Day 5.
The sun rose slowly over the ridge. A dull mist hovered over the treeline. The air was damp, but it had calmed now. Maya stirred first, blinking through the fog, her body sore from sleeping against the cold rock.
Rory was already awake, sitting on the edge of the ridge with his legs dangling over the side. His hair was messy, his expression stoic as he stared quietly at the horizon.
Maya pushed herself up with a groan. "You're up early," she said softly as she approached him.
He turns to her, his stoic expression turning into a smile, "Could barely sleep but...this scenery of the ridge gives me an escape from reality, you know..."
Maya nods and sits beside him, looking over into the valley they just came from.
Around them, the others were beginning to wake. Lena groaned and rolled over, clutching her blanket tighter, her face still pale from the fever that had weakened her the day before. Ethan sat cross-legged beside her, his voice low and patient as he coaxed her to drink water.
Sam approached the camp, coming from a distance, with a handful of fruits.
"Found breakfast," Sam said, standing and tossing a handful of fruits onto a patch of leaves, "They look clean enough."
The fruits were small and glossy. Maya picked up one apple and turned it in her hand—it was smooth, a bit too perfect.
When she bit into it, the flesh was sweet but oddly bland, and when she looked for the seed, there was none.
"That's strange," Rory murmured, showing it to the others, "No seeds. The ones we had the first day had seeds."
Ethan frowned and picked one apart, "You're right. These are completely hollow."
Rory leaned closer, examining it, "Maybe it's a different kind? Or they grew this way after the storm."
Sam shrugged, already chewing another. "Whatever it is, it's edible, and that's all that matters. You want to starve instead?"
Maya didn't answer, but a quiet unease stirred in her chest. She looked out at the forest stretching below them—it looked different after the storm.
About a few hours later, Ethan was checking his pack near the entrance, cross-referencing something on the crumpled map they'd found. Sam was nowhere in sight.
Rory passed Lena a piece of dried fruit. "Eat something," he said softly, "You didn't last night."
"Thanks." She took it, chewing slowly.
"How's Lena?" Maya asked, walking towards them.
"She's doing better, slowly eating again," Rory admitted. "The fever seems to be subsiding."
"That's good," Maya said with a smile.
Not too long after, Sam returned. His clothes were wet up to his knees, and he was breathing hard, though his expression gave away nothing.
"Where were you?" Ethan asked sharply, looking up from the map.
"Scouting ahead," Sam replied, dropping his bag near the fire. "The path north looks clear enough. There's still some fallen trees, but nothing we can't get through."
Ethan frowned but said nothing more.
They packed in silence. Lena could barely stand, so Rory ended up carrying most of her things. Maya stayed close, making sure Lena didn't stumble on the slippery ground, as they slowly descended to the other side of the ridge.
They moved slowly, following the faint markings Ethan had traced from the map—a crooked path heading north. Occasionally, they found traces of the old camp Group A had left behind: a snapped rope, a rusted can, footprints half-erased by mud.
Rory kicked a pebble aside. "You think they made it?" he asked quietly.
Ethan shrugged, "Let's just hope we don't stumble upon any dead bodies."
They're blood ran cold even thinking about it.
Around noon, they stopped to rest near a stream. Maya crouched to wash her hands, feeling calm, and the cold water rushed through her fingers. Rory joined her, his reflection rippling beside hers.
He looked at her, eyes uncertain, "Sometimes I feel like we're walking in circles. Like the forest changes when we're not looking."
A shiver ran down her spine. She wanted to tell him he was being paranoid, that he was just tired. But deep down, she'd felt it too—that eerie sense that something was off, like the world was a set being moved around them.
Before she could answer, Ethan called out. "We're close! The tower should be another mile ahead."
Maya stood quickly, brushing her hands dry. "Let's go."
At first, Maya thought it was a mirage. But as they got closer, it became real: a tall, skeletal tower of rusted metal and crumbling wood, strangled by vines and moss. Its top disappeared into the mist. A winding staircase clung to one side, half broken, leading to what looked like a lookout platform.
"This must be it," Ethan said quietly. "The one marked on the map."
Lena stared up at it, her lips parted. "It's huge."
Rory glanced at the structure warily. "Looks like it's about to fall apart."
But Ethan was already walking ahead, his eyes sharp with focus. "If Group A made it here, maybe they left something behind."
The tower loomed higher as they approached. The narrow mental door was slightly ajar.
Rory stepped in front of Maya, flashlight in hand. "Hello? Anyone here?"
Sam then spoke, "I suggest we be quiet. What if there is an animal here or something?"
Ethan agreed, "He might be right."
A pause. Then a low voice: "Don't move."
Two figures emerged from the shadows near the entrance. One was a man, tall but gaunt, with a thick beard and hollow eyes. The other, a woman, smaller, clutching a broken radio to her chest. Both wore torn, mud-stained clothes. They looked like ghosts of people who had once been alive.
Maya's breath caught. "You're— You're from Group A?"
The man nodded slowly. "You could say that."
The woman looks at all of them, "I'm surprised there are more survivors. Follow us."
They led them inside the tower. The air smelled of rust and mold. Old sleeping bags were scattered across the floor, along with scraps of paper and burnt-out lanterns. The man introduced himself as Mark, the woman as Elena.
Mark handed them food, some roasted fish.
"How long have you been here?" Ethan asked.
Elena's eyes darted toward the open door, "I don't know. Weeks. Maybe more. Time doesn't mean much here."
Mark leaned against the wall, breathing slowly. "There were six of us at first... The others are gone now."
Maya swallowed, "What happened to them?"
Mark's expression darkened, "We tried to find the key."
"The key?" Rory repeated.
Elena looked at Maya, her voice trembling. "There's a door in the north. We thought it was the way out. The map showed it. But it's locked… sealed. We thought there'd be a key—something hidden, maybe near the old stations. We searched everywhere."
"And?" Sam prompted.
Mark closed his eyes. "Every time we got close… something happened. The ground would shake, or one of us would vanish. We thought it was a coincidence. Then we realized… we were being led."
"Led by what?" Maya asked, whispering.
He looked at her, eyes hollow, "By them."
"Who?"
He didn't answer. The silence stretched.
Finally, Elena spoke again, almost to herself. "The stars never move. The forest resets. The fruits taste artificial. Every trail loops back to where it began."
Maya felt her skin crawl. She has noticed these things for 5 days now, and she believed she was paranoid, but this confirms her suspicion. She didn't want to believe. She caught Rory's glance—he looked shaken, too.
Elena knelt beside him, tracing a trembling finger along the paper. "Here," she said. "Beyond this ridge, there's an old facility—looked like a bunker. We thought the key might be inside, but the place was crawling with…" Her voice faltered. "Things that shouldn't exist."
Mark's jaw tightened. "We lost most of those things as we ran from...those creatures."
"C-Creatures?" Lena asked, scared.
Mark's voice became lower, "Yes. They are like wolves with red eyes and sharp fangs. We barely escaped them. We lost two of our members to them."
"They cannot see in the dark, I guess that's an advantage," Elena added.
Lena shivered violently, and Maya wrapped an arm around her. "We're going to be okay," she whispered, though she wasn't sure she believed it.
Rory cleared his throat. "So you stayed here since then?"
Mark nodded. "Nowhere else to go."
As the day dimmed into a murky dusk, the group decided to stay the night in the tower. They lit a small fire in a rusted barrel, the flames casting long shadows on the walls. Mark sat by the window, watching the fog shift outside. Elena sat near Lena, murmuring as she handed her an old blanket.
Ethan was hunched over the map again, muttering about coordinates and landmarks. Rory leaned against the wall, cleaning his knife slowly. Sam sat apart from them all, his face unreadable.
Maya tried to focus on the fire. The crackle was oddly comforting, almost enough to drown out the questions spinning in her head. She glanced at Rory—he caught her gaze and smiled faintly, and her chest tightened. It was strange how, even here, something warm could exist amid the dread.
Lena's quiet sobs pulled her back. Maya moved closer, taking her hand. "You're going to see him again," she whispered. "Your boyfriend. You'll get out, and—"
Lena shook her head, tears streaking her face. "I don't even know what day it is anymore, Maya. What if he thinks I'm dead?"
Maya squeezed her hand. "Then we'll prove you're not."
For a while, they just sat like that, the fire flickering between them.
Midnight
Everyone else had already settled. Rory was half-asleep beside the fire; Maya, Elena, and Mark were asleep. Lena was muttering weakly in her sleep. Ethan was fixing his blanket on the concrete ground to sleep, and Sam… Sam had been pacing for a while.
He stopped suddenly.
"Ethan," Sam said quietly, his tone steady. "Got a minute?"
Ethan turned, eyes narrowing slightly. "It's late, Sam. Can it wait till morning?"
Sam forced a crooked smile. "Better to talk now. About the plan."
There was something strange in the way he said it—too smooth, too calm. The two of them were walking away from the firelight, toward the balcony.