The men's room was dimly lit, the fading light from the single window barely enough to push back the growing shadows. The walls, bare and cracked, seemed to close in, amplifying the tension that hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.
Henry paced the room, holding his phone up at odd angles in a desperate attempt to find a signal. Each failed attempt only deepened the crease in his brow. Finally, he slammed himself down onto the wooden bench, his frustration spilling out in a sharp stomp of his foot against the floorboards.
"Damn it!" he snapped, his voice cutting through the stillness. "This isn't funny. Nothing's going right today." He shot to his feet again, his hands raking through his hair. "I wonder if the director got my email. Does anyone have the slightest clue what's going on here?"
The others exchanged glances, their unease growing.
"No," Gabriel admitted, leaning back against the wall. "But it's obvious something's off. I've felt it since we got here."
"I smell a rat too," Jinning muttered, crossing his arms. "Not the old man—but this place. I didn't even know there was an uninhabited stretch of town like this. Or did everyone just decide to vanish?"
"It's my first time here," Adam added, his voice measured, "so let's not jump to conclusions. We don't know much about this area yet."
Brody shifted uneasily. "What if it's a sign?"
"A sign for what?" Michael asked.
Jinning shrugged. "To run. Preferably before it's too late."
Frank, the ever-rational voice of the group, spoke up. "It's natural to feel uneasy," he said, adjusting his glasses. "Speculative fear is common. It's part of the human condition—an automatic response to uncertainty. Anxiety activates the body's fight-or-flight system, heightening our sense of danger."
Michael blinked at him. "What does that mean, exactly?"
Frank sighed, pushing up from where he'd been leaning. "It means when something feels wrong, your nervous system kicks in. Heart rate spikes, thoughts race. It's evolutionary survival. But right now, we need to keep our heads clear, ease our minds, and adjust to the environment."
Before anyone could respond, the door creaked open. Heads whipped around as Smith stepped in. He looked disoriented, his face pale and his eyes unfocused.
"Smith?" Henry called, his voice sharp with concern.
Smith didn't answer. He staggered toward one of the beds and collapsed onto it, his movements sluggish, as though he were walking through water. The others watched him in stunned silence.
"Smith!" Henry called again, louder this time.
Smith blinked and looked up, his body trembling.
"Did something happen?" Frank asked, stepping closer.
Smith shook his head slowly but spoke in a shaky voice. "No… but it will."
The room fell silent.
Brody's voice broke the tension. "You think he saw something?"
"Or maybe he got a phone call," Chris suggested.
Henry frowned. "The network's been down for hours. There's no way he could've gotten a call."
Frank stepped forward, eyeing Smith carefully. "Excessive stress can cause distress signals in the brain," he explained. "Restlessness, anxiety, even hallucinations in extreme cases. If we don't keep our heads straight, we'll start seeing things that aren't even there." He grabbed a mat and unrolled it on the floor. "We should all get some rest. It's been a long day."
Smith said nothing more, curling up on the bed with his back to the others. His trembling hadn't stopped, and his breaths came in shallow gasps.
The men settled in for the night, though none could shake the lingering unease that filled the room.
"Goodnight," one of them muttered, but no one echoed the words with conviction.
The flickering light of the single lamp cast shifting shadows against the walls, and the cabin seemed to creak and groan as if the wood itself was alive—watching, waiting.
---
Night had fallen, casting long shadows across the clearing. The stars above burned too bright, too sharp against the endless dark. Felix stood on the porch, cradling a weathered mug of coffee as steam curled into the cool night air. He took a slow sip, his eyes distant, lost in the horizon that no longer felt like part of the world he'd once known.
"Aah," he murmured, savoring the bitter taste.
Behind him, Smith emerged, his steps heavy, his gaze scanning the unfamiliar night sky. The stars here didn't look right. They hung too low, like watchers instead of ornaments.
"This place…" Smith's voice wavered. "It feels wrong."
Felix turned slightly, his weathered face unreadable. He stretched the mug toward Smith.
"Coffee?"
Smith shook his head. "No, thanks." His eyes lingered on the stars before lowering to Felix. "How long have you been here?"
Felix leaned against the railing, staring into the mug as though it held the answers to questions he'd stopped asking years ago.
"Thirty years," he said finally. "I was about your age when I came here. Fifty-six."
Smith's brow furrowed. "You've been here for thirty years? Why didn't you leave?"
Felix chuckled softly, but the sound carried no humor. "Because I couldn't."
Smith's heart skipped. "What do you mean?"
Felix straightened and looked at him. "Because I was just like you. My team and I came here for a job—a government contract to work on infrastructure in this town. We thought it was a routine assignment, but it wasn't. And like you, we couldn't leave."
Smith felt a sudden chill crawl up his spine. "What happened?"
Felix's eyes darkened. "We found something."
Smith stiffened. "Found what?"
Felix hesitated before continuing. "Rumors brought us here—whispers of ancient treasures hidden beneath this land. We didn't believe them at first, but we dug deeper and uncovered something we never should have touched. A key."
"A key?" Smith repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
Felix nodded. "Not just any key—a key with two sides. One carved with an almond eye at its center. It wasn't just a relic. It was… alive, in ways we didn't understand until it was too late."
Smith's mouth felt dry. "And what happened to your team?"
Felix's eyes dimmed, and his voice grew heavy. "They died."
Smith staggered back. "All of them?"
Felix nodded grimly. "All except me. We were ambushed. Creatures—people—came out of the woods. They weren't human, not entirely. They hunted us down one by one." He looked up at Smith, his eyes haunted. "I survived because the forest claimed me. It hid me, but it didn't let me go. It changed me."
Smith swallowed hard. "And the key?"
Felix's voice dropped even lower. "I kept it. Half of it, at least. It wouldn't let me leave, not with what I had taken. I thought it was treasure—thought it could save us. But it was a curse."
A sharp chill brushed against Smith's skin, and suddenly, his legs felt weak. A strange sensation stirred inside him, something cold and foreign. He took a step back but caught himself, steadying his breathing.
Felix watched him closely. "You feel it, don't you? The pull."
Smith's eyes darted to the old man. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Felix stepped closer, his voice almost a whisper. "You took the other piece."
Smith froze.
"I—what?"
Felix didn't flinch. "You have it. I know you do. And now they know too."
Smith's heart pounded. "Who are they?"
Felix stepped back, his eyes shadowed. "The ones who are coming. The ones who will stop at nothing to take it back."
Smith's hands trembled, but he balled them into fists. "You're insane."
Felix's lips pressed into a thin line. "Am I? Look around, Smith. Does this feel like your world? Or does it feel like something else?"
Before Smith could answer, a sudden thud echoed from inside the cabin.
---