Chapter 1
“You do realize Elliott is going to be pissed when he figures out where we went, right?”
Thea glanced over at Marcos as they stepped through the broken entrance of the abandoned Costco.
Rain hammered the cracked pavement behind them, running in silver streams through the parking lot and disappearing beneath abandoned cars. The wind pushed cold air through the shattered glass doors, carrying the smell of wet concrete, rust, and something faintly rotten from somewhere deeper inside the building.
“He’s always pissed,” Thea whispered.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It was close enough.”
Marcos gave her a look but didn’t argue.
Inside, the warehouse was almost completely dark. A few emergency lights still glowed somewhere near the back of the building, but they were too weak to do much more than stain the darkness a dull red.
The place smelled like dust, old food, mildew, and standing water.
Once, this building had been packed with people.
Families pushing oversized carts through crowded aisles. Children begging for samples. Employees shouting over the noise.
Now there was nothing.
Not peaceful.
Quiet.
There was a difference.
Thea tightened her grip on the small flashlight in her hand and followed Marcos toward the pharmacy section.
“We get what we need and we leave,” she said.
“That’s the plan.”
“Fast.”
“I know.”
“No wandering.”
“I know.”
“And if we hear anything…”
Marcos stopped and looked at her.
“Run.”
Thea nodded.
That was the rule.
They didn’t investigate strange noises anymore.
They didn’t open doors just because something was behind them.
They didn’t go looking for people.
The world had taught them better.
They moved through the aisles carefully, stepping around collapsed shelving and piles of broken merchandise. Marcos filled his backpack with whatever medical supplies they could find. Gauze. Alcohol wipes. Painkillers. Antibiotics that hadn’t expired yet.
Thea kept watch.
Every few seconds, she looked over her shoulder.
Nothing.
She turned back.
Still nothing.
Then she heard breathing.
Not hers.
Thea froze.
Marcos looked at her.
Neither of them spoke.
There it was again.
Slow.
Deep.
Close.
Marcos slowly lowered the bag in his hand.
Thea raised her flashlight.
The beam passed over empty shelves.
A toppled display.
A stack of abandoned boxes.
Nothing.
Then something moved at the far end of the aisle.
Thea’s stomach dropped.
It stepped into the light.
The Morrow was at least eight feet tall.
It was impossibly thin, but there was nothing weak about it. Its body had the proportions of something that had been forced into a human shape without ever quite understanding how humans were supposed to look.
Its skin was pale gray and faintly translucent. Dark branching structures ran beneath the surface, spreading through its chest, shoulders, and arms like veins that didn’t belong to any human body.
Its limbs were too long.
Its joints were subtly wrong.
Its hands hung nearly to its knees, each finger divided by too many joints.
Its face was almost featureless.
There were no recognizable eyes. Only shallow depressions in the smooth surface of its face, surrounded by tiny sensory pores that seemed to shift when it moved.
Its mouth was nothing more than a narrow vertical seam.
Thea couldn’t breathe.
The Morrow tilted its head.
Then it spoke.
“Thea?”
Marcos went rigid.
It was his voice.
Exactly his voice.
Thea stared at it.
The Morrow took another step.
“Found you.”
Marcos grabbed her arm.
“Run.”
They turned.
Behind them came another sound.
Breathing.
Then another.
Thea glanced back.
Two more Morrow had emerged from between the shelves.
They stood several yards apart.
Then they inhaled at exactly the same time.
Their ribcages expanded together.
They exhaled together.
Again.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Marcos pulled Thea toward the entrance.
They ran.
Their shoes slapped against wet concrete as they sprinted through the warehouse. Something moved behind them, but Thea didn’t look back.
They reached the broken entrance.
Marcos shoved Thea through first.
A Morrow appeared between the shelves.
He raised his gun.
The shot exploded through the building.
Thea flinched.
The Morrow stopped.
For half a second, none of them moved.
Then Marcos grabbed her hand.
“Go!”
They ran through the parking lot.
Rain poured over them as they crossed between abandoned vehicles and headed toward the road.
Behind them, the Morrow remained standing inside the entrance.
It didn’t chase.
It simply watched.
Its head tilted slightly.
As if memorizing the direction they had gone.
By the time they reached home, Thea’s clothes were soaked through.
Elliott was waiting for them.
He stood near the doorway with his arms crossed, his expression already telling her everything she needed to know.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Thea dropped the backpack onto the table.
“We needed medical supplies.”
“You could have told me.”
“And you would have said no.”
“Yes.”
“Then there was no point.”
Elliott stared at her.
Marcos quietly moved toward the kitchen.
“Don’t,” Elliott warned.
Marcos stopped.
“I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You’re standing there looking guilty.”
“That’s just my face.”
Elliott rubbed a hand over his jaw.
“You two could have been killed.”
“We weren’t.”
“That isn’t the point.”
Thea opened her mouth, but something shifted inside her.
The room suddenly seemed farther away.
Elliott’s voice became muffled.
The walls blurred around the edges.
Her hands felt heavy.
She knew what was happening.
Nyssa was close.
She didn’t feel herself being pulled out of her body.
She wasn’t disappearing.
It was more like losing her place at the front of her own mind.
Her thoughts slowed.
The room slipped farther away.
Then came the familiar falling sensation.
And Thea slipped backward.
Nyssa opened her eyes.
The room returned differently.
Sharper.
The rain against the windows sounded louder.
She could smell wet clothes, gun oil, Marcos’s soap, Elliott’s aftershave.
There was something else beneath it.
Cigarette smoke.
Faint.
Outside.
Nyssa didn’t move.
She listened.
A soft step.
Then silence.
Another.
Human.
Her eyes moved toward the window.
She looked down.
Fresh mud had been tracked across the floor near the door.
Not theirs.
Nyssa crouched beside it.
The prints were still wet.
Two sets.
She touched one with two fingers.
Someone had followed them.
She looked toward Elliott.
“Don’t move.”
“What?”
“We were followed.”
Marcos’s expression changed.
Elliott reached for his gun.
Nyssa held up a hand.
“No.”
He stopped.
“Why?”
“Because if they’re watching the house, I don’t want them knowing we know.”
She stood.
Her hand moved beneath her jacket and closed around the handle of her kodachi.
The familiar weight settled against her palm.
Better.
Quieter.
Useful.
She moved toward the window.
Outside, the rain blurred the world into shadows.
Nyssa watched.
Nothing.
She waited.
Still nothing.
Then she saw movement.
Two figures near the edge of the road.
Gone before she could get a clear look.
Nyssa smiled faintly.
“They’re careful.”
Elliott frowned.
“Who?”
“People.”
She looked at Marcos.
“Stay here.”
“Nyssa…”
“I said stay here.”
She slipped out the back door.
She found them three blocks away.
Two people.
They weren’t trying very hard to hide their trail.
They were following at a distance, moving through the rain toward an abandoned factory.
Nyssa stayed behind them.
Never close enough to be seen.
Never far enough to lose them.
The first was thinner, with medium-length brown hair that fell unevenly around his face. Damp strands stuck to his forehead. He wore a faded charcoal-gray T-shirt beneath a worn olive-green utility jacket. The sleeves were pushed to his elbows, revealing scratches and grime along his forearms.
The jacket looked like it had belonged to someone larger. Its pockets bulged with small tools and supplies, and a weathered canvas bag hung against his hip from a frayed strap crossing his chest.
His clothes were stained with dust and oil.
His eyes looked tired.
Not weak.
Just exhausted.
Alert.
Like he hadn’t slept properly in months.
The second man was taller and dark-skinned, with a shaved head that still glistened faintly from the rain. His build was solid and functional, the kind that came from work rather than vanity.
A thin scar ran from beneath his left ear toward his jaw.
His face was angular, with a strong jaw and watchful dark eyes.
He wore a worn black leather jacket, the surface scuffed and creased around the elbows. The collar was slightly turned up against the cold. Beneath it was a dark shirt and faded black jeans tucked into heavy black boots streaked with dried mud.
A crossbow rested against his shoulder.
He held it comfortably, like it was simply another part of him.
A quiver of bolts crossed his back, with additional bolts secured along his belt.
He wasn’t nervous.
He wasn’t relaxed either.
He was ready.
Nyssa watched them enter the factory.
She waited another thirty seconds before following.
By the time she returned home, Elliott was standing near the door.
“You followed them.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“They’re part of a group.”
“Where?”
“Factory.”
Elliott frowned.
“What group?”
Nyssa looked at him.
“I don’t know yet.”
Something moved outside.
Nyssa heard it before anyone else did.
A wet dragging sound.
Then silence.
She turned.
The back door was still open.
Elliott stepped forward.
“Nyssa?”
The Morrow moved.
It crossed the room so quickly that Elliott barely had time to raise his arm.
Its hand caught him across the shoulder and chest, long fingers curling into his jacket.
Elliott stumbled backward.
Nyssa moved before he could.
She drew the kodachi from beneath her jacket.
The Morrow turned toward her.
Its smooth face angled slightly.
Then its mouth opened.
“Elliott?”
It was his voice.
Nyssa didn’t hesitate.
She stepped inside its reach and drove the kodachi upward beneath its jaw.
The blade sank into the narrow space where the neck met the base of the skull.
The Morrow went completely still.
For one strange second, nothing happened.
Then its fingers released Elliott.
Its entire body jerked violently.
The dark branching structures beneath its translucent skin tightened and seemed to pull inward.
Its ribcage expanded once.
Then stopped halfway through the breath.
Nyssa twisted the blade and pulled it free.
The Morrow collapsed at her feet.
Elliott stared at it, breathing hard.
Nyssa turned immediately toward him.
“Did it touch you?”
Elliott looked down at his shoulder.
“Yeah.”
“Your head?”
“No.”
“Neck?”
“No.”
“Dizziness? Confusion? Headache? Anything?”
“I don’t think so.”
Nyssa grabbed his face and forced him to look at her.
“Don’t think. Tell me.”
Elliott swallowed.
“No. I’m fine.”
She held his gaze for another second before finally letting him go.
Only then did she look down at the Morrow.
Her grip tightened around the kodachi.
The blade had worked.
And now she knew where to put it.
“They don’t infect you.”
Elliott looked at her.
“What?”
Nyssa wiped the blade against a piece of cloth.
“A bite doesn’t turn you into one.”
Marcos stared at the dead creature.
“Then what the hell are they doing?”
Nyssa looked at the Morrow.
“Learning.”
She crouched beside it.
“The contact matters.”
She pointed toward its hands.
“When they get close to your head, neck, spine, they aren’t just trying to kill you.”
Elliott’s face tightened.
“They’re taking something.”
“Fragments.”
“Memories?”
“Maybe.”
Nyssa looked toward the dead creature.
“Not everything. Pieces. Voices. Faces. Places. Words. Whatever they can get.”
Marcos went quiet.
Nyssa continued.
“That’s why it used your voice.”
Elliott stared at the Morrow.
“So every person they kill…”
“They learn from.”
“And they remember?”
Nyssa looked at him.
“They remember.”
The abandoned factory smelled like rust, rainwater, and old machinery.
Nyssa entered first.
Elliott followed.
Marcos stayed close.
Alden came behind him.
The thinner man stepped into view.
“Rylan,” he said.
Nyssa didn’t lower her weapon.
“Nyssa.”
His eyes flicked toward the kodachi.
“Good to know.”
The second man stepped forward.
“Dax.”
Nyssa studied him.
“You were following us.”
Rylan nodded.
“We were.”
“Why?”
“We saw you at the warehouse.”
Nyssa’s grip tightened.
“You watched us?”
“We watched everyone who goes near that area.”
“Why?”
“Because people who go there usually don’t come back.”
Nyssa glanced at Dax.
“Except us.”
“Except you.”
Rylan studied her for another second.
There was something strange about her.
Not the sword.
Not the way she was watching them.
Something else.
He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“We have a place,” he said.
Nyssa said nothing.
“A fortified community,” he continued. “Walls, clean water, electricity. We’ve got food, medical supplies, and people who know how to defend it.”
Nyssa’s eyes narrowed.
“How many people?”
“Thirty-eight.”
She studied him for a moment.
“Thirty-eight people you expect us to trust?”
“No.”
Rylan’s answer came without hesitation.
“I expect you to meet them before you decide.”
That caught her off guard.
Elliott looked between them.
“What kind of place is it?”
“A community,” Rylan said. “People living together. We share supplies, take shifts, keep watch. Nobody’s pretending it’s perfect.”
Nyssa gave a quiet scoff.
“Sounds convenient.”
“It is.”
“And what’s the catch?”
Rylan glanced toward the factory entrance.
“The catch is that we’re still alive.”
Nyssa didn’t smile.
Elliott stepped closer.
“How long have you been there?”
“Almost eight months.”
“And you’ve got electricity?”
“Generators. A few solar panels.”
“Water?”
“Filtered well water.”
“Food?”
“Enough to keep everyone fed.”
Nyssa looked at Elliott.
He already knew what she was thinking.
It was exactly what he had been thinking too.
They needed it.
That didn’t mean she trusted it.
“We don’t know them,” Nyssa said.
“We don’t know anyone,” Elliott replied.
“That doesn’t mean we walk into a compound with strangers.”
Elliott’s expression hardened.
“We need somewhere safe.”
“Safe for who?”
“For Thea.”
Rylan’s eyes moved toward him.
There was a brief silence.
Nyssa’s expression changed.
Just slightly.
Elliott noticed.
Marcos noticed too.
Rylan didn’t miss it.
He looked between the three of them.
“Who’s Thea?”
Nobody answered immediately.
Nyssa’s jaw tightened.
Elliott recovered first.
“My sister.”
Rylan looked at Nyssa.
“But you said your name was Nyssa.”
Nyssa stared at him.
“I did.”
Rylan frowned.
He looked back at Elliott.
Then Marcos.
Neither of them seemed particularly interested in explaining.
“Okay,” he said slowly.
The word carried more confusion than agreement.
Nyssa stepped closer.
“You ask too many questions.”
Rylan raised his hands slightly.
“Fair enough.”
Elliott gave Nyssa a warning look.
“We’re not discussing personal matters with people we just met.”
Rylan nodded.
“Understood.”
Nyssa looked at him for another moment.
Then she said quietly, “Good.”
She turned back toward the entrance.
Elliott watched her.
Rylan watched Elliott watching her.
Something wasn’t adding up.
He didn’t know what.
And judging by the way everyone suddenly became very careful with their words, he suspected they didn’t want him to know.
He let it go.
For now.
Elliott stepped closer.
“She can’t keep going out there.”
Nyssa looked away.
“She doesn’t have to.”
“She already does.”
Silence settled between them.
“She needs somewhere safe,” Elliott continued. “Somewhere she can sleep without worrying about every sound outside. Somewhere we don’t have to keep sending her out for supplies.”
Nyssa’s eyes narrowed.
“And you think putting her in a compound with thirty-eight strangers is safe?”
“I think staying here isn’t.”
“You don’t know what those people want.”
“Neither do you.”
Nyssa looked back at him.
“Exactly.”
Marcos stepped closer.
“We don’t have to stay.”
Alden nodded.
“Looking doesn’t mean agreeing.”
Nyssa glanced at him.
For once, she didn’t argue.
“Fine.”
Elliott raised an eyebrow.
“We’ll look,” she said. “That’s it.”
Rylan nodded.
“That’s all we’re asking.”
Nyssa pointed the kodachi slightly toward him.
“If I don’t like the place, we’re leaving.”
“Understood.”
“And nobody touches her.”
Rylan’s expression became serious.
“Understood.”
Nyssa lowered the blade.
Outside, something moved.
Dax turned toward the factory doors.
His hand tightened around the crossbow.
Everyone went silent.
Then they heard it.
Breathing.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then dozens.
Slow.
Deep.
Perfectly synchronized.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Nyssa slowly turned toward the entrance.
Shapes stood beyond the broken windows.
Dozens of them.
The Morrow.
They were motionless in the rain.
Their pale bodies barely visible through the darkness.
Their ribcages expanded together.
Then contracted.
Again.
Again.
Nyssa stared.
One of them stepped closer to the glass.
Its smooth face tilted.
Then it spoke.
“Thea.”
Another answered from somewhere behind it.
“Marcos.”
A third.
“Alden.”
Then another voice.
Nyssa’s own.
“Nyssa.”
Her stomach tightened.
They had never heard her say her name.
At least, she didn’t think they had.
The Morrow breathed together.
Then every creature outside stopped.
All at once.
No movement.
No sound.
No breathing.
Nyssa’s hand tightened around her kodachi.
For the first time, she understood something that frightened her more than their numbers.
They weren’t simply following them.
They were learning them.
And they were getting better.
