Alex pounded down the concrete stairs, his backpack bouncing against his back, the warning for the closing subway doors already echoing through the station.

  "Come on, come on, come on!"

  He muttered under his breath, fumbling with his transit card at the turnstile. A desperate swipe, a cck, and he was through. He sprinted, a final lunge, and he was in, the doors hissing shut practically on his heels. He leaned against them for a moment, chest heaving, a relieved grin spreading across his face.

  'Made it!'

  Cutting it close was practically a hobby at this point.

  The car was pretty packed, the usual te-afternoon journey. People swayed with the motion of the wagon, faces glued to phone screens or dazedly facing the windows. Alex scanned for a seat, lucking out as a guy with a briefcase was getting up near the end of the car, his expression tired.

  Alex navigated between the sea of people, murmuring a few "excuse me," and finally sat into the orange pstic with a sigh.

  POV Switch - Alex

  Okay. Time to decompress.

  I pulled out my phone, the screen already open to the test chapter of the novel I was reading. Man, this webnovel was addictive. Alice was such an interesting character. Strong, a bit scary with those unpredictable mirror powers, but deep down, you could tell she cared about those kids.

  This novel was the kind of story that made my own pretty mundane life feel a bit less... well, mundane. Not that I actually wanted to fight grotesque monsters or anything, but still. A little genuine thrill, something beyond the manufactured scares of video games, wouldn't hurt.

  "Man, it looks like you're really into that."

  I jumped, my phone nearly slipping from my hand. The voice came from right next to me. I hadn't even registered that the man was there. It was an older man, maybe te twenties, early thirties. His hair was a mix of blond and honey-colored strands, a bit spiky, and his eyes... they were pitch-bck, and he had a weirdly thuggish look. He was smiling, just a little, not in a creepy way, more like he knew a secret.

  "Um, yeah."

  I managed, pulling one earbud out. My heart was still beating fast from being startled.

  "It's, uh, pretty good."

  I gnced at him, then tried to subtly turn back to my phone. Hopefully, he'd take the hint.

  "Lot of folks escaping into stories these days."

  He said, his voice not loud, but very clear between the chatter and noises from the swaying wagon. He wasn't looking at my phone, just sort of staring ahead, but I got the feeling he was still talking to me.

  "Some stories, they just grab you, don't they?"

  "I guess so."

  I mumbled, trying to sound polite but definitely not encouraging. This guy was a bit odd. Not dangerous-odd, maybe, just... subway-odd. You got all kinds.

  He was quiet for a moment, and I thought, "Yes! He got the hint!" but just as I was about to dive back into Alice's test crisis, he spoke again.

  "You know. Sometimes, people run from them. Others... they dive right in. Like you. Or maybe get pulled in, is more like it?"

  Okay, yeah, definitely an eccentric guy. He was officially weirding me out now. I kept my eyes glued to my phone screen, even though I wasn't actually reading. Just hang on, Alex.

  "So, what's your story, then? Student, heading home?"

  Then, before I could even grunt a yes, he added, almost as an afterthought.

  "...Or is that just the current chapter?"

  A little knot of unease tightened in my stomach for an unknown reason. This was getting a bit too weird for a subway ride.

  "I-"

  [Park Street. This is Park Street. Doors will open on the left.]

  The automated announcement cut me off. Thank god. My stop.

  "Well, that's my cue."

  I said, perhaps a little too quickly, already halfway out of my seat.

  "Nice talking to you, sir."

  I didn't wait for a reply. I squeezed past a woman with a stroller and practically ran to the doors, my backpack thumping against my back.

  Just as I was about to step onto the ptform, I risked a gnce back. The man was still sitting there, still smiling. He gave me a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. And then, just before the doors hissed shut, he said, his voice perfectly clear despite the distance and the noise.

  "The pleasure was all mine, Alex. Enjoy your story."

  I froze for a split second, taking a moment to process his words. Alex? How did he... No. Just a prank. It had to be. Alex was a common enough name.

  Shaking off my unease, I took the escator up, my mind repying the encounter. It had to be a coincidence, right? Maybe he'd seen my name on a school ID sticking out of my bag, or... or something. But that feeling in his eyes... And that st comment.

  As I reached the top of the escator and stepped out, the world... blinked.

  Not like a normal blink of my eyelids. It was as if a curtain covered my eyes. A wave of intense dizziness smmed into me, and I stumbled, my hand shooting out to grab onto a nearby mppost for support.

  Except the mppost wasn't there.

  My fingers brushed against rough, dry wood.

  It took me a second to process my surroundings. It was unusually quiet, save it for the chirping of birds.

  '...Birds?'

  I blinked again, hard, trying to clear the fuzziness that still clung to my vision, dizziness slowly fading.

  This wasn't Park Street station. Not even close.

  Where the bustling city entrance should have been, with its rushing cars and tall buildings, there was... a tree. A big, leafy tree, its branches swaying gently in a light breeze. And beyond that, more trees. And a dirt path. And a small, wooden... house? Or maybe a shack. It looked old. Really old.

  "Huh...?!"

  My head spun. This wasn't a joke. This wasn't some eborate prank. My stomach lurched, and a cold wave of fear washed over me, making my legs feel like jelly.

  "What... what the hell?"

  I stammered, the dizziness coming back. I spun around, half-expecting to see the subway entrance, the city, anything familiar. But there was nothing. Just more trees, a rough-looking fence in the distance, and an unnerving, total silence, except for the damn birds and the rustling leaves.

  My heart hammered against my ribs. This was bad. This was really bad.

  "Okay, okay, Alex, calm down."

  I whispered, but my voice was shaky, and the calming effect was zero. This had to be a dream. A really, really vivid, messed-up dream. Yeah, that was it. I probably fell asleep on the subway or something. Any second now, I'd wake up with a crick in my neck and a security guard poking me.

  I pinched my arm. Hard.

  "Ow!"

  Okay, not a dream. Or if it was, it was the kind where pain felt real. Great.

  My legs felt heavy, and not just from the panic. I looked down.

  My usual worn-out sneakers were gone. In their pce were... boots. Big, clunky, dark green boots that ced way up my ankles. They felt stiff and unfamiliar. And the jeans I was wearing this morning? Nope. These were thick, scratchy pants, the same dull green as the boots. Military-looking.

  A fresh wave of nausea hit me. My hands, which had been clutching my phone, now felt empty. The fabric of my sleeves was rough, not the soft cotton of my hoodie. I was wearing some kind of thick, long-sleeved shirt, also green. I didn't just change pces. My clothes also had changed.

  My backpack. Where was my backpack? I reached behind me, expecting the familiar fabric. My fingers fumbled against something hard, metallic, and definitely not a backpack. It was thinner, and... cold. I twisted, craning my neck, and my blood ran cold.

  It wasn't a backpack. It was a... a gun. A rifle, slung over my shoulder. Bck, heavy-looking, and scarily real.

  I gasped, yanking my hand away as if it had been burned. A gun? Me? I'd never even held a toy gun before! My heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest. This was insane. Absolutely, completely insane.

  Panic started to take over again. What kind of clothes were these? My fingers, trembling, started fumbling over the fabric. There were pockets. On my pants, a few on the shirt... Where's my wallet? My phone? Anything familiar?

  I started systematically patting down my strange new uniform, searching every seam, every fp. A breast pocket? Empty. Side pockets on the shirt? Nothing. Pant pockets? Shallow, scratchy, empty. Back pockets? Also empty.

  Then, my shaky fingers brushed against something cold on my chest, under the colr of the strange shirt. I pulled it out. A thin metal chain, and hanging from it, two small, rectangur metal tags. Dog tags. Like in war movies.

  I flipped one over. My name. "ALEX MILLER." Stamped right into the metal.

  My breath caught. My name. My actual name. On a dog tag. Around my neck. While I was wearing military gear. And carrying a gun. In the middle of nowhere.

  This wasn't a prank. This wasn't a dream.

  This was reality. A terrifying, impossible reality. Then, the words of that creepy guy fshed in my mind.

  -Enjoy your story.

  My story? What kind of messed-up story was this?

  Chirriro