
Tall grass stretched out in uneven waves, swaying faintly in a wind they couldn't feel back in the forest. The sky above was dimming fast now, the last light bleeding out along the horizon.
No cover.
No shadows to hide in.
Just distance.
Eric stepped up beside him, following his gaze.
"Well…" he muttered. "That's not ideal."
Mike adjusted Lily slightly, tightening his grip.
"No," he said quietly. "It's not."
The dirt road sat between them and the field—silent, undisturbed. No tire tracks fresh enough to see clearly in the fading light. No movement.
No sign of the convoy.
Eric scanned the horizon. "You think they made it out this far?"
Mike didn't answer right away.
His eyes moved across the field slowly, searching for anything—
Lights.
Movement.
Smoke.
Anything that said people were still alive out here.
Nothing.
"…If they did," Mike said finally, "they kept moving."
Eric nodded, though tension still sat heavy in his posture. "And if they didn't?"
Mike didn't respond.
Didn't need to.
They both knew what that meant.
Mike's gaze kept moving.
Left.
Right.
Scanning.
Searching for anything that didn't belong—
And then he saw it.
"…Hold on," he murmured.
Eric followed his line of sight. "What?"
Mike shifted slightly, narrowing his eyes.
"There," he said quietly. "Look at the ground."
At first, it just looked like more uneven grass.
But the longer you stared—
The more it changed.
A pattern.
Faint.
Pressed into the field.
Two long stretches where the grass was thinner… flattened… the dirt beneath exposed in places like scars cutting across the green.
Tracks.
Not fresh—but not old either.
Used.
Repeatedly.
Eric leaned forward slightly. "That's… a path."
"Yeah," Mike said. "Vehicles."
Not just one pass.
Many.
Enough that the earth itself had started to give way beneath it.
A route.
One people had taken before.
Mike's eyes followed it.
Across the field.
Toward the opposite treeline.
And then—
He saw something else.
He stiffened.
"…There."
Eric's head snapped up. "Where?"
Mike tilted his chin slightly, careful not to make any sudden movements.
"Tree line. Other side. Just left of that split in the brush."
Eric squinted.
For a second—
Nothing.
Then—
"…Oh," he breathed.
Partially hidden in the shadows of the trees—
A vehicle.
Dark.
Still.
From this distance, it was hard to make out details—but the shape was unmistakable.
A car.
Or what was left of one.
It sat crooked at the edge of the treeline, half-hidden by brush like it had tried to make it out of the field and didn't quite make it.
Mike stared at it, eyes narrowing.
No movement.
No flicker of light.
Just stillness.
Eric let out a slow breath beside him, then muttered—
"…Let's hope they left the keys in it."
It was dry.
Flat.
The kind of joke you made when your brain didn't want to fully process what you were looking at.
Mike huffed once—barely a sound—but it wasn't humor.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Let's hope."
Silence settled again.
Because they both knew—
If the keys were still there…
It probably meant whoever had been driving it hadn't left by choice.
Mike adjusted Lily in his arms, tightening his hold like he could shield her from what they might find.
Then he stepped forward.
Onto the path.
Eric followed without hesitation.
They moved carefully at first, boots pressing into the flattened dirt, each step deliberate. The field stretched wide around them, too open, too exposed.
Every instinct screamed at Mike to move faster.
Every other instinct told him not to make a sound.
"Stay on the track," Mike murmured. "Less noise."
Eric nodded. "Yeah."
They kept low as they walked, shoulders tight, eyes constantly shifting between the car ahead and the treeline behind them.
Halfway across—
Mike slowed.
Not stopping.
Just… easing.
Eric noticed immediately. "What?"
Mike didn't look at him.
"Something's off."
Eric scanned ahead. "Other than all of this?"
They kept moving.
Slower now.
Each step placed carefully, deliberately, like the ground itself might give something away if they weren't paying attention.
The car grew closer.
Details sharpened.
The open door.
The dull reflection of fading light on shattered glass.
And then—
Mike's eyes shifted slightly to the left.
"…Wait," he murmured.
Eric followed his gaze.
And felt his stomach drop.
They weren't alone out here.
Not exactly.
More vehicles.
Tucked just inside the treeline.
One.
Then another.
Then more.
A loose line of them, half-hidden in brush and shadow—like they'd all come down the same path… and stopped in the same place.
Abandoned.
Doors hanging open.
Some angled awkwardly.
Some with headlights long dead, facing nothing.
No people.
No movement.
Just a graveyard of cars.
"…That's not good," Eric whispered.
Mike didn't respond.
He stepped off the path slightly, moving toward the nearest vehicle, scanning constantly—inside, under, around it.
Nothing moved.
Nothing breathed.
After a moment, he lowered himself carefully, easing Lily down against the side of the car, shielding her from view as best he could.
"Stay here," he whispered, even though she couldn't answer.
He checked the interior quickly—back seat, floor, trunk latch.
Clear.
For now.
Then he dropped to one knee beside her, one hand pressing hard against his side as pain flared sharp and deep.
"Damn it…" he muttered under his breath.
His breathing hitched as he tried to steady it, shoulders tightening as he rode the wave of pain out.
Eric glanced back once. "You good?"
Mike gave a short nod. "I'll live. Just—keep looking."
Eric hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yeah."
He moved forward.
Carefully.
Stepping past the first car.
Then the second.
Each one the same story.
Abandoned.
Empty.
Wrong.
The deeper he went into the treeline, the colder it felt. The light didn't reach as well here—shadows stretching longer, darker.
Then—
He saw it.
A small clearing just ahead.
About ten feet in.
Something blackened on the ground.
He took another step.
And another.
"…Mike?" he called quietly.
No response.
Eric stepped closer.
The shape came into focus.
A fire pit.
Or what used to be one.
Charred wood.
Ash scattered across the dirt.
Long dead.
Cold.
Like it had been abandoned in a hurry.
Eric frowned slightly, taking one more step forward—
And then he froze.
His entire body locked up.
For a second—
He didn't understand what he was looking at.
His brain tried to make sense of it.
Failed.
Then it clicked.
And everything inside him dropped.
"…Oh—God…"
The words barely made it out before he turned—
And vomited.
Violently.
He staggered to the side, one hand hitting the trunk of a nearby tree to keep himself upright as his stomach emptied again and again.
Mike's head snapped up behind him.
"Eric—?"
No answer.
Just the sound.
Retching.
Uncontrolled.
Mike pushed himself up despite the pain, one hand bracing against the car as he forced himself forward a few steps.
"Eric—what—"
Then he saw it.
And stopped.
Cold.
Scattered across the ground—
Everywhere—
Pieces.
Bodies—
No.
Parts of bodies.
Arms.
Legs.
Torso fragments.
And heads.
Several of them.
Faces frozen in expressions that never had time to finish forming.
Young.
Too young.
Teenagers.
Strung across branches.
Laid out across the ground.
Some arranged.
Some just… discarded.
Like something had taken its time.
Mike's stomach twisted hard, but nothing came up.
His body just locked.
His mind refusing to fully process it.
Behind him, Eric was still vomiting, leaning hard against the tree, shaking.
"I—can't—" Eric choked out between heaves. "I can't—"
He gagged again, wiping at his mouth with the back of his arm, but it didn't stop.
It wouldn't stop.
Mike stood there, staring.
Heart pounding.
Breathing shallow.
Something in Mike snapped.
Not panic.
Not fear.
Something colder.
Clearer.
His eyes tore away from the scene like forcing himself out of a nightmare.
"Move," he muttered under his breath. "Move."
He turned—
And ran.
Past Eric.
Back toward the line of cars.
His side screamed in protest, each step sending sharp pain through his ribs—but he didn't slow. Couldn't.
He moved from one vehicle to the next, yanking doors open, checking fast—
Empty.
Nothing.
"Come on… come on—" he hissed.
Another car.
Door jammed.
He forced it open.
Nothing.
Next one—
He grabbed the handle—
Pulled—
The door creaked open.
And there—
Keys.
Sitting right on the seat.
Mike didn't hesitate.
He snatched them, slid into the driver's seat, and jammed them into the ignition.
"Please—" he muttered.
He turned the key.
The engine coughed.
Once.
Twice.
Dead.
Mike clenched his jaw.
"Come on—!"
He tried again.
The engine struggled—longer this time—then—
It kicked.
Roared to life.
Mike exhaled hard, a sharp breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"Yeah… yeah, that's it…"
He glanced at the gauge.
Half a tank.
Good enough.
More than enough.
He threw the door open and jumped out, sprinting back to Lily.
"Hey—hey—stay with me," he whispered as he scooped her up again, careful but fast.
Her head rolled slightly against his arm, still breathing.
Still here.
He rushed back to the car, opened the passenger door, and eased her inside as gently as he could manage.
"Stay down," he murmured, adjusting her so she wouldn't slide.
Then he turned—
And ran back.
Eric was still there.
Still leaning against the tree.
Still shaking.
Trying—and failing—to keep it together.
"Eric!"
Eric barely looked up, eyes glassy, face pale. "I—can't—man—I can't—"
Mike grabbed him by the arm.
Hard.
"We have to go," Mike said, voice low but sharp. "Right now."
Eric shook his head weakly, gagging again. "Just—give me a—"
"No," Mike cut him off. "You don't have a second. We don't have a second."
Another distant sound echoed through the trees.
Low.
Moving.
Mike tightened his grip.
"Eric—listen to me," he said, forcing eye contact. "Whatever did that—" he jerked his head back toward the clearing, "—it's still here."
That cut through.
Eric's breathing hitched.
Mike pulled him forward.
"Move."
Eric stumbled at first, barely keeping his footing as Mike dragged him along.
"Okay—okay—" Eric choked out, wiping his mouth, trying to steady himself. "I'm—moving—I'm moving—"
They reached the car.
Mike shoved the door open.
"Get in."
Eric didn't argue this time.
He practically collapsed into the seat, still breathing hard, still trying to hold it together.
Mike slammed the door shut, ran around to the driver's side, and jumped in.
He didn't wait.
Didn't think.
He slammed the car into gear—
And hit the gas.
The tires spun for a split second—
Then caught.
The car lurched forward, tearing away from the treeline and back onto the dirt path.
Away from the cars.
Away from the clearing.
Away from what was left of those kids.
Eric leaned forward slightly, bracing himself against the dash, still swallowing back whatever was left in his stomach.
"Just—drive…" he muttered hoarsely.
Mike didn't need to be told twice.
He pushed the car harder.
Faster.
Back across the field.
Back toward wherever the convoy was supposed to be.
And behind them—
Deep in the trees—
Something moved.
The car tore across the field, suspension rattling over uneven ground as dirt and grass kicked up behind them.
Mike gripped the wheel tight—too tight—knuckles white, eyes locked ahead but unfocused.
"Eric—" he snapped. "Where's the meeting point?"
Eric blinked, still half in shock, breathing uneven.
"What—?"
"The convoy," Mike said, sharper now. "Where were we supposed to regroup?"
Eric swallowed hard, wiping his mouth again, trying to clear his head.
"I—I don't—" he stammered.
Mike shot him a quick look, panic creeping into his voice.
"You don't know?"
"I know—I just—" Eric squeezed his eyes shut for a second, trying to force it back. "I can't think straight—"
"Think," Mike snapped, more frantic now. "Eric, we don't have time for this—where were we going?"
The car hit a rough patch, bouncing hard as it reached the edge of the field and slammed onto the dirt road.
Eric grabbed the dash to steady himself, breathing fast.
"Give me a second—just—just give me a—"
"No," Mike cut him off. "You don't get a second—where is it?!"
Eric flinched slightly at the tone, but it snapped something into place.
He forced himself to focus.
Road.
Convoy.
Before the crash.
Before everything went to hell.
"Okay—okay—" he muttered, eyes scanning ahead as they pushed forward.
The dirt road curved—
And then—
The tires hit pavement.
Hard.
The car jolted slightly as it transitioned onto an old, cracked road, weeds pushing through the edges.
Mike didn't slow.
Didn't hesitate.
"Eric—"
"I'm trying!" Eric shot back, voice strained.
His eyes flicked to the side—
And caught something.
A rusted sign, half-buried in tall grass just off the shoulder of the road.
Old.
Faded.
But still readable.
Ashwood.
Eric's breath caught.
And suddenly—
It clicked.
"Oh—" he said, sitting up straighter. "Wait—wait—"
Mike glanced at him. "What?"
Eric pointed back toward the sign as it disappeared behind them.
"Ashwood—that's it—" Eric says as he looks at Mike. "We need to go to the South side of Ashwood Park.
Mike's grip tightened. "Where exactly?"
Eric swallowed, then forced it out—
"Old Highway 44!"
Silence hit for half a second.
Then Mike nodded once, sharp.
"Alright."
He pressed the gas harder.
The engine roared as the car surged forward down the cracked pavement.
"South side," Mike muttered to himself. "Highway 44…"
Eric leaned back slightly, breathing still uneven but steadier now.
"That's where they said," he added. "If anything went wrong—we regroup there."
Mike didn't respond.
His eyes stayed locked ahead.
Behind them—
The field disappeared into darkness.
The woods swallowed everything else.
And somewhere out there—
Whatever had been hunting…
Was still out.