Camdyn left the infirmary around midday. It had been quiet, so the doc took the opportune moment to step out and pick up a book. Camdyn closed up behind him, hanging the wood sign on the handle that read: out of office.

  The sun was high, casting long shadows between the buildings. Camdyn barely made it halfway down the street before a voice cut through the stillness like a knife.

  “You’ve wasted enough daylight,” he said gruffly. “Let’s move.”

  Camdyn winced before turning around. His golden eyes met his father’s.

  Walker answered the question before he could ask it. “We’re going to the ridge.”

  “What for?”

  “You want to live in this colony, you pull your weight. You’re not a kid anymore, Camdyn. It’s time you start acting like a Madden.”

  Camdyn bit the inside of his cheek. Not with that tired line again.

  “Didn’t realize hiking the Perimeter made me a man,” he grumbled under his breath.

  “We’ve had more sightings along the northern boundary. Scouting parties report strange activity. Creatures, tracks, disturbances in the soil.”

  “So, animals?” Camdyn asked, though the answer was obvious.

  “I mean them,” Walker said with a cold certainty. “The unearthly ones. Whatever crawled out of the Ruins after the Collapse. They’re not natural, and that should tell you everything you need to know.”

  Camdyn didn’t say a word but he didn’t rush to catch up, either.

  ---

  The trek to the outer limits of the Perimeter took the better part of the day. It was quiet, save for Walker’s occasional grunts as he scanned the horizon. When they reached the outskirts, just past the barricade, Walker paused and crouched low.

  “There.”

  Camdyn followed his gaze. The land there had been disturbed. There were fresh treadmarks in the soil, not in the sense of passing through but more like pacing; the indents in the dirt were concentrated, almost rhythmic.

  Something had been there.

  But then—something stranger. A black, soot clung to the trampled blades of grass, leading out from the woods and disappearing in its shadows.

  He wondered what would’ve caused it. Disease? Fungus? Some kind of discharge from a passing creature? And if it was otherworldly, why was it showing up now?

  Camdyn gazed intently into the mouth of the forest, half-expecting to see something staring back at him.

  Walker stood slowly, breaking the silence. “They’re getting closer.”

  “Maybe something’s driving them out,” Camdyn said, his gaze still fixed on the soot-streaked grass.

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  “Yeah, I’ll tell you what. Food,” Walker grunted. “They catch a whiff of humans and think ‘free buffet’.”

  “Or maybe they’re a little more complex than that—”

  Walker scoffed. “And what, they fled their homeland from political unrest?” He shook his head. “They’re animals, Camdyn. They operate on instinct.”

  “Yes, and survival involves more than just hunger,” he shot back, his voice sharpening. “This could be a migration triggered by habitat loss. Territorial pressure, environmental shifts, even a disruption in their food chain.”

  Walker swept a hand toward the dense stretch of forest. “Their habitat looks pretty intact to me.”

  Camdyn held his ground. “It could even be a one-off. Something sick, disoriented, pushed out by its own kind. Delirium causes animals to wander. It would explain the repetitive treadmarks, the black residue. If it’s disease, that could mean a risk. Contagion, infected meat. This could become a public health concern.”

  Walker’s eyes narrowed. “And you want to throw the whole colony into paranoia over a hunch?”

  Caught in the heat of the moment, he snapped, “Well, it’s no more of a hunch than yours, Commander.”

  Walker’s jaw clenched, and he immediately knew he’d crossed a line.

  “I-I’m just saying it could be a lot of things,” he backtracked, his voice smaller now. “And maybe that’s worth looking into.”

  Walker exhaled, slow and tired. The hardness in his eyes didn’t disappear, but it shifted—softened into something that bordered on disappointment.

  “We have to work off what we know,” he said. “And what we know is this: these things have killed. They’re getting bolder. Closer. Too comfortable around people.”

  He looked out toward the trees, then back to his son.

  “We don’t have the luxury of extending the benefit of the doubt to beasts that wouldn’t think twice about tearing us apart. It’s a dog-eat-dog world now more than ever. Out there, it’s us or them.” His voice dropped, quieter but no less firm. “There are no second chances if you start to doubt that.”

  Camdyn hated this part of the lecture. Every time, it was the same: black and white. Us versus them. As if the world had no room for questions, no grey, no middle ground. Why couldn’t different just be… different? A chance to ask why and maybe learn something from the answer?

  But he knew how this would go. It never changed. Walker had buried a son, and with him, a piece of himself. What remained was all sharp edges and survival instinct, a desperate need for certainty, control, and for protection. And no room for weakness.

  Still, Camdyn couldn’t keep quiet.

  “We talk about these creatures with such certainty, but not one of us has ever taken the chance to find out what they are. And I think, for once, someone should. What if I—”

  “We characterize them exactly as we should,” Walker snapped, voice rising like a whip crack. “For god sake, they took your brother, Camdyn. This isn’t some thought experiment. You can’t just reason your way out of the jaws of a beast.” He stepped closer, voice low and taut with grief. “Real lives are at stake. And you’re needed here.”

  Camdyn opened his mouth, then closed it again. There was a finality in Walker’s tone that couldn’t be argued with because behind those words was the weight of everything he had lost. And Camdyn knew it.

  “Sure, Dad,” he said at last, the words falling out flat. But the thought remained.

  Walker didn’t respond. Just grunted and turned, continuing the patrol with the same silent intensity as always. Camdyn lingered a moment longer. His gaze drifted back to the trees, to the shadows curling beneath their branches. His mind raced, a quiet hum beneath his skin. An idea had taken hold. Subtle, but insistent. A quiet, stubborn pull toward the unknown.

  He wasn’t going to stop here. He couldn’t.

  He caught up with his father, but the thought rooted itself deeper with every step he took.

  He had to find out what was out there.