The road narrowed into a tunnel of trees.Branches clawed at the sides of the truck, scraping against the metal as if trying to pull them back. The afternoon sun struggled to pierce through the canopy, leaving only thin streaks of gold that flickered over their faces like firelight.

No one spoke.

Riku kept his eyes forward. The steering wheel trembled in his hands every time the tires hit loose gravel. He was used to it by now—the constant vibration, the low hum of the old diesel engine, the occasional cough that reminded him it was running on borrowed time.

Suzune watched the treeline through her window. Her finger hovered over the trigger guard of her rifle, safety off. "No birds," she muttered.

Ichika glanced out her own side. "That's your way of saying something's wrong again, isn't it?"

"When the forest's quiet, something's listening," Suzune said flatly.

Hana hugged her rabbit tighter, eyes on the passing trees. "Maybe they're just hiding."

"Maybe," Riku said quietly.

The road curved ahead, descending into thicker fog. The air grew colder, damp enough to fog the windows. Riku slowed the truck to a crawl. The mist rolled in like smoke, swallowing the road and the world around them.

Ichika wiped her window with her sleeve. "I can't see anything."

"Eyes on the thermal," Suzune said, tapping the small screen mounted near the dashboard. It flickered weakly, showing only static and faint patches of warmth—the engine, their own bodies, and nothing else.

"Great," Ichika said. "Even the fancy stuff's useless."

Riku didn't reply. He just kept driving, following the faint yellow lines that disappeared into the fog.

After a minute, Hana whispered, "I think I hear water."

Suzune listened. Sure enough, beneath the rumble of the engine came the faint rush of a river somewhere nearby. "Left side," she said. "We're close to a stream."

The fog thinned slightly, revealing the edge of an old wooden sign. The paint had long faded, but the letters were still visible:

KAMIYAMA REST AREA – 1 KM

Ichika read it aloud. "Rest area? You think there's anything left?"

"Shelter," Riku said. "Even a roof is something."

"Unless something's already living there," Suzune added.

Riku nodded. "We'll find out."

They drove another kilometer before the road opened into a small clearing. The rest area stood in the center—a cluster of buildings half-collapsed under years of rot. An old vending machine leaned against a wall, its glass cracked and empty. A rusted bus sat nearby, its roof caved in.

Riku stopped the truck beside a broken signpost. "Suzune, Ichika. Sweep it."

"Copy," Suzune said, stepping out with her rifle ready.

Ichika followed, shotgun in hand. The two moved in opposite arcs around the clearing, scanning corners, checking shadows. The air smelled of wet soil and rusted metal.

Riku watched them through the windshield. His hand stayed near the gear lever, ready to gun it if anything came out. Hana crouched low behind the dashboard, peeking over just enough to see them.

After a few minutes, Suzune gave a signal. "Clear. For now."

They regrouped near the main building—a small rest stop café with shattered windows and a roof full of moss.

Riku looked it over. "We'll stay here for the night."

Ichika sighed in relief. "Finally. My back's killing me."

"Keep your guard up," Suzune said. "We don't know what's inside."

They pried open the door and stepped in. The air was thick with dust and old mold. Tables were overturned, chairs broken. A long-dead coffee machine sat on the counter, half melted.

Suzune swept the flashlight across the room. "Empty."

"Feels wrong calling anything empty these days," Ichika said.

"Wrong or not," Riku said, "it's dry."

They set up quickly—truck parked at the entrance, lantern near the counter, weapons within reach. Hana sat at a table near the window, brushing dust off her stuffed rabbit.

Ichika opened a can of beans and passed it to her. "Eat slow. We don't have much left."

Hana nodded, spooning small bites while her eyes followed the dancing lantern light.

Suzune crouched near the window, scanning the treeline. "Fog's not clearing. If something's tracking us, we won't see it until it's close."

Riku joined her. "Then we make noise before they do."

"How?"

He pointed to the truck. "Hook the alarm wires to the fence line. If anything crosses, we'll know."

Ichika blinked. "Since when did you turn into an electrician?"

"Since no one else would," he said dryly.

They got to work. Suzune strung thin wires between the posts, tying them to makeshift cans filled with loose metal. It wasn't much, but the rattle would wake them if something approached.

By the time they finished, the sky had darkened completely. The fog glowed faintly under the moonlight, thick as smoke.

Inside, they huddled near the lantern. The small circle of light felt fragile in the endless dark.

Ichika stretched her legs. "I'll take first watch."

Riku shook his head. "You barely slept last night. Suzune and I will handle it."

"I'm fine."

"You're not," Suzune said. "And if you start yawning in a firefight, we're all dead."

Ichika scowled but didn't argue. She leaned back against the wall, muttering something under her breath.

Riku stayed by the window, rifle balanced across his knees. The fog outside seemed alive, moving in slow swirls that never stopped.

Hours passed.

Then, somewhere in the distance, the sound of metal rattled.

Suzune was already moving. She flicked the safety off her rifle. "North fence."

Riku nodded, keeping low as he crossed to the other window. "Visual?"

"Nothing yet."

The rattling came again—faint, irregular, like something dragging across the wire.

Ichika stirred. "What's going on?"

"Quiet," Suzune hissed.

The sound stopped.

Then came another noise—soft, rhythmic, like tapping wood.

Tok. Tok. Tok.

It came from the treeline, just beyond the fog.

Hana whispered, "Is someone knocking?"

Riku didn't answer. He scanned the edge of the light, searching for movement.

The tapping stopped. Silence pressed in again.

Then, a voice.

"...help… me…"

It was faint. A woman's voice. Cracked, trembling.

Ichika's grip tightened on her shotgun. "No way."

Suzune's face hardened. "Could be bait."

Riku exhaled slowly. "Stay here."

Suzune grabbed his arm. "Riku, no—"

"I'll check. Alone."

"Then take this." She handed him a flare. "If it's bad, signal."

He nodded once and stepped into the fog.

The cold hit instantly. Each breath came out as mist. The forest was silent except for the occasional creak of branches.

He followed the sound, rifle raised. "Who's there?"

No answer.

He moved closer. The beam of his flashlight cut through the fog, revealing outlines—trees, stones, a small drainage ditch.

Then he saw her.

A woman in a torn jacket, kneeling beside a tree. Her head hung low, hair matted with dirt.

"Hey," Riku called softly. "You hurt?"

She didn't move.

He took a cautious step forward. "We can help. Are you alone?"

Her head twitched slightly. Then, slowly, she looked up.

Her face was pale—too pale. Her eyes were glossy black, veins spreading from the corners like ink bleeding through paper.

Riku fired before she could scream. The shot echoed through the valley, muffled by fog.

The woman dropped instantly, smoke rising from the hole in her skull.

He exhaled, lowering the rifle. But the relief didn't last.

The fog around her began to shift.

Something was moving—crawling out of the ditch beside her. Dozens of hands, slick with black fluid, gripping the soil.

Riku stepped back. "Shit."

He fired again, and again, each shot lighting the fog for a split second. Shapes moved inside it—too many, too fast.

He grabbed the flare and yanked the cap off, hurling it toward the trees. It burst in red light, illuminating the nightmare.

The forest floor was moving. Dozens of bodies, half-buried, were dragging themselves toward him—eyes glowing faintly beneath layers of mud and fungus.

He turned and ran.

Behind him, the forest came alive with screeches and the snapping of branches.

Suzune saw the flare first. "Signal!"

She kicked the door open just as Riku burst from the fog. "Drive!" he shouted.

Ichika was already at the wheel. "Say no more!"

The engine roared. Suzune covered the entrance, firing controlled bursts into the mist. The first of the crawlers broke through, writhing across the ground like spiders.

"Go!" she yelled, jumping into the truck as it lurched forward.

They sped down the road, headlights cutting through the fog. Behind them, the forest rippled with movement—hundreds of them pouring out from the trees, screaming like broken sirens.

Hana cried out, covering her ears. Ichika swerved around fallen branches, tires skidding on wet asphalt.

Riku reloaded, voice steady despite the chaos. "Don't stop until we hit clear ground!"

Suzune glanced back, eyes wide. "They're gaining!"

Ichika slammed her foot down harder. "Then let's see if they can outrun diesel!"

The truck tore through the forest road, branches whipping across the windshield. Shadows flashed on both sides—figures keeping pace, their limbs distorted and wrong.

"Left turn ahead!" Riku shouted.

Ichika yanked the wheel. The truck skidded sideways, crashing through a wooden guardrail and onto an open dirt path. The sudden change in traction threw them all forward.

Suzune grabbed the door handle. "Hold on!"

The path dipped sharply before leveling out onto a small plain. The fog thinned, revealing moonlight over tall grass.

They didn't slow down until the road widened again. Only then did Riku finally say, "Stop."

Ichika slammed the brakes. The truck screeched to a halt, dust rising around them.

For a long moment, nobody spoke.

Riku climbed out, scanning the darkness. The forest behind them was still again. No movement. No sound.

Suzune lowered her rifle. "You okay?"

He nodded. "For now."

Ichika slumped over the steering wheel, breathing hard. "Remind me never to take forest routes again."

Hana peeked out the window. "Did we lose them?"

"Yeah," Riku said quietly. "We did."

He looked toward the horizon, where faint orange light glowed far ahead—distant fires, or maybe sunrise. He couldn't tell anymore.

Suzune followed his gaze. "Where do we go next?"

"Forward," he said simply. "Always forward."

And with that, the truck rumbled back to life, rolling into the uncertain dawn ahead.

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