AARON When I opened the door of the Lockwood residence, two deputies stood on the porch. They were cut from the night itself. Black uniforms from neck to boots, matte fabric swallowing what little light the porch cast. Dark body armor hugged their chests, rigid and heavy, straps pulled tight as if the gear alone could hold the world together. Pistols rode low and ready on their hips, holsters unsnapped. Rifles were slung across their torsos, muzzles angled down but never truly at rest. Any other day, that sight would have frozen me where I stood. Any other version of myself would have felt the instinctive spike of fear, the calculation of guilt even when none existed. Tonight, relief came first. At least the guns weren’t pointed at me.That thought lingered longer than it should have. Both deputies kept their dominant hands hovering near their pistols, fingers loose but prepared, muscles coiled beneath fabric. The detail lodged itself in my mind and refused to leave. People didn’t stand like that unless they expected things to go wrong. “Can we help you, officers?” Elena asked. Her voice trembled. Soft, thin, stretched tight like glass under pressure. I felt the tension move through her arm where she stood beside me, fingers gripping my sleeve as if I might disappear if she let go. The deputies didn’t answer right away. Their eyes stayed on me, slow and deliberate, scanning bruises, bandages, posture. I’d seen that look before. In mirrors. In people deciding whether you were a threat. “Do you know this man, ma’am?” Elena tilted her head up toward me, searching my face for a fraction of a second before turning back to them. “We’ve been together since high school,” she said. “So yes.” Their shoulders dropped. Not much. Barely noticeable. But I saw it. That tiny release of tension gave my lungs permission to draw in a deeper breath. I hadn’t realized how shallow my breathing had become. “One of your neighbors called us,” the nearer deputy said. His voice was steady, rehearsed. “They reported a man matching his description wandering the Residential Lanes. Said he looked pretty rough.” I nodded once. “That was me.” Elena slid her arm fully around my bicep, grounding me, anchoring me to the present. “He just finished walking from Clearwater Bend.” The second deputy, the one who’d stayed half a step back, lifted his chin. His eyes narrowed. Not suspicious exactly, but alert, like he’d found a loose thread and was deciding whether to pull. “Why were you walking from there?”“I was in the capital when everything fell apart,” I said. “Had to abandon the metro at Clearwater Bend.” That was all he got. The truth stayed trimmed and controlled, stripped of blood and screaming and the moments I still couldn’t replay without feeling sick. No mention of why I’d been there. No mention of who didn’t make it off that train. These deputies might have been clean, but uncertainty ruled everything now. Silence felt like armor. They didn’t push. At least not yet. Instead, their focus sharpened. “You were in Washington?” the closer deputy asked. I nodded. “Do you know what the hell is happening out there?”The edge in his voice slipped through. Urgency. Frustration. A man clinging to the hope that someone, anyone, had answers he didn’t. I shook my head slowly. “Surprised you don’t. Thought you’d be plugged into Homeland Security.” Both deputies laughed. It was short and humorless, the kind of laugh that existed only because the alternative was worse. The one in back tapped his ear. “Radios went dead when the attacks started. No word from the Feds since.” Elena’s grip tightened. “Then how are you communicating?” Phones appeared in their hands like talismans, confidence returning in thin, fragile layers. “Internet still works,” the closer deputy said. “Messaging apps.” His eyes drifted past us, scanning the interior of the house.The change was instant. His body stiffened. Arms tightening. Spine straightening as if something inside had snapped to attention. “Ma’am,” he said, “for safety reasons, we’d like to search your home. Just to make sure everything lines up.” Even though he spoke to Elena, both men watched me. I felt my muscles tense before I could stop them, the old instincts flaring. Elena didn’t hesitate. She nodded and gestured them inside. “Of course.” They stepped back, letting us lead. A subtle power move that didn’t go unnoticed. The first deputy veered toward the kitchen. “Anyone else here?” “Our son,” Elena answered. “He’s upstairs on his tablet.” The second deputy lingered at the threshold, then motioned us into the living room. He followed close behind, positioning himself where he could see both the hallway and me. “How’d you get those bruises?” he asked. “And the bandages on your hands?” My right hand moved on instinct, covering the left. It was useless. He’d already cataloged everything. “I was attacked trying to get out of the city,” I said. “I defended myself.” “Is that why you got pulled off the train in Clearwater Bend?” My stomach clenched hard. He was observant. Too observant. The room felt smaller, the walls inching closer. If he learned the full truth, cuffs would follow. And with everything collapsing, losing my family was the one thing I wouldn’t survive. “Yes.” Short answers. Controlled answers.“There should be a police report.” I opened my mouth, already feeling the lie form, but Elena’s arm wrapped firmly around my torso, stopping me. “If there was a working police force in Clearwater Bend,” she said calmly, “he wouldn’t have been dragged off a train.” The deputy’s eyes narrowed. Words gathered behind them, but heavy footsteps cut through the moment. “Check your messages,” the other deputy said as he entered the room. The living room seemed to hold its breath. The deputy hesitated, then pulled out his phone. His fingers moved fast, scrolling, tapping. A sharp nod followed. He gestured toward the door and walked out without another word. Confusion flooded the space he left behind.Elena and I exchanged a look, both of us bracing for something worse. “Thank you for your cooperation,” the remaining deputy said, voice clipped now. “Please stay indoors until you hear from our department or the county office that the emergency has passed.” “Where are you going?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. The relief I’d been holding onto vanished, replaced by a cold, sinking weight in my chest. “Sheriff’s orders,” he said. “Hawthorne Ridge County requested aid. A lot of us are being sent.” Elena stepped closer, her hand never leaving mine. “Shouldn’t you stay here? Protect our community?” He paused at the door, just long enough to let the truth surface. “If we needed help, I’d hope someone would come,” he said. “Better to face trouble away from your family than at your front door. Not all of us are leaving. If you learn anything important, contact the department through social media.” Then he was gone. His boots hit the porch steps hard, urgency driving his stride. The Utility Rover’s engine roared to life and vanished down the road, its headlights swallowed by darkness. Elena and I stood in the doorway long after the sound faded. Night pressed in around us, thick and watchful. No answers followed them. Only the growing certainty that whatever danger existed had already crossed into our county. And it was getting closer.