They woke up to a strange stillness—too quiet for a world that looked alive. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a faint orange glow over the endless grassy plain. Dew clung to the cabin's broken windowpanes, and for a moment, it felt like they had all dreamed the day before.
But then Elias saw the body. Kul had helped move it during the night, wrapping it in a dusty tarp from one of the sheds. It now lay silently under the trees just beyond the cabin. A reminder. The countdowns were real.
Inside, the others were stirring. Kaia sat alone in the far corner, her knees drawn to her chest, staring blankly at the floor. Her timer still showed 2 Days, 8 Hours. Elias didn't disturb her. She hadn't said a word since last night.
"Everyone up," a man called out. Elias turned to see Leon, the older man with graying hair, standing with his arms crossed. "We need to meet. Now. Out front."
Within minutes, everyone gathered outside, forming a loose circle under the early morning light. Some were still half-asleep. Others looked like they hadn't rested at all.
"We need to get organized," Leon said. "No more standing around panicking. We don't know how long we're stuck here, but we need to start making decisions."
Someone nodded in agreement. Another muttered, "About time."
Leon continued. "We have a few problems on our hands. First—food. We don't know how often supplies will show up, if at all. We need to ration it. Fairly. Doesn't matter if your timer says five years or five days."
That drew a few murmurs, but no strong objections.
"Second—we need leadership. We need someone to keep order, settle disputes, enforce whatever rules we agree on."
"You mean a sheriff?" someone asked.
Leon nodded. "Call it what you want, but yeah. We need one."
"I nominate Leon," a woman said quickly. "He's calm. Clear-headed."
Leon raised his hands. "Let's vote on that in a bit. But there's one more thing—we need to all contribute. No freeloaders. Everyone takes turns on watch, gathering supplies, cleaning up, whatever we need to do to keep things moving."
For a while, the group actually seemed united. Some started writing names down. Others went to check on the few boxes of canned goods they'd found behind the cabin. People were talking. Hopeful.
Then Zane stepped forward.
He wore a leather jacket and a scowl.
He hadn't spoken much the day before. Elias had noticed him in the background—watching, calculating. There was something dangerous in his stillness.
And there was history behind it.
Zane had killed someone before.
He'd been fifteen when it happened. A moment of panic. Rage. A broken bottle, a shove, a scream. The person he'd loved most in the world—his older brother—bleeding out on the kitchen floor after an argument spiraled out of control.
The police said it was an accident. The court wasn't as forgiving. Juvenile prison. Therapy. Probation.
But Zane never forgave himself.
By eighteen, he'd run. Found shelter in criminal circles. Smuggling. ID fraud. Black market deals. It numbed the guilt. It gave him control over a life that had spun out too fast.
Then came the last job. A fake passport. A flight out of the country. He was done with running—until the plane shattered in the sky and he woke up in this cursed world.
Now he had 1 Month, 4 Days on his wrist. That's all.
"You want to give me the same ration as some guy with seventy years on his clock?" Zane said, his voice sharp.
Leon turned slowly. "Excuse me?"
"I've got a month. He's got seventy. Why should I starve while he feasts? I should get more. Or be left alone."
"That's not how this works," said a firm voice. Elias turned to see the man they called Kul step forward—muscular, clean-cut, a military posture in the way he stood. "We survive as a group. No special treatment. You follow the same rules as everyone else."
Zane stepped closer. "You going to force me?"
"If I have to," Kul said calmly.
The air tensed like a stretched wire.
"I don't answer to boot-camp leftovers," Zane spat.
"And I don't take threats from selfish punks."
Zane moved fast. Too fast.
He lunged forward, and in one sharp motion, a blade flashed from his sleeve. The group gasped as the knife plunged into Kul's side.
Blood spilled in a slow arc across the grass.
Kul staggered, clutching his abdomen, eyes wide in shock. He collapsed onto his knees, gasping. "No... no... I..."
"Someone help him!" Elias yelled, running forward.
But there was no first-aid box. Nothing. Kaia searched frantically through a storage box, but there were only scraps of cloth and expired bandages. Nothing to stop the bleeding.
Kul's breaths grew shallow. His eyes began to glaze. Blood pooled beneath him, soaking the earth.
Then—he was still.
The silence was deafening.
Several people shouted at once, lunging at Zane. He didn't resist. Maybe he was too stunned. Maybe he didn't care.
They tackled him to the ground, pinning his arms.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Leon roared. "You killed him! You killed him!"
"I didn't mean to—" Zane started.
But then his wrist pulsed.
Everyone froze.
Zane's watch flickered. A dim glow spread across the screen, and then—numbers shifted.
1 Month, 4 Days changed to 2 Years, 6 Days.
Gasps broke out.
Elias backed away slowly, eyes wide. "His time... it increased."
Kaia stared in disbelief. "No way. That's impossible."
"But it happened," Liam said. "Right in front of us."
They all looked down at Kul's timer—now black. Dead.
Zane's chest rose and fell quickly beneath the weight of the people pinning him.
"I didn't know," he said, dazed. "I swear I didn't know it would—"
"Liar!" someone shouted.
"He took his life—and got time for it," Leon said darkly. "That's what this place is. A game. A trade."
"No," Elias whispered. "It's worse than that."