₴₮Ɽ₳₦₲ɆⱤ ₮Ⱨ₳₦ ₣ł₵₮łØ₦ | 2 | The Thrillseeker
₲₳฿Ɏ ₥₳Ɽ₮ł₦ɆⱫ-J₳₦₲ has lived a sheltered life growing up in Oasis Springs. When she was a child, her father dazzled her with tales of the adventures his own parents took him on in the lush, treacherous jungles of Selvadorada. But the most exciting place she's ever been is Granite Falls, a tourist destination manufactured to look like a vast, imposing forest but whose only menace was a demented man wandering around in a bear suit (don't ask). Now that she's old enough to strike out on her own, she's desperate to shake up her predictable suburban existence. She thirsts for excitement, risk, even danger - anything to make her feel more alive.
Like most people her age, she spends too much time online, trawling her newsfeed for interesting stories and falling down Wiki wormholes as the sun sets and rises through her window. Lately, she's become especially fascinated with a real-life mystery she stumbled upon by chance: a town known as Strangerville and the disturbing mystery illness that's wiping out its citizens and replacing them with unintelligible versions of themselves. People, some of them firsthand witnesses and some of them halfway around the world, can't stop sharing their theories, which grow more tangled and bizarre by the day. Gaby feels a sense of kinship among them. They, too, wish to escape their day-to-day monotony and be a part of something bigger than they can even imagine.
Her parents don't understand her rapidly intensifying obsession. She follows the story with a level of discipline that would be admirable if it were applied to anything else, refreshing her screen every five minutes to check for new developments.
"Honey, can't you put that thing down for once?" her father chides her. "Whatever's going on in that town, if there's anything going on, it doesn't concern you."
"Of course it concerns me, Dad!" she shouts back. "It should concern all of us! What if this thing spreads?"
She begins posting on the forums herself and is soon able to recognize fellow theorists by name - or screen name, at least. Often, they shroud their actual identities in complete secrecy. The conspiracy runs deep, they claim; you never know who might be listening in.
There are three users in particular who seem to run in a pack, always congregating in the same threads. They all claim to live in Strangerville, to have witnessed the odd behavior of its citizens themselves. But they refuse to provide real evidence for fear of being identified. She takes a chance and sends one of them a private message. It takes weeks for her to prove she's not some sort of plant or spy, but the conversation slowly inches forward. We want to trust you, the person writes, but we have to know you're serious. Come to Strangerville. Show us you're not afraid.
She doesn't have to be told twice. Against her parents' protests, she packs an overnight bag and hops on the first bus there. When she arrives, she's not nervous, just curious. Gaby Martínez-Jang, girl detective, is on the case, she thinks.
In many ways, Strangerville is just a typical rural town, run-down, sure, but its shabbiness has a certain charm. She can't help but notice, though, that its streets are eerily empty.
Soon enough, though, the "quirks" in its desert landscape reveal themselves, the odd little touches that confirm her suspicion that something is very off. She comes across a downed airplane and takes some pictures before moving on, unsettled. There can't possibly be anyone inside, but she can't shake the feeling that it's somehow sentient.
She sees them from a distance first, improbably sprouting from the dry earth in every direction. Online, they're known fondly as "the flowers," but these aren't like any flowers she's ever seen. They're bulbous, fluorescent, glowing. They look like they were either created in a lab or transported from another planet. There's no way they're of earthly origins.
She takes pictures of these, too. Up close, they're even more of an enigma. Their glow has a hazy aura, a sense of movement, that makes her think it's controlled by some separate entity, some unknown being gestating deep inside. But, no, that would be impossible...
She messages the pictures to her contact. I'm here, she tells them. What now? She receives a response almost immediately: Let's meet. Tonight. Roswell's Diner. Thirty seconds later, a follow-up message: Delete this conversation.
Roswell's Diner is everything she'd expected it would be from the name. Whoever owns the place is clearly going all in on the alien theory. It's a popular one but too simple for Gaby to put much stock in. As far as anyone knows, the town's alien settlers have never shown any malevolence, even when confronted with their neighbors' constant bigotry. The theory that they're somehow responsible relies too much on outdated stereotypes and blind ignorance.
Inside the kitschy diner, she's immediately drawn to the only other customers in sight, half-hidden in a corner booth. Are they who she's been communicating with all this time? They don't look dangerous, so she approaches, raising her arm in tentative greeting. "Hi, um, my name's Gaby. I think I'm supposed to be meeting you here?"
"Gaby_martz_99!" the lanky, dark-haired one exclaims, unable to mask her enthusiasm. "I'm Juniper." Gaby thinks immediately of the user she's been exchanging messages with: junebug18. This must be her.
"That's Daphne," she continues, and the bashful, round-faced alien across the table from her makes sheepish eye contact with Gaby: blushingmoonflower.
"And that's Ros." She signals somewhere behind Gaby, and she turns to find a fierce, glowering woman huddled over a pint of beer: on3th0rnyros3.
Somehow, the three of them are simultaneously everything and nothing like what Gaby expected. Ros shows no signs of moving from the bar - she barely even acknowledges Gaby's presence - so the rest of them join her at the counter. They've barely settled before Juniper is jumping headfirst into conversation, talking a mile a minute to bring Gaby up to speed.
"I have one burning question," Gaby begins as soon as she can get a word in, "and that's what do these people actually look like? The town seems totally abandoned. I didn't see anyone, infected or otherwise."
"That's because they could tell you were an outsider," Juniper replies. "They don't trust anyone in town, and they trust people from out of town even less. And the infected, well, they tend to come out more at night. But I guess they look something kind of like..."
"THIS!"
Suddenly, Juniper's face contorts into a comically exaggerated expression, like she's imitating a homicidal maniac on the loose in some cheesy slasher flick. Gaby can hardly imagine anyone's face looking like that in real life.
Immediately, Daphne's hands fly to her mouth in shock. Tears brim at the corners of her eyes.
"Why the hell would you do that, you idiot?" Ros shouts gruffly, the first words Gaby's heard out of her mouth. "You knew it would upset her!"
"Shit, I'm sorry." Juniper turns to Gaby and lowers her voice. "Daphne's mom was one of the first people infected, and now she's missing. Nobody knows what happened to her."
Juniper rises from her seat to comfort Daphne. "I was just so wrapped up in the moment I forgot. Forgive me?"
"Of course I forgive you, but can you forgive me for being a big old crybaby yet again?"
Soon enough, they're laughing and hugging, and the faux pas is ancient history. It's clear how much they care about each other. They have the sort of bond that's more like the one between family than friends.
It's getting late, but before she leaves, Gaby shows Juniper the rest of the photos she took earlier in the day.
Ros smiles for the first time. "So innocent... All that stuff was new to us once, too. Now it's just business as usual."
"There's a lot you guys aren't telling me, isn't there?" Gaby asks.
"You have no idea." Juniper nods meaningfully toward the door. "For starters, I wouldn't look outside if I were you."
The dozens of online descriptions she skimmed couldn't possibly prepare her for what she sees when she peers through the glass. The woman outside is no longer really a woman at all. She's a violent, jerking, unnatural creature deep in the thralls of some primal urge beyond her own body or mind. For the first time, Gaby feels frightened.
But she must do something to prove she's up for this - whatever this truly entails. The others hang back cautiously, but she steps forward to approach the woman. Nobody protests as the gap between them closes. Surely, they would warn her if there were a chance she could be harmed.
"I wouldn't do that," Daphne calls faintly from behind as Gaby leans in to more closely inspect the woman's expression.
ⱧɆⱤ ₦Ɇ₴₮ ł₴ ₵ⱠØɄĐɆĐ ł₦ ฿Ɇ₳Ʉ₮Ɏ ₩Ɇ ĐØ ₦Ø₮ ĐɆ₴ɆⱤVɆ ⱧɆⱤ
What? Gaby doesn't understand the words she speaks, but they come from something that is surely not the woman's own voice but the voice of whatever - or whoever - is possessing her.
In the distance, another twitching victim approaches.
Gaby runs, flanked closely by the other three. Adrenaline sparks like electricity in her veins.
"That was terrifying, but it was also a little thrilling, right?"
"Mostly just terrifying," Daphne responds. "Now let's get out of here!"
For a few days after their meeting, Gaby hears nothing, and she's afraid she's blown it. She refreshes her inbox incessantly, desperate for even a single word. Just as she's nearly given up hope, she receives a call: it's Juniper. On the inside, she's jumping for joy, but then she remembers - she never gave Juniper her number.
"How did you find me?" she asks.
"I have my ways," Juniper says, her voice a distant crackle beneath the poor reception. "I use them for good... mostly. Just don't get on my bad side." She pauses for dramatic effect. "Listen, we're still wary of you, especially Ros. I can't blame her, though. A lot of people have let her down. Anyway, we want to give you a chance. I'll text you an address. Be there at nine sharp tomorrow morning to start your training."
"Training?"
But there's no response. Juniper's already hung up.
The address takes Gaby to what seems to be their home, a tiny, dilapidated trailer. But she's not allowed inside just yet. Ros meets her out front, a menacing scowl on her face, and tosses her a wadded pile of faded gym clothes. "Time to start your training," she says.
Daphne goes gentler on her. "Ros doesn't think this counts as training, but I think it's the most important training. You have to be fully in touch with nature before you can properly understand things that aren't of nature. My mom taught me that. It's how she understood my dad so well."
Finally, it's Juniper's turn. Hacking 101, she calls it. It takes Gaby hours to successfully complete the tasks she assigns her, but when she finally does it, a massive smile breaks out across Juniper's face. "You've learned well, grasshopper. Congratulations. This only slightly musty couch is yours to crash on for as long as you'd like."
She only spends one night there before the infected come knocking.
"What do they want?"
"They must have smelled fresh blood. They've come to welcome you to the neighborhood!"
"Oh, well, in that case, I should probably greet them."
"I wouldn't-"
"Come on in, neighbors!" Gaby calls out, ignoring the rapid acceleration of her heartbeat. "Hey, didn't I meet you last night? And you brought fruitcake! Fantastic!"
ⱠØØ₭ ₮Ø ₮ⱧɆ ₴₭Ɏ ł₮ ₩ɆⱠ₵Ø₥Ɇ₴ Ʉ₴ ₳ⱠⱠ
Is there any trace of these people's former selves buried beneath whatever creepy spell they're under? Gaby tries everything she can think of to snap them out of it.
Ros chuckles from the sofa. "It's cute that you think that'll work."
While everyone's attention is elsewhere, the dark-haired woman produces a bizarre glowing fruit and shoves it inside the refrigerator.
JØł₦ Ʉ₴ ł₦ ₮ⱧɆ ₵Ɽ₳₮ɆⱤ
With that, the woman disappears.
Gaby wants to investigate the fruit, but the others veto her plan. Nothing about that fruit looks safe. Until they learn exactly what it is, none of them are going to touch it. They don't even want to be near it. As they vacate the trailer, a pair of dark-suited men saunter past.
"Fuck," Juniper whispers. "This is not good!"
While one man loads the refrigerator onto a dolly, the other rattles off a carefully worded and clearly rehearsed message: "Traces of infection have been detected in your refrigerator. We have confiscated it and all of its contents. A refund has been issued for any inconvenience this may have caused."
He levels his sunglasses-obscured gaze at them and offers one final warning: "Please refrain from going near the secret lab." He puts on a sickening smile. "Have a nice day."
"Have a nice day, my ass!" Juniper shouts in their wake. "Where are we going to find another fridge?"
"We need reinforcements," Gaby says, "and I think I know just who to call."
"Hey, you've been looking for a story to break, haven't you? Well, let me tell you, I've got a piping hot one ready to go. Can you be here first thing tomorrow?"