Greystone Has Eyes
Small towns have a smell.
Not the sweet, fresh-baked-pie kind.
No, Greystone smelled like wet wood, rusted fences, and secrets that had been buried too shallow.
We arrived just after dawn.
Me, wearing a hoodie too big for my bones.
Theo, tapping nonstop on his tablet.
Victor, snuggled in my chest pocket like some undead pocket monster.
The town looked... off.
Houses were still, windows covered with newspapers, mailboxes overflowing. There were cars in driveways—but no people.
"You sure anyone lives here?" I asked.
Theo nodded. "Population: 1,314. Or at least, it was. Something happened."
That's when I noticed the signs. Nailed to trees, stapled to doors, even spray-painted on the ground.
"WE SEE YOU"
"DO NOT TRUST THE LIGHT"
"BLOOD WALKS IN SHADOW"
Poetic. Creepy. My kind of town.
We passed a church.
Burned.
Just a skeleton of wood and smoke-stained glass.
And in front of it? A statue.
Half-melted.
Looked suspiciously like… me.
"Oh no," I muttered. "I've got a cult."
Theo was way too excited. "Dude! You're a zombie messiah!"
"No. No, I refuse. I am not doing the undead savior thing. I'm barely doing laundry."
He pointed to the base of the statue.
"THE DEAD SHALL GUIDE THE LOST."
"Okay," I whispered. "Creepy and grammatically correct. That's worse."
We heard music.
Not just any music—an old phonograph, echoing through an alley like a haunted waltz.
Victor perked up.
Theo raised his tablet.
I raised my fists.
We followed the sound to an old barbershop.
Inside? A man. Pale. Thin. Dressed in a suit that looked like it hadn't been changed since the '60s.
He smiled when he saw me.
"Welcome back, Mr. Blackwell," he said, voice as smooth as cobwebs.
"…Do I know you?"
He gestured to the phonograph. "I played this at your funeral. You liked this song."
I stared at him.
"You were at my funeral?"
"I planned it," he said. "I was your handler."
"…Handler?"
He nodded.
"You were part of a government program. Project Lazarus. They brought you back. But you didn't obey."
He pointed at my chest.
"That scar? That's not from your killer. That's where they put the control node."
Theo whispered, "This is insane."
I agreed.
It was insane.
But the man's eyes?
They weren't lying.
And then—before I could ask anything else.
He pulled a gun.
"Sorry, Zane. You weren't supposed to wake up."
I moved faster than I should've.
Grabbed a chair, smashed it into his chest.
Theo screamed. Victor leapt.
The man dropped.
But he wasn't bleeding.
No heart. No breath.
Just… wires.
He sparked.
"Prototype…" Theo whispered. "He's a damn android."
The phonograph slowed.
The song warped.
And over it, a robotic voice spoke:
"They are watching. Greystone has failed. Erase the asset."
I looked at Theo.
He looked at me.
"Time to go," we said in perfect unison.
As we ran through the streets, more eyes opened.
Not human ones.
Cameras. Drones. Mechanical things skittering under porches.
Greystone wasn't abandoned.
It was a labyrinth.
And I was the rat this time.