The sun was barely up, throwing this weird orange light across the Texas countryside. The morning should've felt peaceful, but it didn't. The land just stretched out forever beneath this pale sky, dry and empty, nothing out here except this old factory sitting alone in the middle of all that nothing.
Or what used to be a factory.
Thing had been massive once. Even burned half to hell, you could tell. Steel beams twisted up out of the wreckage like broken fingers. Roof caved in on itself. Walls black with soot. And smoke still drifting up from somewhere deep inside, lazy, like the place was still breathing.
Fire got put out two hours ago.
Still looked like it could start back up any minute. Alive in the worst possible way.
Police cars lined the dirt road outside. Forensic guys picking through the rubble, taking photos, bagging shit. Nobody talking much. Just the crack of cooling metal, voices kept low, that kind of quiet that happens when people are standing around something they don't want to be standing around.
A cruiser pulled up near the entrance.
Detective Dani Rodriguez got out first. Stretched, shut the door with his hip, fished his sunglasses from his shirt pocket.
Thirty-four. Dani was infamous. Some said he was sharp. Most said he was dirty. The people who mattered just said he was useful. Rumors followed him. He took money. Buried cases. Looked the other way when the right people asked. Whole department knew. Nobody did shit about it. Because Dani didn't work for the police. He worked for the syndicate that ran this county. Everyone knew that too.
Everyone except the girl getting out of the passenger side.
Victoria Lindelof. Straightened her jacket. Stared at the factory. Twenty-four. Young. Too young, people said. Too stubborn. Transferred from Houston three months back, didn't listen to anyone warning her. County's rotten. Department's rotten. Syndicate's everywhere, running everything. She heard it all. Rumors didn't scare her. Corruption just made her want to hit something. Standing there looking at what was left of this place, she felt that anger hot in her chest.
"This is horrible," she said, quiet.
Dani, hands in his pockets.
"You haven't seen horrible yet."
Victoria looked at him.
"You say that like this isn't enough."
Dani shrugged.
"You get used to it."
Victoria frowned.
"I don't want to."
Dani smirked.
"That's because you're still new."
He started walking. Victoria followed.
Smell hit her immediately. Burned wood, metal, burned shit she didn't want to name. She pulled her goggles from her pocket and put them on. Up close, the place was worse. Walls buckled in. Machines melted into shapes that didn't make sense. Chunks of ceiling hanging overhead like they might drop any second. Less like a building. More like a graveyard someone had set on fire.
Victoria stepped over a pile of debris.
"How many victims?"
Dani shrugged.
"At least one."
"At least?"
He gave her a sideways glance.
"If we're lucky."
She didn't like how he said that.
They reached a cluster of forensic guys. Older one with grey hair, soot on his gloves, looked up.
"Morning."
Dani nodded.
"Anything interesting?"
The man snorted.
"If there was, you'd ignore it."
Dani grinned.
"Probably."
Victoria frowned. Was that a joke? The guy didn't look amused. Just pointed toward the center of the factory.
"We found a body."
Victoria's whole posture changed.
"Where?"
The technician gestured.
"Inside."
She didn't wait. Just moved forward immediately.
Dani sighed.
"Eager."
"You aren't?"
"No."
"Someone died."
"People die every day."
Victoria stopped, looked back at him. His face hadn't changed. She couldn't tell if he was trying to piss her off or if he actually didn't care. Maybe both.
"That's a terrible attitude."
Dani shrugged.
"And yet I've survived this long."
Victoria shook her head and kept going.
---
The body was under a collapsed section of roof. Or at least Victoria assumed it was a body. She slowed as she got closer. The smell got worse — sharp, heavy, stuck in the back of her throat. She swallowed hard.
The remains were burned beyond recognition. Fire had erased almost everything. No features. No clues. Just charred remains lying there under blackened rubble. Victoria felt her chest tighten. For a second she couldn't speak. Then, quiet:
"The body is so badly burned..."
She crouched down, trying to make sense of what she was looking at.
"...we can hardly recognize anything."
The forensic technician beside her nodded.
"That's right."
Victoria stared at the remains. Someone had been alive. Had a name. Had people waiting somewhere, probably. Now this. She clenched her jaw.
Behind her, Dani walked up slow. Barely looked down.
"Yeah," he said. Then shrugged. "Case closed."
Victoria spun around.
"What?"
Dani looked at her, lazy.
"You heard me."
Her eyes widened.
"What do you mean, case closed?"
"We got a burned body in an abandoned factory."
"So?"
"So it's dead."
Victoria stared at him. For a second she honestly wondered if she'd heard him wrong.
"We are supposed to send this body to post-mortem, aren't we?"
Her voice came out louder than she meant. The forensic technician awkwardly stepped back.
Dani laughed. Harsh. No humor in it at all.
"You're new here, aren't you?"
Victoria crossed her arms.
"That has nothing to do with it."
"It has everything to do with it."
He gestured toward the remains.
"The body is unrecognizable."
"So?"
"No identification. No witnesses. No obvious cause beyond the fire."
Dani nodded.
"Exactly."
"Then we investigate."
Dani laughed again. It echoed strange through the ruins.
"You still think that's how things work."
Victoria's irritation flared.
"Does it matter?"
Dani stopped laughing. For the first time that morning, he actually looked at her. His dark eyes checked her out for a few silent seconds. Then he stepped closer. Close enough that Victoria could smell cigarette smoke on his jacket. His voice dropped, quiet, almost like he was telling her a secret.
"You will understand soon."
Victoria didn't move.
"Understand what?"
Dani tilted his head slightly.
"Do you know about the crime syndicate?"
That caught her off guard. Of course she knew. Everyone knew. Or knew the stories, anyway. She nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Dani watched her.
"I'm aware."
A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. Not friendly. Not amused. Just knowing.
"Are you?"
Victoria held his gaze. Her resolve got harder.
"I will learn whatever I need to do."
Neither of them spoke for a moment. Wind moved through the ruined factory, carrying ash across the floor. Dani kept smiling. And somehow that smile felt more like a warning than anything else.
Victoria looked away first. Back at the body. Back at the ashes. Back at the ruined factory.
Questions kept turning in her head. Who was the victim? What happened here? Why was Dani acting like none of this mattered? And what did the syndicate actually have to do with any of it?
She didn't know yet. But she would. However long it took. She wasn't letting this case close. Not until she found the truth.
When Hunter finally reached home the first thing he noticed was the front door.
The gigantic brown door was slightly ajar.
He slowed his pace staring at it for a moment.
That was unusual.
His mother hated leaving the door open. She would check the lock twice before bed and remind everyone else to do the same. Even during the day she rarely left it unlocked unless she was right outside.
Hunter glanced toward the front yard.
The flower beds were damp and the garden hose lay stretched across the grass.
He smiled faintly.
Mum's probably outside watering the plants he thought.
That explained it.
Or at least it should have.
Still something about the quietness of the house felt strange.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The familiar scent of coffee and furniture polish greeted him. Everything looked normal. The framed family photos still lined the hallway. Rachel's shoes were lying carelessly near the stairs exactly where she had probably kicked them off.
From the living room came the sound of a news anchor speaking.
Hunter sighed.
He already knew what he was going to find.
Sure enough his father Oliver was sitting on the couch with his eyes fixed on the television.
Hunter rolled his eyes.
"Not again with this bullshit" he muttered under his breath as he dropped onto the sofa beside him.
Oliver glanced over his shoulder.
"Back already Hunter?"
"Yeah what's up?" Hunter asked leaning back casually though he couldn't quite shake the strange feeling he'd had since seeing the front door open.
Oliver looked at him for a second.
"Just checking on you."
Then he turned back to the television.
Hunter frowned slightly.
That was it?
He looked toward the screen.
The news continued to play the anchor speaking in a serious tone about events happening somewhere else in the state. Hunter wasn't really paying attention.
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
His father seemed unusually quiet today.
Not upset.
Not angry.
Just...
Distracted.
Hunter looked at him again.
"You okay?"
Oliver nodded without looking away from the television.
"I'm fine."
Hunter wasn't convinced.
But before he could ask anything else—
"Hunter?"
His mother's voice interrupted him.
He turned around.
Amy stood near the doorway wiping her hands on a towel.
There was a smile on her face but something in her expression made Hunter sit up straighter.
"We need to talk."
Immediately his mind jumped to the worst possibilities.
"What happened?" he asked.
Amy blinked.
"What?"
"You said we need to talk."
She laughed softly.
"It's not that serious."
Hunter let out a breath.
"Oh."
Amy walked closer.
"Make sure you and Rachel stay at home today and be good siblings."
Hunter raised an eyebrow.
"That's it?"
Amy gave him a look.
Hunter grinned.
"I mean obviously."
A small smile appeared on her face.
"Your father and I have some clients to meet and we won't be back until tomorrow morning."
Hunter's smile faded.
"Tomorrow morning?"
Amy nodded.
"Where are you guys going?"
"Just some important meetings" she replied.
Her expression softened as she stepped closer.
"I trust you to take care of your sister."
Hunter looked at her for a moment.
It wasn't the first time his parents had left him in charge.
Still...
Something about the way she said it felt different.
More serious.
He straightened his shoulders slightly.
"Don't worry Mum" he said.
"I'll make sure we don't do anything silly."
Amy smiled.
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
Before Hunter could say anything else she wrapped her arms around him.
The hug caught him off guard.
"Mum..."
He laughed softly.
Amy held him tightly.
For a second longer than usual.
Hunter frowned slightly.
Then hugged her back.
When she finally let go her smile returned.
"Now get dressed and freshen up" she said.
Hunter laughed.
"I literally just got home."
"And you still need to freshen up."
"Wow."
Amy shrugged innocently.
"Truth hurts."
Hunter shook his head with a grin.
"You're unbelievable."
"I know."
She turned and headed back toward the kitchen.
Hunter watched her disappear around the corner.
Then he glanced at Oliver.
His father was still watching television.
Still quiet.
Still strangely distant.
Hunter opened his mouth to say something.
Then decided against it.
Maybe he really was overthinking.
With a shrug he got up from the couch and headed upstairs.
His room was exactly as he'd left it.
Curtains half open.
Books scattered across his desk.
A hoodie hanging from the back of his chair.
Hunter tossed his bag onto the floor.
Then changed into more comfortable clothes.
After that he walked into the bathroom and splashed cold water onto his face.
The coolness helped.
For a moment anyway.
He stared at himself in the mirror.
Everything was normal.
So why did he still feel uneasy?
Hunter shook his head.
"You're imagining things."
Probably.
He dried his face and returned to his room.
The bed looked unusually inviting.
He lay down with a tired sigh.
Just for a minute.
Just to rest his eyes.
The house downstairs was quiet.
Too quiet.
Hunter folded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling.
Then slowly...
he closed his eyes.
For a moment there was nothing.
Just darkness behind his eyelids.
The quiet hum of the ceiling fan.
The distant sound of the television downstairs.
Hunter let out a slow breath and sank deeper into his pillow.
He only meant to rest for a minute.
Nothing more.
But the instant his eyes closed something changed.
A sharp pain shot through his head.
Hunter winced.
Then
Bang!
A gunshot exploded inside his mind.
His eyes flew open.
Or at least he thought they did.
Because he was no longer in his room.
Another gunshot.
Then another.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The sound echoed everywhere.
Loud.
Violent.
Terrifying.
Hunter's heart slammed against his chest.
Suddenly he was standing somewhere unfamiliar.
The world around him was chaos.
People were screaming.
Desperate terrified screams.
Smoke filled the air.
The smell of gunpowder burned his nose.
Someone cried for help.
Someone else shouted a name he couldn't understand.
Hunter spun around wildly.
"What the hell—?"
Blood.
There was blood everywhere.
It stained the ground.
Splattered walls.
Spread across trembling hands.
Hunter stared at it frozen.
None of this made sense.
None of it should have been real.
Yet it felt horrifyingly real.
More screams.
A woman crying.
A man shouting.
The sound of footsteps running.
Hunter covered his ears.
But the noise wouldn't stop.
It only grew louder.
Then
He saw the child.
A little boy.
No older than six or seven.
The child's face was pale with fear.
Tears streamed down his cheeks as he looked at something behind Hunter.
No.
Not behind him.
Beside him.
Hunter slowly turned.
And froze.
A teenager stood there.
Around Hunter's age.
Maybe a little older.
His hands were shaking violently.
He held a gun.
The weapon trembled in his grip.
Blood covered his clothes.
His face.
His hands.
So much blood.
Hunter couldn't breathe.
The teenager looked terrified.
Not angry.
Not triumphant.
Terrified.
As though he couldn't believe what he'd done.
Their eyes met.
And Hunter felt a chill run through his entire body.
Because the fear in those eyes...
It felt familiar.
The teenager opened his mouth.
As if he wanted to say something.
But Hunter couldn't hear him.
The screaming drowned everything out.
Then
The vision shattered.
Hunter shot upright in bed.
He gasped for air.
His chest rose and fell rapidly.
His heart hammered so hard it hurt.
For several seconds he couldn't move.
Couldn't think.
The room around him slowly came back into focus.
The curtains.
The desk.
The pile of clothes on the chair.
His room.
He was home.
Safe.
Hunter wiped sweat from his forehead.
His hands were shaking.
"What the hell was that?" he whispered.
The words sounded weak.
Small.
He looked around again.
Half expecting to see blood.
Or hear screams.
But there was nothing.
Only silence.
And yet...
The images remained.
Sharp.
Clear.
The terrified child.
The teenager with the gun.
The blood.
It all felt far too real to be a dream.
Hunter pressed his palms against his eyes.
Trying to push the images away.
It didn't work.
His breathing slowly steadied.
But the unease inside him only grew.
"What is happening to me?"
No answer came.
The house downstairs remained quiet.
Normal.
But Hunter didn't feel nor
mal anymore.
He stood up and walked toward the window.
Outside the afternoon sunlight stretched across the neighborhood.
Everything looked peaceful.
Ordinary.
And somehow that made things worse.
Because what he had seen didn't feel imaginary.
It felt like a memory.
Except...
It wasn't his.
Hunter swallowed hard.
The factory fire.
The horrifying vision.
The strange unease he'd been carrying all day.
They couldn't be connected.
Could they?
He didn't know.
But one thing was certain.
He needed answers.
And he needed them fast.
Because deep down in a place he couldn't explain Hunter felt something terrifying.
The factory fire was just the beginning.
Something much bigger was waiting.
And whether he was ready or not
it was coming for him.