Project Revanant

PROLOGUE – The Beginning Wasn’t Loud The end of the world didn’t arrive with explosions and screaming like the movies promised. It came quietly. It came disguised as a cure. The Project was supposed to be revolutionary. A classified military enhancement program designed to build soldiers who never tired… who never hesitated… who never failed. Serums. Training modifications. Behavioral rewiring. They didn’t call them experiments. They called them upgrades. And it worked— until the bodies stopped listening. Until minds fractured. Until instincts rewrote themselves. Until something inside the human brain snapped awake that should have stayed asleep forever. When the first “incident” happened, they covered it up. When the second one happened, they burned the files. By the fifth… the world was already too late. They didn’t create super soldiers. They created something else. Something that didn’t feel fear. Didn’t understand mercy. Didn’t remember how to be human. And like every terrible secret in history… it didn’t stay hidden. EPISODE 1 – The Day Everything Broke “Come on… why is the bus running late?” Veronica muttered to herself as she sat in the car at the bus barn, the afternoon heat pressing against the windows like a living thing. Sweat clung to the back of her neck. The sky looked too bright, too still—like it was waiting for something. “Get outta the way, stupid!” Her four-year-old, Kinsley Dallas Alsbrooks, yelled proudly from her booster seat, spinning her toy steering wheel like she was running a NASCAR race. Veronica glanced in the rearview mirror and couldn’t help the tired smile tugging at her lips. Her dad had been right. The kid did get her road rage. Same fiery attitude as Mama. Same trusting, dangerous smile as Daddy. The squeal of brakes cut through the air. “Mom! It’s here! It’s finally here!” Kinsley bounced like a mini bobblehead as the bus hissed to a stop. A moment later, Hazel hopped off, twelve years old and already carrying herself like she owned the world. Long brown hair. Bright green eyes. Taller than most girls her age and full of opinions. James stepped off behind her—sixteen, towering and broad-shouldered, blue eyes calm, dark hair falling effortlessly over his forehead. He barely had to try to look like someone people trusted. “Hey, Mom,” Hazel sighed, collapsing into the seat. “It’s like walking through an oven out there.” James leaned into the open window to grin at Kinsley before slipping into the truck beside them. “Mr. Harlan looked ready to quit today. Kids went crazy.” “Well,” Veronica breathed, “your dad said he’s sorry he couldn’t pick you guys up. Work called. Said it was urgent.” James’s brows pulled together, but he didn’t say anything. They didn’t know it yet— but “urgent” was just the first crack in the world. Later… “MOM! DAD’S ON THE PHONE!” Hazel’s voice echoed through the house the second they got home. Veronica barely set her keys down before grabbing the cordless. “Hey, baby,” she said, forcing casualness into her tone. “I’m working in the garden. What’s wrong?” “Veronica.” Corey’s voice sounded tight. Controlled. Too controlled. “Listen carefully,” he said. “And do not react.” Veronica’s heartbeat stumbled. “Get the kids. Pack clothes. Food. Anything usable. Give James the truck keys. Have him hook up the chicken-coop trailer.” “What? Why? Corey, what’s going on?” “Meet me at the machine shop on Highway 65. I’m about an hour out and the roads are getting bad. Don’t turn on the news. Don’t say anything to panic the kids. Just trust me. Please.” “Corey—” “Move. Now.” The line went dead. For a heartbeat she stood frozen, phone clutched in shaking hands. Then she moved. “James.” She shoved a handwritten list into his hands. Her voice didn’t tremble, and that alone made James move faster. “I need you to load the trailer. Water. Canned food. Tools. Ammo. Blankets. Anything you can carry.” “Mom… Dad’s truck— I’ve only driven it once. I almost wrecked the fence.” “You can do this.” She grabbed his arm. “Your father trusts you. So do I.” Hazel didn’t argue for once when told to pack clothes. Kinsley hugged her stuffed elephant and just watched the adults panic. The television switched itself from a soap opera to a blank emergency screen. A calm voice spoke. “Emergency Broadcasting: All local schools will be closed for the foreseeable future…” Hazel stopped breathing. Veronica turned it off before it said anything else. “We’re leaving,” she whispered. “Now.” On the Road They rolled out in a tense little convoy. Veronica leading. James behind in Corey’s truck, trailer rattling like a heartbeat. “Stay behind me,” Veronica warned at the stop sign. “No matter what.” “Yes, ma’am.” For a while, the world pretended to still be normal. Then— “Mom—WATCH OUT!!” A car flew into their lane then spun across the road, grinding metal screaming into the air before slamming into a rail. Veronica braked hard. Hazel grabbed the dashboard. Kinsley screamed. “That was close,” Hazel breathed. “We need to help them.” “No.” Veronica’s voice cracked. “We can’t. We have to get to your father.” She checked the mirror. James wasn’t there. “Call him!” Hazel tried. Voicemail. Again. “He’s just like his damn father…” Veronica whispered, fear crawling icy down her spine. But stopping was worse. So she drove. The Machine Shop The sun was lowering by the time she pulled into the lot. The world felt quieter. Wrong. “Mom… are we going to die?” Hazel whispered. “No. And don’t scare your sister.” They didn’t see Corey at first. Then— Knuckles tapped on her window. Veronica squealed and spun. “Damn it, Corey! You scared me!” He didn’t laugh like he normally would. “Come around back,” he said. “We need to talk.” Hidden behind the shop sat an old school bus— painted camo green. Veronica hugged him and felt the tension in his body. “What’s happening?” Corey swallowed. “There are… attacks. All over the world. People attacking others. Some in groups. Some alone. They don’t… act human.” Veronica’s chest hollowed out. “We have to get off the grid. Now. Somewhere isolated. Less people—less danger.” “What about James?” Smoke curled in the distance. Corey lifted binoculars. “Pile-up. Bad one. He’s not getting through that.” Veronica’s eyes burned. “We can’t leave him.” “I’m not.” He grabbed paint and started writing long sweeping symbols across the metal shop wall. “What is that?” “Ojibwe,” Corey said softly. “He’ll understand it. It tells him where to go.” He dropped the brush. They needed to move. Her phone buzzed in her hand. No signal. “Corey… phones are dead.” His jaw locked. “Then we don’t separate. We don’t trust anyone we don’t know.” As they climbed into their vehicles, Veronica noticed movement along the highway. A woman. Two kids. When they saw the vehicles… they hid in the ditch. Her heart split. She pulled beside Corey. “There’s a woman back there with kids. She’s terrified.” “We don’t have room,” he snapped instinctively. “We barely have enough for us.” She just stared at him. He sighed. “Fine. We help.” Because even when the world breaks… they couldn’t stop being human. And somewhere miles away— James drove toward a message painted for him in a language older than the disaster itself. Project Revenant had begun.