The off-ramp steers me onto a forgotten highway that cuts through a small, hushed town. The brick storefronts are crumbling, their dusty windows like vacant eyes staring out at the overgrown sidewalks.

A few people peer through them as I pass and I can’t blame them. I haven’t seen any cars in the town newer than maybe 10-15 years old.  My sleek, dark grey Audi sticks out like a sore thumb.

I had planned to stop for an energy drink and a few snacks, but the more townspeople I see glaring through my dark windows, the less I feel the desire. I doubt a clean-cut man oozing corporate money, like myself, will get a warm welcome. I know folks from places like this hate anyone who looks like they might try to bring changes to their peaceful, simple settlement. I’m glad once I pass the last few trailer houses, putting the entire place quickly in my rearview mirror. 

I drive another twenty minutes when I am finally prompted to turn right off the solitary road. I then curse as my tires sink into the mud of an unpaved trail. Luckily, with a bit of finesse, the car comes away, and I am able to continue. Though, I flinch at every branch and bush of overgrown local fauna as it scrapes the sides of my Audi.

At last, I drive through an old cattle gate, and the foliage pulls back from the road as if it has been maintained. The dirt path here widens into a largely open but shaded space, revealing a hidden traditional, white country house and a faded red barn. 

Parking in front of the house and I kill the engine, the sudden silence presses in like my ears are stuffed with poly-fil. Before getting out, I reach for my phone and pluck it from the magnetic dash mount.  I intend to let the lawyer know I've arrived and ask for the next steps but my focus immediately lands on the empty bars on the top corner of the screen: 

No Service. 

Of course. I'm completely and utterly off the grid here. With a frustrated sigh, I toss it onto the passenger seat and step out of the car to stretch my stiff limbs.

How long have I been in there? I was so wrapped up in thought I didn't notice how late it had gotten. Then again, the trees above block out much of the setting sun, which probably contributes to the onset of darkness. I take in the unnatural form of nature around me. The trail I drove in on was a wild, untamed mess, nature actively trying to reclaim the path. But this clearing is... deliberate. The lawn is neatly trimmed, the path to the house is clear, and the tree branches twist and arch with a  man-made purpose to hide the structures beneath them. It’s like a hidden world, meticulously woven into the fabric of the wilderness.

An orchestra of chirping crickets start to fill the chill of twilight, and I pause to appreciate how quiet it is this far out. In the city there is constant noise: cars driving by, neighbors shouting, construction, sirens screaming past my house. It also stinks of fried foods, car exhaust, and overpopulation. In the countryside, however, the smell of pine and clean grass is a welcome change.

Sucking in a deep breath, I exhale a heavy sigh. It almost feels as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Perhaps this is what I need: a mini-vacation.

Stepping up onto the porch, I approach the front door and flip the plastic doorbell panel sideways. Pulling the creaking screen frame aside, I put the key into the solid front door and open it.

Inside, everything is dim, but surprisingly maintained. "Home sweet home," I groan, tossing my duffle bag on the floor and letting the screen clang shut behind me. Taking in the small foyer and living room, I can't help but grimace at the old ranch-style furniture. Definitely not a design I would have chosen.

To my right, a wooden staircase, its steps gleaming with polish, stretches to the second level where, according to the email, there should be two bedrooms and an office. There’s a living room to my left, a kitchen and adjoined dining space down the hall in front of me. Lastly, the unfinished basement is accessible via a hatch under the stairs. Stepping foot down there is out of the question; I’ve seen enough horror movies to know where the monsters, murderers, or ghosts hide. No, thank you.

My stomach rumbles, a sharp reminder that I haven't eaten since that morning. I suppose now is as good a time as any to see what the food situation is, then I could figure out what the hell is going on. I head into the small, outdated kitchen, but my attention hinges on a small, sleek object lying in the center of the dining table.

I head into the small, outdated kitchen, but my attention hinges on a small, sleek object lying in the center of the dining table. Is that one of those cheap flip phones you buy at the store? My interest peaks when I see the sticky note beside it reads "power me on".

 I pick it up and pull out a chair to sit down, wondering if the phone belongs to Ronnie. It's been so long I don't really remember what his handwriting looks like.

Holding down the power button, I reel back as it lights up with a blinding white screen. Goddamn, what is it with old people and keeping their phones at full brightness? I should have turned on the kitchen lights first.

Blinking a few times, I allow my pupils to adjust before squinting at it again. Once the home screen pops up, I immediately bring up the menu to turn down the brightness. Happy once my eyes are no longer being strained, I find a single audio file on the main page, which must be meant for me. Perhaps it has instructions as to what I’m meant to do here. I turn up the volume on the phone, then open the file.

"Leo."

I almost jump out of my chair, thinking my uncle has come up behind me, but no, it's only the message.

"Listen carefully, you're the only one I can trust. My work is in danger, which means their lives are in danger.”

Their lives? A bad feeling settles in my gut, churning my stomach as the audio continues.

“This place is a sanctuary, off the grid. You should be ok here, but you'll still have to be careful. If there's any sign you've been discovered, you must leave. In the office, there's a file on the desk with my notes. You'll need it. Keep it with you. Now, the barn. The code is 739210. What's inside is going to be a shock... but please, Leo, understand they're as important to me as my own flesh and blood. Just as you've always been to me.”

Surely this has to be some elaborate ruse or test, right? What had Ronnie gotten into? What has he dragged me into?!

“I'll contact you when I can. The lawyer will handle the money, so you're taken care of. Just be safe. And whatever you do, don't let them be discovered. The world isn't ready."

The phone falls silent after his last disturbing statement. The last second of audio ends and a popping, fizzing sound causes me to jump. The phone’s screen pixilates, goes dark, and then hisses a small puff of smoke. It would seem my uncle is really trying to cover his tracks

Turning from the now-dead phone, I pace the kitchen floor, rubbing my temples as I absorb the contents of the message. ‘They,’ Ronnie said. Who is ‘they’? The question ricochets inside my thoughts, causing my ears to ring as I stare off blankly. Then, a single thought cuts through the noise: The barn. 

I turn on my heel, walking briskly to the open front door and push past the weather screen. I need to know what is in the barn before I decide to stay here.  If it's too insane, Ronnie be damned, I would get back in my car and drive until I could contact authorities.

Water from the mud and grass seeps into my shoes. By the time I am standing outside the coded door, my sneakers are soaked and spongy. I hardly notice, though; I only have one goal in mind.

Punching in the numbers, there is a mechanical whirl as it unlocks and one of the flush, white doors pops open. A prickling sensation crawls up my spine, and causes my hair to stand on end. 

Am I being watched? I scan the tree line behind me, a feeling of wrongness electrifying my nerves. Perfect. Now Ronnie’s warnings have put me on edge. Summoning my resolve, I slip inside and shut the door behind me. 

My jaw drops and I inhale the stench of cleaning solutions as I register my surroundings. The lab's pristine nature is completely alien compared to the rustic dilapidated barn outside.

What type of sci-fi bullshit have I just walked in on? This isn't just a lab; it's a full-blown biomedical facility. The kind of sterile, high-tech, and frankly terrifying setup that costs millions. 

Gleaming white ceramic tiles cover every surface, reflecting the harsh, shadowless glare of overhead lights. Thick black cables dangle like vines from metal rafters, connecting humming computer terminals to 4 tall, black cylindrical bio-pods at the far end of the room. A system of IV bags hang from metal rods, their tubes feeding directly into the chambers, while monitors beside them display steady rhythmic green lines. 

Ice floods my veins as I take in the units at the far end of the room. The round windows on three of them are too dark to see inside from where I stand; but the fourth— it's clearly wide open.

The plush leather padding, designed for a resting body, harbors no child, animal or creature. Only IV tubes, dangling from their access points, are left. The clear solution that drips from one of the needles indicates something had been occupying it not long ago.

Cautiously, I approach the open chamber, examining it for any clues. The inside is slick with a mostly liquid, greenish gel that seeps to the bottom. It draws my attention down to where a pool is forming on the hospital-grade floor.

My focus narrows as I come across a trail of wet blotches leading away from the pod. So, now I am trapped in here with whatever may have been inside that thing. Just great. But I am already in this deep.

Following the splats of gel, I glance around, searching for any disturbances. When the trail ends inside a low cabinet on the western end of the barn, I stare at the closed doors briefly. Sucking down a short breath and holding it, I stoop and pull them open before I can chicken out.

“Jesus Christ!” My heart stops, and I fall back, scrambling away like a crab. Within the open space is a woman, her expression just as horrified as mine.