Disappearance

Chapter 6

Austin blinked, his mind clawing back from the abyss of restless dreams. Shadows had loomed larger than ever in his sleep, voices speaking in riddles that dissolved when he tried to understand them. He sat up, rubbing his temples as the faint glow of dawn painted the camp in muted grays. The paper lay beside him now, its cryptic message burned into his thoughts.

He doubted he'd ever be ready.

The camp stirred with its usual rhythm - footsteps, the clang of tools, and the murmur of subdued conversations. Yet something felt amiss.

It wasn't only the fading echoes of his dream that lingered; there was a palpable tension in the air as if the camp itself was collectively anticipating what would come next.

Leah's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Austin," she called, jogging toward him. "Have you seen Mia?"

"Mia? Not since last night."

"She's not in her usual spot. Jonas said she never showed up for her shift."

Austin's stomach tightened. Disappearances weren't unheard of, but they always left a scar - a void that couldn't be filled. He'd seen it before: a missing face, an unspoken fear that it could happen to anyone.

Mia had always been easy to spot in the camp, with her short auburn hair that framed her round face and bright green eyes that seemed to hold an unshakable determination. Her wiry frame belied her strength; she was the one who could scale a barricade in seconds or carry a load twice her size without complaint. She often wore a patched leather jacket - her only keepsake from a life before the world turned upside down - and a yellow scarf that stood out against the camp's muted tones.

"She'll turn up," he said, though the words felt hollow. "Maybe she's just out scavenging early."

Leah didn't look convinced, but she nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "We should keep an eye out, just in case."

The camp buzzed with speculation as the day wore on. Some whispered that Mia had fled to the quarantine zone, unable to handle the camp's relentless struggle. Others feared something darker: an accident, or worse, an encounter with the shadows that lurked just beyond their fragile refuge's periphery.

"You think she'd really go back there?" Leah asked as they worked side by side, strengthening a section of the barricade.

Austin shrugged, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "If she did, it'd be risky. They don't exactly roll out the welcome mat for people who break the rules."

"Still better than starving out here," muttered Jonas, who had joined them with a bundle of salvaged wood. "At least they've got food and walls."

Leah shot him a sharp look. "Yeah, and they've got rules that get people killed. You remember what happened to Mark, don't you?"

Jonas' expression darkened, and he fell silent. Austin didn't need to ask - he'd heard enough stories to know the quarantine zone was a double-edged sword. Safety came at a cost, and for some, that cost was too steep.

"They're not gods," Leah continued, her voice low but fierce. "They hoard supplies, pick and choose who gets to survive. Mia wouldn't go back there."

Austin didn't reply. He'd avoided the zone for a reason, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't understand its allure. The camp was freedom, but it was also chaos. Out here, survival depended on trust, and trust was in short supply.

That night, Austin's dreams were sharper, more vivid. He saw Leah, standing in a field of ash, her back to him. When she turned, her eyes were hollow, her expression vacant. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, only the low hum that haunted his waking hours. The paper's glow intensified, its edges curling as though it burned from within.

He woke drenched in sweat, his breaths ragged. The dream lingered, its images etched into his mind. Leah's absence in the dream felt like a warning, though he couldn't decipher its meaning. He glanced at the paper, half-expecting it to have changed, but the message remained the same.

The truth lies within. Return when you are ready.

As he stared at it, the paper seemed to pulse faintly in his hand. The whispers he'd grown accustomed to in his dreams were louder now, as though urging him to act.

Morning brought a discovery that sent ripples through the camp. Near the barricade's edge, Jonas found a scrap of cloth - Mia's scarf, torn and smeared with dirt. It wasn't much, but it was enough to reignite fears and fuel the growing unease. Nearby, the ground bore strange marks, as though something heavy had been dragged through the dirt.

The grooves twisted and turned erratically, forming shapes that seemed almost intentional, like crude symbols carved into the earth, stopping abruptly a few feet away. Beside them lay a single, inexplicable object: a shard of glass, perfectly smooth and cold to the touch. It reflected the faint light in odd, fragmented patterns, as though it didn't belong to this world.

"She didn't leave on her own," Leah said, her voice tight. "Something happened to her."

Colton's expression was grim as he examined the scarf. "We'll organize a search party. But no one goes out alone. If something's out there, we need to be ready for it."

Austin watched the group disperse, tension coiling in his chest. The scarf was a clue, but it raised more questions than answers. He couldn't shake the feeling that whatever had taken Mia was connected to the strange forces that seemed to press against the edges of their reality.

As he prepared to join the search, a thought struck him: the paper. Could it be tied to Mia's disappearance? The idea seemed absurd, but in a world where shadows whispered and dreams bled into reality, absurdity felt like the new normal.

He slipped the paper into his pocket, its weight a constant reminder of the secrets he carried. Secrets that felt heavier with each passing day.

By evening, the search had yielded nothing but frustration. The camp was quieter than usual. Austin sat by the fire, his mind racing. He thought of the quarantine zone, of the rules that had once kept him in line. The camp was different - freer, but also more vulnerable. The contrast gnawed at him, a reminder that safety was always a precarious illusion.

Leah sat beside him, her presence a steadying force. She stared into the horizon, her gaze distant. After a long silence, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes I wonder if we're fooling ourselves, thinking we can survive out here. Remember when we lost Sam? I still see his face sometimes in my dreams. Maybe the quarantine zone isn't so bad after all."

Austin turned to her, surprised. "You don't mean that."

She laughed softly, bitterly. "Don't I? Every day, we lose someone. Every day, the shadows get closer. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Her confession hung in the air, raw and unguarded. For a moment, Austin saw the cracks in her armor, the weight she carried but never showed. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"We'll find her," he said, as if willing the words to be true.

Leah nodded, but her eyes remained fixed on the darkness beyond the camp. The fire crackled, its warmth a fragile barrier against the encroaching night.

As the night deepened, Austin froze. From the direction of the barricade came a faint, almost imperceptible whisper. It wasn't the wind. He was sure of it. He turned toward Leah, but she was already staring into the darkness, her expression unreadable.

The paper in his pocket felt warm against his skin. The truth was out there, waiting for him to uncover it. But the cost of that truth might be more than he was willing to pay.