“You got lucky!” A young, boyish voice exclaims grumpily, and is met with mirth filled giggling. The video pans from its view of a lake to center on a male youth, no older than sixteen. He’s panting, glaring at the person holding the phone and recording him.

“Yeah, lucky that you’re so slow.” Another voice, young and girlish, replies teasingly. The boy rolls his eyes, taking a deep breath and resting against a tree. He has hiking gear on, complete with a large ruck pack, light cargo pants and a short sleeve shirt.

“Can’t believe you wanted to race on a hiking trip.” He grumbles. “We’ve still got six miles to go, and my pack is killing me.”

“You’re just mad that you lost.” The girl says, and the boy rolls his eyes again.

“Whatever. Next time I’ll-” Suddenly he pauses, eyes widening as he stares past her. “What the hell is that!?”

The video hurriedly spins around in a whirl of green and brown, peering deeper into the hiking trail ahead of the holder.

“What? I don’t see any-” The girl yelps as the video is yanked back.

“Ha! Got you. You’ve got to stop falling for that, it’s the oldest trick in the book.” The boy hoots in triumph, and the video settles on his grinning face.

The girl holding the phone slaps him lightly on the chest. “Don’t do that! You know I hate it.”

“Oh don’t be mad. Come on, gimme a kiss.”

“Ugh, I hate you so much.”

The phone is lowered, then immediately raised, the video distorting as it attempts to focus on something farther down the trail from where they had come.

“What the hell is that?” The girl whispers, as the distortion grows more severe.

“Oh ha-ha. You think you can pull the ‘oh, I’m going to act like there really is something there, and he’ll have to believe it because he knows I know he wouldn’t fall for it right after he did it unless it was real’ card? Amateur. I’m three steps ahead and always will be babe.”

“No, Brian, really, there’s something down there.” She insists. The video is now almost unwatchable, pixels blending together to form a headache-inducing kaleidoscope of color.

“Fine, I’ll play along, bu- holy fuck.”

The video slowly returns to normal, revealing a shimmering haze in the air, light bending and revolving around a specific point. A tiny pin-prick of darkness hovers in the middle of this seemingly reality warping area.

“You thi-”

Brian is interrupted by voices chanting, low and indistinct, growing louder and louder as the black dot expands. The video has distorted again, far worse than before. And then the darkness explodes outwards, covering the recording, the screams from the two hikers being joined by the screams of dozens, hundreds, thousands of other voices, but these are unearthly, inhuman, and disturbing.

-End of what is believed to be the first recorded Rift Expansion Event on Earth.

-

Joey sighs, as he inspects his very fast movement structure.

“Yeah, they slashed a few of our tires.” He grumbles.

“Bad?” I ask, and he nods.

“Bad.” He confirms. “I’ll have to call a local fellah I know, have him take it in. Get your pup out of the truck first.”

I nod, and fiddle with the structure that opens into the truck. Immediately the pup jumps out.

“Hungry?” I ask, and it yips, burrowing its face into my chest. I feed it with a small tentacle, as Joey taps a circular structure around his neck. Now that I’m aware of it, I remember a lot of the humans and nuans around here carry one. Will have to question Joey about it later.

“Yeah mate, it’s Joey. Not so bad, yourself? Good, good. Listen mate, some local cunts slashed my tires, I was wondering if yeh’d be able to give it a look? Nah, not my own, company semi. Yep, probably’ll need the big one. Great, ‘preciate yeh mate, we’re just outside of Jodie’s. Oh yeah, she’s workin’ today, yeh know the old bird. Fantastic, see yeh.”

The pup has finished eating, and it crawls up to rest on my shoulder, sniffing my hair as Joey comes back.

“Alright, me mate will be here in five.” He says, reaching out a ha-

Growl.

“Right, sorry ‘bout that kiddo, forgot yeh didn’t like being touched.” He says, his tone sorry.

“Unpleasant.”

“Gotcha. Was just gonna say there’s some shade over there, so we’re not standing out in the heat.” He points to the side of the truck, but I shake my head.

“The heat is pleasant.” It increases blood circulation just slightly, reducing the biomass cost of maintaining my anatomy. He nods.

We wait for three hundred breaths, before another truck pulls up next to us. Another hairy human male leans out of its side.

“This the beaut?” It calls, and Joey nods.

“Yeh, this is her. Appreciate yeh coming out here.” Joey says, and I pause.

Strange. There’s no underlying hostilities or unease to his tone, like when the wolf pack is among their… friends. Is this new arrival a friend? Is that what a ‘mate’ is? But Joey calls everyone a ‘mate’.

I’m confused. Another thing to inquire about.

“No problem Joe. You both hop on in, I’ll get you sorted out.” The new male says, and I follow Joey, climbing into the big truck.

Mmm…

These seats are much more pleasant than Joey’s truck.

-

“And then, if yeh can believe it, they had the nerve to imply Jodie had gone soft in the city. Jodie! Soft!” Joey laughs, ruefully shaking his head as he takes another swig of his beer.

Oscar rolled his eyes, popping open another can and kicking his feet up on a stool. They were sitting out on his porch, idly watching Non-name - as Joey had affectionately taken to calling him - looking at the porch light with fascination. He was flicking the switch up and down, watching it turn on and off. The pup he always had with him was resting in a makeshift pouch the kid had made with his shirt, wriggling in deeper to escape the flickering light.

Suddenly his head swiveled around to stare at them, wonderment in his gaze.

He pointed up at the moon, then at the light switch.

“How you start that light?” He asked, his soft voice brimming with curiosity.

This caused Joey and Oscar to chuckle. “Nah kiddo, that light always stays on.” Joey informs him, and No-name nods, accepting the answer and resuming flicking the light switch.

Oscar looks between the kid and Joey, not missing the hint of fatherly care in his gaze. He recalls that Joey’s son, Gaster, should be about No-name age.

“Been meaning to ask you.” Oscar whispers, leaning towards Joey. “Where’d you find the kid? And why’s he so… him?”

Joey purses his lips, as if trying to find the right answer. Finally, he whispers back. “Hit ‘em with my truck, actually, on my route to Mackadon.” Oscar’s eyes widened in alarm, and Joey waved his beer. “I know, I know. But look at ‘em. Whatever his mutation is, it’s made ‘em able to nap off a hit from a semi.”

Oscar nods thoughtfully. “Where’s his parents? They must be worried sick.”

At this Joey scowls, taking a deep swig of his beer. “I dunno about that one mate. The kid was living in a forest, a fahkin classified one at that, alone for who knows how long. He was naked when I bumped into ‘em,” Oscar snorts at his phrasing, and Joey flips him off, “and when he woke up he looked like he was ready to eat me.”

No-name seems to have grown bored of the light, and a tentacle slithers out from underneath his shirt to wrap around three hot dogs resting on a plate, bringing them to his mouth. He wiggles from side to side, eyes closed as he chews on the hot dogs.

They both look at him, concern in their eyes.

“I’m thinking his parents were fahkin nutters. Probably abused ‘em, or abandoned ‘em once he mutated. It’s not exactly a subtle one.” Joey murmured, and Oscar sighed.

“So what’s the play there, Joe?”

He shrugged. “Dunno. I’ll probably take ‘em back to Sacison. Yeh said the truck’s not going to be ready ‘til tomorrow morning anyway, yeah?” A nod from Oscar. “Might as well then. I’ll see if CPS will be able to take care of ‘em.”

“Well, I wish you luck with that one brother.” Oscar says, raising his can to Joe’s and tapping it. They both take a drink, then a smile breaks out across his face. “Yo kid, you want to try a beer?”

A grin breaks out across Joey’s face as well, as No-name’s head snaps up. He hesitantly shuffles towards them. “A beer? Is beer biomass?” He inquires, his quiet voice barely audible.

Oscar hands over his can. “If by biomass, you mean does it have calories, then yes.” He says, and No-name practically snatches it from his hands. He sniffs it, then to their shock drains the entire can in one large gulp.

His face screws up in disgust, causing the two older men to break out into laughter. No-name then throws the can on the ground and crushes it with his foot, causing them to laugh harder.

“WHAT IS THIS FLUID!? HOW DO THEY MAKE BIOMASS TASTE BAD!?” He cries angrily, and Oscar cracks open another beer, shoulders still shaking.

“Give it a few years bud, you might like it then.” He chuckles.

Having lightened the mood, Joey and Oscar settle back into the easy conversation of two friends catching up after not seeing each other in a long time. More beers are drained, until the comforting cloudiness of thought tingles lightly in their minds, and their speech slurs just slightly.

“And then!” Joey says, hands emphasizing his words in large, exaggerated arcs. “Gasty tells me this kid, this little fahkin kid - Sariel, I’ve told yeh about her, she’s Gasty’s mate - makes the cunt who’d been pickin on ‘em piss herself.”

Oscar grinned, feeling almost as satisfied as he knew Joey must be. “Good on her. How is your wife, by the way? I haven’t spoken to Brooke in years.”

The smile on Joey’s face falters just the slightest bit. “Oh, uh… actually, we-”

What he’s about to say is cut off by a ear-piercing, blood curdling scream that bounces off of the walls between Oscar’s house and his shop, rolling down the highway they reside on. Instantly both men sit up, frantically scanning the area around them. But they can’t find who they were both instinctively searching for.

“Where is-”

There’s more screaming, coming from at least five different sources, all behind Oscar’s garage, and they explode out of their seats, sprinting down the steps of his porch and rushing to find the source of the screams.They round the corner of Oscar’s garage, and-

Freeze.

“What in the fahkin…” Joey trails off, the sight in front of him too much to continue.

In the pale moonlight, their eyes still struggling to adjust to the relative darkness compared to the porch, they see a mass of writhing, roiling darkness and five people desperately stabbing at it with glinting metal objects. It wraps around each of them as they scream, thrashing their bodies against the walls of the building or the pavement of the highway. The lucky ones go limp immediately. The unlucky ones still struggle, and Oscar and Joey watch on in collective horror as more tentacles wrap around those wildly struggling forms, ripping off limbs and then throwing the remaining torsos into the air. What look to be white spikes streak through the air and riddle their bodies on the way back down, and the mass of tentacles welcome them into their fold.

Suddenly one of the figures manages to break free, severing the tentacles around them and limping towards the pair. They subconsciously recoil, as if terrified of drawing that thing’s attention to themselves.

“Help me!” The figure pleads, tripping over himself and landing face first just in front of them. It looks up, crawling towards them, and Joey trembles as he realizes he recognizes the face staring up at him. One of the nuans who had confronted them at the diner. “Oh Makers, please help meEEEEEEE!”

A tentacle wraps around his leg and drags him screaming back into the darkness, where his cries are cut short. After a few moments, the only sounds left are a disturbing cacophony of cracking and snapping bone, wet squelching meat, and the mews and whimpers of a hungry puppy.

The pair stand frozen, paralyzed by fear, as the mass of tentacles subsides and are contracted to reveal a young boy, who approaches them step by step. Finally, No-name steps into the light, slick blood on his baggy clothes and around his mouth. He has a wide smile on his face, revealing pearly white teeth as he looks at them happily, to their absolute horror.

Then, they finally notice the rapidly healing stab wounds and lacerations that covered his body, flesh knitting itself closed at unbelievable speed.

“Thanks Doc!” No-name says, and burps loudly.