Jason Miller shoved open the wooden door of the gas station shack, hinges creaking as he stepped inside, crowbar in hand. Eli, Tim, and Lila followed, boots scuffing gravel, cold night air trailing them. The shack’s interior was dim, faint aurora light seeping through cracked windows, the air heavy with dust and old oil. Jason dropped his backpack with a thud, scanning the room—cans on shelves, a wooden table, no threats. Shelter, for now.

  “Clear,” Lila Navarro said, voice low, bow half-raised as she checked corners. Her ranger hat tilted back, eyes sharp, she moved with desert ease, a partner Jason needed after two hours of chaos.

  Eli Tran slumped onto a stool, hoodie swallowing his skinny frame. “Safe here, right?” he asked, voice quiet, shaggy hair falling into his eyes.

  “For now,” Jason said, keeping his tone steady despite the knot in his gut. He set his crowbar on the table, iron clanking, and glanced at Tim Grayson, who hovered by the counter, flannel damp with sweat.

  “Safe?” Tim’s voice cracked, hands fidgeting. “With that gray stuff eatin’ cars?”

  “Quiet,” Lila snapped, tossing a can of jerky to Eli, who snagged it with unnatural speed. “It’s not touching us. Focus.”

  Jason nodded, leaning against the wall. The flare had killed his rig, blacked out Vegas, and left him 600 miles from his daughter in Idaho. The Eon Grid’s spark—Strength 9, Endurance 10—hummed in his muscles, a change he didn’t trust but couldn’t deny. Lila and Eli had it too, unlike Tim. “We eat, rest, plan,” Jason said. “North’s my road—family in Idaho. You got somewhere?”

  “Idaho?” Tim’s eyes bulged. “That’s 600 miles! Walkin’?”

  “No truck,” Jason said, jaw tight. “You got better?”

  “Reno,” Tim mumbled, shrugging. “Cousin. Maybe.”

  Lila pried open a can of beans with her knife, the tinny scent cutting through the dust. “I know the desert—trails, water. I’ll stick with you a bit, then decide. This Grid’s in us, not him.” She nodded at Tim, who winced.

  “Don’t rub it in,” Tim said, shaky. “Feels like I missed the lottery.”

  Eli cracked his jerky can, chewing fast. “It’s like a game, right? Levels, stats. I play those. Could be… cool.”

  Jason’s eyes narrowed. The kid’s optimism was naive, but that spark had pried open the SUV’s door too easily. “It’s in our heads, kid. Ain’t a game.”

  “But it helped,” Eli said, stubborn, hands steadier. “I’m quicker—felt it dodgin’ outta that wreck.”

  Lila’s lips twitched. “Kid’s got a point. I’m faster—nocked an arrow smoother. Don’t trust it, but it’s real.”

  Jason stayed silent, pulling a can of peaches from his pack, cracking it open with his knife. The sweet tang hit his nose, and he passed it to Tim, who took it with a grunt. The Grid’s power was a tool he hadn’t chosen but might need. He ate his beans standing, eyes on the window where the pumps sagged, their frames soft but still.

  A low growl broke the quiet—guttural, from the scrub beyond. Jason grabbed his crowbar, stepping to the window, Lila beside him, bow nocked, stance coiled. “Dog,” she whispered, peering out. “Eyes glowin’.”

  Jason squinted, spotting a lean shape slinking through the dark, fur patchy, eyes red. Its growl scraped like metal, unnatural. “Grid’s in it,” he said, voice low, his veins buzzing.

  “Mutated,” Lila said, arrow steady. “Saw one near my outpost—faster, meaner.”

  “Monster dogs?” Tim hissed, backing to the wall, his can clattering. “We’re screwed!”

  “Shut it,” Jason growled, nodding at Eli. “Kid, stay back.”

  Eli slid behind the table, eyes wide, gripping his knife. The dog prowled closer, claws clicking, its frame taut, predatory. “Level 3,” Eli whispered, like he saw more. “It’s… in my head.”

  Jason’s gut twisted—Level 3. The Grid marked everything. “We take it down,” he said, moving to the door, Lila at his flank. “Fast.”

  Lila slipped outside, steps silent. Jason followed, crowbar raised, cold biting his knuckles. The dog froze, eyes locked, then lunged—a blur of fur and teeth, faster than any stray. Lila’s arrow flew, but the dog twisted, dodging, the shaft skimming its flank.

  “Damn,” Lila cursed, nocking another, but Jason was moving, crowbar swinging. The dog leapt, jaws snapping, and he met it mid-air, iron cracking its skull. Pain jolted his arm, and the dog yelped, tumbling to the gravel, blood dark.

  It scrambled up, snarling, charging again. Lila’s second arrow pierced its shoulder, slowing it as Jason swung, catching its neck. Bone crunched, and the dog collapsed, twitching once before stilling.

  Jason panted, crowbar dripping red, his arm steady. Lila lowered her bow, breathing hard. “Too fast,” she said, voice tight. “Grid’s makin’ monsters.”

  His vision flickered—Level 2: Strength 9 to 10, Endurance 10 to 11—muscles surging with power. Eli gasped from the doorway, clutching his head. “Level 2,” he said, awed. “Agility 9 to 10, Perception 9 to 10.”

  “Same,” Lila said, eyes narrowing, arrow in hand. “Feels stronger.”

  Tim peeked out, pale. “You’re levelin’ up? From that?”

  “Looks like,” Jason said, wiping his crowbar, the iron clean again. The Grid rewarded kills, a leash he’d use.

  “Inside,” Lila said, nodding at the shack. “More could come.”

  They filed back, Eli close, Tim muttering. Jason shut the door, creak loud, and checked the windows—no threats, just the dog’s corpse, a warning of the Grid’s reach.

  “We need supplies,” Jason said, moving to the shelves. “Cans, water, anything we can carry.”

  Lila rifled through, tossing soup and fruit cans to Eli, who packed them with quick hands. “Ten pounds here,” she said, eyeing water bottles. “Few days, if we ration.”

  “Ration?” Tim grabbed a bottle, hands shaky. “I’m no camel!”

  “Then carry more,” Lila shot back, handing him a can. “Work.”

  Jason found a first-aid kit—bandages, antiseptic—tucking it in his pack, movements crisp. Eli sorted cans, focus tight, panic fading into grit. Lila pulled a dusty map from a shelf, spreading it on the table. “Trails north,” she said, tracing a line with her knife. “Springs here, maybe shelter. Keeps us off the road—safer.”

  Jason nodded, leaning over the map. “How far’s the first spring?”

  “Twenty miles,” Lila said. “Rough terrain, but doable in a day.”

  “Day?” Tim groaned, slumping against the counter. “My feet’ll fall off!”

  “Stay here then,” Lila said, dry. “See how long you last.”

  Tim shut up, grabbing another bottle. Eli studied the map, eyes bright. “Like a quest,” he said, half to himself. “Find water, level up.”

  Jason’s jaw tightened—quests, games, the kid’s head was in the clouds—but the map was solid, a plan better than blind walking. “We hit the spring,” he said. “Then reassess.”

  A screech cut through—high, skittering, from the scrub opposite. Jason spun, crowbar up, Lila’s bow snapping up. “What now?” Tim whispered, dropping a can.

  “Quiet,” Jason hissed, at the window. A birdlike shape darted—small, wings glinting metallic, eyes green. It perched on a sagging pump, claws scraping, chirp rattling.

  “Level 2,” Eli said, peering over Jason’s shoulder. “Some bird.”

  “Grid’s busy,” Lila muttered, arrow tracking. “Leave it or fight?”

  Jason weighed it—the bird’s eyes were predatory, locked on the shack. “Fight,” he said. “Don’t want it trailin’.”

  Lila stepped outside, Jason behind, Eli and Tim at the door. The bird screeched, diving fast, claws raking air. Lila’s arrow grazed its wing, but it spun, beak snapping. Jason swung, clipping its side, sending it crashing with a metallic clang.

  It flopped, lunging again, beak sharp. Eli darted out, knife flashing, pinning its neck. Lila’s second arrow pierced its chest. It stilled, green eyes dimming.

  Jason’s HUD flared—Level 2: New Attribute Unlocked: Vitality 7—his body tougher, a cut on his arm stinging less. A second message followed: Eon Grid Calibration Progressing. Additional Attributes Activating. He froze, the words sinking in—more stats, like the Grid was waking up, piecing itself together. Lila and Eli flinched, their own HUDs flashing.

  “Tougher,” Lila said, bow steady, her voice edged with unease. “Felt… something new. Vitality?”

  “Same,” Eli said, eyes wide, knife still in hand. “Like I’m… sturdier. And it said ‘calibration’—what’s that?”

  Tim gawked. “More powers? You’re all freaks!”

  “Alive,” Jason said, sharp, wiping his crowbar. The Grid was growing, adding stats—Vitality now, not just Strength and Endurance. Why only two at first? Maybe it was broken, syncing slow after the flare’s chaos. Answers could wait—he’d use what it gave.

  “Back in,” Lila said, voice firm. “Pack fast.”

  They returned, stuffing cans and bottles into packs. Lila folded the map, tucking it in her jacket. “Dawn start,” she said. “Spring’s our first mark.”

  Jason checked the first-aid kit, adding gauze, his mind on the Grid’s message—calibration. It felt like a machine booting up, and they were part of it. “Watch rotation,” he said. “Two hours each. I’m first.”

  “Second,” Lila said, bow close. “Eli, Tim.”

  “Me?” Tim squeaked. “I ain’t Grid-powered!”

  “You’ve got eyes,” Lila said, dry. “Use ‘em.”

  Eli nodded, packing a last can, grip firm. “I’ll do it,” he said, quiet but sure.

  Jason grabbed his crowbar, eyeing the door. They ate in silence, the shack creaking, the night heavy. Tim’s muttering faded, Eli’s knife stayed ready, and Lila’s gaze never left the windows. Jason took watch, the Grid’s new edge a tool he’d swing, ready for the road ahead.