The townsfolk gathered not far from the diner. The sun hid under the clouds, and the air was heavy. Everyone knew what was about to happen. The Choosing Ceremony wasn't just tradition — it was survival.
Boyd stood on the ground, hands behind his back. He looked over the crowd, calm but firm. Donna was beside him with her Colony House crew, arms crossed, faces set.
Dean arrived with Kenny, sharp-eyed and silent. A few steps back, Jade walked in, smirking like the whole thing was a joke. Tobey stuck close to him, a bit nervous but unwilling to let his friend cause any more trouble. Nearby, the Matthews family — Jim, Tabitha, Julie, and Ethan — waited together.
The crowd hushed when Boyd spoke.
"You all know why we're here," Boyd said. His voice was low but carried across the group with the kind of authority that came from being obeyed too many times. "We have new arrivals. Like always, they have to choose. Town… or Colony House."
Boyd let the silence work before continuing. "This isn't about comfort. It isn't about what sounds easier. Every decision affects all of us. Where you go matters. How you live matters. So think before you speak."
He turned to Donna. "Go ahead."
Donna stepped forward, her stare cutting straight into the newcomers.
"Colony House isn't about rules. It's about freedom. No one's gonna tell you when to sleep, when to wake, or what job to do. We share everything, we make decisions together, and no one's standing over your shoulder with a clipboard. If you want to survive here without being under someone's rules, that's where you go."
A few of her people nodded, their confidence obvious.
Boyd didn't so much as twitch. He turned to Kenny.
Kenny cleared his throat, "The town is different. We've got rules, structure. Curfews, assigned work. It isn't glamorous, but it's safe. You don't go hungry, you don't wonder where you're supposed to be. Everyone here has a role, and we hold the line together. That's what keeps us alive."
The divide was laid bare: freedom versus safety. Chaos versus order.
Boyd motioned to the newcomers. "Pick up a rock if you choose town. A flower if you choose Colony House."
The crowd shifted as Jade was called first. He strolled forward, hands in pockets, smirk in place.
"Cute little sales pitches," he said. "One side's detention camp, the other's a hippie party house. I've seen how those end — people promise to share until someone's too tired to carry their weight. Then everything falls apart." He looked toward Donna's crew. "Fun until the monsters show up. Then you're screwed."
He turned, pointing at the rocks. "Rules may suck, but they keep people alive. Alive means roofs overhead, meals on the table, and being responsible for one's own safety. I'll take that over dying because someone got careless."
The crowd murmured as Jade bent down and picked up a rock.
Tobey stepped forward right after. "I want rules. I want safety. I pick the town." He picked up a rock.
Dean followed, stepping forward with no hesitation. "I choose town." He picked up a rock too.
The crowd stirred louder now — three in a row for the town. Donna's jaw tightened, but she stayed silent.
Then the Matthews family stepped forward together. Jim spoke first. "We've thought about it. We want stability for our kids. We want structure." He reached down, picked up a rock. Tabitha, Julie, and Ethan followed, each picking up a rock one by one.
The townsfolk nodded in approval, relief on their faces. Donna's people shifted uneasily.
Boyd lifted his hand for silence. "You've seen their choices. Jade, Tobey, Dean, and the Matthews family — all have chosen the town. That is final. No going back."
The crowd broke into whispers — some relieved, some tense.
Donna's glare swept across Jade, sharp and cold, but she turned on her heel and led her people away.
The whispers faded as Boyd lifted his hand again. His voice softened, carrying a heavier tone.
"That's done," he said. "Now we have something else to face." He looked at the crowd. "Mark deserves to be laid to rest. Everyone, follow me. We'll gather at the cemetery."
The mood changed at once. Relief from the Choosing was replaced with silence, heavier than before. The townsfolk walked down the dirt road together, slow and quiet.
The cemetery lay near the edge of the town, past an old broken fence. The graves were marked with stones and wooden crosses. Each one had names carved by hand. It wasn't large, but every marker showed what the town had lost.
Mark's grave had been dug earlier that morning. His body or what was left of it, wrapped in cloth, rested at the edge. Father Khatri stepped forward. He wasn't wearing robes, only his shirt and vest, but his presence carried weight. He looked at the tired faces before him.
He began to speak, his words familiar to many.
"We stand here," Father Khatri said, his voice clear, "to mark the passing of another soul taken from us." He paused and closed his eyes briefly. "This place tests us. It strips away what we know about safety and control. But it cannot take who we are. It cannot take the love we share. That is what we hold on to."
He looked down at Mark's body. "Mark was one of us. He worked beside us. He fought beside us. He lived through the same nights we all do. Though he is gone, we carry him with us. We keep his memory alive. That is how we endure. That is how we fight back."
The silence grew heavier. The only sound was the wind in the trees and the uneven breaths of the crowd.
Father Khatri's voice softened, but it stayed strong. "Every stone here is a reminder of loss. But it is also a reminder of resilience. We are still here. We are still standing. And as long as we remember and fight, we honor them all."
He gave a small nod. The townsfolk lowered the body. Earth hit the cloth with a dull sound. Some people whispered prayers. Others bowed their heads.
When it was finished, Boyd spoke quietly. "Go on. Head home." He then turned to the newcomers and asked them to wait for a while.
The other people began to leave. Some walked in pairs, others alone. Soon the cemetery was almost empty.
Boyd turned to the newcomers. His voice was steady. "All right. Time we had a talk."
He didn't waste words.
"We have to settle you in," Boyd continued, looking over the group. "But right now there's only one house that can be properly used. That's Mark's place. The others are empty, yes, but we've been stripping them for wood, glass, and anything else we needed to patch up our own. It'll take a day or two of work before they're fit to live in again."
He let that sink in, scanning their faces. "So, for now, some of you will have to adjust. Stay with others until the houses are ready."
Dean gave a simple nod, shoulders squared. The Matthews exchanged uncertain looks.
Boyd continued, his tone firm but fair. "Since Dean was the first of you to come here, I'll give him the choice. He can take Mark's house."
Dean looked toward the Matthews family, then back to Boyd. He shook his head. "I'm just one guy. I can wait. Let the Matthews have it. They've got kids. They need it more than I do."
Jim's eyes widened slightly and he sincerely thanked him," Thank you. That means a lot."
Dean just shrugged, his tone casual. "Don't make a big deal out of it. I'll manage. It's not like I need much."
Boyd gave him a long, steady look, then gave a small nod.
"All right," he said. "Matthews family, Mark's house is yours. You can move in right now."
Jim and Tabhita nodded in agreement at that
Boyd shifted his attention to the others. He paused, considering. "Dean, you'll bunk with Kenny for now. He's got the space. It won't be fancy, but it'll hold until we get your place fixed up."
Dean gave another short nod. "Fine by me."
Boyd turned to Jade and Tobey. "You two will stay with me."
Both Jade and Tobey seemed to be okay with it and didn't say much.
Boyd took in the scene, the weight of responsibility visible in the set of his shoulders. He knew this was just the beginning. Settling newcomers was never easy. It wasn't just about roofs and walls — it was about trust, responsibilities, resources and about fitting into a fragile system where one wrong step could put them all at risk.
His eyes lingered on each of them, one at a time — Dean, Tobey, Jade, Jim, Tabitha, Julie, and Ethan.
"Get some rest tonight," Boyd said. "Tomorrow, I'll walk you through what comes next."
There was nothing more to say. The group began to drift from the cemetery. Jim guided his family toward their new home, his hand steady on Ethan's shoulder. Tabitha carried Julie's bag. They moved together, relief showing in the way they held close.
Dean stepped toward Kenny with a smile. "So… no welcome party for the new roommate? Balloons, maybe a banner?"
Kenny smirked, shaking his head. "Yeah, sure. Right after I put in a request at the Party Planning Committee we don't have. Until then, you'll just have to settle for a bed and running water."
Dean grinned. "Fair enough. Just don't blame me if my snoring rattles the windows."
Kenny shot him a sidelong glance. "Depends how bad it is. Might kick you back out to Colony House if it's too loud."
Dean laughed, shaking his head as he followed Kenny down the road.
A few steps behind, Jade stretched his arms like he had just finished a long day at the office. "Rooming with the sheriff. Can't wait," he muttered. Tobey gave him a look but said nothing, falling into step beside him as Boyd motioned for them to follow.
The cemetery was quiet now, only the fading sound of footsteps carrying down the dirt road. Boyd glanced once more at the grave, then turned his back to it. Another day, another loss, another set of new arrivals to guide.
The town moved forward. It always had to.
Meanwhile Dean broke off from Kenny for a moment and went to his car. He opened the trunk and pulled out his travel bag, swinging the strap over his shoulder. Kenny waited with his hands in his pockets, then started leading the way down the street.
They stopped in front of a small two-story house with a worn porch. Kenny opened the door and stepped aside. "Come on in. Your room's upstairs. End of the hall on the left."
Dean followed him up the narrow stairs, the wood creaking under his boots. The room was plain but clean — a bed, a dresser, and enough space for his bag. "Bathroom's across the hall. Kitchen's downstairs. Make yourself at home," Kenny said.
Dean set the bag down with a soft thud. Kenny gave him a quick smile. "I'll let you settle in. Call if you need anything." Then he headed back downstairs, his steps fading until the house was quiet.
Dean let out a breath and unzipped the travel bag. He started putting his clothes in the dresser, his movements quick and practiced. When he finished, he walked over to the window.
The morning sun was still hidden behind thick clouds. Dean looked down at the street—and froze.
A boy stood there. White clothes, white socks and shoes. Pale skin and a calm smile that didn't look right. He raised a hand and waved straight at Dean, like he'd been waiting for him.
Dean blinked, but the boy didn't vanish. Instead, he tilted his head, still smiling, and waved again — this time motioning for Dean to follow. Then he turned and walked slowly down the road.
Dean's chest tightened.
'The Boy in White.'