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Chapter 2 - Chapter 2 – Trust No One Who Smiles

Chapter 2 – Trust No One Who Smiles

The next morning, the sky looked like dried blood — red, veined with black clouds that didn't move.

Rayn adjusted the strap of a torn bag he found in a wrecked subway station. Inside were the only things he trusted: his knife, the black notebook, and a bottle of filthy water that smelled like rust but hadn't killed him yet.

> Good enough.

His body ached. His throat was dry. But his mind? Sharp.

He'd survived two nights.

And now, it was time to test Rule #5:

> "You can't survive the end of the world alone."

---

The notebook's map had updated again.

A new blinking dot had appeared in the west: Human Presence Detected.

Rayn moved fast, keeping to the side streets. Avoiding reflections. Always watching the corners.

After an hour, he heard voices.

Real ones.

Not mimicked laughter. Not fake crying.

Actual people.

He crouched behind a crumbled wall and peeked.

Three figures were gathered near a fire in a collapsed parking lot. Two men, one woman. Their clothes were ragged, but they looked alert — armed and moving like they'd survived long enough to know what mattered.

> Could be good. Could be a trap.

Rayn stayed hidden, watched for five full minutes. No odd movements. No backwards blinking. No blank stares.

> They're real. Probably.

He stood slowly, stepping into view with both hands raised.

"I'm not infected," he called out. "I'm human."

All three turned fast — weapons up.

The older man aimed a jagged spear. "What zone?"

"I don't know," Rayn answered truthfully. "I just woke up here three days ago."

The woman narrowed her eyes. "You don't look fresh."

Rayn shrugged. "Guess I'm a fast learner."

They exchanged glances.

The younger man — tall, wiry, with a scar over his nose — lowered his weapon first. "You're either brave or crazy."

"Little of both," Rayn replied.

---

They let him sit by the fire.

Introductions were short.

The leader, the older man, was named Dalen. Ex-security. Quiet, but sharp-eyed.

The woman, Lena, had a medic's kit and a machete. Said she used to be a nurse.

The younger one — Rook — didn't say much, but he kept staring at Rayn like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"I haven't seen you around," Dalen said, chewing on a protein bar like it was gold. "You a jumper?"

"What's that?" Rayn asked.

"People who show up here from other places. Other timelines. Some fall through holes in the sky. Some just wake up in Bloomfall like it's a damn game spawn."

Rayn's blood ran cold.

So it wasn't just him.

Others were getting pulled into this world.

> That means something — or someone — is doing this on purpose.

---

Night fell fast.

They took shifts on watch. Rayn volunteered for the middle shift.

He didn't sleep much anyway.

While the others rested, he opened the notebook again.

New entry:

> [Observation]

One of the survivors is not what they appear.

Trust patterns. Not faces.

Rayn's pulse quickened.

He looked at the sleeping figures. All still. Breathing.

But now he wasn't sure.

He replayed every detail.

Lena blinked normally. Dalen moved like a soldier.

But Rook…

Rook had never blinked.

Not once.

> Shit.

Rayn tightened his grip on the chair-leg weapon. If he was right, Rook was a Mimic — pretending to be human. Watching. Waiting.

He checked his reflection in a broken car mirror.

Still human.

No smile that didn't belong.

No white eyes.

---

At dawn, Dalen noticed it first.

"Where's Rook?" he asked.

They found him — or what was left of him — behind the rubble.

His chest was open, hollowed out.

But worse…

Another Rook was walking toward them.

Same face. Same clothes.

Smiling.

Too wide.

> "Morning," it said in Rook's voice.

Rayn didn't hesitate.

He swung the chair-leg hard.

The blow shattered the mimic's head in a burst of black mist. Its body hit the ground twitching, melting into gray sludge that steamed in the cold air.

Lena screamed. Dalen stared.

"How did you know?" he demanded.

Rayn held up the notebook.

"It told me."

Dalen shook his head. "The hell is that thing?"

"I don't know," Rayn admitted. "But I'm starting to think it's keeping score."

---

They burned the mimic's remains.

Lena didn't speak for an hour.

Dalen finally looked at Rayn and said, "You're not normal, are you?"

"No," Rayn replied. "I've already died once. I'm not doing it again."

They didn't argue.

They just handed him a better weapon — a steel pipe sharpened at the edge — and packed up camp.

---

As they walked toward the next shelter marked on Rayn's map, he glanced up at the sky.

The clouds were swirling.

Like something massive was watching from the other side.

He felt it in his bones.

> This world isn't broken. It's being watched. Measured. Adjusted.

And whatever's behind it?

It wasn't done with him yet.

> Rule #6: don't trust the world to make sense. Just survive long enough to find out why.

And they didn't know traps.

Rayn dove behind a stack of crates and yanked a makeshift tripwire — an old extension cord stretched taut across an aisle.

The mimic shrieked, barreled forward — and hit the wire full force.

CRASH.

It went down hard, bones cracking against the concrete.

Rayn didn't wait. He sprinted forward, swinging the crowbar down hard — once, twice, three times — until the mimic's shrieking stopped and its body crumbled into a black, shifting pulp.

Breathing heavy, he stared at what remained.

No blood. No bones. Just… sludge. Like the form had never been real to begin with.

He picked up his notebook. The pages flipped on their own again.

> Nice move. But they're learning.

He froze.

That wasn't advice.

That was a warning.

---

Outside the warehouse, the sun — if you could call it that — hung low and orange behind a veil of smoke. Ruined buildings towered like broken teeth. Fires flickered in the distance.

Rayn moved quickly, skirting shadows, keeping to alleys. The mimic wasn't alone. It never was.

He needed shelter. Allies. Answers.

The only people he'd seen alive in this world so far were a paranoid ex-soldier with a rusted machete and a twitchy girl who spoke in riddles about time loops.

He wasn't sure either were still breathing.

But he had a new goal now.

He opened the notebook again, flipping to a blank page. The words scrawled in — not by his hand.

> There's a bunker four blocks northeast.

Three people inside. One of them isn't human.

Rayn closed the book.

Four blocks. Three potential allies. One unknown threat.

Perfect odds.

He smiled grimly.

"Let's see who's pretending this time."

And he walked into the dusk, notebook glowing faintly in his palm.

End of Chapter 2

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