Each step she took was soundless. She crept toward the camp while mapping out three separate escape routes in her mind. Four, if she cut left and risked going back to the ridge. No decision was ever made without an exit strategy anymore.

  The voices grew clearer with each step she took.

  Mr. Suit-and-Tie was mid-rant, pacing back and forth. “My cousin wanted me to come to the base months ago. Months. We’re not even that close. I thought it was weird at the time, but now?” He ran his hand down his face. “Now I think he knew. Hell, I think all of them knew. The government—who else? How else would he have known anything?”

  An older woman— fifties, with an obvious DIY hair-dye job in a bold Shirley Temple red—asked gently, “When was the last time you talked to him?”

  Suit-and-Tie barked out a laugh. “Like actually talk? It’s been years. Our last family reunion possibly. He texted me months ago, though, I never answered him. I ignored him thinking he was just being weird. If I could get one goddamn bar of cell service I’d call him, have him come get us, get me out of this nightmare. But the minute they showed up—poof. No internet, no phones. Nothing.” His voice rose, almost like he wanted someone to blame. As if no one else realized that was an issue.

  A broad-shouldered lumberjack type stepped forward beside the fire, holding out a worn map. “If we move carefully—really carefully— we’d make it there in two days. Maybe less. But we have to go past hotspot territory.” He tapped McChord Military Base.

  It wasn’t worth the risk. Not by a longshot.

  She’d heard enough. It was time to choose. They could help her—or kill her. But maybe

  warning them counted for something in the universe’s scorebook. Who knows when her lucky streak would end. She could use some additional good karma just in case.

  She shifted her weight—and snap. A branch betrayed her

  .

  Everyone jolted upright. The lumberjack raised his ax while a few others pointed their guns at her. Shirley Temple stood frozen.

  She lifted both hands slowly, palms empty, feet rooted where she was. She made no sudden movements. The last thing she wanted was for them to see her as a threat. She could still bolt if she had to. She could outrun most of them. And those that she couldn’t, well, she would have to improvise.

  “How do you know the base is safe?” she called out, voice steady. If she was afraid, she hid it well. She held a blank stare and wondered how she would fare playing poker.

  “Who the hell are you?” One woman in a black hoody snapped.

  “If you come any closer your dead!” A boy shouted.

  “You’re dead anyway. Steve, get her!”

  A weapon cocked. Here she goes again.

  “Whoa—wait!”

  Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, but her voice stayed level. “I’m alone. You’re more dangerous to me than I am to you.” She let the words hang there just long enough. “I overheard you talking about the military base. I haven’t spoken to a single soul in nine days. I just want to know what’s happening out there.”

  And maybe eat whatever was sizzling over their fire. But she wasn’t stupid enough to admit that part.

  Shirley Temple’s expression softened first. Of course it did. She opened her arms like she hadn’t been guarding her life seconds ago. “Come sit. We’re all in the same boat, sweetheart.”

  Protests broke out around the fire, sharp and clipped, but Shirley ignored them. She walked straight up to her, took her hand with surprising firmness, and guided her into the circle. Everyone looked bewildered. Shirley was definitely the oddball of the group, and the others didn’t let their guard down just because she did. They kept their weapons trained on her, ready to attack if she tried to pull something.

  She sat with them on the dirt floor, hesitantly—one of them for now. Or until someone decided her life wasn’t worth the gamble. This wasn’t one of the ways she was willing to die. Yet here she was. If she’d thought jumping off a cliff into subfreezing water was stupid, this was a whole new level of ideocracy.

  She pressed further—no sense dancing around it now. “How can you be sure the military, the government, didn’t cause this?”

  Black Hoodie Girl scoffed, laughter escaping from others. “What are you, some conspiracy theorist?”

  There were literal aliens walking around the planet, her question didn’t feel so farfetched. Safe to say she believed every conspiracy theory out there. They were right. They were all right.

  “I’m just saying,” She continued, “if I were a higher intelligence, first thing I’d do is kill satellites and communication. Which they did. Next would be big cities, landmarks, military bases—government infrastructure. Why go charging toward McChord if it’s already fallen, or compromised? Unless someone here is in contact with someone there right now—and that seems unlikely.”

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Silence. Eyes flicked between faces.

  Someone else must’ve considered this—right? She can’t be the only person here with brains. They survived for this long so there had to be. Or they were running on luck like she was and luck can only get you so far.

  Lumberjack cleared his throat, “So what’s your plan?”

  That was the problem. She didn’t have one. She’d been operating on a single principle since day one.

  “Stay alive,” she answered flatly.

  “Aren’t we all!” Shirley Temple chirped, far too cheerful for the end of the world.

  She offered a hand. “Robin.”

  “Sloane.”

  Her real name. After all the paranoia, the hiding, the running—she had actually given it.Too late to take it back now. Names bounced around the group, though Sloane already knew she wouldn’t remember half of them by morning. Nicknames were easier. Plus, what if they died? A morbid thought but a real one. No sense in getting attached to people.

  And then she saw him.

  Across the fire sat a man whose name already slipped her mind—and honestly it didn’t matter. One look, and she melted where she was sitting.

  Pretty Boy. Because damn.

  Tall, in excellent shape, his sweatshirt bunched up in a way that cut off circulation to his arms. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he moved. Green eyes, dark hair. Dimples, too. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a GQ magazine, even if the world was on the verge of its final days.

  If she could pick one man to weather the apocalypse with, it would be him. No hesitation.She tried not to stare and failed miserably. Her cheeks burning every time their eyes met.

  Good news — it seemed like the feeling might be mutual. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her either, and she wasn’t exactly being subtle. Their glances collided more times than she bothered keeping track of.

  A win is a win.

  Suit and Tie finally broke the silence, like he’d been waiting to get this information off his chest. “Before we stopped to make this camp we ran into the Greys. Like the ones from TV and movies. Guess they were real this whole time.”

  Thank you captain obvious. That explains the blood painted on their faces and death that hung over a few of them.

  His laugh was thin, shaky. “Tall as poles. Grey like their suits. And the guns—Jesus.

  Their eyes look like black marbles but I swear they see everything. They spotted me like I was waving a damn flag.”

  He didn’t offer more. Sloane didn’t expect him to. She could only imagine what each and every one of them had gone through. She tossed her own nightmare into the fire, casual as she could manage.

  “I ran into the rolling ones. Greyish-black, fold into a ball, unfold into something scorpion-adjacent. Charming creatures.” She shrugged in an it’s no big deal type of way. “Big fans of mine, apparently.”

  No one questioned her. They simply accepted her story—her reality—which, like it or not, had become theirs now. Fear and anticipation flickered across their faces as they exchanged glances.

  The teenagers spoke next. “We saw machines,” the girl said. “Huge ones. Tank-sized. Like Optimus Prime on steroids. Lots of guns. We stayed back. Obviously.”

  Sloane tried to imagine that. More specifically, she tried to imagine how they got up close and personal to one and survived. They were maybe twelve or thirteen years old. Scrawny little kids. She didn’t see any weapons on them either. How did they defend themselves? What’s their backstory? She wondered if they were with other people before they joined this eclectic group.

  The woman in the black hoodie leaned forward, voice like gravel. “There are humanoid ones too. They wore suits that covered them head to toe—grey, and one in black. Helmets covering their faces. I only saw how they moved. Maybe human? But they carried weapons that were not of this world. If we want to survive, we need weapons. Otherwise? We’re screwed.”

  “Most of us don’t know how to use one!” the boy argued.

  Black Hoodie didn’t even flinch. “Then learn or die.”

  Lovely. How warm and inspiring.

  Lumberjack jumped in before a fight ensued. “I saw floaters. They looked like little orbs. They hover in place and scan the area like they’re searching for something. I can’t imagine what that could possibly be.”

  Shirley Temple stared into the flames, eyes tired like it’s seen more than they should have. “There has been so much death. It’s so peaceful out here. Seattle is a loss. I can’t imagine there are any survivors. We should be thankful we are alive. We made it out to see another day.”

  A tiny flicker of pride lit in Sloane’s chest. So, she had been right to stick to the woods.

  This place was home to her — she’d built her life around the quiet. Seattle was work, noise, lights. The forest was where she breathed. She bought her house out here for a reason. If she weren’t being hunted by aliens, she’d probably be hiking for fun right now.

  Instead, she was running. Always running.

  She remembered the beginning like a movie she couldn’t pause. A gray, dreary Saturday morning. The emergency broadcast filled the house. She’d been in the kitchen, making herself a coffee to take to the couch and wake up a little before running out to do errands.

  But none of that happened.

  Traffic ground to a complete standstill, people panicking, trying to evacuate to who knew where. Phone signals died all at once. Just like that.

  She’d tried to call her parents. No answer — just silence. Then nothing forever.

  She grabbed a bag and walked toward a trailhead because staying wasn’t an option. She lost said bag two days later in her first real fight for her life with psycho pants trying to sell her to the alien. Then lost the rest of her certainty somewhere after that.

  And now she was here — sitting among strangers, reliving some of their most traumatic experiences to date. Who said bonding couldn’t be fun?

  They gave Sloane water — actual, clean water — scavenged from a convenience store not far from camp.

  Noted.

  They even shared rabbit, roasted over the fire until the meat fell apart in her hands. Three rabbits and two squirrels, apparently. Lucky break, or luckier to have a woodsman on staff. Without Lumberjack, they’d probably be chewing on bark by now.

  More stories followed along with theories that they shared. Everything she’d already asked herself a thousand times in the dark when sleep felt like a luxury she couldn’t afford.

  Lumberjack mentioned motherships. Plural. Two factions, maybe more. Fighting above their heads like Earth was nothing but a chessboard.

  Wrong place, wrong time. Hell of a reason to die.

  Then they heard it — a low hum vibrating through the air.

  “Put out the fire! Now!” Lumberjack snapped, finally showing the survival instincts she hoped he possessed.

  Some started to scatter into the brush, others were stomping embers, smothering them with dirt and panic. Darkness swallowed the clearing in a matter of seconds.

  “We move,” Lumberjack ordered, voice tight. He took point without waiting for anyone to argue. And if anyone were to lead the group, Sloane would vote for him.

  But Suit and Tie grabbed his arm. “We’re going to McChord,” he said — not a request, not a vote. Just fact. And the fact was he wouldn’t really give anyone a choice. He seemed like the type of guy that got his way at all times. He gave off trust fund vibes. Where, in her personal opinion, that type of crap didn’t matter anymore. Put your money where your mouth is. Literally speaking.

  Lumberjack hesitated only long enough for the hum to grow louder. Then he nodded and started toward the military base. No one challenged it — not with the sky growling above them.

  Sloane fell in step, because what other choice was there? She didn’t have a plan. Not a real one. At least here, with these people, she had numbers.

  They needed weapons. That had to be next on the list. Otherwise, they wouldn’t make it far with an axe and a handful of guns. And that hum, it was getting closer.