I tried not to overthink it. All those books sounded like nonsense anyway. And honestly, why was I even going that far? Sometimes my own brain scares me.
Yeah… kinda dumb, but whatever. At least my "research" yesterday had *something* in it.
If I had to bet, I'd still say the sheep died from capture myopathy. Their muscles stiffen, breathing gets messed up—stuff like that. I've seen clips of it online. Sheep or goats freezing up for a few seconds, then going back to normal.
But never dying from it.
At least, not in those videos.
If that *is* the cause, then whatever stressor is out there must be strong enough to actually kill them.
Kill.
…Yeah, I don't like that word.
"Pass away"? "Die"? Ugh, same thing. Why does every option sound bad?
I just hope this—*trip*—no, research… doesn't come with some kind of bad omen attached.
I'll deal with it later.
Morning came slowly. The air was still cold, but there was a hint of warmth in it.
I woke up earlier than usual—just enough time to pack.
Chase was already doing the same. He told me to bring enough clothes for two weeks.
"Two weeks?" I repeated.
"Trust me," he said.
It sounded excessive at first… but yeah, he had a point. I had no idea how long I'd actually be there.
And honestly, it would suck to come all this way and leave empty-handed.
I packed everything into my old green carrier bag—the same one I used when I first moved into the dorm. I almost donated it once, but something told me to keep it.
Good call
Once we were done, we left the dorm.
The campus was unusually quiet that morning. For a second, I just stood there, taking it in.
Then, right before the main gate, I turned back.
"…Goodbye, college life," I said dramatically.
Chase immediately smacked my chest. "Dude, you're going to my village, not dropping out. College is about knowledge, not the vibe."
"Let me have my moment," I muttered.
"Relax," he added. "My place isn't that boring."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What's there to do?"
He grinned. "Watch sheep."
"…Assuming they're still alive."
We both laughed.
We took a shuttle out of campus toward the intercity bus terminal.
And waited.
And waited.
"Chase," I groaned, "are we too early? The driver's probably still eating breakfast."
He shrugged. "Early bird gets the worm."
"The worm's probably still asleep too."
He rolled his eyes.
At least the weather was nice—not too hot, not too cold. My mood could've been worse.
After about twenty minutes, the shuttle finally arrive
The ride out of Stanford felt… normal.
Students walking around with coffee. Professors looking serious. Life moving like nothing had changed.
And for them, nothing *had* changed.
"Still thinking about that article?" Chase asked suddenly.
"A bit," I said. "More curious than anything. Not scared."
"Good," he replied. "Don't start freaking out before we even get there."
"I'm not *that* crazy."
He gave me a look that said he wasn't fully convinced.
The bus terminal was crowded. Loud. Messy.
We checked the schedule.
"…We're seriously going to Wyoming by bus?" I asked.
"What, you wanna fly?" Chase shot back.
"Yes."
"Yeah, no."
He bought two tickets.
"20 to 30 hours," he said.
"…That's not a time estimate. That's a life sentence."
The trip started.
City buildings turned into houses. Houses turned into long roads. Then… just space.
I put in my earphones, but didn't really listen to anything. Mostly just stared outside.
The scenery changed slowly.
Green to brown.
Dense to empty.
Noise to… quiet.
Chase fell asleep almost instantly.
Of course he did.
"Must be nice," I muttered.
We stopped at a rest area in Nevada.
That's where we met a few people.
Linda. A woman heading home after finishing a work contract. Said she missed her kid. Didn't say much about her husband.
Then there was Derrick.
Mid-30s, light beard, claimed he was a consultant. Heading to Lander for a construction project.
I told them about my "research."
They called it admirable.
…If only they knew it started from pure curiosity.
Later, I opened my notes.
The word "Watchdog" popped up again.
I shut the notebook immediately.
"Focus on what's real," I muttered.
Hours passed.
The bus kept moving. People got on, got off. Faces changed, but the atmosphere stayed the same.
At one point, we passed a completely open area.
No buildings. No trees.
Just land and sky.
The further we went, the harder it was to measure distance. No landmarks. Just the road stretching endlessly forward.
I glanced at Chase.
Still asleep.
"Your life is way too easy," I mumbled.
We transferred at Salt Lake City.
Smaller terminal. Quieter.
Different kind of people. Less tourists. More locals.
...
"Food?" Chase asked.
"As long as it's edible."
We sat with plastic trays of very average food.
"Still sure about this?" he asked.
I thought for a second. "I've come this far. Turning back now sounds more exhausting."
He laughed. "Fair."
Chase went off to find our next terminal.
I stayed behind, finishing my food.
Then—
"Hey, investigator."
I looked up.
Derrick.
"Hey," I said, mouth half full. "Still alive, as you can see."
He sat down. "So… what exactly are you investigating?"
"Nothing crazy," I said. "Just livestock dying suddenly."
"Oh… like that newspaper story?" he asked, voice rising slightly.
I froze. "Wait? you know about it?"
"I've got a contact in media," he said. "They told me something weird."
"…What?"
"The researcher who looked into it?" Derrick leaned in slightly.
"Never came back."
My grip tightened.
"You're joking… right?"
He shook his head. "No. I'm serious."
Then he paused.
"…Village name was something like… Marlow Creek."
That name stuck.
He handed me a business card. "Call me if anything happens."
"Hopefully nothing does happen," I said.
The trip continued.
This time… I fell asleep.
When I woke up, everything outside had changed again.
Colder. Higher. Mountains in the distance.
Chase was awake, staring out the window.
"We close?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said. "Wyoming soon."
Something about that felt heavier than it should've.
We arrived in Riverton.
Small terminal. Really small.
No crowds. Just a few people, a few cars… and wind that felt louder than voices.
I stepped off the bus.
The air hit differently. Dry. Cold. Hard to explain.
"So… we close?" I asked.
Chase pointed west. "Yeah. About a five-hour walk."
"…FIVE HOURS?!"
He laughed. "That's why we need a car."
"Oh, NOW you say that."
"One of my cousins lives nearby. He can drive us."
That turned into a one-hour walk.
At least Riverton was decent. Quiet, but not dead.
We finally reached a house on the edge of town. White walls. Red roof. Plenty of windows.
Chase knocked.
"Henry! Open up!"
No response.
The house felt… empty.
Too quiet.
Chase didn't hesitate. He went around to the garage and pried it open slightly.
"Chase, what are you doing?" I hissed. "That's illegal!"
"It's family," he said casually.
"That doesn't make it legal!"
"Don't be a pussy about it."
And just like that, he went in.
I hesitated.
The wind picked up behind me. Low, steady. The kind that doesn't sound like air moving… more like something passing by. And it's getting dark.
"…Chase, wait!"
I followed him in.
Inside, the house was dark. Not just "lights off" dark. The kind where shapes feel incomplete.
"Henry! You alive?" Chase called.
His voice echoed—but it didn't travel far. It just… stopped.
I ran my hand along the wall until I found a switch.
Click
Lights flooded the house.
Chase was already heading upstairs.
"Henry! You up there?"
Then
"AAAGH!!"
The sound tore through the house. Raw. Sudden. Real. I froze.
"Chase?!"
No answer. The silence that followed felt thicker than before.
"Chase…?" I muttered, already moving.
Each step creaked louder than it should. The wood beneath my feet felt… hollow. Like something underneath it might answer back
At the top, I saw an open door.
I approached slowly. Peeked inside.
And... Chase was sitting on the bed. Completely fine.
Across from him, a man sat casually on a swivel chair.
The man noticed me.
"You must be Chase's friend," he said. "No need to lurk—come in."
I stepped in, a little embarrassed.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Franz Louise."
"Louise?" he asked. "Italian?"
"Half. My dad is. My mom's American."
Chase clapped his cousin on the shoulder. "So? Can you take us?"
Henry frowned. "It's late. Tomorrow would be better."
"But Franz needs to get there today," Chase insisted. "He's doing research."
Henry looked at me. "If he's okay with it… I guess we can."
Before I could answer, Chase shot me a look—and winked.
Yeah. Message received.
"…Yeah," I said. "It'd be better if we get there today."