The sun bled pale gold through the trees, washing away the shadows but not the dread. No one had slept. Their eyes were bloodshot, their movements sluggish, yet they pushed forward, guided by Jonas' handheld scanner. The signal for the outpost was weak but steady, a faint beacon of sanity in a land that felt otherwise forsaken.
Mara trudged at the rear, muttering, "A shower. A real bed. Hell, I'd settle for stale coffee and fluorescent lights."
Jonas grinned weakly. "You'll get all that and more if this place still stands."
But the joke fell flat.
Liora stopped suddenly, her hand pressing against a tree trunk. Her eyes narrowed. "It's warm."
Jonas frowned. "What do you mean warm? Trees don't—" He pressed his hand against the bark, then pulled back sharply. It was warm. Not sun-warmed—this was heat pulsing from within, faint but alive.
Eris lingered a moment longer, laying his palm flat against the wood. He closed his eyes. "It's connected. The same as Mars."
Mara swore and shoved past him. "Don't start with that again."
But no one argued when the ground shuddered beneath their feet, subtle but undeniable.
The signal grew stronger as they pressed on. By late afternoon, the treeline broke into a wide clearing. Across the valley floor stood the outpost—metal walls weathered by rain and rust, antennas jutting skyward like broken bones. Relief flickered across their faces.
"Finally," Jonas breathed.
But as they descended into the valley, the silence struck again. No birds. No insects. No voices. The outpost was intact, but lifeless.
The gates loomed open.
Inside, buildings stood untouched, doors ajar, half-eaten meals still on tables. Everything suggested the people had left in a hurry—or worse, hadn't left at all.
Mara's voice dropped to a whisper. "Where… is everyone?"
Eris stepped across the threshold. The air inside was heavy, thick with something unseen. He glanced back at the others, his face grim.
"They didn't leave," he said. "They were taken."