Boyd's truck rumbled up the hill, gravel crunching under the tires.
The mist that had hung over town all morning thinned as they climbed, giving way to a sprawling Victorian-style house perched on the ridge.
Its paint was faded, its porch sagging, but lights glowed from the windows and laughter spilled faintly into the air.
"That's Colony House," Boyd said. "Used to be used for storage. Now it's home for the ones who don't like the town's rules."
Monte raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like my kind of place."
Boyd smirked faintly. "Yeah, that's what most people say... right before they change their mind."
He parked and nodded toward the front door. "Donna's in charge up here. Don't let her scare you."
Monte scoffed. "I don't scare easy."
The door opened before Boyd could knock.
A short, tubby woman stepped out, arms crossed. She looked like she'd been built to survive anything. Mid-length ginger hair, lined face, eyes that didn't miss a thing.
"Boyd," she said, voice flat but warm enough to pass for polite. "New arrival?"
"Monte," Boyd said. "He just got in last night."
Donna studied Monte like she was reading a wanted poster. "Heard about you. You're the one who saved that little girl last night."
Monte shrugged. "Lucky timing."
Donna huffed. "There's no luck here, kid. Just bad decisions and consequences."
Monte smirked. "Guess I'm in the right place, then."
Donna's mouth twitched. The closest she probably ever got to a smile. "Come on. I'll show you around."
Inside, Colony House was a mess of life.
Music played from an old speaker in the corner, the smell of coffee and something fried hanging in the air.
People lounged on couches, cooked in the open kitchen, painted, argued, laughed.
It wasn't chaos, more like a bunch of people pretending they weren't trapped in some fucked up town with monsters that came out at night.
Donna walked Monte through it like a tour guide who'd given up caring. "We share everything here, food, work, and space. People watch out for each other, or they don't last long."
Monte nodded absently, his eyes scanning the room. His shoulder and back ached, but he was alert.
As they moved about, he was observing the layout, cataloguing how many windows there were.
They were halfway up the stairs when a tall figure collided with him.
Monte grunted, stumbling back a step. "Watch it, man."
The man was pale, a mop of messy brown hair on his head. His eyes wide as moons as he muttered something to himself and scurried off without looking back.
Donna sighed. "That's Victor. He's been here longer than anyone. Doesn't mean any harm."
Monte watched Victor disappear down the hall, head tilted. "Yeah, sure."
"Just let him be," Donna said. "He sees the world differently than the rest of us."
Monte nodded, "He's special, got it."
Donna rolled her eyes, but stayed silent.
They moved on, passing open doors where people worked on art, discussed about books, or sat lost in thought.
Monte caught glimpses of drawings of trees, faces, creatures with those same wide smiles.
He was mostly unfazed but didn't linger.
Just as he started to wonder if everyone here was halfway crazy, he saw her.
A woman leaned against a railing near the stairs. Light brown skin, dark curls spilling over one shoulder.
She had a kind of quiet fire about her. Like someone who'd laugh in the face of danger just to spite it.
She radiated a peaceful aura, her smile lighting the room. For a second, Monte forgot about the limp, the blood, and the nightmares.
Before he could take a step toward her, Donna's hand landed on his shoulder. "She's off-limits, Romeo."
Monte sighed. "Figures."
"Come on," Donna said, grinning faintly. "You can drool later. Kitchen's this way."
The kitchen was loud and alive. Young people talking, chopping, and laughing; just trying to pretend they were anywhere but here.
Monte leaned against the counter while Donna explained the basics of rotations, food rations, and jobs.
Eventually the topic switched to the "choosing ceremony," where newcomers decided whether to live in town or at Colony House.
Monte nodded through it all, clearly disinterested, until a woman slid up beside him.
She was petite, messy hair tied up in a bun, lips curled into a mischievous smile. Her hand brushed his chest, then lower.
Too casual to be an accident.
Monte's eyes narrowed. "You lost, sweetheart?"
Donna sighed, "What are you doing, Trudy?"
She giggled, fingers trailing near his jacket pocket. "Just getting to know the new guy."
He felt it... a light tug. The badge he had taken from that cop. She was fast, but not fast enough.
Monte caught her wrist, firm but quiet, his other hand slipping the badge back from her fingers without Donna noticing.
"I don't appreciate you copping a feel, mouse," he said evenly.
Trudy... because of course it was Trudy. Just grinned despite being caught. "You're cute. I'd love to jump those bones."
"Trudy!" Donna barked.
Trudy giggled and backed away, hands up in mock surrender. "You know where to find me, pretty boy." Then she skipped off, humming, like none of it had ever happened.
Donna pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sorry about her. She's… unique."
Monte chuckled. "That's one way to put it."
Donna smirked. "I think I know your choice already, but save it for the ceremony."
Monte exhaled. "Politics. Always politics."
Donna laughed softly and patted his back. Monte winced from the contact.
"You'll get used to it," she said, walking away.
Monte stepped out of the house, sunlight hitting his face. He took a breath... then froze.
His belt felt light, he reached back and sure enough, his pistol was gone.
"Goddammit." Monte cursed.
He turned back, limping up the stairs two at a time. The door to Trudy's room was half open.
He pushed it wider and stopped dead.
Trudy was sprawled across the bed, completely nude, hand between her legs. He had a perfect view, but he ignored her, looking at his gun resting on the nightstand behind her.
She smiled lazily. "Back so soon?"
Monte sighed, ignoring her and grabbing the pistol. "You're real funny."
Trudy pouted. "You're no fun."
Monte rolled his eyes and walked out, tucking the gun safely away. Some lessons didn't need repeating.
He stepped out on the porch and sighed. He started down the stairs but paused, he spotted Victor standing near a cluster of trees at the edge of the property.
Monte could hear him counting his steps carefully and marking spots with small stones.
Monte walked over, slightly curious about what the "special guy" was doing. "Hey, Victor."
Victor flinched slightly but didn't look up. "Oh. It's you."
Monte raised a hand. "Sorry about earlier. I was… in pain."
Victor's voice was small but honest. "It's okay. I didn't mean to bump you."
Monte nodded. "We're good." He watched the man as he measured the space between trunks again. "What are you doing?"
Victor hesitated, then said softly, "Seeing if the trees moved."
Monte's eyes narrowed. "Moved?"
Victor nodded once. "I check. Just in case."
Monte studied him for a long moment. "They ever move before?"
Victor shook his head. "No. But one day they might."
Monte let that sit, the unease settling deep. He finally said, "Alright. I won't keep you. But put on a coat, yeah? It's a little chilly out."
Victor nodded absently, going back to his counting.
Monte turned, limping back down the hill. By the time he hit the main road again, the sun was high in the sky.
His stomach rumbled, reminding him he hadn't eaten since before the crash.
He remembered Boyd mentioning the diner.
"Guess it's time to test that diner coffee," he muttered, heading down the street toward the only place in town that smelled like life.
...
Monte was halfway to the diner when he noticed a crowd gathered outside the town bar.
The air had that heavy, brittle quiet that always came after bad news. He limped over, pushing his way through the huddle of bodies.
People shot him disapproving looks, but he ignored them. He'd been given worse looks, from worse people.
Miranda and Meghan stood by the entrance, tears streaking down their faces. Monte walked past them, jaw clenched, and disappeared inside.
The smell hit him first, a mix of iron, piss, and fear. Then he saw it.
A corpse on the ground, covered halfway by a bloodstained sheet. The wood floor around it was slick with blood.
Kenny noticed him immediately and strode over. "What are you doing here?"
Monte shrugged, wincing as pain shot through his shoulder. "Saw the crowd and got curious."
Kenny frowned. "Not really appropriate for you to just walk in. Someone just died."
Monte's voice was calm. "Monster? Or murder?"
Kenny hesitated. "Monster. Anyway, you can't be in here."
Monte reached into his jacket pocket and flashed the cop's badge he'd clipped from the wreck last night.
Kenny blinked in surprise, then stepped back instinctively, letting Monte limp right past.
Monte made it to the center of the room just as Boyd and Kristi were pulling a sheet over the body.
He caught a glimpse of it. The corpse's chest was torn wide open, ribs cracked apart like kindling, the organs completely gone.
Those creatures, whatever they were.... didn't kill just to feed. They had played with their meal.
Boyd spotted him. "Monte? How'd you get in?"
Kenny hurried over. "He's a cop. Showed me his badge."
Boyd's eyebrows rose. "You're a cop?"
Monte smirked faintly. "Explains the scars, right?"
Kristi gave a small, surprised laugh. "You must've been pretty active."
Monte nodded. "Protect and serve, all that."
Boyd exhaled, rubbing his jaw. "Pretty gruesome, huh."
Monte's eyes didn't leave the blood-soaked boards. "Larry the Man. Cut up people and kept them in his freezer. This? Slightly less bad."
Kenny and Kristi shared a look, shocked. "Damn," Kenny muttered. "That's… that's crazy."
Monte nodded absently, his expression unreadable.
'Too bad I had to kill him,' he thought. 'You don't mess with Fat Tony's people. Still, Larry was fun to drink with.'
Boyd clapped his hands together. "Alright. Let's get him buried. Then clean this place up."
Kenny nodded and headed out to grab a cart. Kristi and Boyd worked quietly, wrapping the remains in a tarp.
Monte looked around the wrecked bar, taking in the shattered fridge, the broken shelves, the half-finished bottles.
He reached behind the counter, pulled out something unlabeled, and took a swig.
He coughed hard. "Jesus."
Boyd smirked. "Old-fashioned potato vodka. Strong enough to strip paint."
Monte wiped his mouth. "You can keep it. I got better stuff in my trunk."
Boyd's brow lifted. "Do you now?"
Monte's lips curled into a grin. "All the good stuff."
Boyd chuckled. "Depending on what's in that trunk, you might've just made a lot of new friends."
Monte smirked. "I can live with that."
He took another small drink... just enough to burn. Then set the bottle back and limped out.
Miranda and Meghan were still by the door, eyes red from crying. Monte stopped, resting a hand on each of their shoulders.
"Sorry for your loss," he said quietly. Then he walked away, heading toward the diner.
The diner was a little oasis of light in a town that never seemed to wake up from a nightmare.
The bell above the door chimed as Monte stepped inside.
The smell hit him instantly, coffee, pancakes, and syrup. Human smells.
For once, it was something good.
He made his way to the counter and sat down, wincing slightly as he eased onto the stool.
A pretty brunette appeared almost instantly, smiling bright enough to light the room. Intrigued by the handsome man with the tattoos on his arm.
"I don't think I've seen you before," she said. "Did you just arrive?"
Monte smiled back. "Last night. Rough and bumpy ride."
"I can see that." She grinned. "What can I get you, honey?"
Monte's eyes danced. "Whatever's good, beautiful."
Sara blushed faintly and disappeared into the kitchen. When she came back, she leaned against the counter, closer than before.
Monte's gaze flicked down for just a heartbeat. Then back up, peering straight into her blue eyes.
"So," she said, "where you from?"
Monte shrugged. "Lots of places. I move around."
Sara twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "Where've you been?"
Monte leaned forward on his elbows, lowering his voice just enough to make her lean in too. "New York. Los Angeles. Vegas. Tampa. You name it."
Sara's eyes widened. "I always wanted to see LA. The Hollywood sign, the beaches, the stars…"
Monte smiled. "You'd fit right in. I'd probably see you on a billboard."
Sara laughed nervously, brushing her hair back. "I'm not that pretty."
Monte's grin didn't fade. "Yeah, you are."
Her blush deepened. "What about New York?"
"Beautiful at night," Monte said, voice soft. "All lights, no darkness. Times Square looks like another world."
Sara sighed, dreamy-eyed. She was so close now Monte could smell the faint vanilla scent on her skin.
Before it could turn into something more, a sharp voice cut through the moment.
"Sara! What doing?"
Sara straightened immediately as a chinese woman from the kitchen holding a plate. Her gaze bounced between them, unimpressed.
Sara's face turned crimson. "Nothing, Tian Chen."
She grabbed the plate and hurried back to Monte, setting it down. Pancakes and coffee. The smell was divine.
"I hope you like pancakes," she said quickly.
Monte grinned. "Who doesn't?"
He dug in, taking a sip of coffee that actually wasn't half bad. For a moment, it was peaceful. Almost normal.
Then Sara froze.
Monte noticed the color drain from her face. Her hand was shaking. She stared down at her arm like it wasn't her own.
Monte pushed back his chair, concern crossing his face. "Sara? You okay?"
She didn't answer, to focused on her arm. Her other hand was gripping her wrist tight, blood dripping between her fingers.
Monte looked on, but saw nothing, just the pain etched on her face. A few drops of cold sweat streaming down her face.
A message carved into her pale skin. The letters, jagged and deep.
KILL HIM. KILL MONTE.
Sara gasped, trembling, then blinked rapidly like she'd just woken from a trance. "I'm fine," she said quickly. "It just… hurt for a second."
Monte frowned. "That happen a lot?"
Sara shook her head. "No. I'm okay now, really."
Monte wasn't convinced, but he didn't push. "If it happens again, go see Kristi. She fixed my arm, I'm sure she can fix that."
Sara nodded weakly. "I will."
Monte placed a gentle hand on her arm before sitting down again, finishing his pancakes in silence.
Sara stood frozen behind the counter, eyes flickering between the knife beneath it and Monte's calm face.
Inside her head, the voice was back... soft, coaxing, relentless.
Kill him, Sara. Kill him and you can go home.
Sara gripped the counter so hard her knuckles went white. 'It's not real,' she told herself. 'It's just in my head.'
But her eyes drifted to the knife again.
And Monte looked up with a smile. Misreading her gaze entirely.
He thought she was flustered.
He stood up, leaning down just a little. "See you around, beautiful."
Sara smiled weakly. "Have a good day."
Monte gave a small wave and limped out into the sunlight.
Sara stood there for a long time before slipping into the backroom, pressing her palms against her temples.
Her heart told her to be near Monte.There was something special about him. But her mind screamed to slit his throat.
She bit her thumb hard enough to draw blood. "What's happening to me?" she whispered.