Story 1271: The Safehouse Trap

They arrived at the safehouse just before sunset.

It stood in the middle of a clearing—an old forestry station reinforced with scavenged steel panels and UV perimeter lights that still blinked weakly. Juno approached with caution, hand on her holster. Shade circled wide, watching for movement. H-13 scanned the area, his sensors silent.

No signs of recent infection. No corpses. No heat signatures.

“Too clean,” Shade muttered.

“Still,” Juno said, “it’s shelter.”

Inside, it looked lived-in—cans of food neatly stacked, gear tucked in crates, solar lights strung up along the beams. A battered medical unit blinked green in the corner. It almost felt... safe.

Almost.

They locked the doors, reset the perimeter defenses, and settled in.

Juno collapsed on a bunk. Her shoulder still throbbed from the ambush. Shade unpacked his rifle and checked ammo. H-13 interfaced with the station’s terminal.