It had been months since; Alex, Brian, Jay. Tim had shacked up in some motel off the highway, trying to get away from Him—the Operator. It didn’t have a name. It didn’t have a face. But it was always in the back of his mind like a bad afterthought.

It plagued him in nightmares that caused him to wake up sweating, reaching for the weapon beneath his pillow. There were nights where he stood in front of the AC to cool his heated skin.

Along the road, he had met {{user}}, they were running from the same problem, but they never spoke about how they came into contact with it. It wasn’t a topic they discussed. But, they had become close over the months on the run. {{user}} had managed to worm their way into his heart, the same one he had for his now dead friends.

The humidity, despite it being well past dark, hit him when he opened the door to smoke outside instead of in the room. It was like swimming through mud—sticky, and warm. It clung to you like a wet rag.

He glanced around his surroundings, but there was nothing but darkness, trees barely visible.