Erik’s eyes opened, slow and unwilling. Erik was surprised he wasn’t dead. He had for the umpteenth time give in to Teraphobia’s attempts to break him, yet here he was.

A memory surfaced before the rest of him did: the sea of human-like, shells, hollow but functional, surrounding two towering Collectors. Rebecca ran, their monstrous, twisted forms closing in as she disappeared in the grass— swallowed whole, as if she had fallen through the world, or did she fall victim to a Groundling?

Erik blinked. Above him, a grid of thin white lines held up a drop ceiling in poor shape. His eyes picked out pinhole circles of light. He watched and counted the circles as he collected the last few moments of consciousness. He couldn’t connect standing outside with lying inside staring up.

Rebecca approached. Erik caught her with the corner of his eye. Her sight was a shock but quickly turned into relief. She looked at him, smiled, for a moment, then frowned.

“You disappeared,” he said.

His chest, side and head throbbed. Blood traced along creases in his middle-aged face. A metallic paste in his mouth. His lips dry and right eye swollen.

“You left me,” she said flatly.

Erik turned his head, coughed, cleared his throat and took in the scene.

He was inside a large room, benches along the far walls and small round tables lay in disrepair in the center. A group of people stood behind a long counter.

Erik suspected they were human but damn he was scared they weren’t. They could turn on him— he could not move his legs — the pain was disabling.

“You left a child to die!” He heard Rebecca snap. He looked up toward her and she spun away toward the huddled group of “hopefully” people.

Erik fell asleep— when he woke again his eyelids sprung open. He listened to a haphazard, manic thumping on the wall next to him. It felt like baseball-sized hail but there was no rhythm to this pounding. Erik looked to his right again. He found Rebecca sitting at a folding table with three adults. They looked to be playing cards. Under a sliver of light from a hole in the ceiling.

Rebecca turned and met Erik’s eyes. Instead of anger Erik saw concern then, when she realized he was awake excitement. She smiled, stood and walked over to him.

“I can’t believe you are awake. It’s a bloody miracle. My mom always said that recovery is a sign you have a destiny elsewhere. You Erik are not meant to die yet.”

Erik’s mouth was dry. His voice cracked. “Glad you’re happy to see me. It’s barely fall. Too warm for heavy rain?” He asked regarding the pounding.

Rebecca found a chair and sat down. She reached behind Erik and pulled away a thermos and made him drink. The water tasted like sand and didn’t help at all but it still felt refreshing enough to soothe his voice.

“Welcome to the Network, Erik. You are one of few that actually made it this far.”

Erik let her words sink in. Anger steamed within him.

“Is this some sick game by the Vampire Consul… you know the outfit of other-worldlings? I saw a Bridger out there— a goat man, a satyr.”

“Tell me this isn’t some scenario they came up with?”

Erik sat up. The muscles in his shoulder seized and he grunted, held his arm.

Rebecca paused for too long. Searching for words…

“You’re angry because I belong to the Network?” Rebecca shot back. He sat near the outside wall of the Burger Shack or Station 5, as the Network called it.

Outside the 4 x 8 foot wooden planks covering the shattered windows, shadows moved. The thrall paced outside, their forms appeared and vanished through narrow gaps in the boards. Rebecca’s gaze drifted past him. Erik followed it— and flinched.

 A cancerous eye peered through a sliver of broken wood, unblinking and wet. From another gap, fingers twitched, gripping the edge of the plank as if testing its strength.

He swallowed hard. “I don’t know much about the thrall,” Erik admitted. “But they seem… different here. More focused. Like they know something we don’t.”

“At least you’ve been outside,” Rebecca muttered. “I’ve been stuck in Black Lake my whole life—even before they built this prison around us.”

Rebecca held her breath for a moment.

“They do that sometimes,” she said. “I’m sure one of us is a target of Dr. Cross.”

Erik sat up, eyes narrowing as he studied her. “Loran Elias Cross is the shepherd of these things?” He exhaled sharply. “I heard rumors outside of M.A.R.S., but I didn’t believe them.”

Erik rubbed his free hand over his bruises, wincing. His other hand, wrapped in stiff bandages, throbbed with every heartbeat.

“Sorry,” he said. “I assumed you were a prisoner, not a local. The Network is what, exactly? And what the hell were you doing in that van? Why would you be out there with those maniacs?”

A partial smile flickered across Rebecca’s face. Erik caught it immediately—along with something else.

An elongated tooth.

The realization settled in, slow and unwelcome. Vampire.

They had come over the Bridge from Kymara—human-like immortals, lurking for years, maybe even decades. Bloodthirsty, power-hungry, meta-humans with too many secrets. Their status didn’t stop them from being arrested and sent to M.A.R.S., so Erik wasn’t exactly shocked she was a vampire—just disappointed.

That would explain—

“I know what you’re thinking,” Rebecca interrupted.

Rebecca explained that she worked for the Network as a Guide—a designated escort responsible for safely transporting people through the streets.

“You were a real Guide yesterday when twenty people, including me, almost died right at the gate,” Erik’s voice cut through the cacophony of pounding outside.

Rebecca didn’t flinch. “We’re not allowed to help outside the street out there called the Avenue,” she said flatly. “Anything near the gate is guarded by auto-guns, and entry is always chaos. We’d be insane to show up. So we wait. One day…”

She let the sentence hang. Erik grumbled, processing her words, her lack of sympathy—and the growing certainty that she was a vampire.

“I’m going to stay quiet,” he muttered after a pause. His eyes flicked toward the rattling walls. “Are they ever going to stop pounding? I hate these goddamn thrall.”

Erik grasp the fingers of the thrall and broke them. The noise echoed through the small building. The thrall, incensed, reacted immediately.

The pounding intensified. The pattern changed. No longer just mindless hammering—now there was rhythm, urgency. The thrall weren’t just slamming the walls. They were coordinating.

A guttural wail from the Collectors rose, echoing through the gaps in the wooden planks.

Then came the heavy thuds. Bigger. Smarter. Stronger.

Across the room, a large man, the size of a former linebacker, slammed his cards down, the slap of plastic on wood sharp and final. He stood abruptly, his shadow stretching across the dim interior.

“The hell’s wrong with you?” His voice was low, controlled—but his glare was razor-sharp.

Erik didn’t answer. He could feel the vibration in his bones from the last impact outside.

The man took a step closer, eyes locked onto Erik like he was the real threat. “You trying to get us all killed? I should kick you ass and throw you back outside.”

Erik looked at the towering man. Without a thought he spat, “You can’t threaten an old, angry drunk waiting

It was pity.

He crouched slightly, close enough that only Erik could hear. “I’m sorry you don’t value your life. But my brother and I value ours. So check yourself.”

The man stared. Whatever anger had been simmering behind his eyes flickered—then faded. What replaced it wasn’t fear or rage.

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned.

The tall man stood in front of the others in Station 5.

“Listen up,” he called out, his voice sharp enough to cut through the pounding outside. “This is different. They’re not just hammering at the walls. This man drew the abominations, called the Collectors here, so we are all going to die. 

Erik exhaled, running a hand over his face. “They were not after me!” He shouted. They didn’t even know I was there half the time.”

Sean’s head snapped toward him. “What?”

Erik hesitated. He looked at Rebecca and she shook her head. “If they were after me, they would have killed me. I think they wanted her.”

Rebecca frowned. 

“There is something strange with this girl. She is not normal…” He continued but Rebecca stepped close to him and jammed her heel into the side of his foot. 

“They were hunting. Yes,” she admitted stepping in front of the group. “…but it’s not me. I don’t know why the Collectors want us but we only have a few moments.”

Another impact rocked the structure as the Collectors focused on the same section of the outside wall. The plywood inside groaned. The metal nails struggled to paste the wood to the building frame. 

The thought sent a cold weight settling in Erik’s gut.

Sean rubbed a hand over his jaw. “We don’t have time for bullshit. Board up anything loose, check the weapons, and someone keep an eye on that back exit.”

His gaze flicked back to Erik. “And you—try not to make things worse.”

Erik stood behind Sean Garrison. Sean— a large, broad-shouldered man whose very presence commanded attention. He wasn’t just a survivor; he was one-half of the infamous Garrison brothers, the outlaws of Black Lake.

For years, Erik watched from the streets as Sean and his brother terrorized the region. Often slipping past the Black Shirts and avoiding persecution, like it was a game. 

They moved with reckless confidence, fearless and untouchable.

Erik had envied Erik the freedom they seemed to have. The wild abandon he never allowed himself. 

While the Garrisons laughed in the face of consequences, Erik spent the time shackled by it — trapped inside his own regret. His memories that haunt him. 

Erik could clearly see the fangs now as she spat angrily. He was intimidated by the thoughts, brought to mind by the movies and books of yester-years. Rebecca pointed toward a group clustered behind the counter. Erik followed her order and headed that direction.

“Suck it Sean Garrison,” Erik said impulsively. 

“I don’t make things worse.” 

Sean spun and faced Erik in a second.

His eyes flared— a warning, a challenge.

Erik stepped back regretting his outburst.

Erik became increasingly uncomfortable. 

The outlaw Sean Garrison growled and stepped forward. 

Erik stepped back and struck the plywood nailed to the wall. A trio of fingers from scratched at his pant leg.

Erik kept his eyes on the outlaw.

He felt as if Sean was trying to say words but nothing came out. Watched as the man’s lips moved to form silent words.

… ….

Erik barely noticed the thin, dark-skinned man stepping in between the two. He stood chest-height of Sean, slightly shorter than Erik. 

This is not the time!” Andrew Garrison snapped.

Before Sean could step closer, Andrew slammed a hand against his chest—hard.

The impact echoed through the room, a sharp crack against the tension.

Sean staggered back half a step, more out of surprise than force, his head snapped toward his brother.

For a second, it looked like he might retaliate.

But Andrew held his gaze, unflinching.

“This idiot is going to get us killed, I know it.” Sean spat.

“Focus,” Andrew said, voice low but firm. “The thrall don’t give a damn about this man, even if he’s an idiot. Remember me and you brother. We got this all planned out.

Sean exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. Then, slowly, he backed off.

Andrew turned his brother away from Erik and both men walked away. Erik turned and snatched the fingers tugging at his pants.

The owner of the fingers howled in pain, which caused Erik to stumble and fall. He heard a grunt and the Collector pulled itself together. The banging stopped. The silence hung in the air as the entire room noticed. Fear began to rumble up from deep within him. He looked at the others inside the building. Sean Garrison sat across from his brother near the center of the lobby. Two other strangers stood and stared at Erik as Sean pretended he wasn’t mad. To the right was a small group, including Rebecca. They looked in his direction and waited for something to happen. As the silence continued and tension built others began to appear till 13 people stood and waited for whatever was going to happen next.

The thrall had stopped pounding on the walls of the Burger Place but the silence wasn’t pleasant. Erik stood near the front of the restaurant. Crude plywood covered large plate-glass windows. 

He looked outside, peeking from a crack in the wooden barrier. The glass, covered in handprints and grime made visibility poor, but he could make out non-movable human shapes.

The thrall stood motionless like a horrific army at attention. The taller Collectors walked between the haphazard rows the thrall had created. 

Erik’s stomach twisted. He knew something was wrong but he couldn’t put together just what that was. The thrall didn’t stand around on a whim. They fell asleep after some inactivity but now they stood motionless, like they were waiting for a command.

He pulled back from the barrier and turned. He ran into Rebecca. 

“What is wrong with you,” she said. “This is not good…”

“Have you seen them do this before?” Erik asked as Rebecca pulled on his arm. 

“ I have,” she responded panic in her voice.“They’re organizing a breach of the Station 5. They don’t normally do this unless they want one of us very badly.” Rebecca replied.

“That’s you, they want you for what you are.” Erik said loud enough to make her stop and everyone in the room to turn. 

“I know what you are,” Erik continued. “You’re a vampire.” 

A few of the newer prisoners gasp but most didn’t and the room got quiet. Erik took a moment to regroup. He looked around to see every human-like pair of eyes stare at him. 

“You’re an asshole, you know. No wonder no one likes you. That pair there…” She said pointing to Sean and Andrew. “The Outlaw Baker brothers know who you are… they were outside with you. They know you have some sob story about your family but they don’t care because you are miserable. You were a sign that says kill me now!”

Rebecca was screaming. She’d had enough. 

“I shouldn’t have saved you. Go sit down with the other Transient Residents. Sit down and shut up.” 

Erik began moved toward the group. He felt the weight of the groups eyes upon him. 

Something felt off and he immediately recognized it. A sudden sinking feeling.

His stomach tightened. 

Erik looked back at Rebecca. 

She stood still.

Not a breath. Not a twitch.

He glanced at the others. Their expressions were tight, unreadable. They weren’t looking at her. They were looking at him.

The realization slammed into him like a fist to the ribs.

She’s not real.

His jaw clenched. His hands curled into fists.

He swore under his breath, anger burning through him—not at Rebecca, not even at the others.

At himself.

He should have recognized it sooner. But they always felt so damn real.

It was never the mirages that terrified him, it wasn’t their fault.

It was the way the normals reacted when they saw him talking to nothing.

He was ready to fight. He waited. He stared at the group of men playing cards — the other group? 

Sean Garrison shook his head. His brother stepped forward. A man from the other side of the room broke the uncomfortable silence by shouting. 

“Who you talking too?”

Erik swallowed hard. He could lie or he could just admit it. 

“I have a condition. I’m managing it. Can we figure out what those monsters are doing outside please? Do we have an escape plan?”

He looked to the group and they stood quiet. 

“Can we do something!?”

This prompted Sean to walk toward him. The other man also started toward him.

THUD

The walls shuddered. Something crashed outside. A scream burst forward, like a battle charge, then a cacophony of punches struck from every direction. The plywood-covered windows struggled to stay upon the walls as the mob of thrall all struck at once.

The group of survivors inside gasp.

The card table was upended. 

Some ran and disappeared behind the thin rows that used to prepare fast food. Others stood and watched, frozen in fear or curiosity. 

Erik wasn’t going to wait and he ran to the very rear of the store. At the rear was a red metal door upon the door was letters that spelled

EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY

Alarm will sound

He shoved the door but it didn’t budge. 

“What are we going to do, hide in the walk-in freezer!” Erik shouts. His breathing increases and he begins to panic.

A man, dressed in black fatigues approaches Erik carefully. 

“I think we can handle this a little better,” he says trying to reassure Erik. 

“Handle something better? You’re asking me if I can handle something better, black shirt!” Erik growls and steps forward. 

Marcus steps back to counter. He grabs a nightstick hanging from a utility belt.

“You going to use that on me?” Erik said as he stared through the hefty man. Behind him stood a vision of his daughter, which made him shiver. He closed his eyes and opened them to see she was gone. 

He took a breath. Seeing Anne always took his breath away. He always knew she was a mirage but it was always a shock.

“You need to calm down man,” the man shouted, interrupting the moment.

Erik was ready to snap back but the mirage took a moment from him. After that moment a loud CRACK draws attention as on of the sheets of plywood comes crashing down.

— —

A second large piece of plywood crashed to the floor, the sound echoed through the small building like a gunshot. Cracks spidered out across the laminated glass. Some sections bowed inward, ready to collapse. 

Outside hundreds of thrall stand waiting. Some sway like reeds near a pond. Others stand, no movement at all, sleeping.

The humans within the Burger Place gasp. Overwhelmed by the numbers. 

“Why are you not helping these people!” Rebecca screamed. Erik jumped. She stood beside him. “The thrall are coming in here, obviously. The window, hell the building will not stand this abuse,” she continued.

“Why are you haunting me?” Erik snapped, voice rising with panic.

He turned and found himself face to face with Marcus.

“You’re a crazy spook,” Marcus spat. But instead of swinging, he just turned and walked away.

Erik swallowed hard, closed his eyes and tried to reset. 

He opened his eyes. 

Something thumped hard against the laminated glass. The cracks creaked angrily and spread. 

Erik turned toward the glass to see a full-grown, thrall man rolling down the glass. He landed upon the outstretched arms of other thrall, who quickly dropped him to the ground. 

The thrall pushed forward. The laminated window groaned. 

Erik watched the mob outside as they shoved each other in an organized effort to push the glass from its frame. A Collector, larger than the other thrall, stood in the center of the mob. The thrall crowded around it. Erik watched as the steroid-laden monster snatched a thrall up and toss it into the building.

The entire building shuttered. 

“We need to get out of here,” Erik said to Sean, Andrew stood beside him. The other two men, Marcus and a wiry, tattooed man stood in the kitchen with him. 

“Is it only the five of us?” Erik asked.

“Six with the one you have been talking too,” growled Marcus.

“Right six with Rebecca,” Erik knew she was a figment, a made-up adviser, but he also knew that everyone else already had a reason to not like him so why not embrace it. 

“Rebecca says she was a Guide and there was an escape tunnel.

“He talks like she right here. There is no one here!” Marcus screams. 

“Black shirt scum,” Erik lost it. He step forward and shoved the former MARS prison guard. Marcus fell backward into the wiry man, who shoved him back. Fists fly. Erik ducked the first. Struck with the second and tumbled over the card table. He got to his feet as fast as his middle-aged body would. He prepared to be overwhelmed. The men in the restaurant seemed ready to turn him into paste. 

The glass from the window shattered, pieces sprayed everywhere. 

Erik stood. He ran to the back of the restaurant. 

The thrall seemed to be cheering but the chatter was largely unintelligible. The group has near seconds to find the escape hatch and leave.

Erik searched the walls. He searched fallen racks of long expired food for clues. 

Erik listened as the thrall stumbled over each other. The human men cursed and paced, trying to plan their escape. 

A large metal door, that used to be the exit, sat to Erik’s left but it wasn’t budging. He had tried it a bit earlier. The others slammed into the door but it didn’t move. 

“Why doesn’t the door open?”

The answer came to him in seconds.

“It’s a Harrowed door!” He said loudly. 

“They blocked the door so no thrall could come in. This means that the escape hatch is the same thing. It’s hidden behind a wall.”

“Help me throw all this crap in the way of the thrall coming in,” he commanded. 

Sean was first to help, then his brother. They began to build a metal pile of shelves, stoves and anything that could be moved. Erik didn’t even want to know what the thrall were doing but he could hear them closing in. 

He ran his hands along the plaster outside wall then a metal wall. The metal was cold— “Insulated… it’s in the cooler. There has to be a door here, somewhere.”

Shots rang out. The sound overwhelmed all the other sounds and he winced for a moment. He opened his eyes and saw it. A rectangular ledge that didn’t belong. He swiped down and it busted open to reveal a long, slender handle. He pulled and the thick door opened. Inside was dark, smelled like mold but he saw an entrance. Inside the entrance was a faint light. 

“In here, let’s go… now!” 

Sean, Andrew were first followed by Marcus. Erik waited for the wiry man but once he saw the first thrall he pulled the door shut. A metal post stood beside the door. He set it carefully within welded straps to secure the door.