Maple Heights 2: The transforming Party
Tyler could feel the excitement bubbling up as he parked outside Matt’s house. He hadn’t seen his best friend in weeks, and this party felt like the perfect way to reconnect. The energy in the air was different tonight, and Tyler was ready to unwind. But what made this night even better was that his friend Alex, a childhood buddy, was coming along too. Tyler hadn’t told Alex about the strange changes happening with his brother Luke, or the bizarre polo shirt trend he’d noticed at home and around town—tonight was just about fun.
Tyler checked his phone. A text from Alex popped up: "Here. Meet me at the front!"
He stepped out of his car and spotted Alex approaching from down the street. They gave each other a quick bro-hug and laughed, reminiscing about old times as they walked toward the house.
"Man, I haven’t been to one of Matt’s parties in ages. Should be fun," Alex said, grinning.
Tyler smiled but felt a knot forming in his stomach. Something had been bothering him ever since he heard about Matt wearing the black latex Fred Perry polo. He hadn’t been able to get a clear answer from Matt about it, and his gut told him something was wrong. But tonight, he wasn’t going to worry about it—at least, not yet.
As they stepped into Matt’s house, the music was thumping, and the place was packed with people in their twenties, dancing and chatting. Tyler immediately spotted Matt in the kitchen, surrounded by a group of guys. As he approached, he saw it—the same black latex Fred Perry polo with yellow details that he’d seen on Luke and other guys recently. It fit Matt tightly, gleaming under the lights in a way that made it impossible to ignore.
Alex didn’t seem to notice the shirt, instead excitedly talking about plans for the weekend. But Tyler’s eyes stayed glued to the polo. He had to ask.
"Matt, dude, what's with the shirt?" Tyler asked, trying to sound casual.
Matt smiled—an eerie, too-perfect smile. "It’s the new thing, Ty. You’ll see. Come on, man, relax. Let’s grab a drink."
Tyler and Alex exchanged a glance. Alex’s smile faded a bit, as if sensing something was off too. Still, they both decided to go with the flow—for now.
Later, Tyler and Alex managed to slip outside to the backyard, trying to get away from the growing crowd inside. The backyard was quieter, but Tyler couldn’t shake the weird feeling. Matt had always been the most laid-back guy, but now there was something different about him—something controlled.
"Hey, man," Alex said, breaking Tyler’s thoughts. "What’s going on? You seem tense."
Tyler glanced toward the house, lowering his voice. "It’s Matt. And it’s this… shirt. I don’t know, but something’s up. Everyone’s been wearing these black latex polos lately. My brother, some guys from the neighborhood—it’s spreading."
Alex frowned. "You think Matt’s involved?"
"I don’t know," Tyler admitted. "But something isn’t right."
Just as they were talking, Matt stepped outside. Tyler tensed, but Matt’s smile seemed genuine—yet eerie. He approached them with a drink in hand and, without prompting, began talking.
"You know, Tyler, I wasn’t sure about it either at first," Matt said, his tone unusually calm. "But once I met the coach, everything made sense."
Tyler stiffened. "Coach? What coach?"
"Coach Johnson. The guy who runs the soccer team. He’s the one who introduced me to the polo. Said it’s about more than just soccer. It’s about focus, clarity… success. It changes you, Ty. Makes you better."
Tyler’s heart raced. His mind flashed back to his brother, Luke, who had been acting strange ever since soccer practice. The pieces started falling into place. "You mean Coach Johnson turned you?"
Matt’s eyes gleamed in the low light. "Not just me. A lot of us. It’s spreading through the town. The polo—it connects us. You’ll understand once you wear it."
Alex leaned in, whispering, "Tyler, this is messed up."
The night took a darker turn when a group of new guests arrived. They were all dressed in normal clothes—jeans and casual shirts. Tyler watched as Matt and a few other guys in the black polos welcomed them with wide smiles, offering them drinks. But Tyler noticed something strange: whenever Matt or another guy handed out a drink, they also handed out a folded black latex Fred Perry polo.
Tyler’s stomach dropped as he watched the scene unfold. At first, the new arrivals hesitated, just like Jason had earlier, but after some encouragement, they began putting on the polos. And even.. gas masks?
One by one, the men’s expressions shifted from confusion to calmness. They began to mirror the behavior of the other guys already transformed. Their casual clothes were discarded, and the black latex polos with yellow details took their place, shimmering eerily under the house lights.
Alex grabbed Tyler’s arm. "We need to get out of here."
Tyler nodded, but before they could leave, the door to the backyard opened again—and this time, Coach Johnson stepped through. He, too, was wearing the black polo. His presence was commanding, and everyone turned toward him.
"Tyler," Coach Johnson called out, his voice smooth and authoritative. "It’s time for you to join the team."
Tyler’s blood ran cold. "I’m not doing this."
But then he saw them—two men standing behind Coach Johnson. He recognized them immediately—they were the brothers of two guys he had grown up with. And just like everyone else, they too were wearing the polos. The brothers’ expressions were calm, eerily serene.
Matt stepped closer, holding out a black polo with yellow details. "It’s inevitable, Ty. Put it on, and you’ll understand."
Alex looked at Tyler, his eyes filled with fear. "Tyler, don’t do it."
Tyler’s heart pounded in his chest. The black latex Fred Perry polo gleamed in Matt’s hands, and Coach Johnson stood nearby, watching Tyler with calm, knowing eyes. The parents behind Coach—men Tyler had known all his life—were wearing the same polos, their faces eerily serene. This wasn’t just about soccer anymore; this was something much bigger, much more terrifying.
Alex gripped Tyler’s arm tightly, his voice low but urgent. “Tyler, we have to get out of here. Now.”
But Tyler couldn’t move. His mind was racing, trying to piece everything together. Matt had been turned by Coach Johnson. His brother Luke had fallen into the same trap. And now it was spreading—through the neighborhood, through the town. What had once seemed like an innocent trend was now a full-blown takeover.
The air felt thick around him, the weight of expectation pressing down. Everyone at the party—the guys in their twenties, the parents, even his best friend—was looking at him, waiting for him to make the choice. And the polo... it was right there, just inches from his hands.
Matt’s voice broke the silence. “You don’t have to fight it, Ty. The polo will change everything. It’ll give you focus. Clarity. You’ll be part of something bigger than yourself.”
Tyler shook his head, trying to resist. “I don’t want that.”
But Matt’s expression softened, and for a moment, Tyler saw a flicker of the old Matt—the friend he had grown up with. “I thought the same thing at first. I didn’t understand it. But once I wore the polo, everything made sense. You’ll feel it too.”
Tyler’s eyes darted to Alex, who was still gripping his arm, silently pleading for them to leave. But as Tyler’s gaze swept the backyard, he realized something chilling: the exit was blocked. Two more guys in black polos were standing near the gate, their faces blank but watchful.
“Tyler!” Coach Johnson’s voice boomed across the backyard, snapping Tyler back to attention. “It’s time to make a decision.”
Tyler’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t just run—they were surrounded. And if he refused to wear the polo, what would happen? Would they force it on him? Would they make him like they had made Matt, Luke, and the others?
Alex’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Ty, we can’t stay here. We have to fight this.”
But Tyler was paralyzed. The weight of the polo in Matt’s hands seemed to pull him closer. The promise of focus, of clarity, of belonging—it was tempting, even though he knew it was wrong.
Coach Johnson stepped forward, his face calm, almost fatherly. “You’ve always been strong, Tyler. That’s why you’ve resisted this for so long. But strength doesn’t come from standing alone. It comes from being part of a team. And this... this is the ultimate team.”
Tyler’s mind flashed to his brother Luke—how different he had become since soccer practice, how distant but focused. And then he thought about Matt, who had always been the most laid-back guy he knew, now a willing servant of whatever force was behind this polo.
“I... I don’t want to be like this,” Tyler whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Matt stepped closer, holding out the polo. “You won’t lose who you are, Ty. You’ll just... be better. You’ll understand.”
Alex pulled Tyler back a step, his voice rising. “No! This isn’t you, Tyler. You’re stronger than this!”
But as Alex spoke, Coach Johnson’s eyes narrowed. He gestured to one of the guys standing near the gate, who moved silently toward Alex, grabbing his arm and twisting him around. Alex yelped in pain, and before Tyler could react, the guy pulled a folded black polo from his jacket and shoved it toward Alex.
“No!” Tyler shouted, moving to intervene, but it was too late.
In a swift, practiced motion, Alex was forced to his knees as the polo was yanked over his head. The black latex gleamed in the moonlight, and Tyler watched in horror as Alex’s expression changed. The panic in his eyes faded, replaced by a calm, almost empty look. The transformation was fast, brutal.
When Alex stood up again, he was different. His eyes no longer held that spark of rebellion. Instead, they were distant, calm, and focused—just like everyone else’s.
“Tyler,” Alex said softly, his voice flat, emotionless. “You should put it on.”
Tyler’s heart sank. His last ally was gone, taken by the same force that had claimed so many others. Now, there was no one left to fight alongside him.
Coach Johnson stepped forward again, his expression unreadable. “There’s no need to fight anymore, Tyler. The polo is waiting for you. Once you wear it, everything will fall into place. You’ll be part of the team.”
Matt smiled, holding out the shirt one final time.
Tyler’s hands shook. He could feel the pressure building, the weight of everyone’s eyes on him. There was no way out, no one left to help him. The polo felt inevitable.
But just as he reached out to take it, a memory flashed in his mind—a memory of him and Luke playing soccer in the backyard as kids, before everything had changed. They had always been a team, but it had been on their terms. This... this wasn’t a team. It was control.
Tyler took a deep breath. “I won’t do it,” he said quietly.
Matt’s smile faltered. “Ty, don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not putting it on,” Tyler repeated, louder this time.
Coach Johnson’s eyes darkened. “You don’t have a choice.”
But Tyler took a step back, refusing to take the polo. “Yes, I do.”
For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. The air was thick with tension, and Tyler could feel the weight of his decision pressing down on him. But he stood firm.
Coach Johnson’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Very well.”
And with that, he gave a curt nod to the two men by the gate. They moved toward Tyler, fast and efficient, ready to force the transformation on him.
But before they could reach him, Tyler bolted. He ran through the crowd, pushing past the guys in black polos, ignoring the shocked gasps and protests. He didn’t know where he was going—he just knew he had to get out.
Alex, now with his hair slicked back, was ready to find his best friend and make him join them forever.
Tyler’s feet pounded against the pavement as he sprinted down the street, the cool night air filling his lungs. Behind him, he could hear the shouts of the transformed, but he didn’t look back. His only thought was escape.
He ran and ran until the sounds of pursuit faded into the distance. Only then did he stop, gasping for breath. He was alone, in the middle of a quiet, empty street.
For now, he had escaped. But Tyler knew it wasn’t over. The black polo was everywhere—spreading through the town like wildfire. And sooner or later, they would come for him again.
Tyler sprinted down the empty suburban street, his heart pounding as he put more distance between himself and the house. His mind raced with fear and confusion—his friends, his neighbors, everyone he knew was falling under the influence of those black Fred Perry polos. But he couldn’t stop, not now.
Just as he rounded a corner and ducked behind a row of parked cars to catch his breath, his phone buzzed. He fumbled for it, seeing Zach’s name on the screen. Surprised but relieved, he answered quickly.
“Zach?” Tyler whispered, glancing around to make sure he was alone. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”
There was a shaky intake of breath on the other end. “Tyler… man, I don’t know what’s happening,” Zach whispered, his voice quivering with fear. “My dad… he’s changed. Just like everyone else. He keeps telling me I need to put on the polo, that it’ll make everything better.”
Tyler felt a chill run down his spine. “Zach, listen to me. You have to get out of there. Don’t let him make you put it on. They’re all… they’re not themselves anymore. We have to get somewhere safe.”
There was a rustling sound on the line, and Zach’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I know, I’m trying. I’ve been hiding in my room, but he won’t stop. He keeps knocking on the door, saying it’s for my own good. Ty, I don’t know how much longer I can hold him off.”
Tyler’s pulse quickened. “Can you make it to the soccer fields? It’s abandoned; no one will look for us there.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Zach replied, “Okay… I’ll try. Just—wait, no! No, Dad, don’t—”
Suddenly, there was a muffled scuffle on the other end of the line, followed by Zach’s voice calling out, “No! I don’t want it! I don’t—” And then the call went silent.
Tyler stared at his phone, his heart hammering as dread washed over him. Zach was, just like his brother Troy, gone. Their father was pleased.
Tyler sprinted down the dark streets, adrenaline pushing him forward. His heart pounded as he turned corner after corner, his mind racing. He knew they were close, and he had no choice but to keep running. The voices of the transformed echoed faintly behind him, calling his name, urging him to stop fighting.
He needed somewhere to hide—somewhere he could catch his breath, think, and maybe even find a way to fight back.
Before he knew it, he found himself at the edge of the familiar soccer field where Luke had practiced countless times. The field was empty now, the bleachers casting long shadows under the moonlight. But Tyler couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, of something lurking beneath the surface. He spotted the locker room building near the bleachers and made a break for it, slipping inside and quietly closing the door behind him.
The air inside the locker room was thick and heavy, carrying a distinct, musky scent. Tyler wrinkled his nose, trying to ignore it as he moved deeper into the room. But the smell only intensified as he walked further, and he soon realized the source: dozens of black Fred Perry polos, identical to the ones he had seen at the party, were hanging on racks along the walls. Their yellow details caught the dim light, creating an almost hypnotic effect as they swayed slightly.
The faint hum of a ceiling fan was the only sound as he pushed the door open of coach his office. Inside, the room was dark, illuminated only by a small desk lamp casting a pool of light over the cluttered desk. Tyler’s gaze fell on a stack of papers and a checklist lying on top, each item written in Coach’s neat, meticulous handwriting.
Turn Matt. 2. Turn Alex. 3. Lure Tyler to the soccer fields. 4. Trap Tyler. 5. Turn Tyler.
The final line sat unchecked, standing out in a haunting way. Tyler’s chest tightened as he realized this was more than a casual plan—Coach had orchestrated everything.
He took a slow step forward, drawn to the wall on the far side of the room. It was covered with framed photos, each one spotlighting different moments and faces. His eyes widened as he recognized the faces in the photos. There was Luke, his brother, standing proudly in a black Fred Perry polo with yellow details, his face calm and focused. Below Luke’s photo was a small label, handwritten in bold letters: Polo Drone 088.
Tyler’s breath hitched as he scanned the other photos. There was Matt, Alex, and others from the soccer team, all wearing the same polo with the same serene, almost detached expressions. In the center of it all, a larger framed photo of Coach Johnson (Polo Drone 001) stared back at him, his gaze intense and commanding. Tyler could feel the weight of Coach’s stare, as if it reached out from the photo, binding him in place.
The room was completely silent, and he felt both comforted and unnerved by the eerie calm. He crouched down behind a row of lockers, breathing deeply as he tried to steady himself. But each breath filled his lungs with the overwhelming musk from the polos, a heady, almost intoxicating scent that made his mind feel hazy.
Tyler’s head began to swim, the scent sinking deeper into his senses. He knew he needed to stay alert, to keep his guard up, but his resistance was slipping with each breath he took. His heart still pounded, but it was slower now, his thoughts beginning to drift. The scent was comforting, reassuring, like a gentle voice telling him everything would be alright if he just… gave in.
He tried to shake his head, to clear his mind, but it only seemed to make the pull of the polos stronger. His gaze drifted to the neatly arranged rows, their soft fabric glinting faintly in the low light, calling to him.
“It would be so easy,” a voice in his mind whispered. “Just one step, and all the running, all the fear, would go away.”
Tyler shook his head again, trying to resist. But his hands seemed to move on their own, reaching out toward one of the polos hanging on the nearest rack. The fabric felt cool under his fingertips, and a strange sense of calm washed over him as he held it in his hands.
He brought the polo closer, his mind growing hazier as the musky scent became overpowering. His grip tightened, the soft fabric pulling him in, his fingers tracing the yellow details almost instinctively.
The room felt warmer now, the silence enveloping him like a blanket. Tyler’s resistance faded with each passing moment, the familiar scent and the feel of the polo overpowering his senses. It was as if the shirt itself was speaking to him, urging him to embrace the calm, the unity it promised.
As if in a trance, Tyler slowly slipped the polo over his head. The moment it touched his skin, he felt a strange peace settle over him, his thoughts quieting, his body relaxing as if it had found its purpose. The musky scent filled his lungs, grounding him, connecting him to something greater.
He looked down at himself, at the shiny black polo that now clung to his body. The yellow details gleamed in the dim light, and his fingers brushed over the fabric, feeling a sense of pride he couldn’t explain.
His mind was empty, his fear gone, replaced by the steady, calm focus he had seen in his brother, in Matt, and in Alex. He was no longer Tyler, the one who resisted. He was part of something bigger now, something that filled him with purpose.
As he stepped out of the locker room, his movements were calm, controlled, each step aligning with the rhythm of the voices that had once chased him. Now, he was one of them, ready to bring others into the fold.
The night felt different now. The world around Tyler was still, serene, as he walked back toward his house. The familiar streetlights cast a faint glow on the shiny black Fred Perry polo he now wore, its yellow accents catching the light in a way that felt almost otherworldly. Tyler moved with calm purpose, the faint, lingering musk from the locker room grounding him with each step.
When he reached the doorstep of his home, he paused, taking a slow breath as he felt a sense of clarity wash over him. Everything had fallen into place.
Inside, the house was quiet, the soft glow from a single lamp spilling into the hall. Tyler made his way toward the living room, where he found his brother, Luke, sitting calmly on the couch. Luke looked up, his gaze unwavering, his own polo a perfect match to Tyler’s.
“Welcome home, Ty,” Luke said, his tone warm but calm, as if he had been waiting for this moment.
Tyler moved to sit beside his brother, feeling a strange sense of peace. The resistance, the confusion, all of it felt like a distant memory, replaced by the quiet purpose they now shared.
They sat in silence, basking in their newfound unity. After a few moments, Luke’s gaze drifted toward the hallway closet, and a faint smile tugged at his lips.
“We’re almost complete now,” he murmured. “Coach said there’s always room for more.”
Tyler’s gaze followed his brother’s, and there, nestled in the back of the closet, he noticed three neatly folded black polos, each one identical to theirs, the yellow accents gleaming softly under the light.
Their father’s voice sounded from upstairs, a hint of curiosity in his tone. “Tyler? Luke? Is that you boys?”
Tyler and Luke exchanged a knowing look, their smiles widening ever so slightly. They both rose from the couch, moving with quiet, steady steps toward the hallway closet, each of them taking a polo from the pile.
The house was silent as they made their way up the stairs, their expressions calm, their purpose clear.
And as they disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, the last light in the house went out, leaving only the faint scent of musk lingering in the air.
