Rain slammed against the windshield like a thousand tiny fists, the wipers thrashed, useless against the downpour. The road had long since turned to a ribbon of blurred light and black asphalt.Deborah’s fingers dug into the dashboard as Chris fought to keep the car straight. “Can’t see a damn thing,” he muttered, squinting through the streaks.“Just drive!” she shot back, breath sharp with adrenaline. Her pulse still hadn’t slowed since the gunfire. The diner’s neon lights were already swallowed by the storm behind them.A curve appeared too late. The car skidded, tires screaming, fishtailed, and stopped inches from a ditch. Steam rose from the hood. They both sat frozen, the world reduced to the hiss of rain and the ticking of the cooling engine.Then, another sound, a distant hum, Headlights, faint and flickering, far down the road. Deborah’s voice was barely audible. “They’re still coming.”Chris turned off the lights, killed the engine. “Out,” he said simply. “Now.”The air hit t

Rain still clung to the leaves, The forest breathed in slow, uneven exhales. Deborah stood at the threshold of the cabin, her hand on the splintered frame, eyes fixed on the dirt where the symbols shimmered faintly in the early light.She blinked once, then again. They’d changed.“Chris,” she whispered. Her voice barely carried.He was already awake, standing near the window with his coat still damp from the night before. His eyes tracked the ground too. The same silent recognition passed between them the shapes weren’t what they’d seen hours ago.He stepped closer. “They’re… fresh.”The air shifted. The forest no longer felt empty. It felt aware.Deborah’s pulse hammered. “Someone’s still out there.”Chris didn’t answer. He just crouched, brushing away a patch of wet leaves. Beneath, the symbol was sharp, recently etched, a perfect spiral curling inward. Around it, boot prints overlapped, circling. Too many, Too precise.“How long have we been watched?” she asked.He didn’t look up.

Dawn crept slow, gray, and wet through the trees. The rain had stopped, but the world hadn’t quieted. It was that kind of silence that hummed, full of electricity and distance.Deborah blinked against the pale light. Her hands were still cold. Her hair clung to her neck. She didn’t remember sleeping, only closing her eyes for seconds that became hours.Chris stood near the cabin door, his silhouette cut sharp against the mist. Still. Listening.“Something’s out there,” he said quietly.Deborah pushed herself up, every muscle protesting. “You’ve said that before.”He didn’t answer, just lifted a finger, motioning her closer. Through the warped window, she saw it, a fence.High, metallic, and humming faintly with power. It ran deep into the trees barbed at the top, buried at the bottom, behind it low concrete buildings half-buried in the fog, flashing red lights near corners, and the faint echo of radio chatter.Deborah’s pulse quickened. “This, this wasn’t on any map.”“It’s not suppos