The day was dark, overcast, cloudy. Samantha leaned back in the passenger seat, arms crossed but relaxed, as the hum of the convoy engines echoed down the road. Tires rumbling from the gravel. The faint sound of old rock music trickled from the car’s radio—Kate’s doing, of course.

“Technically speaking,” Helena began from the backseat, her voice smooth and unsettling as always, “church basements are perfect for supply storage. Nobody wants to dig up bones to steal a box of rations.”

Diana, seated next to Helena, didn’t look up from the goggles she was tinkering with. “That’s not how basements work, Helena.”

“You don’t know that,” Helena replied without missing a beat.

Samantha shot a glance into the rearview mirror, locking eyes with Helena for just a second. The faintest smirk tugged at Helena’s lips. Samantha sighed.

Kate snorted. “I mean, she’s got a point. Didn’t we dig up that bunker last week? Found all kinds of creepy stuff in there. What was it, like… an altar or something?”

“That was a storm shelter.” Samantha pinched the bridge of her nose. “It had canned beans and flashlights, not skulls.”

“I’m just saying,” Kate shrugged, hands firm on the steering wheel as the convoy curved around a bend. “You never know with these old places. Half of them are practically haunted.”

“It’s a church. If there was a place protected from all these mystical forces, I’d bet this was it.”

Helena leaned forward between the seats. “What if the basement is haunted? I could do a séance.”

“No.” Samantha didn’t even look at her.

Kate cackled. “You’re such a buzzkill, Sam.”

Samantha shook her head, hiding the small smile threatening to form. As much as they drove her crazy, her crew was solid.

Diana finally spoke up, setting down her tools. “If it makes you feel better, Helena, I’ll make you an EMF reader. You can hunt ghosts to your heart’s content.”

Helena gasped in exaggerated delight. “That’s why you’re my favorite, Diana. See, you understand me.”

Kate grinned and pushed the gas a little harder as the church steeple came into view over the treetops. "Almost there. I can already feel the holy vibes cleansing my wicked soul."

"Yeah, good luck with that," Samantha muttered, eyes scanning the horizon, or trying to. It was difficult with all the dust rising from the gravel road

The old church sat at the top of a gentle hill. Well maintained according to the report and taken care of by Father Jackson.

Eventually they reached the end. As one of the last cars in the convoy, being volunteers and all, they were one of the last to get out.

Samantha unclipped her seatbelt and stepped out into the cool, crisp air, scanning the area with practiced eyes. The church, though old, had an almost serene quality to it. Its whitewashed walls were still mostly intact, and the bell tower loomed high above the surrounding trees. The steeple stretched upward as though reaching for something, and the stained-glass windows were still bright and vibrant.

A small gravel path led to the entrance, flanked by uneven stone walls. The grounds were quiet, the silence broken only by the faint rustling of the wind through the trees and the sounds of people unloading crates and tents from their trucks. The whole area felt like it had been waiting for them, still and untouched.

Kate jumped out of the driver’s seat, stretching her arms over her head. “Well, it’s got the creepy charm, I’ll give it that.”

The convoy commander, a stern man in his early forties, stood nearby, arms crossed as he watched the ongoing work with thinly veiled impatience. His gaze swept over the convoy like a hawk, missing nothing, though his rigid stance suggested he was waiting for something—or someone.

It wasn’t long before Father Jackson emerged from the church’s front doorway. The priest paused to exchange a few quiet words with a nearby soldier, who discreetly gestured toward the commander.

Samantha observed as Father Jackson made his way toward the commander, his movements measured and unhurried. His black cassock drifted lightly in the breeze, a stark contrast to the rigid posture of the military officer awaiting him. As the priest approached, he extended his hand in greeting—only to lower it again when the commander made no move to reciprocate.

“May I come in?” the commander asked, his voice rough but carrying a certain refined authority.

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Father Jackson’s expression didn’t waver. “Of course. This way,” he replied, gesturing toward the church entrance.

The two men walked side by side, disappearing through the heavy wooden doors. Samantha imagined their conversation would be the usual blend of logistics and boundaries—what could be stored where, who was allowed access, and how long the arrangement would last.

Samantha exhaled slowly, watching the church doors close behind them. The wind carried the faint murmur of conversations and the steady clang of crates being unloaded. For a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the quiet, but it didn’t last.

A soldier jogged toward her, clipboard in hand. “Squad Leader Samantha?”

“That’s me,” she replied.

“Commander says your team’s on civilian screening. We need to check each arrival first before we let them anywhere near us.” The officer shifted slightly. “For… you know. Check if they’re human.”

Helena hopped beside Samantha, appearing out of nowhere as usual. “Don’t worry. We’ll find all the little gremlins hiding under their skin.”

The soldier blinked, clearly unsure whether Helena was joking. Samantha didn’t offer him any reassurance. She took the clipboard from his hand with a curt nod.

“We’ll handle it,”

The soldier gave a sharp nod and jogged back toward the main cluster of vehicles.

Kate sauntered over, adjusting the strap on her rifle. “Civilian screening, huh? Guess they want us playing security guards again.”

“Better than unloading trucks,” Diana added as she approached. She leaned casually against the edge of the vehicle, eyes flicking toward the distant road where the first civilians would soon arrive.

*****

“Thank you, come again!”

Finally, the last customer trickled out, and silence reclaimed the store. I stretched, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into my stiff muscles as I wrestled with the uniform. Of course, that’s when the Manager showed up – impeccable timing as always.

“Marvelous performance, Max! It’s been years since I’ve seen anyone work with such dedication and liveliness,” he declared, dramatically brushing away an imaginary tear. “Here, you’ve earned this.”

He handed me a plaque and… was that a coupon?

“What’s this?” I asked, squinting at it.

“The prestigious ‘Employee of the Night’ award, and a little something extra from me – an all-expenses-paid, one-day trip to Bonetown. Just rip the ticket, and off you go!”

I turned the ticket over in my hands and put it in my pocket. “Uh, thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

“As you should! Honestly, we could use more employees like you. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to stick around?”

“I’m sure. Next time I’m here, it’ll be as a customer.”

He sighed dramatically. “A shame. Well, off you go then.”

And just like that, I left the store after donning my usual heavy clothing and backpack – now holding within the plaque instead of the bread.

I stepped out into the cold and fresh morning air wondering where to go now. I could try to head home, but that would be two or three hours, and after working all night I felt like I would pass out during the trek. St.Michaels church and the supply depot that should be set up there today is much closer, should be just under an hour. My family could be there as well, we did plan to go there, after all.

It’s decided then, time to go to the church, and hopefully I won’t meet any beasts along the way.

…

I forgot to ask how the Manager knew my name.

*****

Samantha’s squad had settled into their positions by the fence, with Helena perched lazily against the wooden posts, her eyes scanning the horizon. Diana was fiddling with her goggles again, muttering under her breath about calibrations, while Kate leaned against the truck, eyes half-lidded from boredom.

So far, none of the civilians who had arrived seemed out of the ordinary. Samantha had been prepared for something, anything, but the minutes ticked by with nothing but the distant murmurs of conversations and the occasional clink of crates being moved.

Eventually a young person—barely out of their teens—was walking down the road alone. They moved with a strange, unsteady gait, as though each step took more effort than it should. Their clothes were... absurd. But what really caught Samantha’s attention were their eyes. Bloodshot, glazed over, as if the person hadn’t slept in days—or maybe longer.

“Is it just me, or does that look… weird?” Kate asked, squinting toward the figure.

Samantha’s fingers twitched around her rifle strap, her instincts immediately on high alert. This wasn’t the kind of person who just wandered up the road casually, not with those eyes. There was something off about them, a sense of wrongness in the air that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Yeah, definitely something off about them,” Samantha muttered, her eyes locked on the figure. She could feel the tension building in her chest. “Prepare to move out, just in case.”

Helena straightened, her usual smirk fading into something more focused. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

They staggered just slightly as they walked, but their eyes locked on Samantha with an unsettling intensity.

“Hey,” Samantha called, keeping her voice steady, calm. “Stop right there.”

The figure came to a halt, swaying for a moment, then slowly raised their head. Their bloodshot eyes were distant, but they focused on her with a strange sense of purpose. The longer she looked though, the more it seemed like the person was exactly that – a person, but definitely someone who had a rough time lately.

“Sorry, had a long night… And a long way to get here. Do you have any water?”

“We have water,” Samantha said, her voice low but commanding, “but first, your name, surname, and home address.”

“Max Silver,” he replied, his tone curt. “The house is called Elderpines, just a few kilometers out of town. May I go?”

“Not quite,” Samantha said producing a small chunk of slightly stale bread from her bag. “Eat this.”

“Excuse me?”

For what must have been the hundredth time, Samantha prepared to launch into an explanation. Her lips parted, but before the words could leave her mouth, Helena interjected with her characteristic theatricality.

“It’s to prove you’re not a shapeshifter,” Helena said, tossing her fiery curls over one shoulder. Her tone was casual, almost bored, as though this were the most mundane test in the world. “Apparently, most shapeshifters are strict carnivores. Bread messes with their guts. Makes them vomit their guts out.”

“Alrighty then, don’t mind if I do.” With that he took the bread, hesitating just slightly, and ate it.

After seeing no obvious reaction for a dozen or so seconds, Samantha deemed him clear. “Okay, you may go further in now. If you want to buy any supplies, they are outside by the trucks. You wanted water, right? It’s in the church, they are giving out free meals there. A couple of families have settled in as well if you want to see if you recognize anyone.”

“Ah, speaking of which, has anyone from my family been here? Perhaps asked about me?”

Samantha answered, checking the clipboard, “No, haven’t seen any Silvers today. But the day is still early, maybe they’ll come by.”