As they went for the side of the freeway, the agonizing screams of those trapped in the burning accompanied them, carried by the howling wind of the dismally cold winter evening.

Having planned on being on a plane and in Texas already, Claude wasn't equipped to handle the thick carpet of snow, all he wore were dress shoes. The musician's feet slipped on a patch of ice and he fell down into the ditch that ran alongside the freeway.

"Are you alright?" The journalist asked, reluctant to stop.
The Grungy guy went back onto his feet quickly "...I'm alright" he said.

The group kept running, even Claude despite the pain from the fall. They didn't stop for what was maybe an hour, pumped to inhuman endurance by the stream of adrenaline brought on by sheer terror.

After a while, they all stopped. They were in the woods and nothing was in sight. They weren't even sure where the highway was anymore.

"Great..." Claude said between two inspirations. He checked his phone. "Shit... No signal. Any of you just so happen to have a satellite phone?"

They all traded a silent glare that answered the question better than words could.

Next to him, the kid shivered strongly, as he only wore a thin fabric vest. The musician didn't hesitate and he took out his coat, putting it on the street rat's shoulders.

"We've got to find shelter or we'll freeze to death." This one commented without saying thanks.

"Ungrateful brat" The guy muttered to himself. He was wearing quite a few layers so he wouldn't be in too much problems... Hopefully.

"The fuck do we do? We're lost as shit!" The punk girl spat.

The survivors scouted the surroundings, nothing was in sight but more trees and snow. It took a minute until the Other woman spoke, pointing toward nothing. "There!"

"What is it?" The three of them asked, almost in unison.

She walked toward it and the others followed until they finally saw. On the tree was a red cloth, tied tightly to it.

"What that?" The musician asked.

"It's a marker, to show which ways go back to the camp."

"How do you know that? And how do we know which way it says?" Said the black haired girl, pointing out that there were two other makers in sight that lead in opposite directions.

"It's the side of the knot. As for how I know. My mother forced me into summer camps every years..."

They followed the trail and surely, they arrived at a camp site. The place had probably been a summer camp before but now what remained were mostly ruins. The husk of two building showed signs of fire as the few bits that still stood were blackened...

Much to their relief, one of the building still stood but had fallen into disrepair. The group stumbled inside after kicking the door down. The place didn't contain much but a few furniture left there by the inhabitants.

"Anyone has a lighter?" The journalist asked, seeing the fireplace.

Claude handed her his Zippo and she fetched a notepad from her pocket. Catching her drift, the man helped her, carrying a broken chair to the fireplace. They lit a fire and not too soon, the place was getting tolerably warm.

The guitarist dropped his case on the ground and asked. "I'm Claude... What's your names?"

"Tessa." The journalist declared.

"Leila..." The Goth added.

The group turned to the kid who took a few seconds before answering. "Xavier, this is Token." He said, letting his rat out of his jacket and borrowed coat. "And…thanks for the coat." He then muttered.

They all sat by the fire for a few minutes until the tattoo artist broke the silence.

"What in the fuck happened back there?" Leila asked.

"I don't know... A suicide bomber?" The journalist offered.

"He wouldn't have assaulted the old guy. He would have just blown us up before we knew it happened." The kid remarked.

"Magic?" Claude proposed.

All of them glared at him...

"Why not aliens?" The punk mocked him.

"I'm serious. I mean, the guy looked like freakin' Gandalf!" He explained himself

"Wait... I remember... He took a book from the old guy... What was his name. Marlin?" Tessa continued.

"Regardless, we aren't going to solve that by staying here. What resources do we have?" Leila questioned.

All of them pooled their pocket's content. A decent sum of cash, which amounted to nothing here, a switchblade the kid had, some smart phones with a charger, who's wire would come in handy if they had to strangle someone and two protein bars Claude had for emergency munchies.

"Let's rest until morning comes, I'll do the first watch." The French man declared. Nobody argued with him, they didn't have the strength to. He watched from the dirty window for any sign of movement until it came time for him to switch place with one of the other.

The End

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