Like every morning, Daniel was pulled from sleep by the system notification.
For anyone else, waking up to a digital beep echoing inside their mind would be reason enough for a foul mood. He, however, considered it convenient. The alert came right after dawn, when the creatures retreated. It meant more usable hours in the day.
As he got up, he followed his routine without deviation: push-ups, sit-ups, daily mission completed — only then did he take a quick shower.
While drying off, he mentally reviewed the recording. He had watched it again during the night, searching for any overlooked detail. When it ended, he realized nothing had escaped him. Every frame was archived with crystal clarity. His photographic memory fulfilled its role with ruthless efficiency.
The night had been pitch-black, but the high-definition camera — equipped with night vision and an almost obscene zoom — had done the dirty work.
One point for Kael for the tech gift, he thought, pulling on a clean shirt.
He grabbed a pear from the fridge, locked the vehicle, and walked across the dew-damp grass toward Colony House. His first objective of the morning was simple: wish Julie a happy birthday.
When he pushed the door open, he found the house slowly waking up. Lazy movements, dragging footsteps, low voices.
Julie was asleep on the couch, curled up in a blanket.
A few meters ahead, seated on a stiff-backed chair with a lunchbox resting against his foot, Victor was drawing.
Daniel pulled an empty chair beside him and sat down.
Victor blinked, lifting his eyes for a brief second, but said nothing.
"What are you drawing today, Picasso?" Daniel asked casually, taking a crisp bite of the pear.
He didn't answer right away. The crayon continued sliding across the paper.
"Things I see," he said at last, with the naturalness of someone who finds the answer obvious. "It's good to draw when you see. That way, even if you forget... the drawing makes you remember."
The conversation stirred Julie awake. When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Victor staring at her. She pulled the blanket up to her chin, startled.
He didn't react to her fright. He simply studied his own drawing.
"You know when you wake up and forget what you dreamed... but then you start remembering little by little? And then you realize maybe it wasn't a dream. That maybe it actually happened?"
Daniel chewed calmly, swallowed, and shrugged.
"Forgetting and remembering later, sure. The part about thinking it happened in real life? Never happened to me. I've got a great memory."
Victor pressed the crayon harder.
"I think I'm starting to remember things. Details I thought were just dreams."
"What kind of details?"
Daniel leaned slightly forward. Victor knew a lot, but much of it was buried in his mind.
He remained silent.
Daniel didn't press. Trust is built, not forced.
"What made you start remembering?"
Victor looked at the floor, then at the boarded-up window.
"It was when you arrived," he murmured. "It had been a long time since more than one vehicle showed up on the same day. That... changes things."
Julie, now sitting up, watched the two of them with a confused expression. Sleep had completely vanished, replaced by a conversation far too strange for that hour.
"Here. I'm done."
Victor tore the page from the pad and handed it to her.
"You can keep it, if you want."
Without waiting for a response, he stood up, grabbed his lunchbox, and left.
Julie held the paper by the edge of her fingers. It was a drawing of her, sleeping. The feeling of having been observed like that wasn't exactly comforting.
"I'll admit, that just made my top ten list of weird things this week," Daniel commented.
"Tell me about it."
She dropped the paper on the coffee table and rubbed her face for a moment before straightening up on the couch.
Daniel finished the pear, tossed the core into the trash with a lazy throw, and stood. He stepped closer and wrapped her in a hug.
"Happy birthday, Julie."
She blinked in surprise. The tension in her shoulders eased. The smile that appeared was genuine.
"Thank you, Daniel."
But as soon as they pulled apart, something shifted. The smile faltered. Her shoulders lowered almost imperceptibly. A shadow crossed her eyes.
She tried to mask it by folding the blanket.
Daniel noticed. Microexpressions are hard to hide from someone who pays attention.
He sat down beside her.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she answered too quickly.
"Is it about your family?"
There was a moment of silence. The conflict on her face was evident — the desire to stay strong battling against the need to fall apart. The sigh that slipped from her lips marked the defeat of that emotional barrier.
"Always... on every one of my birthdays, since I was little, my parents would wake me up at midnight to wish me a happy birthday. It was a tradition. I just... missed that."
She took a deep breath.
"My family fell apart, Daniel. I had a younger brother. Thomas. He was still a baby. A year and a half ago... my mom got distracted for a second to grab a diaper. My dad was on the phone. And he fell off the changing table."
Her voice lost its steadiness.
"After that, everything stopped. My mom was devastated. And rightfully so. But she... shut down. She wasn't there for me or for Ethan anymore. Sometimes she would stare at nothing for hours. Other times she would call Ethan Thomas."
She told him about the argument they had the day before.
After letting it all out, her shoulders relaxed a little. Putting it into words made the weight more bearable. She needed to talk about it with someone who wasn't involved in the drama.
Daniel listened without interrupting.
He understood what it was like to watch a structure collapse from the inside.
He could offer measured advice. He could suggest empathy, dialogue, understanding. But he knew that, in such a fragile state, logic was useless. Broken people don't want answers. They want someone who stays.
Without saying anything, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.
Julie rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes as if, for a moment, she could switch the world off.
Daniel stroked her hair in slow, steady motions.
There was no strategy in it.
Just presence.
"Well, well. That's quite a lot of intimacy for so early in the morning."
Trudy's voice came from the living room entrance, laced with that unmistakable reality-show commentary tone. She was leaning against the doorframe, a cup in hand and a smile that seemed to treat testing other people's patience as a vocation.
Daniel didn't move. He remained exactly as he was, unbothered.
Julie straightened subtly, wiping the corner of her eyes before anyone could notice. Without exchanging words, the two of them decided to ignore her.
"You know, your silence is almost cruel," Trudy teased, crossing the room toward the kitchen — but stopping right in front of them.
Julie frowned, noticing the girl's outfit.
"That blue flannel shirt... it looks like mine."
Trudy glanced down and smoothed the plaid fabric with contained satisfaction.
"Oh, this? I grabbed it from your bag." She shrugged. "We share everything here. You don't mind, right?"
Julie bit her lower lip. The invasion of privacy bothered her — a lot — but she reminded herself that what truly mattered was safely stored in Daniel's motorhome.
"I don't mind."
Trudy's smile widened, as if she had won some invisible contest. Then she left the room with the calculated calm of someone who enjoyed leaving a trace behind.
"Good thing we have a secret hideout," Daniel murmured.
That drew a soft but genuine laugh from Julie.
Not long after, Fatima and Ellis appeared, flooding Julie with birthday wishes and promises of a memorable party.
"Come eat before the starving hordes finish off the oatmeal pancakes!" Donna shouted from the kitchen.
The collective routine resumed its course.
Daniel said his goodbyes and stepped out the front door. With the residents distracted by breakfast, this was the ideal moment to put his plan into motion.
He opened the system's shop interface and searched for surveillance cameras.
Several options appeared, varying in price and technical specifications. He chose a model priced at 100 silver coins: camouflage used in wildlife documentaries, weather resistance, imperceptible infrared night vision, independent wireless transmission, and an artificial intelligence system capable of issuing alerts based on defined parameters.
He bought three.
[300 silver coins deducted. Current balance: large enough not to panic; small enough to hurt.]
He read the manual carefully and, within minutes, had mastered the equipment's operation.
He installed the first two cameras along the side of Colony House, camouflaged among branches at the exact height needed to cover both angles of the building without revealing the device's presence. The third was positioned at the rear exit.
The motorhome's camera was already active, monitoring the front.
While installing them in the forest, he felt like he was being watched. When he activated the 'Danger Wi-Fi' ability, he saw it was that damned crow.
He didn't pay it much attention. After all, they had no idea what his objective was.
Back at the vehicle, he tested the signals. The transmission operated on a closed frequency, similar to a limited-range walkie-talkie — more than sufficient for that perimeter.
He split the television into four quadrants. Each camera occupied its own space.
He configured the artificial intelligence to generate a parallel recording if someone was detected holding a flower. The previous night, the creature's supposed boyfriend had prepared bouquets for her. Patterns mattered.
With everything adjusted, he returned to Colony House in search of another piece of the puzzle. When he found Dale, he said he wanted to get to know the residents better and understand a bit about each of them.
Dale needed no encouragement. Gossip was his fuel — and his respect for Daniel dated back to the incident with Rick.
"Getting to know people is essential. A community only works when you understand the pieces on the board," he stated, adopting a professional tone.
Daniel nodded.
"Alright then." Dale discreetly indicated with his chin. "That one over there is Clara. She seems sweet, but she almost opened the door at night because she thought she heard her husband calling from outside. He died on the first day."
And he went on like that, offering less-than-kind remarks about nearly everyone. That was exactly why Daniel had chosen him.
When Dale finished, Daniel thanked him.
Three names caught his attention. Even so, suspicions were only hypotheses.
The cameras, sooner or later, would reveal something concrete.
—
Rick slowed his pace as he approached the diner. Through the front window, he saw the family before he even touched the door.
Jim and Tabitha were seated across from each other. Ethan occupied the chair beside his mother, leaning over the table as he spoke with an enthusiasm that felt excessive for that place.
Rick stopped for a second.
He observed the table's arrangement. The distance to the exit. The child's natural distraction. He thought about how that could help him move forward with his task.
Then he pushed the door open. The bell chimed.
Jim reacted immediately. A slight stiffening of the shoulders, a quick glance toward the entrance — too quick to seem casual.
Rick caught the movement from the corner of his eye.
And pretended he hadn't.
He greeted two people who came over to ask how he was doing, answered with short, controlled sentences, then made his way to the counter. He ordered coffee and something simple to go with it.
He didn't cast a single glance at the family's table.
But he chose a stool close enough to listen.
Ethan was talking about fantasy stories, imagining that maybe the forest was magical if someone were brave enough to truly explore it.
"Absolutely not," Tabitha cut in. "You heard what the sheriff said. The forest isn't safe."
"I wouldn't go far," the boy insisted. "Just to the big rock. I wouldn't go past that."
Jim tried to soften it. "When we understand better what's happening here, we'll talk about it."
Ethan slumped in his chair, frustrated.
Rick rotated the cup between his fingers, feeling the heat against his skin.
Curious children always find boundaries. And sometimes they cross them.
After a few minutes, he turned as if only then noticing their presence.
He approached with measured steps.
Jim didn't bother hiding his vigilance.
Rick kept enough distance not to invade their personal space. "I wanted to apologize for what happened. I almost hit the girl with that hammer."
Tabitha held his gaze a second longer than necessary.
"It was a bad moment," Jim said at last.
"We appreciate you coming to apologize," she added, too polite to sound sincere.
Rick nodded.
He offered no justifications and sought no absolution.
"Good morning." He stepped away before the silence could grow heavier.
As he finished his coffee, he heard Tabitha say, "Finish up, Ethan. We're going to stop by Colony House. It's Julie's birthday."
"Can I make a drawing for her?" the boy asked.
Jim allowed himself a faint smile. "You can. But eat first."
Rick didn't turn around.
But he stored the information away.
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