Maple Heights 4: No escape
The door to the house creaked open as Tyler, Luke, and Michael stepped into the entryway, their black polos with yellow details catching the dim glow of the hallway lights. Their faces were obscured by gas masks, each breath producing a soft, eerie muffling sound as they repeated their chant in unison: “Join us… join us…”
Their fathers, Greg and Paul, stood at the far end of the hall, shocked to see their own sons transformed. Greg’s face was tight with fear, and Paul’s eyes were wide with disbelief as they watched the slow, methodical advance of their three sons.
“Michael, Luke, Tyler… what’s happened to you?” Greg whispered, his voice filled with desperation. But his words seemed to bounce off them, ignored as the brothers continued forward, their voices calm and hypnotic.
“Join us…” Tyler intoned softly through his mask, each word muffled but filled with purpose.
Realizing the danger, Paul grabbed Greg’s arm. “We have to get out of here!” Without waiting, they turned and sprinted down the hallway, heading for the back door.
As they reached it, Greg threw it open, only to be confronted by two other figures standing in the doorway—two young man in glossy black Fred Perry polo with yellow details, their faces hidden behind the same cold visor. His posture was still, his expression blank as he blocked their way.
“Join us…” the figure intoned, echoing the chant of the brothers.
Greg shut the door, his heart racing. “They’re everywhere,” he whispered in shock. “It’s like… they’re all in on it.”
“Upstairs,” Paul urged, steering his brother toward the staircase. “We’ll find a way out through the bedroom windows.”
The two fathers dashed up the stairs, the rhythmic chanting of “Join us… join us…” following them up, a haunting echo that filled every corner of the house. Tyler, Luke, and Michael advanced at a steady, controlled pace, the soft glow of their masks casting eerie shadows as they moved.
Once they reached the top floor, Paul and Greg ran into the nearest bedroom and locked the door. They shared a terrified glance, their breaths heavy and rapid.
“Why are they doing this?” Greg murmured, his voice filled with fear. “They’re acting like… like they’re not even our sons anymore.”
“Whatever’s happened to them, we need to get out of here,” Paul replied. He moved to the window, glancing down to make sure the coast was clear. Seeing no figures below, he opened it. “Let’s go. Climb down, and we’ll run to Daniel’s place.”
One by one, they lowered themselves out of the window, dropping to the ground below. Without another word, they sprinted across the lawn and down the street, aiming for Daniel’s house, hoping for a safe haven.
The rhythmic chant of “Join us…” echoed faintly in the distance, growing louder with each step, as if the entire neighborhood was filled with the same hypnotic call.
They reached Daniel’s house, breathless, and pounded on the door. Within moments, it opened, revealing Daniel standing in his pajamas, his face filled with confusion and concern.
“Paul? Greg? What’s going on?” Daniel asked, his eyes flicking between the two men, noticing their terrified expressions.
“Let us in, quickly!” Paul gasped, pulling Daniel inside and locking the door behind them. “It’s… it’s the boys. They’ve changed. They’re not… themselves anymore.”
Daniel’s brow furrowed. “Changed? What do you mean?”
Before they could explain, there was a loud knock at the door, and the chilling chant of “Join us… join us…” echoed through the walls. Daniel’s face paled as he looked toward the door, his expression shifting to one of horror.
“What… what is that?” he whispered, backing away from the door.
The door creaked open, revealing the three brothers standing in the doorway, their faces calm and expressionless behind their visors, their black polos shining under the dim lights. They stepped inside, their movements slow and deliberate, their voices blending into a single, rhythmic chant as they advanced.
Paul and Greg backed into the corner, their eyes wide with fear. But Daniel, unable to comprehend what was happening, took a step forward, trying to reason with them. “Tyler, Luke, Michael, stop this. Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to do this.”
But his words fell on deaf ears. The brothers moved forward, their hands reaching out as they surrounded Daniel. Tyler placed a firm hand on Daniel’s shoulder, and Michael pressed down on his other side, guiding him with calm precision.
“Join us,” they intoned softly, their voices a quiet command that seemed to slip past Daniel’s defenses.
Paul and Greg watched in horror as their brother, Daniel, began to sway under the influence of the chant. His face went blank, his eyes unfocused as the brothers guided him to his knees. They removed a sleek black visor from a pouch, slowly lowering it over Daniel’s eyes. The visor clicked into place, and with it, Daniel’s face shifted, adopting the same calm, distant expression as his nephews.
As the visor clicked into place over Daniel's eyes, a low, distorted hum filled his ears, followed by a voice—soft yet chillingly mechanical, each word dripping with a hypnotic pull.
"You are slipping now… sinking deeper… falling away from who you were…You will be robotized."
The words pulsed, each phrase drawing Daniel further into a fog, erasing his thoughts one by one. His mind, which had been teetering on the edge of resistance, now felt heavy, sinking into an eerie calm that spread like a warm haze.
"Your mind is quiet… empty… ready to obey," the voice continued, each word slowly unraveling his sense of self. "You do not need to think… thinking is tiring… thinking is gone."
Daniel’s thoughts faded into a dull, distant echo as the words took over, filling every corner of his mind with a blissful, mindless calm.
"You wear the polo now… proud and obedient," the voice droned, each syllable sinking into him like weights, locking him into this newfound purpose. "Let go… obey… there is nothing else."
A faint, faraway part of him realized his lips were parting into a slow, empty smile. The visor's faint glow pulsed with the words, sinking him deeper into this obedient haze, each beat aligning with his heart, binding him further.
"You are a vessel now… ready to serve… ready to be led."
The voice softened, but its pull grew stronger, each word seeping into him like a command he could no longer resist. He swayed slightly, feeling himself submit to the numbing warmth that spread through him. He was sinking, deeper and deeper, his mind dissolving into a comfortable, obedient fog.
"There is no you," the voice whispered, barely audible but all-consuming. "Only the command… only the uniform… wear it proud… think no more."
With those final words, Daniel’s thoughts fell silent, replaced by a serene, mindless obedience. His smile grew, calm and blank, as he sank fully into his new, obedient role.
“No… no, Daniel!” Greg shouted, rushing forward in a desperate attempt to save his brother. But before he could reach him, another figure stepped into view—Daniel’s son, Alex, who had come downstairs, alerted by the commotion.
Alex’s face was a mask of horror as he saw his father’s transformation. “Dad? What… what are they doing to you?” he asked, voice trembling.
Without hesitation, he moved toward his father, trying to pull the visor off. But Luke and Michael’s grip was firm, holding Daniel in place as he sank further under their control.
“Alex, stay back!” Paul warned, his voice thick with fear. “They’ll get you too!”
But Alex shook his head, his focus locked on his father. “I can’t just watch this!” He grabbed at the visor, trying to pull it free, but Tyler placed a firm hand on Alex’s shoulder, stopping him.
“Join us,” Tyler murmured, his voice muffled but clear.
The phrase seemed to sink into Alex’s mind, his struggle weakening as the words repeated around him, filling the air with their quiet, relentless command. His gaze grew unfocused, his resistance fading as he looked up at his cousins, his hands slowly dropping to his sides.
The brothers lowered another visor over Alex’s face, securing it with the same calm, precise movements. As the visor clicked into place, Alex’s face went blank, mirroring the serene, obedient expression of his father.
Paul and Greg stood paralyzed, horror filling their eyes as they watched both Daniel and Alex succumb, their family slipping away into the collective, one by one. The rhythmic chant of “Join us… join us…” filled the house, leaving no room for resistance, no space for escape.
Realizing the hopelessness of their situation, Paul and Greg took a step back, their backs pressed against the wall as they waited for the inevitable, the chant echoing in their minds, beckoning them to surrender.
The hallway felt smaller with every step the fathers took. Greg and Paul found themselves backed against the cold, unyielding wall as Tyler, Luke, and Michael advanced, their calm, rhythmic chant echoing off the brick.
Paul, heart pounding, glanced desperately at Greg. “We can’t stay here. We have to keep moving.”
But before they could make a move, Tyler and Luke each took hold of their arms, their grips firm yet unnervingly calm. Michael stood behind, blocking any chance of escape. Greg struggled against Tyler’s grip, but it was as though his son’s strength had multiplied, each movement deliberate and unbreakable.
“Release us!” Greg shouted, twisting his arm, but Tyler’s grasp only tightened as his muffled voice repeated, “It’s time to join us.”
With synchronized movements, the three brothers guided their fathers out of the house and down the street, their steady march matching the robotic precision of their chants. As they moved, more figures dressed in identical black polos joined the procession, each one silent and masked, creating an unsettling parade through the darkened neighborhood.
The farther they walked, the more Greg and Paul’s surroundings became unfamiliar. They were led through side streets and narrow alleys until they approached the industrial edge of town. There, parked behind a row of abandoned warehouses, loomed a large, dark vehicle—a bus with metallic black paint, its windows heavily tinted. The quiet hum of machinery pulsed from within, a faint red glow emanating from its interior, hinting at the ominous purpose that awaited inside.
“Where are you taking us?” Paul demanded, trying to pull free, but Luke’s grip was unyielding, his face expressionless beneath the visor.
“To the ship,” Michael replied in a soft, detached voice. “There, you will understand. You will become part of the unity.”
As they approached the bus, a side door slid open, revealing rows of seats filled with other familiar faces from the neighborhood—all men, all silent, their faces blank beneath the visors that covered their eyes. They sat motionless, each dressed in the same glossy black Fred Perry polos with yellow details, the rubbery sheen reflecting the red glow from within.
The brothers guided Greg and Paul into the bus, securing them in seats near the front. Their movements were slow, methodical, as though they had rehearsed this many times before. Once seated, Greg tried to look around, recognizing faces among the other captives—men who, like him, had once been fathers, brothers, friends. Now, they sat in perfect stillness, their minds apparently lost to whatever force had taken control of them.
“Stay still,” Tyler murmured through his mask, fastening a metallic band across Greg’s chest, securing him to the seat.
Paul struggled as Luke did the same, but his movements were weak and ineffective against the relentless, calm efficiency of his son’s grip. “You don’t have to do this,” Paul pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. “You’re our sons. You don’t have to—”
But Michael’s voice cut through his words, calm and unfeeling. “We have found purpose. Soon, you will too.”
Once Greg and Paul were secured, the brothers took their seats near the front, each donning visors that matched those of the drones on board. The door slid shut with a soft hiss, and the bus hummed to life, beginning its journey to the “ship” that loomed on the outskirts of town.
After what felt like an eternity, the bus finally pulled to a stop at a fenced lot near the edge of an industrial complex. The entire area was illuminated by harsh floodlights, casting long shadows across the open ground. At the center stood a massive, ominous structure—a large, metallic building, shaped almost like an angular, grounded spacecraft. The air around it hummed faintly, as if powered by an unseen force.
One by one, the drones on the bus rose from their seats, filing out in a controlled, robotic procession. As Greg and Paul were released from their restraints, they were herded down the aisle by the brothers, who guided them toward the entrance of the ship.
Inside, the walls were lined with rows of small, windowless chambers, each one barely large enough to contain a single person. Through the open doors, Greg could see other captives standing inside the chambers, visors lowered over their eyes, their bodies held in place by metallic restraints that glowed faintly with red light.
Greg and Paul exchanged a desperate look, a silent plea passing between them as they realized the fate that awaited them.
“Please,” Greg whispered, turning to Tyler. “Whatever this is, you don’t have to go through with it. Fight it. Break free.”
But Tyler only looked at him, his gaze calm and detached. “It’s too late for that. Soon, you’ll see.”
Michael and Luke guided them into neighboring chambers, the doors sliding shut with a quiet hiss. A faint light filled the room, and Greg felt his arms restrained by unseen forces as a metallic band closed around his forehead, holding his head in place. His pulse quickened as he watched a visor lower from the ceiling, moving slowly until it aligned with his eyes.
“No, no—please, not this,” Greg murmured, struggling against the restraints. But as the visor clicked into place, his vision filled with a pulsing spiral, yellow and black hues spinning in mesmerizing patterns. He felt his mind growing calm, his body relaxing despite his attempts to resist.
“Join us… join us…” came the faint chant through the speakers, the words slipping past his defenses and filling his thoughts, overriding everything else. His eyelids felt heavy, his mind clouded, and slowly, his resistance melted away.
In the neighboring chamber, Paul’s experience was no different. He felt the visor lowering over his face, his heart pounding as the spiral filled his vision. The rhythmic chant echoed in his ears, lulling him into a quiet trance as his thoughts faded, replaced by a calm, obedient clarity.
As the visor’s spiral pulsed, Paul’s expression softened, his breathing steadying as he surrendered to the influence surrounding him.
When the doors finally slid open, Greg and Paul stepped out of their chambers, their faces calm and blank, visors reflecting the red glow of the ship’s lights. Their glossy black polos with yellow details glistened as they joined the other drones, filing into a perfect line beside their transformed sons.
Tyler, Luke, and Michael watched with satisfaction as their fathers took their places, their postures straight, their expressions serene and obedient.
“Welcome,” Michael murmured, his voice calm and mechanical. “You’re part of us now.”
In perfect unison, Greg and Paul replied, “We are one.” Their voices were calm and steady, as if they had known their purpose all along.
The transformed family joined the ranks of drones, marching in synchronized steps as the ship’s door closed behind them. The hum of machinery grew louder as the ship prepared to embark on its next mission, expanding the reach of the collective to every corner of Maple Heights.
And as they moved forward, one chant united them all, an unbreakable bond shared by every drone:
