It was raining—a soft, rhythmic patter against the windows—as Jack lay in bed beside Sarah. The air hung heavy with unspoken words, like a storm waiting to break.
"When's he coming back?" Jack's voice was calm, velvet-smooth, each word deliberate. He didn't flinch as he sat up, his gaze locked onto her, a subtle intensity behind his dark eyes.
Sarah's lips curved into a small, mischievous smile. "In about an hour," she replied, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper, more dangerous.
Jack's gaze shifted toward the door, lingering on the faint glow of a nightlight emanating from across the hall. "Jon's his name, right?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as if piecing together a puzzle.
"Yes, Jack. Jon," Sarah answered, her voice tinged with something akin to amusement.
Jack's lips twitched into a faint, bittersweet smile as his eyes softened. "So, that's my son," he murmured, the words spoken as if tasting them for the first time.
Sarah chuckled, a dry, almost brittle sound. "Of course, he is."
"That makes two, then," Jack continued, his tone cool yet contemplative. "I've already got a son, Noah. He's nine."
A shadow crossed Sarah's face, her expression shifting to wistfulness. "Well, I wish I'd met you before I met my husband," she admitted, her words carrying a weight of regret.
Her smile twisted into something wry, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Do you know they call him names at work? Over in the forensics lab."
Jack chuckled softly, a sound that didn't quite reach his eyes. "He seemed decent enough when I met him—back at the engineering office."
She shrugged, her smile fading. "Sure," she replied, though the doubt lingered in her eyes, unspoken but present.
Jack's expression turned colder, more resolved. "I'm leaving with Noah," he stated, his voice steady as a blade. "We're getting out of Boston."
Sarah frowned, stepping closer, searching his face for answers. "Leaving? Why? What's happening, Jack?" Her tone sharpened, as if cutting through the walls he kept so carefully constructed.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's complicated, Sarah."
"You're always so secretive," she snapped, frustration lacing her voice. "Why can't you just tell me? What could be so important that you'd disappear without a word?"
His gaze turned distant, haunted. "There are things you don't know," he replied, each word measured. "Things you're better off not knowing."
Her voice cracked with desperation. "That's not good enough."
Before he could answer, the sharp, deliberate sound of a knock at the front door sliced through the tension like a knife. Her husband.
Sarah's heart lurched as she glanced toward the noise, but when she turned back to Jack, he was gone—vanished as if he had never been there.
The knock came again, louder this time. Sarah scrambled to dress, pulling a nightgown over her head and slipping on her flip-flops. Her hands trembled as she hurried downstairs, past the stillness of the house, forcing a smile as she opened the door.
"How was work, honey?" she asked, her voice strained with effort.
Rick stood on the threshold, exhaustion etched into his features. His eyes were dark, his shoulders slumped as he stepped inside. "Another John Doe," he muttered, his voice hollow. "Face ripped off, liver missing. The whole place reeked of sulfur. It's getting worse."
Sarah swallowed hard, the bile rising in her throat. "Anything else?"
Rick hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the kitchen. "Yeah. The doors were locked from the inside. No sign of how he got in."
A faint rustling sound came from the kitchen. It wasn't loud, but it was enough to stiffen Rick's posture. His hand instinctively reached for the shotgun mounted above the fireplace.
"There's someone in the house," he whispered. "And I smell sulfur."
Together, they edged toward the kitchen. Sarah peeked over Rick's shoulder, her breath catching in her throat. Standing just beyond the dim light was a tall, cloaked figure. Its violet eyes glowed like burning coals, staring unblinking from the shadow of a high, wide-brimmed hat. Its movements were slow, deliberate, and unnatural—each step punctuated by labored breaths that rasped through the air like a broken bellows.
Rick raised the shotgun, his hands trembling as he fired. The blast echoed through the house, deafening in the confined space, but the figure didn't flinch. It tilted its head slightly, as if amused, and raised a hand. Its voice rumbled, low and guttural, like the earth itself groaning.
"Burn."
The room erupted into flames, fire licking across walls and floors with an unnatural ferocity. Smoke filled the air as the inferno consumed everything in its path. Rick and Sarah screamed, their cries swallowed by the roar of the blaze. Through the smoke, the figure stood unmoving, its glowing eyes the last thing they saw before darkness claimed them.
Flames erupted around them, the fire spreading unnaturally fast, engulfing the room in a hellish blaze. As Sarah and Rick screamed, the last thing they saw was the violet glow of the creature's eyes, burning through the smoke as everything else dissolved into chaos.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, doing little to quell the blaze. Within minutes, sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as emergency vehicles raced toward the house. Firefighters leaped from their trucks, rushing to contain the flames.
Outside, the rain continued to fall, barely making a dent in the raging blaze. Within minutes, sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as fire trucks and ambulances raced toward the burning house. Firefighters leaped from their vehicles, scrambling to contain the flames.
"Isn't that Rick Colton's house?" a bystander murmured, his voice lost among the crowd of neighbors gathering on the street, most still in their nightclothes, their faces pale with shock and curiosity.
A few blocks away, Jack was in his car with Noah. The boy stared out the window, his gaze drifting up to the moon hanging in the night sky. "Dad," nine-year-old Noah said, looking back at Jack, "when do I get to fight an anomaly? We keep moving from place to place, and you're always talking about these… things. But no one else even knows they exist."
He took a bite of his peanut butter sandwich, his curiosity undeterred. Jack kept his eyes on the road, his voice smooth and controlled. "How about when you turn twelve?"
Noah huffed, flipping through a worn leather-bound journal in his lap. "How do I even know these monsters—anomalies, I mean—are real if I haven't seen one yet? Tell me, huh?"
Jack's tone remained steady, his expression unchanging. "I've given you my journal, haven't I? It's all in there—different kinds of anomalies, the ones that used to exist and the ones we made extinct. Take vampires, for example. From '79 to '83, my team and I wiped them out."
Noah's eyes widened as he skimmed the pages, his small fingers tracing the faded sketches and notes. "Wow, that's… amazing," he breathed, glancing up at his father.
Suddenly, the faint wail of sirens grew louder. jack's ears perked up. "I hear sirens—like ambulance ones—coming from about twelve miles away"
Jack's grip on the steering wheel tightened as his jaw clenched. "It's Sarah's house," he muttered, his voice a low growl. "It's in flames."
He slammed his foot on the gas pedal, the car speeding up as it roared down the dark, wet streets. "What's happening, Dad?" Noah asked, his voice trembling with a mix of confusion and fear.
Jack didn't answer, his focus locked on the road ahead as they raced toward the scene. As they arrived, the sight of Sarah's house engulfed in fire and surrounded by emergency vehicles sent.
Jack didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the road as they sped toward the scene. When they arrived, the sight of Sarah's house engulfed in flames, surrounded by emergency vehicles, sent a chill down his spine. Firefighters battled the blaze, while paramedics tended to the bodies that had been carried out.
Noah glanced at his father, eyes wide. "Dad, how did you hear the sirens from that far away?"
Jack didn't respond. He stepped out of the car and made his way toward the ambulance where two shrouded figures lay on stretchers. He approached one of the paramedics, a man in his mid-thirties with a name tag that read "Greg."
"How bad are the injuries?" Jack asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil churning inside him.
Greg shook his head, his expression grim. "The bodies are barely recognizable," he said. "They look like plastic that's been melted onto bone. Whatever happened in there, it wasn't just the fire."
Jack's jaw tightened as he approached the stretchers, pulling back the covers to reveal what was left of Rick and Sarah. Their skin was charred a sickly gray, their features twisted into unrecognizable shapes. It was as though the flames had transformed them into something less than human.
As the rain continued to pour, a steady rhythm against the ambulance's roof, Jack stepped closer to the stretchers. His hand trembled as he pulled back the cover on the first body. The charred remains of Rick stared back at him, the once-familiar face unrecognizable. Jack clenched his jaw, swallowing the wave of nausea that rose in his throat.
"Jack…" Noah's small voice pulled his gaze away. The boy had crept up beside him, his face pale and tight. "Is that—"
Jack gently rested a hand on his son's shoulder, stopping him. "Don't look," he murmured, his voice soft but firm.
Nearby, a paramedic approached, holding a bundle of cloth. "Sir," he said, his voice low, as though afraid to disturb the charged air. "We found this in the rubble."
Jack took the bundle, unwrapping it slowly. His breath caught when the gleaming coin was revealed. The gold surface shimmered unnaturally in the dim light, untouched by fire or ash. Strange runes encircled the grotesque image of a fly etched into the metal, its eyes almost seeming to glint as though alive.
"What is that?" Noah asked, his voice a mix of awe and fear.
Jack's eyes didn't leave the coin. His fingers tightened around it as if it might slip away. "It's an anomaly," he said, his voice low and edged with a grim certainty. "This wasn't just a fire, Noah. This… this was a message."
Noah frowned, glancing toward the ambulance where a paramedic cradled the small boy bundled in a blanket. "And Jon? Was he part of that message too?"
Jack's gaze flicked to the toddler, his face hardening. He exhaled slowly, the weight of his next words evident in the tension of his jaw. "No. He's innocent. But he's also in danger now."
Noah's brows furrowed. "Then why are we leaving him? He's my brother—our family. We can't just walk away!"
The sharpness in Noah's voice surprised Jack. For a moment, he faltered, his stoic mask slipping. He crouched to Noah's level, meeting his eyes with a rare vulnerability. "I know this is hard," he said, his voice quieter now. "But you and I… we live in a world he shouldn't have to see. I can't protect him the way he needs. Not in this life."
Tears welled in Noah's eyes, though he fought to hold them back. "But you always said family comes first. How is this any different?"
Jack's lips pressed into a thin line, guilt flickering across his face. "Because sometimes protecting someone means letting them go. He deserves a chance to grow up safe. To be normal."
Noah shook his head, his small fists clenching. "But he'll be alone! Who's going to look after him if we don't?"
Jack's voice hardened, though his eyes glistened with unshed emotion. "I'll make sure he's cared for. That's the best I can do for him."
A firefighter interrupted, stepping forward with hesitation. "Sir, we need to keep this," he said, gesturing to the coin in Jack's hand.
Jack shook his head, his grip tightening as he slipped the coin into his pocket. "No," he said firmly. "You wouldn't know what to do with it. Trust me, it's better if it stays with me."
The firefighter hesitated, then nodded reluctantly.
Noah stood silent, staring at Jon, who now sat on a paramedic's lap, his wide eyes staring blankly into the distance. "He doesn't even know what's happening," Noah muttered, his voice trembling.
Jack rose, his tone softening again. "That's why we need to leave. If we stay, he'll grow up in a war he didn't choose. You'll understand someday."
Noah didn't respond, his jaw tight as he stomped back to the car. Jack lingered for a moment, watching as the paramedics prepared to take Jon away. "Keep him safe," he said to the nearest one, his voice heavy with meaning.
Jack climbed into the car, the rain masking the tears streaking his face. As he started the engine, Noah turned to him, his voice sharp with frustration. "What's the plan now, Dad?"
Jack glanced at his son through the rearview mirror, his expression resolute. "We find out who sent that coin," he said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. "And we make sure they never send another."
Noah fell silent, his gaze dropping to the journal in his lap. Jack shifted into gear, the car rumbling to life. As they drove away, the last thing Noah saw through the rain-streaked window was the paramedic carrying Jon into an ambulance.
"Goodbye, little brother," he whispered under his breath.
The night stretched on, heavy with unanswered questions and unspoken grief. In Jack's pocket, the coin pulsed faintly, as though it was alive—and waiting.