The Matthews family sat gathered around the dining table. The silence in the kitchen was heavy, broken only by the faint tapping of Tabitha's nails against the wood as she stroked her daughter's hair.
The girl stared at a fixed point on the wall, her eyes red and distant.
"It was horrible," she murmured, her voice reduced to a whisper. "One moment we were all laughing, having fun... and in the blink of an eye, the whole place turned into hell. Everyone screaming, running in panic."
Jim laced his fingers tightly together, tension etched across his face. He leaned forward over the table, searching for his daughter's gaze. "How did you manage to stay safe?"
"It was Daniel," Julie replied, giving a faint, exhausted smile. "He thought fast. He reminded Donna to use the talisman in a closed room, so we spent the whole night locked in the kitchen."
Her fingers tightened slightly around her own arm, as if she could still feel his grip there, firm, pulling her through the crowd.
The memory of the mutilated bodies still flickered in her mind... the smell, the sound... everything tangled together.
And while she could barely look, her stomach twisting enough to make her vomit, he just... kept moving. As if none of it affected him.
She should have been afraid of that.
And yet, the image of him, calm in the middle of chaos, was still the only thing that eased her dread even a little.
Ethan, who had been drawing on a piece of paper while listening closely, lifted his head. "He's like the heroes in stories. He always knows what to do."
Tabitha watched her daughter with concern. "Do you want something to eat, sweetheart? I can make something quick."
"I'm not hungry," the girl shook her head, her shoulders sagging with exhaustion. "I just want to lie down. Try not to think about anything."
"Come on, I'll walk you there," Tabitha said, standing up and gently taking her hand.
In the bedroom, Julie sat on the edge of the bed, watching her mother pull back the covers. The comfortable silence between them was broken by a question that had been gnawing at her since they arrived in town.
"Mom..." she began, fidgeting with the loose threads of the blanket. "Are you... you and Dad still going to get divorced?"
Tabitha paused, her eyes losing focus for a moment. Awkwardly, she sat down beside her daughter and let out a heavy sigh. "I don't have an answer for that yet."
"It's a simple question."
"It's not as simple as it seems, sweetheart..."
"You said you loved each other," Julie pressed.
"I did," Tabitha said, holding the girl's hands firmly. "But there are things you only understand when you become a mother. And one of them is that your children are your whole life."
She looked down at the floor, painful memories clouding her eyes. "When Thomas died... something broke inside me. And I just don't know how to fix it."
"I keep reliving that day over and over," Tabitha whispered. "Thomas was on the changing table, right between me and your father. Then the phone rang. I tried to grab the diaper, your father tried to grab the phone, and we both got distracted... It was just a damn second, Julie. A single second. And he fell."
A single tear slipped down her face, which she quickly wiped away with the back of her hand. "Look, your father is the love of my life. But sometimes, I look at him... and all I hear is that damn phone ringing."
The room sank into a profound silence. Julie felt her chest tighten, understanding the depth of the hole that had swallowed her family.
"Why did you never tell me this?"
"Because no matter how much you grow, you'll always be my little girl," Tabitha replied, forcing a sad smile. "I wanted to protect you. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too," Julie murmured, wrapping her arms around her mother's neck in a tight, desperate hug.
They stayed like that for long minutes, sharing their silent grief. When they finally pulled apart, Tabitha kissed her daughter's forehead. "Now try to get some sleep. You need to rest."
"If Daniel shows up, can you call me?" Julie asked, lying down on the pillow.
"Of course. Don't worry," Tabitha agreed, covering her daughter before leaving the room.
The peace lasted for a while, until the front door was pushed open forcefully and Jade stepped into the house, bringing that same chaotic energy as always.
"So? Did the plan work?" Jade blurted out, walking through the living room like he owned the place.
Jim stood up quickly, shooting the newcomer a sharp glare. He brought a finger to his lips, hissing irritably, "Keep your voice down! Julie is sleeping."
Jade blinked, surprised, but lowered his tone. "Alright, alright, my bad... I heard what happened at Colony House. Rough stuff, huh? A real slaughterhouse."
Jade's tone carried an almost clinical detachment from the tragedy. He scratched the back of his neck, bothered by something else. "As shitty as what happened to them is, now people from there are moving into town and making everything even more cramped than it already is."
He grumbled, referring to the three residents Kenny had brought to the house.
Jim clenched his jaw. His blood boiled, but he forced himself to whisper. "You want to talk about rough? How about when you lost it out in the woods and left me alone?"
Jade's arrogant posture faltered slightly. He glanced around, uncomfortable. "Yeah... about that. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I just... man, I keep seeing these symbols."
To prove his point, he lifted the notebook he was carrying, opening it to reveal pages covered in scribbles. "I even found some proof. This journal is really old and whoever it belonged to was drawing the same symbol I've been seeing. Over and over again."
Tabitha's attention snapped to him. "Where did you find that?"
"Tian-Chen gave it to me," Jade explained. "She saw me drawing that damn symbol and got it from the diner storage."
Tabitha exchanged a meaningful look with Jim. The storage room. The same place where she had found her husband's lost bracelet, an object that defied all logic.
Ethan, who had been watching the interaction from the corner of the table, slid off his chair and leaned forward to study the old drawings. "This could be a clue for the quest."
Jade blinked, staring at the boy. "What quest?"
"The one everyone's on," Ethan replied firmly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Everyone here is on a mission to find the way out of this place. Just like Cromenockle."
"What the hell is a Cromenockle?"
"It's a character from a children's book," Tabitha cut in quickly, sounding protective as she tried to steer the conversation away.
"But you have to figure out if these symbols are good or bad," Ethan continued, ignoring his mother and fixing his wide, innocent eyes directly on Jade. "Sometimes, they make you do bad things."
Jade stared at Ethan for a few seconds, blinking slowly as he processed the ominous warning coming from the boy. "You're a pretty weird kid."
Tabitha instinctively stepped between Jade and Ethan. "Don't talk about my son like that. The only weird one here is you, barging into our house and acting like a lunatic."
Jim grabbed Jade by the arm and pulled him roughly onto the porch, shutting the door behind them.
"What's your problem?" Jim growled, crossing his arms in the morning chill.
"I spoke without thinking. Sorry," Jade backed off, raising his hands in surrender. "But what about the radio? Where are we with that?" he asked, changing the subject.
Jim sighed, rubbing his temples. He hated dealing with Jade, but the man's intelligence was undeniable, and after last night's invasion, he knew they needed to get out of there as soon as possible.
"The antenna worked. The concept is solid, but it only picked up static," Jim explained, his mind already working through the problem. "I think if we can set it up somewhere above the tree line and with enough power, we might be able to send a signal."
Jade rubbed his hands together, his brain already running at full speed. "That's great. Do you know a good spot?"
"I do," Jim replied, looking off into the distance. "Colony House is the highest ground in the entire area."
Meanwhile, on the macabre lawn of Colony House, part of the work had already been done. The bodies, covered with improvised tarps, were lined up in a corner.
Donna, her hands trembling and her shirt stained, leaned against the side of a porch pillar. "You can go, Boyd. I'll finish up here," she said, her voice rough. "Head to town. Keep an eye on people. They're scared, and that's the perfect recipe for things to go to hell."
Boyd simply nodded. The concern about the survivors' mental stability was real.
When the sheriff reached the center of town, his intuition proved right. A small commotion had formed in front of the diner. At the center of it, Father Khatri was trying to calm the rising tensions.
"What the hell is going on here?" Boyd demanded, his deep voice cutting through the noise.
Tom, the bar owner, stepped forward, his face red with frustration. "What's going on, Sheriff, is that now there are more mouths to feed! The people from Colony House came here, and food is going to run short. We want to secure our share."
Boyd fixed the crowd with a hard stare, his military posture taking control of the situation.
"All of you... calm down right now! Go back to your homes and don't start any trouble. They're only staying here temporarily. Food will be distributed as usual, so don't panic."
The weight of Boyd's authority had the intended effect. With dissatisfied murmurs, the crowd began to disperse, returning to the homes they considered safe.
Father Khatri approached, letting out a relieved sigh. "Thank you for that. How is Ellis?"
"I'm heading to the clinic to check on him now," Boyd replied, adjusting his belt.
"Before that," the priest interrupted, his expression turning grim, "we need to talk about something very serious. But it has to be somewhere private. Not here."
Boyd hesitated, glancing inside the diner. "What about Sara? I don't feel comfortable leaving her unsupervised."
"She won't do anything," Khatri assured him, his tone firm. "What I have to say is urgent."
The two walked quickly to the church. The place was empty; the priest had announced that services would be suspended for a week out of respect for the mourning, an excuse to have time to keep watch over Sara.
As they entered, Khatri locked the heavy wooden door from the inside. He turned to the sheriff, his shoulders tense.
"Sara heard the voices again," the priest dropped the bomb all at once. "They said we should keep an eye on Rick."
Boyd frowned, needing a moment to process the information. With the chaos and slaughter from the previous night, he had forgotten about Rick.
"Was there anything else? Any specific warning?" Boyd asked.
"No," Khatri shook his head. "Sara said it felt like the voices were about to give more instructions, but then they suddenly stopped. Cut off completely. Boyd, do you know if anything strange has been happening with him lately?"
The sheriff ran a hand over his rough chin, weighing the situation before mentioning Rick's miraculous recovery.
Khatri crossed his arms, taking on a defensive posture. "We have to confront him."
"That doesn't make any sense," Boyd shot back immediately, shaking his head. "He already told Kristi he didn't know how it happened. What would we get out of him? The only thing we can do is keep him on our radar."
"You don't understand how serious things are getting out there," the priest insisted, pointing toward the door.
"The distrust between the town residents and the Colony House people is growing exponentially. After they found out Kevin was the one who opened the window for the creature, people are paranoid. There are already rumors going around that someone from there broke the clinic's window to sabotage the others."
Boyd narrowed his eyes. "Try to defuse any hostility that comes up. As soon as we can, we'll send them back there. I need to go see my son."
The priest returned to the diner while Boyd hurried toward the clinic. The scene inside was chaotic. The reception area was crowded, with some people getting bandaged and others simply sitting on the floor, using the place as a temporary refuge.
He spotted Kristi moving around quickly. "Kristi, how is he?"
The medic stopped, offering a reassuring smile. "With a few days of rest, Ellis will be fine. He sprained his ankle pretty badly, but nothing is broken."
Boyd let out a long breath, his posture relaxing for the first time that day. He looked around, noticing the occupied stretchers.
While he had been helping Donna clean the lawn, more survivors had come out of hiding in the forest, some of them injured.
"And the others? Anyone seriously hurt?"
"Fortunately, no," Kristi replied. "The worst case was a man who tripped over a root in the dark and broke his arm."
"That's something." Then the sheriff leaned in and whispered, "No miraculous recoveries since that incident?"
"Not so far, but I'm keeping an eye on it," Kristi replied seriously.
That was when Boyd's left hand began to tremble. He quickly grabbed his left wrist with his right hand, squeezing tightly to hide it.
Kristi, with her trained eye, noticed the movement immediately. Her expression shifted from professional to genuinely concerned. "Boyd... has this been happening for long?"
The sheriff brushed it off, sounding dismissive. "A few days."
"Once things settle down and it gets less busy, I want you to come back so I can take a look at it. It's important."
"No need," Boyd cut her off sharply, leaving no room for argument. "I already know what it is. I'm going to see Ellis."
Turning his back, he walked toward the recovery room, leaving the worried medic standing there.
In that town, the monsters outside weren't the only things destroying people from the inside out.
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