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Chloe moves through the rusted labyrinth of the American Rust Junkyard with the loose, jittery energy of a live wire. Her worn heavy boots crunch against wet gravel, kick up small sprays of mud, and then land with a deliberate splash in the middle of a stagnant puddle. Above them, a single, cold October moon hangs clear and solitary in the Oregon sky, its reflection rippling across the dark water beneath Chloe’s heels. She spins on one foot, arms outstretched, her faded leather jacket flaring out as she performs a mocking, improvisational ballet dance right in the center of the pool. Her laughter is brief, sharp, and cut through with the raw, nervous edge that has trailed them all night.
Max stops near the rusted body of a stripped-down pickup truck, her hand resting against the cold, flaking metal. Her blue eyes track Chloe’s frantic movements with a tenderness that aches, her heart softening at the fragile sight of her girlfriend trying to dance away the shadow hanging over them. But the pressing weight of reality—the suffocating mystery, the ticking clock, the dark secret waiting somewhere beneath the dirt—drags Max right back down. They cannot afford a single wasted second.
"Stop stomping around, Chloe!" Max says, her voice a low, frantic whisper that barely carries over the ocean breeze rustling the surrounding pines.
Chloe catches her balance, her boots sloshing out of the puddle as she comes to a halt. She wipes a stray strand of blue hair from her forehead, her gaze cutting sharp and clear through the dim moonlight. "Right. Just get ready to use your rewind fast if Nathan tries to jump us."
"I will," Max agrees instantly, the promise hanging firm between them.
She steps closer, every instinct in her body pulling her toward Chloe. She wants nothing more than to frame Chloe’s sharp jaw in her hands, to press her lips against hers and taste the familiar, comforting salt of her skin, to grounding them both before the world pulls them under again. But she pulls back, holding the impulse tightly in her chest. There is no time. She turns away, forcing her focus back onto the dark ground.
Navigating through a clearing of overgrown weeds and discarded car parts, Max’s eyes catch a patch of fresh, unsettled dirt. The earth is loose, dark, and uneven, yielding to the surrounding dampness in a way that suggests it was disturbed no more than a month ago. A cold dread settles heavy in the pit of her stomach, making her breath catch in her throat. She steps closer, staring down at the spot as the horrible realization takes shape. She turns her head frantically and gestures back toward the shadows behind her.
"Chloe, come over here, quick!" Max calls out, her voice trembling, laced with an urgent horror.
Chloe doesn't hesitate. She breaks into a run, her heavy steps pounding across the earth until she skids to a halt beside Max. Together, they drop to their knees in the cold mud. Without needing to speak, their hands move in a panicked rhythm, clawing and scraping away the damp topsoil that covers the shallow grave. The smell of earth and decay turns sharp in the air. Beneath the dark dirt, a flash of faded plastic appears, and then the muted colors of familiar clothing.
Chloe’s hands freeze in the dirt, her breath hitching into a ragged, broken gasp. "Oh God, Max, look... she's still there."
The words hit Max like a physical blow. The reality of Rachel Amber’s fate crashes over her with suffocating weight. She stumbles backward to her feet, her boots slipping on the slick mud as she slowly backs away from the horrible sight, her hands shaking violently.
"Don’t look, Chloe..." Max pleads softly, her voice barely a breath as she tries to step between her girlfriend and the grave. "Don't look..."
Before she can take another step, a shadow detaches itself from the darkness behind her. Cold, calculated hands grab her shoulder, and a sharp, blinding sting pierces the skin at the back of her neck. Max gasps, her vision instantly swimming as a heavy, freezing numbness surges down her spine and floods her veins. Her knees buckle, and the dark ground rushes up to meet her. No, no, rewind, go back— Max screams internally, desperately trying to summon the familiar, burning pull in her chest, the spark that twists time backward. But the chemical fog spreads too fast, severing her connection to her power. The temporal spark sputters and dies out into black nothingness. She cannot turn back the clock. She cannot warn Chloe.
A strangled, aborted choke escapes Max’s throat as she hits the muddy earth. Hearing the strange, desperate noise, Chloe’s combat instincts instantly flare. She reacts on raw impulse, dropping her head and ducking low to the ground just as a deafening gunshot shatters the quiet night, the bullet whistling through the exact air where her head had been a split second prior. The distraction gives Chloe just enough time to reach around to her back pocket, her fingers wrapping tight around the cold steel of her gun.
"What the fuck?" Chloe screams, her voice a furious, terrified roar as she scrambles sideways in the mud.
Everything stretches into a agonizing, surreal slow motion for Max. Heavy paralysis locks her limbs to the dirt, her peripheral vision narrowing into a dark tunnel. Through the haze, a second gunshot rings out—loud, sharp, and echoing through the junkyard. Max tries to lift her head, her eyelids fluttering weakly as a tall figure slowly steps into her fading line of sight. The killer moves toward her with measured, terrifying calm. Max looks up, her mind recoiling in utter horror as the moonlight illuminates the face above her: Mr. Jefferson, his eyes cold and unreadable behind his stylish glasses.
He raises his weapon, preparing to finish the job, but he never gets the chance to aim down at Max.
Unseen by Max’s fading sight, Chloe surges forward out of the dark, driven by pure, unadulterated fury and love. Her primal instinct kicking in to attack the cat who plays with his victims. She moves like a storm, lunging before Jefferson can react. A bullet catches him square in the side of the head, fired from Chloe’s gun at point-blank range as she crashes into him. The force of her momentum shoves his limp, falling body away, preventing his heavy frame from collapsing on top of her girlfriend.
Jefferson crashes onto the metal debris behind them, dead before he hits the ground. Like nothing more than a lump of skin and meat.
Chloe drops her weapon into the dirt without a second thought. She falls to her knees in the thick, wet mud, sliding directly beside Max. Her hands, covered in dirt and trembling uncontrollably, gather Max up into her arms, pulling her tightly against her chest.
"Max! Max, stay with me!" Chloe sobs, burying her face into Max's hair, her heart hammering wildly against Max's cheek as she holds her girlfriend safe in the dark.