Travis had never punched his best friend before, but there was a first time for everything.

Logan barely reacted at first. He just stood there, his eyes fixed on the pulsing light in the distance, his breathing eerily calm. His hands had started to twitch, his fingers curling in that same unnatural way the others had before they changed completely.

Travis didn’t think. He just swung.

His knuckles cracked against Logan’s jaw, sending him staggering backward. Logan’s body wavered for a second before collapsing, his head smacking the damp earth beneath him.

Travis panted, his pulse hammering in his ears.

"Shit. Sorry, man," he muttered, already kneeling beside Logan, checking to make sure he was still breathing. He was—but something about it sounded wrong. Too even. Too measured.

The figures were still standing in the treeline. Watching. Waiting.

Travis swallowed hard. He needed to get Logan out of here. Now.

And that’s when he heard it.

The low growl of an engine.

Headlights blazed through the trees, cutting across the eerie silhouettes standing at the forest’s edge. A car.

Travis barely had time to react before the vehicle skidded to a stop beside him, gravel spraying in every direction.

The driver’s side door flew open, and a woman leaned out, her expression torn between exasperation and amusement.

“Well, aren’t you two just a goddamn mess?” she said.

Travis blinked.

The woman looked to be in her late twenties, with dark hair tied up messily, her sharp eyes scanning him like she was sizing up a stray dog. She wore a leather jacket over a dark tank top, combat boots firmly planted on the ground like she was ready for a fight.

“Uh—who—?” Travis started, but she ignored him.

She looked at Logan’s unconscious form and clicked her tongue. “This your boy?”

Travis hesitated, glancing at the motionless figures in the distance.

“Yeah.”

“Great. Get him in the car before we all get eaten or assimilated or whatever the hell’s happening here.”

She said it so casually, like getting hunted by a group of soulless people-things was just another Tuesday for her.

Travis hesitated.

“Look, dude,” she sighed, “I’d love to give you time for a dramatic inner monologue, but we need to go.”

A glance back at the tree line confirmed she was right. The figures hadn’t moved, but they didn’t have to. The air felt heavier. The hum was creeping back, pressing against his skull.

Travis threw Logan’s limp body over his shoulder and hauled him into the car’s backseat.

As soon as he slammed the door shut, the woman gunned it. The tires screeched against the dirt, kicking up dust as they tore away from the clearing.

The figures watched them go.

A Safe Place (For Now)

The drive was a blur of headlights slicing through endless trees.

Travis kept glancing at Logan, his chest rising and falling in steady, unnatural breaths.

He wasn’t waking up.

Travis clenched his fists. He refused to think about what that meant.

“Okay,” he muttered, turning back toward the driver. “Who the hell are you?”

The woman arched a brow but didn’t take her eyes off the road. “Wow. A ‘thank you’ would’ve been nice.”

“Right. Thanks for not letting us get turned into zombies or whatever. Who are you?”

She smirked. “Name’s Reese.”

“…Reese?”

“Yeah. Like the candy. Try not to overthink it.”

Travis narrowed his eyes. “And you were just… what? Driving through the woods in the middle of the night, hoping to find some dumbasses getting stalked by a bunch of creepy pod people?”

Reese chuckled. “What, you think I just happened to show up?”

“…Yes?”

“Cute. But nah. Been tracking this for a while. You two just happened to be in the thick of it.” She jerked her chin toward Logan. “Especially him.”

Travis tensed. “What do you mean?”

She gave him a sideways glance, a little too knowing, then shrugged. “Let’s just say your boy’s got a one-way ticket to wherever those things come from, and unless you figure out how to stop it, you’ll be watching him go real soon.”

Travis’s stomach dropped. He forced himself to push past the panic clawing up his throat.

“Where are we going?” he asked instead.

“A safehouse,” Reese said. “Or, well—safe-ish.”

Travis frowned. “What does ‘safe-ish’ mean?”

Reese grinned. “Means I cleaned out most of the things that were using it before me. Pretty sure I got all of ‘em.”

“…Pretty sure?”

“Relax. If something tries to kill us, we’ll know pretty quick.”

“…Comforting.”

Reese just shrugged, turning the wheel sharply as they veered off the main road onto a hidden dirt path.

Minutes later, they pulled up to an old, run-down gas station, long abandoned, its windows boarded up, the neon sign flickering weakly.

Reese parked the car and turned the engine off. The silence that followed was almost suffocating.

Travis swallowed hard. “This is the safehouse?”

Reese smirked, grabbing a backpack from the passenger seat. “What, were you expecting a luxury suite?”

Travis sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I was expecting.”

“Good,” Reese said, already climbing out. “Because you’re about to learn that expectations are useless.”

Travis hesitated. Then, with one last glance at Logan—who still hadn’t woken up—he exhaled, pushed open the car door, and stepped into the unknown.