Episode 6 - Bad Blood

Part 1

Chapter 28

The freight elevator groaned as it descended into the depths beneath Prince Milling.

Ethan Crawley watched the two unconscious teenagers sprawled on the floor, their faces illuminated by the red emergency light that pulsed overhead. He had more than half a mind to dispose of the Fischer girl himself given her interference these past weeks.

But no. Not yet. That wasn’t how his employer did things.

A shame, because the Red hungered.

She twitched in her chemical sleep. As if, the presence of that ancient hunger stirring inside him was invaded her dreams,
He smirked involuntarily at the thought, while his gut roiled in fear of himself. Such was his existence now. A man or a thing. He could no longer tell. He only knew he had to Seethe.

Ethan rolled out a knot in his neck as the elevator shuddered to a stop, iron gates rattling as they opened onto a concrete corridor that stretched into darkness. The walls here were older than the mill above, marked with symbols that predated the town itself. Their edges seemed to writhe in the crimson light, hungry for something only they could see.

Two men in black tactical gear stepped forward to help move the kids. Crawley held up his hand, stopping them.

“I’ll take them from here.”

“Sir, protocol states—”

“Protocol?” Crawley smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. A tear rolled down his cheek—they always did now, when the Red spoke through him. “We’re well past that.”

The men exchanged glances but stepped back. They’d learned not to question him, not after what happened to the last team that tried.

Crawley knelt beside Olivia, brushing a strand of red hair from her face. She flinched at his touch, even unconscious. Smart girl. But not smart enough to stay away.

“You shouldn’t have come looking,” he whispered. “Some doors aren’t meant to be opened.”

He reached into his pocket and withdrew the jagged stone knife, its surface stained with something dark and flaking. “And others must be.”

Behind him, the groaned, starting to stir. The chloroform was wearing off faster than expected. That wouldn’t do.

Crawley stood, tucking the knife away.

“Take them to holding,” he told the men, pointing to the Fischer girl and the smaller boy. “I’ll track down the one that got away.” The dark skinned boy had been fast. He had escaped.

Unfortunately for him that meant Ethan was free to do as he needed to. Perhaps the red would be sated after all.

As they moved to comply, Crawley felt it again - that familiar pressure building behind his eyes, the whispers growing louder.

The Red was getting stronger. Soon it wouldn’t need him anymore.

But for now, there was work to be done and no one could interfere.

The door had to be opened.

Chapter 29

Rain came down in sheets, drumming against the awning of Fischer’s Cafe as Casey stood there, already soaked to the bone. And cold. More than just the damp November bite of the chill—a numbness that had sunk down to the marrow.

He’d spent a good part of the day and some of the night before just driving. He drove through Iron Falls, the yellow and white arc sodium lights giving a glow through the November gloom. He’d kept going along M-23 until he hit a small Lake Michigan town he hadn’t been too since he was a kid. There was a small motel there, and he grabbed a room. Almost without thinking about.

What he had been thinking about, was the Hopkins kid. Millie. About Joe and Erin. Regretting ever getting involved with Heiser’s crazy conspiracy theories and getting his hands in things with feds, where he didn’t belong.

Most of all, he thought about the wreck he’d become because he didn’t know how to deal. Then he thought about Aly.

He’d taken his time driving back, stopped at his place before driving here to Fischer’s.

Through the window, Christmas lights strung along the interior cast kaleidoscope colors across the wet sidewalk—the mid-November weekend marking the kickoff of the holidays season in Westville.

The neon “OPEN” sign flickered once, then died.

Before he could knock, the door flung open.

“Casey,” Aly said, surprise evident in her voice. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t say anything, just walked in past her. She let him, closing the door against the wind and rain. The cafe felt too quiet, too still - like a confessional after hours.

“I’m closing down.”

“Anyone else here?” Casey asked, scanning the empty dining room, eyes moving to the kitchen through the order window.

“Sam just left a few minutes ago. Why?”

Casey just shook his head, still trying to gather his thoughts, still trying to talk himself out of what he was about to say. Everything felt wrong since Millie had gone missing - since they’d found her body in the river. But being here, with Aly, that felt like the only right thing left.

“Casey, what’s wrong?” Aly asked, taking a cautious step toward him. In the dim light, her green eyes searched his face.

“Nothing. That’s the thing.” He exhaled slowly. “At least until all this.”

Aly nodded, looking down as she wrung the cleaning rag in her hands. “Millie.”

“But before this, there wasn’t anything wrong. There wasn’t anything wrong with you, Aly. You know that, right?”

She looked up at him, that familiar quirk at the corner of her mouth - the one that led to a dimple when she smiled or grimaced. Just then, he couldn’t tell which she was doing.

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“I’m not saying you were, I just—”

“I know how hard it was after the accident,” she cut in. “You blamed yourself for what happened, but it wasn’t your fault.”

Casey ran his tongue over the chipped tooth in the back of his mouth - a constant reminder. “I made the call to let him go home.”

“You didn’t want to ruin his life.”

“Sure. So I ended it instead.”

Her green eyes narrowed, pale pink lips parting. “You can’t actually believe that.”

“I knew when Millie went missing,” Casey started, his voice thick. He cleared his throat. “I knew it would end like this.”

“No one could have known, Casey. God knows everyone hoped it wouldn’t.”

Casey sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. “This isn’t why I came here.”

“So you came to tell me it wasn’t my fault, the way we ended?”

Casey shook his head. “I—that’s only part of it.”

“Because it sounds to me like you can’t stop blaming yourself for everything. But the thing is, you’re just pushing everyone away. Like you pushed me away.”

“And I’m sorry, Aly. I didn’t mean—”

“You didn’t mean to what?” she demanded, that emerald fire in her eyes, a strand of blonde hair falling loose from her bun. “You didn’t mean to shut me out of your life, when every day I told you whatever you needed, you’d have it? You wanted space, I gave it. You wanted time, I gave that too. But it was too much, Casey. And it hurt too much.”

Casey swallowed against the jagged rock in his throat. “You didn’t deserve it. Any of it. What you got from me and sure as hell everything else.”

“I’ve forgiven you,” Allie said quietly. “What you need to do is forgive yourself.”

Casey looked away, out the window where rain continued to pelt the glass. Fat rivulets ran down the pane, catching the colored lights strung outside, transforming them into bleeding watercolors.

“But you won’t hear it,” Aly said, turning away toward the kitchen. The rag hit the counter with a wet slap.

Casey swallowed again, tasting the bitter pill of his own pride, his own stupidity and selfishness. Hell, maybe what he was about to do was just as selfish. He didn’t know. He just knew he was done living like he was already dead.

Aly stacked dirty dishes half-heartedly, facing the stainless-steel pass-through window. Casey walked up beside her, and that quirk pulled at her lips again.

He reached out, tucking the loose strand of blonde behind her ear. She stilled, glancing at him.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Casey said, holding her gaze.

She turned toward him. Casey put a hand on her arm and drew her in, the familiar smell of her clementine perfume mingling with the permeance of kitchen grease, lips parting and meeting. Hands pressing and soft rhythmic breath through her nose, warm on his cheek, and the unmistakable heat and tightness of chest that came with it all.

A distant whine of sirens through the din of rainfall on the roof.

It grew close and red and blue light flashed in the front windows of the cafe through the wet gloom. Casey pulled away.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

Casey walked around the counter and toward the front door, the unwelcome tension of the past two weeks returning in force. A wrapping on the door.

Casey opened it.

Travis Johnson stood there in a black police raincoat, and behind him, one of the feds. Agent Reeves, he remembered. She glared hard faced, and Travis cleared his throat.

“Benson,” he said, voice unsteady but gaze locked.

“Travis,” Casey said, then glanced over to Reeves.

“What is it?” Aly said, coming alongside him.

Reeves stepped forward, lowering the umbrella as she stepped further into the awning. “We have reason to believe one Olivia Fischer may be in danger, along with Kyle Stevens and Austin Topia.”

Casey’s heart siezed. “What reasons?”

“Right now, what’s important is finding these kids.” She looked to Aly. “When’s the last time you saw your sister?”

Aly’s face had gone pale beneath the multicolored light strands. “Last night, at home. After the funeral.”

“I’d advise calling anyone you could think of who she’d go to,” said Reeves.

Travis stood off to the side, glancing at Casey balefully. He thought there was probably a sorry there somewhere, and Casey did his level best to give a look back that said not your fault.

“In the meantime, we should bring you both in for questioning.”

Casey clenched. “What, why? We should be out looking for them, not having you probe us.”

“As I said, there’s a credible threat to their potential well-being we are actively looking into, and—”

“Bullshit. That’s all you and your boss have been tossing around since you got here. Vague platitudes about something you can’t even talk about.” Casey’s mind flew suddenly back to the Sanborn maps, and to Prince Milling.

It was all connected. And this wasn’t over. It was just getting started.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Reeves said. “If you hear anything, you know where to reach us.”

“Yea, I do,” Casey said, realizing that Aly had already rushed back inside, and he heard the old rotary the Cafe still had clicking off the stand.

Travis shook his head and followed after Reeves who got in the passenger side.

The car sailed off into the rain and back down Main St toward the station.

He closed the door, and walked up to Aly, who had just hung up the phone.

“Jane at the bowling alley says they haven’t been there.”

Casey sucked in a breath. They were just out blowing off steam. But whoever had killed Millie was still out there somewhere. And if the perp somehow caught wind of Olivia’s outburst, they might have wanted to silence her. He thought of Ethan Crowley. They didn’t have anything on him, and he couldn’t touch him if they did. Casey was still off the investigation, and even if he weren’t the feds had all the sway.

“God. I have to call mom,” Aly said, dialing on the phone.

Casey put a hand to his brow and felt the scar there. Then it hit him.

“The last place she saw her,” he blurted.

Aly had her ear to the phone. “Who?”

“The last place Liv saw Millie. Maybe she’d go there.”

“The dam,” Aly said.

Casey grabbed his still wet coat and bolted for the door.

“Wait Casey,”

“You stay and call who you need to. See what you can find out.”

She was already behind the counter grabbing her own coat off the rack.

“I’m coming. You going to stop me?”

Casey shook his head. “Nope.”

They sped down Main street, wipers slashing back and forth in vain to keep the glass clear.

The glow of the black iron street lamps and Christmas lights attached to tinsel trees and Santa heads mounted on them reflected off the wet pavement, and the faint smell of Aly’s clementine perfume lingered in the car, mixing with the damp air that clung to his skin.

The memorial parking lot by the dam came into view, its cracked asphalt glistening under the rain. Casey pulled in, parking near the edge where the woods crept close to the river. He killed the engine, and they sat in silence for a moment, the sound of rain hammering against the roof filling the space between them.

Aly opened her door first, stepping out into the downpour and pulling her coat tight around her. Casey followed, his boots splashing in the shallow puddles that had already formed.

The dam loomed ahead, the river frothing and churning as it fell over the edge. Casey’s eyes scanned the area, searching for any sign of Olivia, but the lot was empty, save for their car. The faint hum of the drainage pipe caught his attention, drawing his gaze to its dark opening at the edge of the woods.

As they approached the pipe, Aly stayed close to Casey, her hand brushing against his arm. “You really think she went in there?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain and rushing water.

Before Casey could answer, the crunch of tires on gravel made them both turn. Travis’s cruiser pulled into the lot, its headlights cutting through the gloom.

“That didn’t take long,” Aly shouted into the rain.

Reeves stepped out first, her suit already dampened by the rain, followed by Travis Johnson in his black police raincoat. Reeves’s sharp eyes locked onto Casey immediately.

“You following us now?”

Reeves didn’t answer right away. Instead, her gaze shifted to the drainage pipe, then back to Casey. “We had a credible lead that brought us here. You shouldn’t be involved.”

“Well, I am,” Casey shot back. He glanced at Travis, who looked uncomfortable, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You with them now, Travis?”

“Easy, Casey,” Travis said, his voice low. “We’re just trying to help.”

Casey shook his head, turning his attention back to Reeves. “I’m going in.”

Reeves stepped forward, blocking his path. “No, you’re not.”

“If Olivia’s in there—if any of those kids are in there—I’m not standing around waiting for you to pull whatever bureaucratic bullshit you’re planning.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then finally relented. “Fine. But I’m going with you.”

“I’ll check out the cabin,” said Aly, “see if they went there.”

“I can drive you over there,” Travis offered. “We can call it in if we find any trace.”

Casey glanced at him, something hitching in his chest as he did. There was a strange fatigue or something else in Travis’s eyes. But it would be best to have an officer on hand if they did find anything, and he already had the passenger door open for Aly and walked over to hold an umbrella over her.

“Be careful,” she called through the rain, glancing back at Casey.

They got in the car and took off.

Casey turned and stepped up into the drainage pipe.

“This is way off protocol,” Reeves spat.

“So arrest me.”

“How you haven’t been booted off the force by now is beyond me.”

“I’m a man of mystery.”

Reeves shoved past him. “You have no idea what we’re dealing with. I’ll take the lead.”

“Fine by me.”

When they came to the edge of the drain pipe, the pulsing red light grew stronger, and to the right a path opened up, the jagged walls of stone and dirt seething beneath the surface. That sibilant hiss came on strong, so strong that Casey had to stop and cradle his head.

Reeves adjusted something on her earpiece, then glanced back at him as she started off down the tunnel.

She sighed, then reached into her suitcoat pocket. From it, she produced a similar black earpiece. “Here,” she said, throwing it to him.

Casey caught it. “What’s this?”

“Put it on your ear. It helps mitigate the bio-dissonance.”

Casey hesitated only for the slightest moment, not knowing what bio-dissonance was but at the same time knowing it had to be exactly the strange hissing he’d first heard the morning Millie went missing by the scout cabin.

Casey put it over his ear, and Reeves walked up to him and flipped a switch. There was a sudden dullness to his hearing, then it faded back to normal.

The piercing, doom-inducing hiss was gone.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Let’s keep moving.”

Reeves led the way with her flashlight and pistol, and Casey held the magnum with both hands. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Wondered if Reeves knew either. What he did know was that all of this was very wrong. Where the hell were they? Judging from the direction they’d turned, they should have been beneath the Slate. But that would be impossible. A tunnel under the river?

“Up ahead,” said Reeves. Casey looked and saw a white light as the pulsing crimson walls narrowed.

“Is this all just normal to you?”

Reeves hissed at him and put her index finger to her mouth.

Casey followed her gaze forward, where a figure clad in a black uniform emerged from the opening. Reeves threw herself flat against the wall of the tunnel and pulled Casey’s shirt, urging him to do the same. The sudden motion sent a flare of pain from his bruised ribs, and he suppressed his reaction.

A beam from a powerful flashlight shone down, scraping the edges of Casey’s boots. He clasped his pistol and thumbed the safety. Reeves shook her head.

There was a crack of static down the tunnel.

“Janus Unit Alpha reporting,” the voice reverberated. “All clear in passage B3, over.”

Reeves poked her head out away from the wall, then gave Casey the all-clear.

“Come on, let’s move,” she whispered.

“Just who the hell are these guys?” Casey hissed, louder than he or Reeves would have liked. He lowered his voice and added, “First your Dimensional Bureau comes in masquerading as feds, and now there’s some kind of deep-ground special ops military unit disguised as a logistics company in my hometown.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” said Reeves, her voice steady. “But if your small-town mind can just calm itself, let’s find those kids and save the disclosures for later, yeah?”

Casey knew Reeves was right. Still, his head swam with the seeming reality of the situation.

He nodded silently. “After this is over, you owe me answers.”

Reeves gave him a grave look. “I might work for the Bureau, Benson, but believe me, there’s plenty I’m in the dark on.”

She led the way to the opening ahead, seemingly unguarded. The sentry in black had moved on.

Casey followed Reeves in, a harsh white light consuming everything.

Chapter 30

Olivia's consciousness returned in fragments.

First came the taste - acrid chemicals that coated her tongue and made her throat burn. Then touch - rough dirt floor beneath her palms, cool dampness in the air. Sound filtered in last - Kyle's ragged breathing somewhere to her left, and beyond that, the low drone of machinery and blowing air, like a constant sigh.

Last came the smell. Stale air and a thick, dusty sweetness like cereal left too long in milk, but sharper—a agricultural mustiness that seemed to seep from the walls themselves. Each breath drew in more of the heavy air and made her head swim.

She jerked into motion, only to choke on the dust. The chemical tang of whatever they’d used to knock her out mingled with that pervasive organic smell - like bread dough gone sour, like summer wheat baking in the sun.

How had she gotten here?

The drainage pipe. The red light. Then hands grabbing them from behind, something pressed against her face. After that, nothing.

"Hey," she whispered into the darkness, her voice hoarse. "You okay?"

"Define okay," Kyle muttered. She heard him shifting, probably trying to get his bearings like she was. "Where's Austin?"

The question hung in the darkness. Olivia's chest tightened as she realized their friend wasn't with them. Before she could respond, voices murmured outside what seemed to be a door, and she peered through a small slit opening.

Two men in black uniforms. They each carried guns strapped around their shoulders, and what looked police batons but different somehow, the ends glowing dimly.

Olivia's heart slammed against her ribs. She reached out in the dark until she found Kyle's arm, pulling him toward where she thought the door would swing open. The hinges had creaked when the voices approached - if they were going to have any chance, they'd need that split second of surprise.

Kyle’s breathing quickened beside her. “What do we do?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

"When I say go," she whispered, "we run. No matter what."

Casey followed Reeves into what could only be described as an impossible space.

Concrete pillars stretched up into darkness, supporting catwalks and platforms that defied gravity. The warehouse floor extended in all directions, yet somehow felt contained, like a cube folded too many ways to be real.

Row after row of red metal doors lined the walls, each marked with variations of the broken hexagon. Some doors seemed to vibrate in place. Others looked almost liquid, their surfaces rippling like disturbed water.

“Janus has been busy,” Reeves said, checking readings on a device that resembled a modified Geiger counter.

“They built this?” Casey asked, his voice low.

“Not exactly.”

Casey glanced sidelong at Reeves, giving her a flat stare. “Don’t make me ask.”

“They’re using the resonance to bend space. Create shortcuts between places that should never connect.”

Casey glanced around, his boots echoing faintly on the cement floor. The air carried a metallic tang, undercut by the acrid scent of burning fuel and sulfur. The red shutters seemed to stretch on forever, like some kind of twisted funhouse storage facility.

He noted the symbols painted in silver on the bright red doors. Each was a partial version of the Janus Global hexagon logo, some with single lines and others nearly complete but marred by gaps. He traced the line of doors with his flashlight.

“Alright,” Casey breathed, his voice tight. “I know we agreed to save the disclosures for later, but where the hell are we right now?”

Reeves turned back toward him, her expression unreadable. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“This is a trans-dimensional intersection,” she said evenly. “Janus has been honing it in secret for decades, using ley line convergence points.”

“One of which happens to be Westville” Casey said, his disbelief thick in his tone.

Reeves nodded. “Yes. But right now we’re not anywhere near Westville. We’re between spaces.”

“And above my paygrade,”, Casey muttered.

He turned toward one of the doors. Its hexagon was fractured with a large, jagged gap in the bottom left corner. Something about it felt—wrong. Familiar in a way he couldn’t shake.

“These doors,” Casey said, holding up the bracelet he’d found earlier. “Where do they lead?”

Reeves stepped closer, studying the door and the symbol etched into its surface. “I doubt Janus even knows where most of them lead. The marked doors are the ones they’ve mapped out. But ley line portals... they’re unpredictable.”

His mind flashed to the maps he and Heiser had pored over—the careful study of each intersection of ley lines, each broken hexagon. That bottom-left corner—the missing piece—it was Prince Milling.

Olivia waited hand in hand with Kyle, ears tuned to the approaching footsteps. They had to stay together. If one fell behind they other wouldn’t stand a chance.

Warm air blew in from above, carrying the faint scent of chemicals. The lock clicked.

“Go!” Olivia hissed.

They barreled through the gap, shoving past the startled men in dark uniforms.

“No live fire in here!”, one shouted, as they sprinted away, the corridor’s dim circular lights blurring as they ran. The walls were the same corrugated metal, curving endlessly.

“We have to find Austin,” Olivia panted, her words half thought, half spoken.

They turned a corner, coming face-to-face with one of the red metal doors. The symbol etched onto it was a broken hexagon, segmented in three places. Olivia glanced behind them, the shouts of pursuit growing louder.

“Screw it,” Kyle growled, grabbing the shutter-style door and yanking it up.

A blinding white light poured through the opening, forcing them to squint. Without hesitation, Olivia stepped through in tandem with Kyle.

Suddenly, they were back in the warehouse, the oppressive white fluorescent lights above making them blink and stumble. Endless red doors stretched in every direction, the faint hum of machinery filling the air.

“They’ll be on us any second,” Kyle gasped.

They turned right and ran, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. The corridors twisted into a maze, each intersection splitting left and right, lined with more doors. At the next fork, they slammed straight into two figures, sending Olivia sprawling to the ground.

Kyle swung wildly, yelling incoherently, but a woman in a suit wrestled his arms down, her sharp voice commanding him to calm. A hand reached out toward Olivia. She recoiled instinctively, her pulse pounding.

“Olivia,” a familiar voice said softly.

She froze. Her head tilted up, her eyes locking onto the face of the man crouching in front of her.

Casey helped her to her feet. “You okay?”

She shook her head, her voice trembling. “Yes. But Austin—they took him somewhere else.”

“Get off me, lady!” Kyle snapped, jerking his arm away.

“You need to calm down,” Reeves said firmly. “We’re here to help. Were you being followed?”

“We were,” Olivia said, her voice shaky, “but we were somewhere else. Came through one of these doors and ended up back here.”

“Officer!”

The voice, haggard and dripping with venom, echoed down the hallway, reverberating through the cold, dark metal corridors and the endless stream of red doors.

Casey turned slowly, his stomach tightening as he recognized the smarmy vitriol in the voice.

Crawley.

He stood about forty yards down the hall, gripping Austin Topia in a chokehold. In his other hand, a knife gleamed under the faint red glow. A white light spilled from a door beside him—the one he’d presumably just stepped through.

Casey stepped forward, his magnum raised. Reeves moved into a ready stance beside him.

“Let the boy go,” Casey said, his voice steady. “He’s not involved in this.”

Crawley sneered, tightening his grip on the boy. “He is now.”

“Just stop this, Crawley! I don’t know what they’ve got on you, but we can end this. Together.”

“There’s no stopping anything, Benson. I want to Seethe. We need to Seethe.”

The words sent a shiver down Casey’s spine. Deep down, he understood. The hissing, the red lights, the phrase “the guilty ones”—it all connected.

“Stand down!” Reeves barked. “Federal agent!”

But Crawley just smirked. “Come and find me. Where it started.”

In a flash, he yanked Austin through the glowing doorway, vanishing into the light.

“Shit,” Casey hissed, his pulse pounding. “I’m going after him. You take them.”

“Benson, stop!” Reeves shouted, but Casey was already sprinting down the hall.

Ahead, a door to his right slid open. Two men in black uniforms stepped out, assault rifles raised. Casey spun back, seeing Reeves ushering Olivia and Kyle through another door. The crackle of gunfire erupted, sharp and relentless. Casey fired two deafening blasts from his magnum, forcing the men back, and dove through the door Crawley had entered.

He tumbled down a muddy slope, rolling through wet leaves and thick underbrush. The sharp scent of damp earth and decay filled his nose.

The forest was alive with the sound of rain hammering against the canopy above. Casey pushed himself upright, recognizing the slope of the hill, the winding trail toward the river.

Devil’s Peak.

Through the trees, he spotted the boy scout cabin. Its windows pulsed with a sickly red glow, stark against the rain-soaked darkness.

He sprinted toward it, heart racing. The back door creaked open under his hand, the sound swallowed by the storm. Inside, the red glow poured from a room down the hall. The oppressive hissing sound grew louder, pressing against his skull like a living thing.

Casey moved cautiously, magnum raised, his breath shallow. His mind raced with fears of what he might find—the boy dead at Crawley’s hands, evidence of what had been done to Millie before she was dumped in the river.

He reached the door at the end of the hall. The red light pooled beneath it, casting jagged shadows. Casey clasped the doorknob, bracing himself, and shoved it open.

The boy was standing there looking terrified. Casey looked left and right stepping into the room, looking for any sign of Crawley.

He moved toward the boy.

That was his mistake.

A body careened into him. All of the sudden he was pinned down by Crawley. A hot stabbing pressure seered his shoulder. Casey looked down horrified to see a jagged knife sinking into his shoulder. He screamed and wailed Crawley on the side of his head with his magnum.

Crawley toppled off and stumbled backwward up against the wall.

“Drop the knife!”, Casey yelled, taking everything in him to restrain himself from firing. “You’re done.”

But Crawley only smiled—a twisted, unnatural expression that made Casey’s skin crawl. A single tear rolled down Crawley’s cheek as his eyes flickered, unsteady and strange.

“It’s not done. It’s not through. We’re the guilty ones. We are.”

“Shut up and drop it,” Casey snapped, holding his shoulder. while he aimed with his free hand.

Crawley shook his head, standing despite the blood pouring from his shoulder. He didn’t even flinch.

“Don’t move, Crawley. Don’t make me kill you,” Casey warned. But even as he said it, he realized he almost wanted Crawley to give him an excuse.

Suddenlly the hissing surged, sharp and overwhelming.

Crawley’s face lit with ecstasy.

“You need to Seethe, Officer.”

Casey clutched at his head, realizing the earpiece Reeves had given him was gone—lost in his tumble down the hill. The noise grew unbearable, splitting his skull, blurring his vision.

You’re the guilty ones…

“Get out of my head!” Casey roared, shaking it off.

When he looked up, Crawley was gone.

The knife was gone.

Casey’s breath came in shallow gasps. He turned to Austin, whose wide eyes were filled with fear.

“Get to the road. Head back toward town. Don’t stop.”

Austin nodded and ran.

Casey jumped through the cabin window, his boots hitting the muddy ground. Rain lashed against him as he ran through the woods, the pounding in his head relentless.

Then he saw it.

By the river, a figure stood, pulsing with red light.

And in front of him—it was Allie.

Casey screamed her name, sprinting forward. The figure raised a hand, the glint of a weapon—the knife.

Casey didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate this time. He aimed, and fired the two remaining shots in his magnum.

The figure crumpled.

“Allie!” Casey shouted, running to her. She was screaming, her hands trembling as she pointed at the ground.

Casey’s breath caught. Rain pooled around the crumpled body, dark red spreading from its chest, spurt of struggling breath and the confusion rendered by a gunshot.

Travis Johnson.

Casey’s gun slipped from his hand, his knees buckling. There was no knife. But he’d seen it. Hadn’t he?

Allie’s voice was a distant echo, screaming his name, but he couldn’t move. He’d acted without thinking, and now—

“No, no…” Casey whispered, his voice breaking. Out of reflex he knelt down and put a hand on the wound. “Go for help,” he heard himself say to Allie.

She did, and he was alone, keeping Travis’s head elevated.

What had he done?

The hum of the place felt alive, pulsing through the soles of Olivia’s feet as they moved cautiously through the endless corridor of red doors. Each one whispered something she couldn’t quite hear, their silver-marked symbols catching the pale overhead lights like jagged scars.

Kyle trailed behind, muttering under his breath. “This is a horror movie. We’re in a freaking horror movie.”

Reeves pressed forward, her flashlight scanning the strange symbols etched into the nearest door. “Stay close,” she ordered, her tone clipped. Her hand hovered near the gun on her hip, as if she expected one of the doors to swing open and unleash something terrible.

“I don’t like this,” Kyle said, his voice bouncing off the narrow walls.

Olivia ignored him, her focus locked ahead. A faint breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the scent of rain. She stopped in her tracks, sniffing.

“You feel that?” she asked, looking back at Kyle and Reeves.

Reeves paused, tilting her head, frowning. “Airflow,” she muttered. “There’s an exit nearby.”

Olivia moved faster now, her breath quickening. The idea of getting out of this claustrophobic maze pushed her forward, even though her legs ached from running. Kyle grumbled but kept up, and Reeves stayed close, her movements deliberate and precise.

Then it happened.

A door ahead of them flickered—not opened, just... shifted. It wasn’t like the others. The symbol on it glowed faintly, an incomplete hexagon with jagged edges that seemed to burn into her memory. Before anyone could say anything, it swung inward with a low groan, revealing a hollow blackness that surged with crimson light, almost like it was alive.

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Reeves said, stepping forward.

Kyle shook his head. “We definitely have a choice.”

Olivia didn’t wait. She lunged forward, stepping through, feeling a sharp jolt in her chest as the world shifted and twisted around her. For a moment, she wasn’t anywhere—just a formless space filled with that same red glow. Then her feet hit metal, the hard clang echoing around her.

She stumbled, blinking against the sudden brightness. Rain lashed her face, sharp and cold, the sound of it thundering all around. Her heart raced as she realized where they were—back at the drainage pipe near the dam. She could hear the river roaring behind her, the heavy churn of water spilling from the dam.

Kyle appeared next, swearing as he slipped on the wet metal, and then Reeves emerged, her gun drawn. They didn’t need to say anything. They were back, but the danger wasn’t gone. Not yet.

The neon PRINCE Milling sign loomed above them in the downpour, its red light smeared through the rain. The glow felt wrong now, too close to the color of the doors they’d just left behind.

And then Olivia saw it.

A figure stood on the train tracks just past the dam, silhouetted by the pulsing red light. She froze, her breath catching in her throat. The figure was slender, small, familiar.

It couldn’t be.

“Millie!” she screamed, already running.

“Liv, wait!” Kyle shouted behind her, but she didn’t stop. She tore across the slick ground, her feet slipping on the wet rails as she climbed onto the tracks. The rain blurred everything, but she didn’t care.

The figure turned.

It was her.

Olivia’s chest tightened. Her legs shook beneath her, and her throat burned as tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks. She stopped just a few feet away, staring at her best friend’s pale face, her wide, unblinking eyes.

“Millie,” Olivia whispered, her voice breaking.

Millie’s lips moved, but no sound came out. She swayed slightly, her frame unnaturally thin, her skin ashen under the red light.

Olivia reached out a trembling hand. “It’s me. I’m here.”

For a moment, Millie just stared, her expression blank. Then, as if something inside her broke free, she collapsed forward into Olivia’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” Olivia whispered fiercely, holding her tightly despite the rain soaking them both. “I’ve got you, Mil. You’re safe now.”

Behind her, Kyle and Reeves caught up, their flashlights cutting through the gloom. Reeves stepped forward, her eyes scanning the tracks for any sign of danger, while Kyle stood frozen, his mouth slightly open.

But Olivia didn’t notice. All she could feel was Millie’s frail body trembling in her arms, and the overwhelming relief that, for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t looking at a memory or a dream.

Millie was here.

She was alive