An hour had passed since Sebastian's less-than-successful escape attempts. His mind was in shambles, weighed down by a bucket of defeat, the pinch of hope slowly strangled by the relentless march of time.
It just didn't make sense, he thought, lying flat on the cold ground, staring at the sky. The sky, of course, offered utterly zero guidance.
He had pinned a ridiculous amount of faith on the sun's position as some unshakable compass—clearly, the universe had not read the memo.
A bush nearby shivered, and Chloe reappeared, slipping to his left side before slumping down with all the elegance of a deflated balloon.
"No luck, huh?" he asked spitefully, the words tasting of resignation.
"None," she replied, equally spiteful—though he couldn't tell if it was aimed at him or the universe. His ears twitched at her tone.
"Who's that tone aimed at—me or this godforsaken circumstance?" he asked, squinting at her slightly irritating, yet impossibly pretty face.
"Both," she said, drawing the word out, "but mostly… you."
"Huh… did I hear that right?" he tilted his head, angling his ear like a satellite dish. "Maybe I misheard… because I frankly remem—"
"It's your fault! Wasting my time!" she cut him off, voice sharp enough to slice through his sanity. "If you'd moved faster, we might've left this shitty place before anything started!"
"Wait, whattttttttt?" His mind froze. "Surely you jest." He pressed his fingers to his temples, veins pulsing as the world tried to explain itself.
"I—wasted your time… doing fucking what? Standing here, warning you not to enter this obviously suspicious clearing, this cliché trap of a forest, and you're saying I—yours truly—wasted your time?" He felt his mouth twitch, dangerously close to turning into a full-blown scream. "You must be on a truckload of drugs!" He whirled around, furious, tired of expending mental energy on a girl clearly immune to common sense.
She ignored him, marching toward the plant, shoveling dirt with reckless determination into the yet-undug section. He glanced over briefly, then gave up, sinking back into the melancholic sea of his thoughts, dominated by a single recurring question: Why the fuck did I follow her?
It was the same cycle everyone endured after doing something utterly stupid: first, you cursed your past self—who would've cursed right back if possible, because hey, you made the decision—then cursed fate, or rotten luck, or whatever abstract cosmic force conspired against you. Even if the moment of stupidity had long passed, the cursing continued; the dead couldn't sing, after all.
Three hours later… 7 PM
He had remained supine, drifting in and out of sleep out of sheer boredom. Emotionally, he had reached a strange kind of acceptance. He had passed through all the usual stages: blaming everything, self-blame, despair, crying, more despair, simmering anger—at himself, at Chloe, at existence itself. Finally, he had settled on a new philosophy: sleep through the apocalypse; let it happen without noticing.
Life, however, remained nothing but cruel. The calm was deceptive—until he awoke to see the bush they had entered earlier trembling violently. His instincts snapped him upright. His eyes scanned for Chloe, spotting her a few meters away. Panic sharpened his senses; he dashed behind the serpentine tree, crouching low, peering through the shadows.
Heh… let's see what happens now, he thought with a twisted mix of curiosity and dread.
Chloe's sudden dash didn't help settle his nerves—but whatever was causing the movement had already emerged.
A middle-aged man stepped out first, dressed casually for a forest hike, a head-mounted flashlight perched but turned off. Close behind were a woman in her twenties and a guy sporting an odd haircut with peculiar glasses perched precariously on his nose.
They stopped abruptly, whispering among themselves. The middle-aged man, likely the leader, turned to Chloe.
"Umm, hi… sorry if we startled you. We kind of assumed we'd be the first here—or maybe the only ones brave enough, you know, with it being Halloween and all."
He coughed, wiping his hand on his trousers, then scratched at a balding spot atop his head.
"I'm going to assume you're here to produce content… though coming alone isn't exactly a great idea."
"I didn't," Chloe said, pointing behind her. "I came with that… chicken over there."
Who the hell are you calling chicken, and why are you pointing me out?!
"Chicken? Oh! You mean… oh, I get it. Hello, little man over there. We won't bite," the man said warmly, waving.
Little man, your grandma… 😒
Chloe began walking toward Sebastian, back still partially facing the newcomers. "So, you're human, I assume?"
$%%^^&"*() — he cursed her mentally with every filthy word he knew. She dared to ask such a question… what is the sentence one mutters when courting death?
The man and his team exchanged confused glances, then nodded slowly, as if the world made sense to them.
"Okay," Chloe said icily, reaching his side and crouching behind the odd tree, "I have a number of questions for you. Answer them so we don't end up with… enmity."
Enmity? He thought, rolling his eyes. You should be currying favor, not threatening the forest—or are you aiming for both of us to die? Balls of steel under there, huh…
If anyone had looked at his face in that moment, they'd see hot tears threatening to escape, fueled by sheer terror.
The suspicion pressing down on them was overwhelming. First, the reserve should have been closed—perhaps only accessed by police looking for stragglers. Two to three hours had passed since they entered. How did these "humans" even get in? Did they play hide-and-seek with the guards? Even if not, surely someone would have noticed the equipment, the movement…
"In the Seats," Chloe demanded, voice sharp. "Name one of the five families. Just one. Actually… scratch that. Name the latest one to come into power."
An easy but crucial question. Everyone knew the Seats were the ultimate authority, composed of five powerful families and five elected councils. The presidential system had vanished, replaced by a council of ten. Decisions were voted on by the full council. The five chosen by the people were investigated monthly for corruption, ensuring a balance against aristocratic influence.
"The Blac…k Moon? Or was it the Wood group? Not really interested in politics…" the middle-aged man replied.
"It's the Blackwood group," the woman behind him corrected firmly.
Chloe nodded, then asked, "And how are you all here at this hour?"
"We… camped?" the woman said hastily.
"More like hid and waited… though today proved difficult; seemed like someone was searching for someone," the guy with glasses added tiredly, dropping his bag.
The woman shot him a dirty look.
We exchanged glances, then bolted, racing past them into the dense bush. Sebastian noticed the guy with glasses hitting the ground in surprise mid-step. A few frantic seconds later, we returned, grumbling furiously at having seen them again.
"Is there a problem?" the glasses guy asked, adjusting the multiple lenses on his frames.
We looked at them, sighed, and slumped in defeat.