No safe place

The truck roared down the country highway, its headlights cutting a frantic path through the darkness.

Inside, the boys sat in stunned silence.

Ben’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel.

Mark stared blankly ahead, his chest heaving.

Dylan kept glancing over his shoulder, half expecting to see Willy sprinting after them out of the darkness.

No one spoke until they reached the safety of town.

Ben jerked the truck into the driveway of their friend’s house, killed the engine, and turned to the others.

“We can’t tell anyone,” he said hoarsely.

Mark shook his head violently.

“Are you crazy? We have to tell the cops — tell someone! That guy… those people… they’re still out there!”

Ben leaned his forehead against the steering wheel, trying to breathe.

“And say what, Mark? That we snuck onto state property because of a dare? That we saw ghosts? That some psycho tried to eat us?”

Dylan finally spoke, his voice small:

“What if they don’t believe us?”

The truck sat silent for a long moment, the weight of it all sinking in.

They knew they had survived something no one else could possibly understand.

But deep down, a darker fear gnawed at them:

Willy was still free.

And maybe… just maybe… he was looking for them.

Ben didn’t even remember pulling into Chase’s driveway.

His hands were still trembling on the steering wheel when Mark reached over and shut the truck off.

The three boys sat in silence for a long moment, staring at nothing.

The night outside felt too quiet now, like the world was holding its breath.

“We can’t stay here,” Dylan finally said.

His voice cracked.

“If that freak followed us… Chase’s whole family could be in danger.”

Ben rubbed his hands over his face, trying to think.

“He’s not going to follow us here,” Ben muttered, but even he didn’t believe it.

“We lost him back at the gates. And besides, the police were already there.”

Mark shook his head, fists clenched in his lap.

“You don’t get it, Ben. Willy wasn’t scared of anything.

Not the alarms, not the guards.

Not even getting caught.

You saw the look in his eyes.

He liked the chase.”

A sudden tap at the truck window made them all jump.

It was Chase — their friend — peering inside with a confused frown.

Ben forced himself to open the door, trying to act normal, but he stumbled getting out, his legs shaking from the adrenaline crash.

“Dude,” Chase said, eyeing them, “what the hell happened? You all look like you saw a ghost.”

Ben almost laughed — almost.

“Something like that,” he said, managing a weak smile.

“Listen… we can’t stay. Just needed to make sure we weren’t being followed.”

Chase’s brow furrowed deeper.

“Followed? Bro, you’re making no sense.”

Ben clapped him on the shoulder.

“We’ll explain later. We gotta go.”

Before Chase could ask more questions, Ben, Mark, and Dylan piled back into the truck.

Ben peeled out of the driveway, tires screeching.

(Later that night)

They didn’t go home.

They couldn’t.

Somehow, deep in their guts, they knew — going home would make them easy targets.

Instead, they parked at an all-night diner on the edge of town, sitting in a corner booth with untouched plates of food in front of them.

Mark kept glancing at the window, half expecting to see a wild-eyed figure grinning back at him from the dark.

Dylan was scribbling random words into a napkin, just to keep his hands busy.

Ben stared at his untouched burger, his mind spinning.

What the hell did Nadia mean?

Why couldn’t she leave? Why would she say ‘it would miss me’?

A shiver ran down his spine.

What if Terrell State wasn’t just a place for the insane…

What if it was insane itself?

What if it was alive?

Suddenly, Dylan’s phone buzzed against the table.

The boys all jumped.

Dylan grabbed it, fumbling.

Unknown Number.

He answered, hand shaking.

“…hello?”

Nothing.

Just heavy breathing on the other end.

“Who is this?” Dylan said, voice cracking.

The breathing stopped.

And then — soft, almost like a whisper — a voice spoke.

“You forgot something.”

The line went dead.

Dylan dropped the phone like it burned him.

Mark grabbed it, staring at the blank screen, while Ben leaned in, heart hammering.

“Who was it?” Ben demanded.

Dylan shook his head.

“I don’t know… it was like… someone… something… and they said we forgot something.”

Ben’s stomach dropped.

Had they left something behind? Had they — without knowing — given Willy a way to track them?

Across the diner, a man sat alone at the counter, sipping coffee.

He wore a gray hoodie pulled low over his face, but something about him felt wrong.

His hands were stained… like rust, or dried blood.

When he looked up briefly, Mark caught a glimpse of yellowed, cracked teeth — and a wild grin that sent ice down his spine.

Mark nudged the others, voice tight.

“Guys… we need to leave. Now.”

Ben followed his gaze — and his blood froze.

The man was watching them.

Grinning.

Waiting.

Ben didn’t wait. He threw a handful of bills onto the table and shoved Dylan and Mark toward the door.

“Move. Now.”

The bell over the diner door jingled as they stumbled out into the night.

Ben turned one last time and saw the man in the hoodie rise slowly from his stool, still smiling, still watching.

The boys sprinted for the truck, throwing themselves inside, locking the doors.

Ben jammed the key into the ignition — but the engine coughed and sputtered.

“Come on!” Ben yelled, pounding the steering wheel.

The man was walking toward them now. Not running — just strolling, like he had all the time in the world.

The engine finally roared to life.

Ben slammed the truck into reverse and peeled out of the parking lot, tires screeching again.

They drove in silence for what felt like forever, the empty Texas backroads stretching out in the darkness.

Finally, when Ben was sure they weren’t being followed, he pulled off onto a dirt road surrounded by trees.

He killed the headlights and sat there, breathing hard.

Mark spoke first, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We have to go back.”

Ben and Dylan turned to stare at him.

“What?” Dylan barked. “Are you out of your freaking mind? After everything we just went through?”

Mark shook his head.

“Think about it. That place… it’s alive, somehow. Nadia said it wouldn’t let her leave. Maybe it won’t let us either.

Maybe we’re already screwed and we just don’t know it yet.”

Ben swallowed hard. His leg — the one Willy had bitten — still throbbed under the bandage he’d hastily wrapped.

It felt… wrong. Like the infection was something deeper than just a bite.

Dylan leaned back against the seat, groaning.

“I hate this plan already. But you’re right.”

Ben looked between them. His friends. His brothers in everything but blood.

He tightened his grip on the wheel.

“If we’re doing this… we finish it. We go back to Camp Wildwood. We figure out what the hell is happening.

And we end it.”

The boys nodded grimly.

Above them, the stars were swallowed one by one by thick black clouds.

The wind picked up, rattling the leaves like bones.

It was going to be a long night.