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|Geronimo-Sheppard|

WELCOME TO COLONY reads a wooden sign, its stakes wrapped in coiling vines.

Spencer watches as it fades from view, then turns his attention towards the small, decaying town ahead. The town looks like something out of a forgotten history book, with nature creeping in to claim what remains.

As the bus drives through, he eyes the post-colonial buildings, some still bearing legible signs.

Carmen scoffs, "This place is gross. Why don't they just tear it down?"

Spencer frowns, her callousness always seeming to leave a sour taste in his mouth.

The bus veers right at a fork, narrowing into a wooded path. As idle chatter fills the bus, Spencer catches flickers of movement between the dense trees. He leans closer to the window, shadows darting too quickly for him to make out. Suddenly, the bus jolts—sending his forehead into the glass.

"Fuck," he mutters, rubbing the spot.

He quickly looks back out the window, but whatever he thought he saw is gone.  Maybe just the trick of the light.

"Alright, file out," Ms. Pruitt calls as the bus doors hiss open.

Spencer slings his backpack over his shoulder and pulls his headphones around his neck as he follows the group.

A bearded man steps forward with an awkwardly enthusiastic smile, wearing a smiley-face fanny pack that sits too proudly on his hips.

"Alright, everybody, welcome to Camp Lakoma!" He claps his hands together, clearly soaking in the spotlight.

"I'm Bishop, the camp director. I know some of you're probably tired, but we're here to make sure you leave with some great memories," he says, pausing for effect. "You'll each be paired with a bunkmate—basically your buddy for the next two weeks. Safety first, right?"

He scans the group, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. When it doesn't come, he clears his throat and pushes forward.

"And if you need anything, you can always come see Big Bish here." He adds a grin that lingers a bit too long. "Alright, go find your cabins, get settled. And remember, we are here to make sure you have a great time."

Spencer watches Bishop with a raised brow, uneasy at the man's forced grin and fake enthusiasm, like he's trying too hard to sell something. He shakes it off though and grabs his duffel bag, chalking it up to exhaustion.

Spencer wanders the campgrounds, taking in the rustic charm. The lake catches his eye, its surface rippling—hinting at a teeming life below.

"Wow," a voice says beside him, startling him. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Spencer turns, pulse quickening. Baylee stands there, her gaze fixed on the water.

"Uh . . . yeah. It's, um . . . really nice."

His face burns. Of all the times to lose his words, why now?

Baylee's eyes glint with amusement as she tilts her head, studying him.

"You're right," she says, her tone light and teasing. "It's really . . . nice."

Spencer wants to say something else, anything to redeem himself, but before he can think of a response, a sudden scream shatters the moment. They exchange a glance and sprint towards the sound.

A crowd gathers outside one of the cabins. Spencer peers over the heads to see Carmen clutching a bed post—her face pale and breathing rapid.

"What happened?" Baylee asks, pushing through to Carmen's side.

"I saw something!" Carmen shrieks, her voice shaking. "It ran across the room—it was huge!"

"It's just a rodent," a nearby counselor says, trying to calm her. "Small animals get in sometimes. I'll check to make sure it's gone."

Carmen's fear twists into disgust. She waves a hand dismissively as students groan and begin to disperse. Spencer lingers near the door, watching her.

With a huff, Carmen flops onto the bed, rolling her eyes. "Whatever. What's the Wi-Fi password?"

The counselor freezes. "We don't have Wi-Fi."

Carmen bolts upright, her jaw dropping. "Seriously?!"

"It's camp," the counselor says lightly. "We're all about disconnecting here."

"Then how are we supposed to talk to each other!?"

"Face-to-face," Spencer says, matter-of-fact.

Carmen's glare snaps to him, sharp enough to cut. "Why are you even here? Lonely, much?"

Baylee shoots Spencer an apologetic look, but Spencer just shrugs—unbothered by Carmen's comment. High school, friendships, her opinions—they're just things he tolerates until he can leave.

Spencer heads back to his cabin and finds Fisher lying on one of the bunks, flicking a pocket knife open and shut. The rhythmic click fills the silence.

Fishers dark eyes track Spencer, but he doesn't demand conversation. That's something Spencer can appreciate.

Then, he spots Keat unpacking across the room.  His stomach sinks. Of course. They're bunkmates. What were the odds?

Keat grins, as if nothing has changed. "Oh, hey. Like old times, huh?"

Spencer leans against the counter, arms crossed. "Yeah, sure."

Keat hesitates, his smile faltering. The weight of unspoken words hangs between them, thick and heavy. Spencer doesn't need to say anything. Keat knows what he did—or didn't do.

A lanky young man steps in, his unruly brown hair flopping over his forehead. "Keat and Spencer, right? I'm Kill. Counselor for Cabin 4."

Keat chuckles. "Unusual name."

"Short for Killian. Friends call me Kill. And we're all friends here, right?"

Spencer raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment.

"Hey," he says after a pause, "that town we drove through—how long's it been abandoned?"

Killian's grin falters for a split second. "Who said it was abandoned?"

The air stills, and Spencer feels a pricking unease crawl up his spine.

Then Killian laughs, clapping his hands. "Kidding! Lighten up, man. We're all good vibes here."

Spencer's unease lingers as Killian rambles on about the welcome bonfire and cabin rules.

"If you need anything or have question, I'm just a name-call away, okay?" He starts to leave, but not before looking over his shoulder with a serious stare, "And, uh. . . try not to wander in the woods after dark. It's easy to get lost out there."

Keat frowns. "He's a little odd."

"Odd? That's a nice way of putting it," Fisher says, a low chuckle in his voice as he sits up on his bunk.

Spencer glances over as he tucks his knife into his boot, his movements purposeful. He stands, rolling his shoulders like he shaking off some unseen weight.

"Guess I'll see if there's something more interesting going on outside," he says, throwing them a casual look before heading for the door.

The cabin falls quiet as the door swings shut behind him.

Keat looks at Spencer, shifting awkwardly.  "So, uh, it's just us now."

Spencer ignores him, climbing up to the top bunk and putting on his headphones. Keat mumbles something, but he doesn't care enough to ask.

The familiar hum of music fills his ears, and Spencer closes his eyes, hoping sleep will come quickly.

Later, Spencer stands around the bonfire, watching the other seniors. Some are entranced by the dance of the flames, eyes wide as the sparks leap into the balmy night air.

As he soaks in the warmth, someone bumps into him. He turns to see Ernest, the class's brightest mind, fumbling with his glasses—his face flushed with embarrassment.

"S-sorry," he mumbles, barely audible.

Spencer looks past him to see a group of boys laughing, casually nudging each other and throwing derisive glances. He swallows his irritation, offering Earnest a reassuring nod.

"It's fine," he says.

Before he can say anything more, Ernest scrambles off—no doubt eager to avoid any further attention. Spencer understands the feeling all too well.

Bishop's voice cuts through the chatter.
"If I can have everyone's attention . . ."

The crowd quiets, the crackle of the fire filling the silence.

"Welcome, Hagerman High, Class of 2018. I'm sure you all noticed the old town on your way in. That's Colony, one of the oldest settlements in Idaho. It sat abandoned for many decades before this camp was even an idea. But it's a reminder that even forgotten place can have a second life—a chance to start fresh." His tone softens as his eyes sweep over the students. "That's what these next two weeks are about. A chance to hit pause before life speeds up. To let loose, make some memories, and just be kids one last time."

A small smile flickers across his face as he pulls out a remote.

"So let's kick it off the right way."

Music blares from the overhead speakers, and everyone erupts in cheers. Some dance around the fire— some with rhythm, and others less so. Laughter rings out into the night, blending with the music and the crackling flames. It's kind of night that would blend in into any other.

That is, until Spencer's eyes catch something in the shadows. A pair of glowing orbs stare back at him from the tree line, holding his gaze for a heartbeat. And then, just as quickly as they appeared, they vanish.