Even with their constant vigilance, the situation in Arefu kept getting worse. What started as unsettling events quickly escalated into a much grimmer scenario—an invisible assault that tightened its grip around the feeble foundation of the settlement. In the shadows of night, mysterious figures with indistinct faces would glide into Arefu, moving stealthily like hunters in pursuit. The residents of Arefu lived in constant fear, their very existence precarious.
Initially, the attacks were subtle. Brahmin would vanish into the night, leaving behind a mystery until their mutilated remains were found at dawn—each one bearing those horrifying puncture wounds that had plagued the settlement from the start. But what began as careful strikes soon turned brazen. They seemed hell-bent on draining Arefu of all its resources, including its will to resist. They looted food supplies, forcefully opened doors during the night, and inscribed menacing, blood-red messages on walls and fences. The fragmented and eerie phrases hinted at a twisted meaning that was hard to grasp. Every new revelation chipped away at the town's remaining sense of safety.
Evan King and his Watchmen did all that they could to push back against the threat. They patrolled relentlessly, reinforced the barricades, and kept watch through long, sleepless nights. However, They consistently maintained a strategic advantage. Their movements were exact, almost supernatural, as if they could anticipate every tactic Arefu might use. The attackers would vanish before anyone could get more than a brief look—shadows slipping through shadows, specters lurking just outside the glow of the firelight. It felt like They had a deeper understanding of the town than its residents, exploiting every vulnerability in their defenses with chilling precision. For the people of Arefu, the Wasteland was no longer the only danger; their home had transformed into a hunting ground. Arefu's daily life had reached a grinding halt. Fear now suffocated this once vibrant settlement, bustling with the routines of staying alive. The lively spirit of the community had faded away, leaving behind a heavy silence that clung to the overpass like a dark veil. No one dared to step outside after dark. As soon as the sun dipped below the horizon, windows were shut tight and doors were bolstered with whatever scraps of metal or wood could be cobbled together. The cheerful banter of the trade stalls was replaced by silence; their goods were left to gather dust. Children, previously a source of immense delight, no longer played near the settlement's edges. Their laughter had vanished as parents kept them close, eyes constantly scanning the shadows for any sign of trouble. Even the caravans that had linked Arefu to the outside world now avoided the settlement. Word of its situation had gotten out, and outsiders were wary of whatever dangers lurked there. This growing isolation only deepened the despair of the residents. Each word in their clipped conversations was tinged with anxiety. The absence of Lucy West's letters—once a delicate connection to the hope of normal life—felt like a breaking point. Their disappearance left a silence that intensified their feelings of abandonment.
Evan King and Davis West moved along the outskirts of the settlement, their boots crunching on the gravel road as they walked side by side in the dim light of dusk. The waning light formed long, sharp shadows across the overpass. The air was thick with a heavy stillness, interrupted only by the occasional creak of the wind against the makeshift metal walls. Evan's eyes constantly scanned the outskirts, his hand resting on his rifle's grip. The quiet was unnerving, almost unnatural, and it gnawed at him. Arefu hadn't faced an attack in days, but instead of providing comfort, the stillness felt even more oppressive. He exchanged a glance with Davis, the unspoken concern clear in both their expressions.
"It's too quiet," Evan murmured, as if speaking louder might shatter the delicate calm and unleash chaos.
Davis nodded, his grip firm around his weapon.
"It feels like the calm before the storm," he replied, his tone heavy.
They realized that the longer they remained silent, the more likely it was that something terrible was about to happen.
Davis' gaze flicked nervously toward the makeshift barricades, a narrow line forming between his lips.
"Evan, it's happening. People are starting to leave—more each day."
His voice was almost a whisper, as if he feared the very air could spill his secret.
"I've seen it—families packing up in the dead of night, sneaking out with whatever they can grab. They're scared, Evan—terrified."
Evan clenched his jaw, pressing his teeth against the harsh reality. He had suspected it all along, but hearing Davis say it out loud struck harder than anticipated.
"They're running," Evan said flatly, anger simmering beneath the surface.
"Just like in the old days when the raiders came. I can't say I blame them." His voice lowered, taking on a steely edge.
"But we can't let fear take hold. If it does, it'll be catastrophic for us."
Davis raked a hand through his tangled hair, the frustration heavy in his expression.
"People are openly discussing it—even a few of the toughest, like the Mitchells. If this trend continues, Arefu won't just struggle; it'll become another deserted town in the Wasteland."
The foreboding tone of his words heightened the weight of their surroundings. Evan turned fully to him, his expression as hard as the rusted steel beneath their feet.
"That's not going to happen. Not while I'm still breathing. But we need answers, Davis. We need to figure out exactly what They want." His voice sharpened, frustration barely concealed.
"This isn't random anymore. They're cutting off our lifelines—our food, our morale. It feels like they're trying to starve us out."
They reached the place where one of the brahmin lay lifeless on the cracked pavement. Dark, sticky pools of blood surrounded the animal, their sickly metallic odor lingering in the air. Scrawled out on the ground in its blood were symbols—jagged, erratic shapes that Evan didn't recognize. But something deep down told him these weren't just random. Davis knelt beside the remnants, squinting as he traced the markings with his finger, careful not to touch the dried blood.
"They're trying to break us," he said grimly.
"Not just physically, but mentally. They're wearing us down, making us question whether or not we're even worth fighting for."
Evan nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the strange patterns in the dirt.
"Exactly," he said, his voice tight with anger.
"Every brahmin They take out isn't just a loss of food. It hits our confidence. Each time people start to think there's no way out of this mess. No way to fight back."
Evan straightened up, hands on his hips, and looked out over the vast emptiness of the Wastes. His gaze lingered on the horizon, scanning for any movement, half-expecting to see shadowy figures hiding just beyond the settlement's view.
"They know how outnumbered we are," he said, his voice low but determined.
"They realize we can't survive a long-term battle. If They keep gradually depleting our resources and morale, it won't take long until we're done for."
Davis let out a frustrated breath in the cool evening air.
"So, you really think they're trying to starve us out? Just waiting until we're too weak to fight back?"
Evan's expression tightened as he mentally processed the grim possibilities.
"Honestly, that's exactly the strategy I'd use to crush a settlement. Cut off their resources and allow hunger and fear to take the lead. When we're desperate enough, they'll strike. But it's more than just that—they're studying us, figuring out our routines. Waiting for us to slip, to let our guard down just enough."
Davis scanned the area, his scowl deepening.
"They've got a grasp on the layout. They know how our night watches operate. They must be aware of our weak spots. It almost feels like they've been observing us for weeks, maybe even longer."
Evan's eyes drifted to the horizon, where the last hints of daylight faded into the coming darkness.
"Then we should stop giving them that edge. We have to be unpredictable. They have no clue how far I'm willing to go to protect Arefu."
A heavy silence enveloped them, interrupted only by the rustling wind sweeping through the overpass, brushing against the few scrappy plants that stubbornly clung to life. The weight of their thoughts pressed down, almost suffocating. Just as the silence became intolerable, Davis spoke again, his tone softer this time.
"You know, I saw one of them chatting with Ian the other day," he said, a hint of unease creeping into his voice.
If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
"One of Them. It was just outside the gates. It was quick, but I saw it. He didn't notice me, but I caught enough to know it wasn't just nothing. Ian didn't look scared, but... I don't trust it. I haven't let him outside since."
Evan frowned, unease settling in.
"Ian? He's young, but he's old enough to know better."
He hesitated, looking at Davis. "Do you believe he's in danger?"
Davis shook his head, but the worry on his face conveyed a different message.
"I honestly don't know, Evan. But I'm not about to take any chances. If one of them is talking to my son, they're trying to get to him. And if Ian gets involved in any way..."
He allowed his words to linger, their implications weighing heavily on his mind. Evan locked eyes with Davis and nodded solemnly.
"Keep him close. We can't afford to waste any more time. Whatever They are planning, it's ramping up day by day. We need answers, and we gotta stay a step ahead before this keeps spiraling out of control."
The two men shared a final look at the lifeless Brahmin, their eyes lingering on the bloodied symbols before they turned back toward the settlement. Their steps were slow, and their words felt heavy, each weighed down by unsaid fears. After reaching the gates, they both felt it—a looming dread that something terrible was about to happen and neither could stop it.
They called another community meeting that night. Nervousness permeated every corner, hanging like a storm cloud that threatened to suffocate. The flickering glow from oil lamps cast long shadows over the worried faces of the gathered residents. There was a different energy in the room, a restless unease. The quietness from the last meeting had morphed into hushed whispers, anxious glances exchanged under creased brows. News had spread quickly about more families packing up to leave, and the cracks in the settlement's unity were becoming increasingly apparent.
Evan King stepped up, shoulders squared and firm, though the tension in his stance revealed the burden he bore. The lines on his face looked deeper, the pressure of leading this fragile group clear. Standing beside him was Davis West, silent yet alert, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with a watchful intensity that said much. Just his expression alone highlighted his worry. Evan cleared his throat, the sound piercing through the heavy quiet, and when he spoke, his tone held a steady determination, tinged with fatigue.
"We can't keep living like this," he started, scanning the room as he sought the eyes of those gathered.
"I know that fear has taken root. I see families leaving—friends, neighbors—and honestly, I get it. But I'm telling you, running isn't the solution."
A low murmur swept through the room, a mix of doubt and irritation. Their faces reflected Evan's own fatigue.
From the back, a woman's voice pierced the low commotion, trembling with urgency.
"What do you propose we do, Evan? Just sit here and wait for them to come for us? Some of us have kids to protect!"
Her words resonated, reverberating through the room like a challenge. The murmurs grew louder, the tension threatening to erupt into outright panic. Evan raised his hands to quiet them, maintaining a steady gaze as his heart raced.
"I get why you're scared."
Evan began, his voice calm yet sincere as he looked around the room, trying to connect with everyone through their worried expressions.
"I've got family here too—every single one of you. But walking away from Arefu, turning our backs on what we've built together? That's not the solution. If we all take off, we'll be scattered, and They will pick us off one by one. We'll become merely another abandoned settlement in the wilderness. But if we stick together, if we remain strong, we've got a real shot at making it."
Another murmur spread through the crowd, but Evan leaned into it.
"Listen," he said, raising his voice just enough to quiet the room down.
"I've talked to Davis, and we've got a plan. We're not sitting back and waiting for them to come after us. We're taking the fight to them. Reinforcements are already heading to the perimeter, and patrols are ramping up. Now, the focus shifts from defense to readiness for future threats."
Davis stepped forward, solid and reassuring. His voice pierced the tension, carrying a calm but firm authority.
"But we need everyone," he said, scanning the room with intention.
"We need each and every one of you. Those who are here and those thinking about leaving—we need you. We rely on your eyes, your hands, and your strength. Arefu is more than just a settlement; it's a community. And a community is strongest when we face challenges together."
From the back of the room, a man stood up, worry etched on his face, and his voice shook as he spoke.
"What if that's not enough?" he asked, the terror behind his words heavy.
"What if it all falls apart? My wife and my kids are terrified. They don't wanna stick around just to end up in a grave for nothing."
The room went quiet, every pair of eyes locked on Evan. He remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, his eyes darting between the man who had challenged him and the onlookers. His face set into a serious expression, determination clear in his features.
"I can't promise we'll win every battle," he started, his voice strong but with an underlying weight of honesty.
"And I can't guarantee there won't be losses. But I will say this: if we fall apart now, we'll have nothing to fight for."
He took a moment to breathe deeply as if drawing strength from within.
"I've seen enough to realize one key thing: fear doesn't win wars. It's unity that does. We still have that—everyone here—even if it seems like everything else is slipping away."
Silence enveloped the room, his words hanging heavily in the atmosphere like a challenge. Slowly, the murmurs of dissent faded, replaced by a more thoughtful energy. The crowd seemed to shift; while paranoia still lingered, there was a new spark—possibly even hope.
A hesitant voice broke through the stillness—a young man near the front.
"Evan's right," he said, glancing around at the faces in the room.
"We can't just back down. We're all Arefu. We have each other, right? If we don't stand and fight now, we're already toast."
Nods began to appear, tentative at first but gradually growing more assured. A cautious sense of purpose replaced the tension in the room.
Evan acknowledged the young man with a firm nod, his voice softening.
"That's the way to think. They want us to feel weak. They want us to think we're alone and powerless against them. But they're wrong. We're Arefu. We've stood strong against Raiders before, and we'll do it again."
From the back corner of the room, a woman raised her voice.
"But what about those who are leaving?"
"Are we just going to let them go? What if they're right? What if staying means death for the rest of us?"
Evan's expression turned serious as he looked out at the crowd.
"If they leave, they leave. I can't make anyone stay. But I truly believe in what we've built here. I believe in this place and in each of you. This is our home, and we're gonna fight for it—together."
Davis stepped up next to him, speaking with a calm but firm tone.
"The path ahead won't be easy. There'll be nights when it all feels like too much. But we have a plan, and we'll get through this—but only if we stick together. We can't face this alone."
The crowd seemed calmer now; the feeling of despair that had been so thick moments before was lifting, their whispers fading into a silence that felt less fearful and more determined. Evan glanced around one last time, his gaze resting on the faces of the people who had become family to him.
"We'll gather again soon to go over the details. But for now, I need you all to hold onto this: we're not backing down. We're not running away. We stand, and we fight."
Despite the weight of his words, uncertainty started to set in as he spoke.
What if this doesn't work?
What if I'm leading them into danger?
He suppressed the thoughts, assuming the brave demeanor of a leader incapable of displaying uncertainty.
"Fighting's all we have left," he finished, maintaining a steady voice despite the lingering discomfort.
As the last remaining residents filed out, the overpass returned to its usual stillness. Evan and Davis remained behind, exchanging a profound gaze.
Davis broke the silence first, a hint of worry knitting his brow.
"So," he said softly, but with weight, "what's our plan?"
Evan exhaled, his shoulders drooping slightly under the burden he carried. A faint, worn smile peeked through.
"I don't know," he confessed, his honesty striking. "I was hoping you'd have it figured out."
With a gentle laugh, Davis' expression lightened, a spark of determination igniting in his eyes.
"Looks like we'll figure it out together, then."
Evan nodded, feeling a flicker of reassurance bolster his spirit. The fight for Arefu was far from over, and they still had no clear answer about who They were. However, for the first time in forever, the two leaders knew they could rely on each other. They shared the harmonious moment, and a fragile, real glimmer of hope emerged.
Later that evening, the sun dipped low, casting Arefu into an unsettling twilight. Families huddled together, clutching whatever makeshift weapons they could find, while watchmen patrolled the perimeter, their torches barely cutting through the thick darkness.
Then it happened—a loud crash, driving home the reality that calm was a mere illusion.
The watchmen rushed toward the source, hearts racing and weapons clutched tightly in trembling hands. They stumbled upon a brahmin lying lifeless, blood pooling on the cracked pavement. Blood smeared the carcass with strange symbols and twisted shapes that seemed to taunt their fear.
"This has to end!"
One of the watchmen shouted, his voice quaking with frustration and anxiety.
"We can't just sit here waiting for them to take us out!"
"I can't take any more of this! This place is cursed!" Another chimed in, panic etching his features.
A younger man with a pale face but determined eyes raised his arms in frustration.
"If we stay here, we're asking to be killed. This is insane! I'm leaving."
"Leaving?" Evan's voice, sharp and intense, pierced through the rising chaos.
He stepped forward, his expression unwavering.
"Where do you think you can go? There's nowhere safer out there than here. Nowhere."
"Maybe it's not only about safety, Evan," the first watchman countered, his voice rising with anxiety and anger.
"Maybe it's about survival. Maybe you've forgotten what it's like to fight for your life—"
"I haven't forgotten!" Evan shot back, his jaw clenched as he stepped closer.
"But running won't save you. Running will leave the rest of us vulnerable! We need to stick together, or we won't survive another night. Please."
Davis stepped in beside Evan, his tone steady yet firm.
"He's right. If you leave now, They win. Do you honestly believe you won't be picked off out there? The only place that's safe for you is here—with us. We have a plan."
"Your plan?" The younger man scoffed, disdain heavy in his voice.
"What plan, Davis? Just sitting here like targets, waiting for them to strike? I'm done. I'm out of here."
"Me too," chimed another watchman, fear tightening his voice.
"Evan's gonna get us killed. I'm gone."
"You'll regret this," Evan warned, his voice low but filled with a quiet intensity. "All of you."
Then, amid the chaos, a trembling voice broke through.
"Uh... guys?"
The shaky tone instantly silenced the group. Everyone turned to look at the speaker, who stood pale and pointed toward the perimeter. Evan and Davis followed his gaze. And that's when they saw them.
Nine figures lingered just beyond the reach of the torchlight, their forms barely discernible against the darkness. They were silent and still; their presence loomed larger than the night itself.
"What the hell...?" Davis whispered, his voice almost lost in the frantic beat of his heart.
The figures stayed motionless, their shapes eerily ambiguous, like shadows that'd taken on physical form. No sounds echoed from them—only a chilling dread that enveloped the group, weighing down on them like an unseen force. Evan instinctively reached for his sidearm, fully aware it wouldn't do much against the overwhelming fear tightening around his chest.
His gaze was fixed on the figures as the stillness of the night wrapped around them, smothering the settlement in a silence thick enough to be lethal.
The Family had arrived.