The car screeched into the Elmwood PD parking lot, tires skidding against cracked pavement before jolting to a stop. Alex stepped out and slammed the door shut behind him.
Behind him, the ambulance rolled up slower, pulling into the secondary bay.
Officer Hall was already outside, speaking into her radio. She glanced over as Alex approached.
"The missing kids in there?" she said, nodding toward the ambulance.
Alex jerked his chin toward her. "Walk him in. Bring him through the back entrance—less eyes. He's spooked."
She gave a skeptical look but didn't question him "Sure. Because dragging feral children through the back entrance is totally normal now." She said.
As the back doors of the ambulance opened, Jade sat upright on the gurney, gripping the card Alex had given him like it was a lifeline. Hall stepped up, her tone firm but kind.
"C'mon, kid. This way. We'll get you inside, warm, and away from the noise."
Jade slid down carefully, barefoot, clothes still torn and crusted with dirt. He didn't look around. Just kept his head down and followed.
Alex didn't wait.
He was already inside the building, moving fast, steps echoing off the station's linoleum floors. The air smelled like old coffee and photocopier toner. One officer nodded as he passed; Alex didn't return it.
He reached the surveillance room and pushed the door open.
Inside, dimly lit by blue-tinted monitors, sat Wells—the station's drone operator and unofficial tech goblin. Mid-twenties, hoodie layered under his uniform vest, energy drink can open beside him. The guy looked like he hadn't slept in a week.
Alex stepped in, arms crossed, jaw tight. "Tell me you've got something."
Wells didn't look up. "We launched the drone about twenty minutes after your call-in. Eastern perimeter. Low altitude, slow sweep. I figured you'd want it raw—no clean-up or overlays."
"Show me."
Wells tapped a few keys. One of the monitors flared to life, showing thermal imaging in grainy black and white. The forest canopy glowed white-hot, while the floor below remained a pit of shifting greys and black.
"You're sure this is the same area where we found him?" Alex asked, stepping closer.
"GPS tagged. Coordinates match your hit site. That little stretch between Highway 9 and the Ridge Trail."
Alex's eyes flicked over the image. Trees. Nothing else. Not even birds. Just stillness.
Wells scrubbed forward. "Here," he said. "This is where it gets weird."
The drone dipped lower. Closer to the treeline. It followed a barely-there path, nearly invisible under the heat map. And then—just for a second—the feed glitched. A flicker. Pixel distortion.
Then the trees moved.
Not a breeze. Not swaying.
They shifted.
Trunks leaned closer together. Limbs stretched, repositioned. Not alive—but not acting dead, either.
The air in the room went still.
Alex narrowed his eyes. "Back it up."
Wells rewound. Slowed playback to half speed.
The glitch hit again—sharper this time.
Then it was there.
The movement.
Not chaotic. Deliberate. Like the forest was reacting. Closing in on something. Or… protecting something.
Wells leaned back, eyes a little too wide. "Okay, that's… probably just a glitch, right? Heat distortion? Compression artifact?"
Alex didn't speak.
His eyes were locked on the screen.
Because right before the feed cut out—just in the corner of the frame—one of the tree trunks turned.
Not all the way. Just a slight angle.
Enough to suggest a shape beneath bark. Something tall. Watching.
Looking directly at the drone.
Then—
Black screen.
Signal gone.
Static filled the monitor.
Wells swallowed. "That's not standard terrain interference."
Alex slowly leaned in, staring at the screen's faint glow.
"No," he muttered. "It's not. I feel like I'm the only one who sees these things. Or at least. The only one who chooses to believe."
"Trust me, Detective. I see it too. Most of us do. But… what the fuck can we do? Call a tree surgeon?"
Alex stood there in silence, just watching the static flicker across the monitor. The hum of the machines, the soft rattle of the air vent, even Wells' breathing—it all faded behind the weight of what he'd just seen.
Eventually, he turned.
He opened the door and stepped out, letting it swing shut behind him with a sharp clack that echoed down the corridor.
The station was quiet now, hollow and sterile in the late hours—just distant voices, a printer spitting out a report somewhere, the hum of old fluorescent lights.
He made his way past the front desk and turned down toward the temporary holding rooms. Not cells—this wasn't that kind of situation. Just the kind of small, secure room where they kept witnesses or anyone who needed space. Where they put people who didn't quite fit in the normal system.
Alex stopped at the door. A uniformed officer stood nearby—Officer Palmer, young, fresh out of academy. He looked up as Alex approached.
"He's in there," Palmer said. "Been quiet. Hasn't said a word since Officer Hall brought him in."
Alex nodded once. "You can go."
Palmer hesitated, then stepped away.
Alex took a breath, opened the door, and stepped in.
Jade sat on a padded bench along the wall. His clothes were still crusted in dried soil and blood. The business card Alex had given him earlier was resting on his lap, his fingers brushing over the edges in slow, repetitive motion.
"Hey, kid," Alex said as he closed the door behind him. His tone was calm. Low. "How you feeling? You good?"
Jade didn't look up right away. When he did, it was with the same expression he had in the woods—half-aware, half-somewhere-else.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I'm fine."
Alex leaned against the wall instead, arms crossed. "I know I said I wouldn't pressure you. And I won't. But… I need something. Even if it doesn't make sense. Something to start untangling this mess."
Jade stared at the floor, jaw tight. "If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."
Alex studied him in silence. That haunted look again—deep and distant. But it wasn't fear anymore. Not entirely. It was something colder. Settled. Like the boy had stared into something monstrous.
"I've lived in Elmwood my whole life," Alex said finally. "Thirty-one years. I've seen things most people couldn't even describe, let alone explain. Trust me—your story wouldn't be the most ridiculous one I've heard."
Jade shifted slightly. His voice came quiet. "I… I go out at night sometimes. Just to be alone. I like looking at the moon. Makes everything feel still."
"Why?" Alex asked, brow slightly raised.
"My house is… loud. Not in a fun way. Arguments. Frustration. I guess I was trying to breathe."
Alex nodded slowly. "So what happened out there?"
Jade's throat tightened. "I was snatched."
Alex's eyes sharpened. "Snatched?"
"I don't know how. I didn't see it coming. One second I was standing under the streetlight… then I was in the air. Lifted. Dragged." He paused. "It ran. Fast. Insanely fast. I saw trees flashing by like headlights. Then… I was in a shed. Cold. Alone."
Alex pushed off the wall, stepping closer now. His voice dropped a register. "This might sound strange, but… have you ever had encounters before? Dreams? Nightmares? Anything you couldn't explain?"
Jade hesitated, eyes flicking to the corner of the room—away from Alex. Then he nodded.
"I've had dreams. The same one, over and over. A wolf. Drowning in blood. Always the same howl. Same color."
Alex took that in, then asked, "When you were in the woods… were you afraid?"
Jade looked up now, faint surprise in his eyes. "Why do you ask?"
Alex studied him carefully. "Because your eyes… they don't show fear now. They did when you woke up. But now it's different. It's like the fear burned out. And that makes me think… you're not telling me everything."
Jade was quiet for a long moment. Then:
"I saw the sun. That was the only time I felt safe. I saw deer. Birds. For a moment, I thought I'd find a road. Rescue."
He shifted.
"But by the third day… I gave up. I stopped believing someone would come. And when the fear left… it didn't take anything good with it. I was just empty."
Alex nodded once. "Then what happened?"
"I ran," Jade said. "I don't even know how. But I escaped. Found a shed. Thought I was safe."
He paused.
"But it found me."
Alex's voice stayed calm, low. "What found you?"
Jade's mouth went dry. "The beast. The same one."
Alex didn't flinch. "What did it want?"
"It kept saying different things. Words I couldn't always understand. It didn't just speak… it echoed."
"Did it ask you anything?" Alex asked, eyes narrowing.
Jade nodded.
"What did it ask?"
There was a beat. A shift behind Jade's eyes.
Jade paused for a second. The thought of saying the truth. WhereisDaneHollow. Came to his mind. But he looked straight at Alex. "It asked… 'Whereisthewaytotheotherhumans?'"
Alex exhaled slowly through his nose. Thoughtful. Quiet. Processing.
He stepped back from the table, walked toward the door—but paused at the frame.
"That's all for now," he said. "I'll have your parents come pick you up. We'll figure out the rest later."
His hand touched the door, but he lingered.
There's more he's not saying, I can feel it. He's not confused—he's holding back. He knows something. Maybe he doesn't understand it all yet… or maybe he understands too much.
Without turning back, he murmured to himself, just above a whisper:
"'Where is the way to the humans'… Does that mean…"
He stepped out, closing the door softly behind him.
What if the trees aren't the threat. What if… They're the fence
After Alex stepped out,
Slowly, jade looked down—at the faint reflection on the metallic tabletop. And for a second—his eyes glowed green.
Bright. Unmistakable.
Then gone.