Chapter 2

Newman

South Padre Island, Texas

Newman Kindred makes an uncharacteristic decision. He is spending spring break on South Padre Island. This is all part of his plan to reinvent himself in college—to shed the quiet, shy persona that had clung to him throughout high school. Back in Asheville, North Carolina, everyone knows Newman as a wallflower. When he chose to enroll at the University of Tennessee, deliberately far from the gravitational pull of UNC Chapel Hill, Duke, or NC State, he saw it as his chance to rewrite the script.

Now, standing in the cramped bathroom of his rented condo along the beach, Newman stares into the mirror. “Are we really doing this?” he mutters, his voice wavering between determination and dread. He adjusts his well-worn Atlanta Braves cap, the one he has worn nearly every day since his little brother gave it to him before his passing. Now that Newman is older, he realizes his six-year-old brother couldn’t have actually given him the hat, but that doesn’t matter to him. It is his armor, a relic of loss that feels like a lifeline. The cap is backwards tonight—a small but significant rebellion against his usual self. His Hawaiian shirt hangs open, revealing abs that exist more from lack of fat than any real fitness. He is skinny to the point of fragility, though he tells himself it adds to his look.

His three suitemates have already left for the beach. They aren’t really his friends; their invitation to join them had felt more like an afterthought. Still, Newman has resolved to say “yes” to more things, even if they terrify him. 

He drove his beat-up Toyota Camry the entire way from Tennessee to save money, a move his suitemates—who had all flown in two days earlier—teased him about. Newman had to break the trip up into two days, sleeping in his car the night before. He finally arrived only an hour ago, exhausted but determined to make the most of the trip.

He slides his TerraNova glasses onto his face. They are a couple of generations out of date, a sharp contrast to the elegant new contact lenses most people wear now. Still, they work, and include his prescription. The faint hum of the device activating buzzes against his temples as he scrolls through his accessory “skins.” His eyes dart through the options, triggering holographic overlays that appear over his reflection. First come the standard elf ears—translucent and faintly glowing, a freebie from the basic subscription. He flicks past them, cycling through a few more choices before stopping on one he hasn’t used before.

Small flames replace the pupils in his eyes, and a fiery, snake-like pattern slithers across his body, coiling and writhing like a living tattoo. It is bold—too bold for someone like him. Newman freezes, suddenly unsure if he can pull it off. He sighs, his reflection flickering faintly in the augmented overlay. “What an excellent way to spend your graduation money,” he mutters dryly, shaking his head. “Truly, a brilliant investment.”

Still, he leaves it on, forcing himself to once again get out of his comfort zone.

Newman steps out of the condo and heads toward the beach, the fading sunlight painting the sky in warm streaks of orange and pink. The air is salty and humid, clinging to his skin as he trudges down the sandy path.

When he reaches the beach, the scene is chaotic. College kids sprawl everywhere, tossing footballs, downing drinks, and laughing as they wrestle in the sand. Newman scans the crowd, already sure he’ll never find his suitemates. The thought relieves and unnerves him in equal measure. As he wanders aimlessly, he tries not to make eye contact with anyone. He suddenly stops mid-step, cursing under his breath. He realizes he forgot to put on sunblock. It is an excuse—a perfect one—to turn back. The sun is already low on the horizon, with maybe thirty minutes left before it disappears entirely, but he clings to the thought as a reason to retreat. He is ready to pivot and march straight back to the condo, when a familiar voice pierces through the noise.

“New Kid? No freaking way!”

Newman freezes, his heart skipping a beat. It’s Mandy, his longtime neighbor from Asheville—the girl who lives across the street and one house over.

When his family left Atlanta following the incident with his brother and he started school in Asheville, nobody could seem to remember his actual name. Someone decided “New Kid” was both accurate and sounded close enough to his actual name, and the nickname has stuck with him since that first day of sixth grade.

Before he can fully process what is happening, Mandy is jogging toward him, her face lit with a wide smile. 

Jokingly, Newman raises a hand to shade his face, pretending he doesn’t recognize her. A grin breaks through his faux indifference, and he waves back.

“What? You act like you’re surprised to see me or something,” he calls out awkwardly.

As Mandy closes the distance between them, Newman flicks on Immerse Mode on his glasses with a quick motion of his eyes—a feature he usually keeps off because it overwhelms him. Her profile springs to life in his vision, revealing holographic angel wings sprouting from her back. They shimmer and shift, clearly high-end and expensive. He then quickly filters through her profile to check her aura.

A huge gut punch. A soft red glow resonates around her, meaning she is in a relationship.

He has always had feelings for her—feelings he’d buried deep. Mandy had been one of the few people he trusted growing up, and risking their friendship had never been an option. Besides, she is way out of his league.

Mandy throws her arms around him in a tight hug, catching him off guard. He stumbles slightly but manages to hold his ground. “Whoa there,” he says, laughing nervously. “It’s good to see you too.”

She steps back, her blonde waves catching the breeze, and smiles up at him. Her warm hazel eyes meet his—not filtered like his fiery ones, but just as arresting.

“You know,” she says, giving him a once-over, “I almost didn’t recognize you. Mr. Bad Boy over here who’s literally on fire.”

Newman flushes. “Yeah… I don’t know what I was thinking.” He glances down at the fiery pattern spiraling around his body, feeling suddenly ridiculous.

Mandy smirks, but her teasing softens. “Then you turned around, and I saw that one-of-one piece-of-crap hat.”

Her comment stings. Mandy, of all people, knows exactly what the hat means to him. She must notice his expression shift because her tone sobers.

“Who are you here with?” she asks quickly.

Newman shrugs. “Some friends from school.” He leaves out the part about them being randomly assigned to live with him, and that they would more accurately be described as acquaintances rather than friends.

“Well, if you’re not busy, some friends and I are starting a bonfire once the sun goes down. You should come hang out.”

“Yeah, that could be fun,” Newman says, trying to sound casual. “Who’s all going to be there?”

“Mostly girls from my sorority,” Mandy replies, “and their significant others, if they came. My boyfriend, Kellen, will be there too.”

Newman raises his eyebrows. “Ah, Kellen. Do I need to come scare him straight? Make sure he’s treating you right?”

Mandy laughs, poking him lightly in the stomach. “Considering I’ve already told him about you, I don’t think you’re scaring anyone straight.”

***

The sun finally dips below the horizon, leaving the fire as the main source of light. Newman and Mandy join the circle of people gathered around it. Mandy is quickly pulled into other conversations, surrounded by laughter and inside jokes Newman has no part in. He stands on the edge of the group, staring into the flames and taking sips of a beer someone handed him earlier—mostly just to have something to do.

Noticing his trance, Mandy breaks away from the crowd and sits beside him on the sand. She pats the ground. “So, how’s Tennessee treating you?”

“It’s good,” Newman replies, settling down beside her. “Busy, though. I’ve got to keep my GPA above a 3.8 to keep my scholarship, and I joined a robotics club. How about you? How’s UNC?”

“Also busy,” Mandy says, brushing her hair behind her ear. “The sorority keeps me on my toes, and I volunteer at an animal shelter on weekends. But hey, I’m not on scholarship, so I don’t have to give a crap about my grades.” She grins and gives him a playful nudge.

“Yeah, well, I bet you miss copying my homework,” Newman teases.

Newman smirks, but deep down, he admires her. Mandy has always been a straight-B student, coasting by on natural intelligence, while he has to work tirelessly for his A’s. She is the most effortlessly charismatic person he’s ever met—able to strike up a conversation with anyone and leave as their best friend. Her natural ease in every social situation is something he has always envied, as if she has an innate ability to say exactly the right thing. Moments like this remind him why he values her so much: she has a way of making him feel genuinely seen and heard, even in a crowd.

Mandy laughs louder this time, rolling her eyes. “Oh, please. If I copied your work, how come I didn’t end up with some fancy scholarship too, huh? Explain tha…”

Her banter is cut short when two massive arms wrap around her waist and lift her off the ground. She squeals, laughing as she spins around to greet Kellen with a kiss.

Newman gets up and stands there awkwardly, taking another swig of his beer to avoid intruding on the moment.

“Kellen, this is my friend from back home I’ve told you about, Newman.”

Kellen extends a broad, calloused hand. “No way—that’s wild. You guys just ran into each other out here?”

“Yeah, completely random!” Mandy replies with a laugh.

Newman takes the offered hand, making an effort to grip it firmly. Kellen is the kind of guy Newman imagines most girls swoon over—towering at what has to be six-foot-five, with a rugged five o’clock shadow framing a chiseled jawline. His thick, perfectly styled black hair seems to catch the firelight just right. Though he wears understated clothes that hint at wealth, Newman notices he has no virtual skins activated. Instead, his muscular arms are adorned with real tattoos that flex with each movement. He has the kind of effortless confidence Newman can only dream of.

“Well it’s good to actually meet you, bro. I’ve heard a lot about you. Good to put a face to the name, ya know?” Kellen says with an easy smile.

Newman lets go of his hand and then doesn’t know what to say. He only just recently learned about Kellen’s existence.

Kellen breaks the silence by nodding at Newman’s beer in his hand. “You about out? I’m making a beer run if you want anything.”

Newman glances at his nearly empty bottle. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Okay well, here, since I’m about to re-up, you can go ahead and take my last one.” Kellen says, tossing a beer to him. Newman fumbles the catch and the bottle lands in the sand. Kellen doesn’t seem to notice.

“And I know what you want, my little tequila mamacita,” Kellen says to Mandy, giving her a playful tap on the butt and nibbling on her neck. “Okay, I’ll be right back. And don’t you run off again,” Kellen says to Mandy while leaning in for a parting kiss.

As Kellen disappears into the crowd, Mandy sits back down beside Newman. “You know, he’s actually a good guy,” she says, unprompted.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t.” Newman forces a smile. “You two seem great together.”

At that moment, Newman decides to push aside his feelings for Mandy. Instead of mourning over what can never be, he will enjoy the comfort of this fleeting nostalgia. She is a reminder of home, and that will have to be enough tonight.

He polishes off the rest of his beer and then struggles with the cap on the one Kellen gave him.

“Here, give me that,” Mandy says, grabbing the bottle. She twists the cap off with ease. “What, is this your first beer?”

“For your information, this is number seven,” Newman replies haughtily.

“Oh, yeah? And how many of those were from tonight?” she asks, narrowing her eyes.

“Six.”

They both burst out laughing, collapsing onto their backs in the sand. Their drunken giggles fade into them both catching their breath. They then lie there staring at the stars.

Mandy turns her head to look at him. “You know, it’s really good to see you. I miss this.” Her eyes dart all over his face; landing everywhere from his green eyes to his messy brown curls peeking out from under his tattered cap—to his lips.

As her eyes trace his face, Newman feels his heart sink and face flush. He turns his gaze back to the sky, hoping she won’t notice. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I’ll be honest. After tonight, I kind of wish I’d followed you to UNC.” He hesitates and then looks back toward her. “It would’ve been nice to have one friend at school with me.”

“What are you talking about, you’re literally here with friends! Plus, you need to do what’s best for your long-term future, not just follow someone who brings temporary contentment now.”

Newman lets out a sigh, “I know, it’s just hard.”

She finds his hand and clutches it in hers; they both look back up into the night sky.

The stars above seem to pulse and swirl. Newman blinks hard, wondering if it’s the beer. “Am I drunk, or do the stars look like they’re spinning to you?”

“No, look!” Mandy points. “A shooting star!”

“Ooh, another one!” Another streak of light flashes across the sky. Newman’s head spins, and for a moment, it feels like every star in the sky is falling.

A deep rumbling begins, faint at first, like a low vibration barely perceptible under the crackle of the fire. But it grows, a roar that Newman feels pounding in his chest. Another flash streaks across the sky, but this time it seems far too low to be a shooting star. A deafening sonic boom ripples across the beach, rattling bottles and scattering embers from the fire.

“What the fuck was that?” Newman mutters, getting to his feet and helping Mandy to hers.

The stars, so restless moments ago, are still once more. The rumble fades as quickly as it arrived, leaving the night eerily quiet.

“Shhh. Look!” Mandy grabs his arm and points toward the horizon.

About a quarter mile off the shore, something massive descends from the sky. Its outline is barely visible, traced by faint, red lights that flicker like ghostly veins. One by one, people around the fire pull off their TerraNova glasses and contact lenses, confirming with their own eyes that what they’re seeing is real.

The object disappears beneath the waves without even a faint splash, and silence falls over the beach like a heavy shroud. Shadows flicker across tense faces as the firelight dances, but no one moves.

“Yeah… I think that’s my cue to head the fuck out,” someone mutters, breaking the quiet.

The group stirs. People begin hastily packing their things, muttering nervously. Newman and Mandy remain frozen, staring out at the dark waves as they churn and crash.

“Shit. Do you see that?” Mandy’s voice trembles.

A massive swell rises from the water, unnatural in its size and shape. Beneath its surface, molten ruby light glows.

Mandy snaps out of her trance. “I need to find Kellen!” She grips Newman’s arm. “Come with me—we need to stick together.”

Before they can move, the water erupts.

The object emerges from the sea, towering over the beach. It’s monstrous, a grotesque fusion of machine and nightmare.

The sound of grinding metal fills the air, forcing Newman and Mandy to cover their ears. The machine unfurls eight enormous, insect-like legs, each joint hissing and clicking as it moves. The legs end in razor-sharp claws that pierce the sand effortlessly, leaving craters in their wake. Steam hisses from its seams, vapor rising like the breath of some mechanical beast.

Within its core, a glowing lens cuts through the night with blinding light. It scans the beach like an unblinking eye.

The ground trembles with each step as the machine crawls forward, a harbinger of destruction.

“Forget Kellen, we need to get the hell out of here!” Newman says, grabbing Mandy’s hand and breaking into a sprint.

The sand slows them, shifting and uneven beneath their feet. Newman’s heart pounds, and every step feels like running through a bad dream. Behind them, the machine hisses, its frame settling into place with an ominous groan.

Suddenly, a blur of smaller shapes shoots out from its sides. Ten, maybe more—too fast to see clearly. That is when the screams begin.

Mandy glances back just in time to see a shadowy figure drop what appears to be a body at the machine’s base. One of its clawed appendages scoops up the limp form, lifting it into a glowing aperture that opens at the top of it. The furnace-red light illuminates the body, and Mandy sees the face of Claire, one of her closest sorority sisters. Her body disappears inside it.

“Don’t look back! Just run!” Newman yells, his voice breaking.

Mandy snaps her head forward, but the sound follows her—a grinding, wet noise, like bones and flesh being shredded in some merciless woodchipper. A chill runs down her spine, but she keeps running, her breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

© 2026 Daniel Aiken. All Rights Reserved