Chapter 5 — The Second Rayn

Chapter 5 — The Second Rayn

The words hung in the air like a death sentence.

> "You have to kill me… before it wakes up."

Rayn froze, every instinct in his body screaming to run, to deny what he was seeing. Another version of himself, broken and bloodied, stared back at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"No," Milo whispered, stepping backward. "What the hell is that?"

Rayn took a slow step forward, his crowbar still raised.

The other Rayn flinched like a wounded animal. "Don't come closer. Please. It's not safe. I—I thought I'd escaped it, but I didn't. It's still inside me."

His voice. It was exactly the same. Not a mimic. Not a copy.

But something else. Something worse.

"What's inside you?" Cole growled, rifle raised. "Talk fast."

The wounded Rayn's breathing was sharp, erratic. Blood trickled from the missing eye socket, and something beneath his skin—just beneath—moved. Shifted. Like something crawling beneath the surface.

Rayn's stomach turned.

"It's learning," the other Rayn choked out. "It can copy pain now. Memories. I remember things… from you… and they aren't mine."

"Wait," Rayn said, his voice hoarse. "You're saying you're… me?"

The other Rayn looked up. "I don't know what I am anymore. But if you let me live—if it gets control again—it'll know everything. Everything you know. And then it won't need to mimic anyone else. It'll just become you."

Rayn's fingers tightened around the crowbar.

A sudden silence fell across the clearing. Even the wind stopped.

Then—

Snap.

A branch cracked behind them.

Milo whirled around. "Something's coming!"

"No," the wounded Rayn hissed. "It's already here. That sound? It's a lure. It wants you to look away."

Too late.

Rayn felt it—something wrong behind him. A cold presence, like gravity pulling backward. He turned his head slowly.

And saw her.

The girl from earlier. The mimic who had smiled before slicing through a survivor's chest like paper.

But she looked different now.

Smiling wider. Too wide.

And her eyes… they were Rayn's.

Every memory. Every flicker of doubt. Every twitch of fear—it was him, reflected back at himself in something wearing a stranger's skin.

"Hello again," she purred, her voice now laced with Rayn's own cadence. "I've learned so much."

Rayn swung the crowbar out of instinct. She moved—almost lazily—dodging it like it meant nothing.

The mimic laughed. "Still relying on instincts. Cute."

The other Rayn began convulsing, dropping to his knees. His veins turned black. His skin began to split in places, like cracks spreading through porcelain.

"Do it!" he screamed. "Kill me!"

Rayn stepped forward—but something inside him hesitated. If this really was him… killing him might not stop anything. It might just give the mimic exactly what it wanted.

Behind him, Milo screamed. Cole fired three quick shots. The mimic blurred, weaving through the bullets like smoke.

She grabbed Cole by the throat.

"I think I'll wear this one next," she whispered.

Rayn ran. Not away—but forward.

He jumped, swinging the crowbar at her head. She caught it mid-air.

Their eyes met.

And Rayn felt something—like two minds brushing against each other.

She leaned in, still holding the crowbar, and whispered:

> "Do you want to know how you die next?"

Rayn yanked the crowbar back and swung again, catching her across the jaw. She stumbled—just enough.

"Get him out of here!" he shouted to Milo, pointing at the broken version of himself.

But it was too late.

The second Rayn was no longer screaming.

He was smiling.

> "Too slow," he said, voice cold.

Then his spine cracked, and something inside him tore its way out.

Bone-like limbs. A head too long. A body wrapped in shredded flesh.

Not a mimic.

Something older.

Something real.

The mimic girl hissed. "No. You weren't supposed to wake up yet."

Rayn backed away slowly, dragging Milo with him.

The air grew colder. The trees around them bent inward, like the forest itself was afraid.

The creature that had once been Rayn stood fully, towering over them.

Its face still wore his features—but stretched. Decayed. Its mouth opened, and in a voice that sounded like ten versions of Rayn overlapping, it spoke:

> "You are not the first."

> "You will not be the last."

And then—

It lunged

The creature lunged.

Rayn barely had time to blink before the thing that wore his face crossed the clearing in a blur of limbs and bone. It moved wrong — too fast, too fluid, like it had forgotten how to be human.

Rayn dove sideways, shoving Milo to the ground as the monster's clawed hand swept through the air where his head had been a second before.

Cole opened fire. The bullets struck the creature's torso — thud-thud-thud — but it didn't even flinch.

It turned toward him.

Then vanished.

"COLE, MOVE!" Rayn screamed.

Too late.

A wet crack echoed through the clearing as the creature appeared behind Cole and drove a jagged spike of bone straight through his shoulder. Cole roared in pain, struggling to break free, but the thing only pulled him closer.

Its mouth opened.

Too wide. Too wrong. Too many teeth.

> "You remember this pain," it whispered in Rayn's voice. "Don't you?"

Rayn gritted his teeth. "Hey, freak! Try remembering this."

He hurled the crowbar.

It spun end over end — and slammed into the creature's head.

The impact staggered it — just enough. Cole dropped to the ground, clutching his shoulder, blood spraying through his fingers.

"MOVE!" Rayn shouted, grabbing his crowbar and pulling Cole with his good arm.

The mimic girl was gone. Just… vanished. Like she'd never been there.

But Rayn didn't have time to think about that.

They ran — tearing through the broken forest, dodging roots and collapsed trees, breath ragged. Behind them, the creature howled. Not in pain.

In laughter.

Like this was all a game.

They collapsed inside a rotted-out gas station an hour later — Cole bleeding, Milo hyperventilating, Rayn shaking from adrenaline.

"What the hell was that thing?" Milo gasped.

Rayn didn't answer immediately. He was staring at his hands, knuckles white, chest heaving.

"It wasn't a mimic," he said finally. "It didn't copy someone. It… it grew inside me. Or some version of me."

Milo shook his head. "That was you. It looked like you. It talked like you."

Rayn looked up slowly. "It knew me. Not just my face. My thoughts. My regrets. Stuff no one else knows."

Cole coughed, blood staining his teeth. "That thing's not just wearing your skin. It's becoming you."

That idea stuck in Rayn's skull like a splinter.

Something was evolving.

Not just mimicking — adapting. Absorbing.

Learning.

"I think…" Rayn said quietly, "this world isn't dying from creatures."

Milo looked up, confused. "What are you talking about?"

Rayn's eyes hardened. "This world's dying from memory. From the past."

Cole groaned. "You're not making sense—"

"I saw it," Rayn interrupted. "That mimic back there — it said something about 'not waking it yet.' They weren't working together. They were scared of each other."

Milo's face paled. "So you're saying…"

"There's more than one type of them." Rayn nodded. "More than one kind of mimic."

Or worse.

More than one origin.

They settled in silence. The sky outside dimmed into blood-orange dusk.

Rayn kept watch while Milo treated Cole's wounds as best he could. The world outside felt wrong — like it had stopped breathing.

Hours passed. No signs of the creature. No signs of the mimic.

Just quiet.

Too quiet.

Then Milo asked, "Rayn… what if it's not just you it wants?"

Rayn looked up sharply. "What?"

"What if it's trying to become everyone?" Milo whispered. "Like… every survivor. Every memory. What if it's not hunting us — what if it's collecting us?"

A chill ran down Rayn's spine.

Before he could answer, the lights flickered.

They froze.

The gas station didn't have power.

The lights flickered again.

And again.

Then something spoke over the old, broken intercom.

A voice.

Distorted.

Garbage-filled static.

But beneath it… Rayn's voice.

> "Rayn. Rayn. Rayn. Rayn. Rayn…"

Over and over.

Each repetition more corrupted. More guttural. More eager.

Cole grabbed his rifle. "We need to move. Now."

Rayn stood slowly. "Too late."

The lights shut off.

Silence.

Then—

Knocking.

From the freezer door at the back of the station.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Milo stepped closer. "There's no power. That freezer shouldn't even—"

SLAM.

The door burst open.

And a figure stepped out, bathed in darkness.

It wasn't Rayn.

It wasn't a mimic.

It wasn't human.

But it was wearing something that had once belonged to him. His old hoodie from the first day he woke up here. Torn. Blood-soaked.

The thing turned its head, slow and unnatural.

Then it raised one finger to its lips.

> "Shhh."

To Be Continued..