Tom, the bar owner, was the kind of man who always had a solution. It usually involved his famous potato vodka and unsolicited advice, but this time the idea actually sounded useful.
"There's a more practical solution, the old shed near Colony House," he said to the small group arguing over the lack of lumber. One of them had already grabbed an axe to start cutting down trees. "It collapsed a while back. There's a ton of wood there. Planks, beams, the whole deal."
"And they won't mind if we take it?" a teenager asked.
Rick, the bulky man who had questioned Boyd about the talismans earlier, leaned forward. "It's abandoned wood. Just rotting away. Better to use it before it turns to dust, right? Nobody's going to complain."
The logic was simple. Seductive. And conveniently ignored the fact that Colony House had its own rules about what belonged to them and what belonged to everyone.
But fear made people ignore inconvenient details.
"That makes sense," a middle-aged woman in the corner agreed, her fingers gripping a hammer nervously. Uncovered windows meant sleepless nights. "If it's really just rotting there..."
"It's a waste to leave it," another man added, already moving. "Let's get it before it gets dark."
The group formed quickly. Five men, two teenagers, and the middle-aged woman. They grabbed whatever tools they could find. Hammers, crowbars, rusted saws. The metallic clatter echoed as they got organized.
They followed the path leading to Colony House.
When they arrived, the shed was exactly as Tom had described. A collapsed structure, wood scattered like the bones of some giant dead animal. The roof had completely caved in, thick beams fallen over. Good planks mixed with rotten ones. Some covered in moss, others just damp and stained.
But there was wood. Good wood. Enough to cover half the town's windows.
"See?" Tom spread his arms triumphantly, his smile widening. "Told you it was here. There's enough for everyone."
Rick was already crouching to pick up a plank, testing its weight, checking its sturdiness. "Still good quality. Just needs a bit of cleaning."
That was when a voice cut through the air.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
Dale stepped out from behind a tree. Bald, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, with the look of someone who had woken up already looking for a fight. His hands were clenched, shoulders tense, his whole body radiating hostility.
He wasn't alone. Four more men from Colony House appeared behind him, tools in hand. They had come for the wood too.
"Just grabbing some planks," Tom replied, forcing a casual tone. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "This place is abandoned, man. We need to cover the windows before—"
"Abandoned?" Dale snapped, his face turning red. The vein in his temple throbbed visibly. "This is Colony House property. Drop it. Now."
Rick slowly straightened, still holding the plank. His arm muscles tensed. "Look around. This stuff is rotting. And you know it."
"Doesn't matter." Dale practically spat the words. Actual saliva flew. "It's not yours. We still use this place. Drop the plank."
"Use it for what?" The middle-aged woman tightened her grip on the hammer. Her voice stayed firm despite the obvious fear. "It's all fallen apart. Nobody's touched this!"
"It's our land. Our stuff." Dale gestured aggressively, his arm slicing the air.
"Alright, since you don't want to share, let's go. Come on, Rick," Tom said when he realized the conversation was going nowhere.
But the others didn't seem to hear him.
"Leave you alone?" Rick let out a humorless laugh. "We just want wood, Dale. We don't want a fight. Just... be reasonable. There's enough here for everyone."
"Then rip the boards off your own houses," Dale practically shouted now, taking a step forward. The two men behind him moved as well, flanking him. "Cut down a tree. Do something. But don't come here thinking you can take what's ours just because it's on the ground."
Tom tried to place himself between the groups, hands raised, but no one was listening anymore. The idea had been his, but control had completely slipped away.
The tension escalated like fire fed by kerosene. Voices overlapped, each louder than the last. Accusations flew from both sides. Fingers pointed. Faces flushed.
"You always think you own everything!"
"This isn't private property, idiot!"
"Who are you calling an idiot?"
Rick didn't let go of the plank. Dale grabbed one too and stepped closer, now barely two meters away.
"Go get the sheriff," Tom leaned toward a young woman.
She nodded and ran.
One of the Colony House men also ran off to get Donna.
---
(At Colony House)
Jade was still sitting in a worn armchair in the corner of the living room. Laughter popped up here and there. A false sense of normalcy tried to assert itself. He stared at the ceiling with that hollow look of someone half numb, half lost in thought.
Tobey.
The name landed heavily in his mind. Not as direct guilt, but as something unfinished. Tobey's parents were practically his aunt and uncle.
And now... now they didn't even know their son was dead. Buried in a shallow grave in a ghost town that shouldn't exist.
They deserved to know.
Tobey deserved someone to tell them. He deserved a real funeral, with a priest and flowers and people crying. Not an improvised wooden cross.
"There has to be a way out," Jade murmured to the void, his voice sluggish. "There always is. Always. Nothing is... nothing is absolute. There's always a loophole."
He was smart when sober. If he could just find a pattern, a logic, something that explained how this place worked...
The thought died when something caught his attention.
On the opposite wall, near the window, there was a symbol.
Jade blinked, thinking it might be leftover hallucination from the weed. He had smoked too much before, knew the feeling. But the symbol remained. Drawn in something dark, almost black, faintly gleaming under the light filtering through the curtain.
It was circular. Complex. With three interwoven lines, each ending in a hook that resembled claws. Or roots. Or both.
Jade's heart sped up. The air felt heavier, harder to breathe. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees at once. The hairs on his arms stood on end as if static electricity crawled across his skin.
He couldn't look away. The symbol held him. Pulled at him. Called to him.
A déjà vu hit him so violently it nearly knocked him over. The symbol wasn't new. He knew it. But from where?
The certainty came without memory, an empty conviction that scared him more than complete ignorance ever could.
He rubbed his eyes hard, pressing his palms into his eyelids. Took three deep breaths.
When he opened his eyes again, the symbol was gone.
The wall was clean. Just peeling paint. Nothing else.
"Fuck..." Jade exhaled and massaged his temples. "I need to stop smoking this shit. Seriously. Enough."
---
While Jade wrestled with visions he couldn't explain, on the other side of the property Daniel was finishing the fifth window with mechanical efficiency. The hammer struck in a steady rhythm that had become almost meditative. Nail. Strike. Strike. Strike. Next nail. The pattern repeated, satisfying in its simplicity.
The sun was high now, sweat running down his neck, his shirt sticking to his back. He didn't complain. He had climbed in worse conditions.
Five windows in less than two hours. Not bad. Actually impressive, considering the constant climbing, nailing, repositioning, repeating.
His muscles weren't as light as when he started, but he didn't feel tired, thanks to his maxed-out endurance.
He pulled the rope and climbed back up to the room where Ellis was waiting. The guy already had his hand out, ready to help him through the window.
"Doing great," Ellis commented with an approving nod. "At this pace, we'll finish the second floor today. Might even start the third if we're lucky."
Daniel took the hand and pulled himself inside in one smooth motion. "That's the plan." He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, feeling the heat on his skin.
"Daniel, take a break. Lunch is ready." Julie, who had gone out earlier with Fatima, came to let him know.
"Alright, I'm coming," Daniel replied as he started untying the rope from his body. When he finished, he went downstairs with Ellis.
The room was less crowded than before, but still busy enough. Low conversations, occasional laughter. When people saw him, he received a few approving nods.
Fatima stood near one of the boarded windows, talking with Julie. The two looked relaxed, like they'd known each other for years. Julie laughed at something Fatima said, the sound genuine and light.
He was about to join them when he heard hurried footsteps on the porch. Not the casual sound of someone walking. Running. Urgency.
The door slammed open, hitting the wall.
A man in his thirties stumbled inside, his face red as a tomato, breathing in heavy gasps. "Donna! Donna! There's shit going down at the shed!"
The room fell silent instantly. Conversations died mid-sentence. Cups froze in midair. Heads turned.
Donna, who had been organizing supplies near the kitchen, snapped her head around so fast her hair whipped. "What happened?"
"At the old shed!" The man struggled to catch his breath. "People from town... trying to take wood... and Dale wouldn't let them... and now everyone's arguing."
Donna was already moving before he finished speaking. Automatic gestures of someone who had dealt with this kind of crap before.
Some people followed her, Ellis among them.
Daniel followed too, a barely hidden smile on his face. Finally. He was getting bored just boarding up windows.
He soon noticed Fatima and Julie coming after him.
"Julie..." He looked at her, about to give advice. He'd been in fights before and knew how fast things could spiral. But she cut him off, as if she already knew what he was going to say.
"I'm not staying here waiting."
Daniel was about to argue, then stopped when he really looked at her. There was something in her dark eyes. A stubbornness he recognized because he'd seen it in the mirror before.
Shit. She's not backing down.
He recovered quickly and looked for another way out, scanning for Jim and Tabitha. He didn't see either of them. "Your parents—"
"My dad's with Ethan. My mom stepped out for a bit. I'll be back before they notice." She finished, looking away, not even convincing herself.
Daniel raised his hands in surrender. Donna was already outside, walking with fast, decisive steps.
[Taking a teenage girl into a conflict zone. Excellent decision. Her father is going to love this.]
"It wasn't my decision."
[And you think they'll believe that?]
"I don't care what they think."
They followed Donna along the dirt path that circled the property. The walk to the collapsed shed took less than five minutes, but felt longer. Every step increased the tension. The sound reached them before the sight. Raised voices. Creative insults.
Fatima, walking beside Julie, quickened her pace, concern on her face.
"Ten bucks someone ends up on the ground in five minutes," Daniel commented to Julie.
She glanced at him sideways. "Are you... excited about this?"
"Excited is a stretch. Curious? Definitely. I spent two hours nailing windows. A stupid fight over limited resources is close to decent entertainment."
[Your sense of fun is disturbing. Approved.]
"I prefer to call it eclectic."
As they rounded the last tree, a sharp crack echoed, followed by a woman screaming.
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Author's note: A trivial tidbit, the actress who portrays Donna is married to the actor who portrays Dale.
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