Eddie Diaz, Evan "Buck" Buckley, and Eddie's son Christopher stood in front of their new home in Columbus, Indiana, the evening sun casting a golden glow over the one-story house. It was a quaint place, with a modest yard and a quiet street—everything they had hoped for when they decided to leave the fast-paced, high-stakes life as firefighters in Station 118 back in Los Angeles. After everything they'd been through—the near-death experiences, the emotional toll of their jobs—this was meant to be a fresh start. A quiet life.

"Well, here it is," Eddie said, nudging Buck with his elbow. "Our new home."

Buck grinned, his eyes shining with excitement. "It's perfect."

Christopher wheeled his chair forward, looking up at the house with a wide smile. "I like it, Dad. Can we check out my room now?"

Eddie chuckled and ruffled Christopher's hair. "Let's get inside and see what this place is like. We've got a lot of unpacking to do."

As they made their way into the house, the atmosphere was immediately different from what they had experienced in their previous homes. The air felt... heavy, like something was pressing down on them, but Eddie dismissed it as fatigue from the long trip. Moving to another state had been a big decision, and now they were all here—tired, but ready to settle in.

The house itself was cozy, with neutral walls, wooden floors, and wide windows that allowed the fading daylight to stream in. Eddie and Buck had planned out how to make the space feel like home, but for now, it was just a bunch of boxes scattered everywhere. The three of them dove into unpacking, opening boxes filled with clothes, kitchen supplies, and Christopher's toys.

As they worked, Christopher played with his LEGOs in the living room, laughing to himself as Eddie and Buck lifted heavy boxes. For a moment, the exhaustion didn't seem too bad. They joked around and teased each other, laughing at how they couldn't remember what half the boxes even contained.

But as the sun set and the shadows in the house grew longer, something in the air changed.


Later that night, as they neared the end of their unpacking spree, Buck wiped the sweat from his forehead and slumped onto the couch. "Man, this is exhausting. How do we have so much stuff?"

Eddie grinned, setting down a box of kitchen utensils. "Blame it on all those firehouse souvenirs you keep insisting we take with us."

Just as Buck opened his mouth to retort, Christopher called from the hallway. "Dad! Buck! It feels really cold in here."

Eddie's brow furrowed, and he exchanged a glance with Buck. "It shouldn't be. The AC isn't even on yet."

Buck stood up, walking over to Christopher. The hallway, just as his son had said, was indeed cold. The chill clung to the air, an almost unnatural cold that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "It's freezing," Buck murmured. "But why?"

Eddie shrugged, though his expression was uneasy. "Maybe the house needs a day to settle in? I'll check the thermostat."

Buck, not one to let things go easily, insisted on checking the thermostat himself. He made his way to the small digital device on the wall and stared at it, frowning. "It says it's 72 degrees in here."

Eddie glanced over his shoulder. "That's normal, right?"

"Yeah, but…" Buck pressed a few buttons, testing the system. "There's no reason it should feel this cold."

They both stood in the hallway, the cold spots sending a chill down their spines. Christopher, sensing the tension between his dad and Buck, wheeled over. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, buddy," Eddie said quickly, putting on a smile for his son. "Probably just the house adjusting or something."

But Buck wasn't convinced. The air felt wrong—like someone had left the freezer open, but there was no explanation for it. He walked through the hallway, checking other rooms, and found more cold spots—pockets of icy air in random places, each one more unsettling than the last.

"Is it just me," Buck muttered as he rejoined Eddie and Christopher, "or does this place feel... off?"

Eddie exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I feel it too. But maybe we're just tired. Let's finish up tonight, get some sleep, and see how things feel in the morning."

Buck nodded, though he couldn't shake the unease gnawing at the back of his mind. "Right. Maybe we're just overthinking it."


As night fell and they settled into their makeshift beds—their real ones still in pieces—Eddie and Buck lay awake in the master bedroom, talking quietly to keep from waking Christopher.

"You think it's just old house syndrome?" Buck asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Eddie turned onto his side, his brow furrowed. "I don't know. This place is definitely older than our apartment in LA, but the cold spots... that's weird, right?"

Buck nodded, his eyes fixed on the darkened ceiling. "Yeah. Real weird."

Just as Buck was about to close his eyes and attempt to sleep, they both heard a soft creaking sound. It wasn't loud, but it was enough to make Buck sit up in bed.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered.

Eddie sat up too, listening. The house groaned and creaked, but that was normal for an old house settling at night. What wasn't normal was the faint sound of whispers—just on the edge of hearing.

Buck's eyes widened, and he slowly turned to Eddie. "Did you hear that?"

Eddie's face had gone pale, but he nodded. "Yeah. I heard it."

They both stayed still for a long moment, straining to hear the noise again. The house had fallen silent, but the cold spots were back, creeping through the room like an invisible draft.

Eddie swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed the flashlight from the nightstand. "I'm going to check on Christopher."

"I'm coming with you," Buck said quickly, following close behind.

They crept down the hall toward Christopher's room. The cold seemed to grow stronger the closer they got, almost like they were walking through an unseen fog. Eddie pushed open the door to Christopher's room as quietly as he could, only to find his son sound asleep, snuggled under a blanket.

"Is he okay?" Buck whispered, peering over Eddie's shoulder.

"Yeah," Eddie breathed a sigh of relief. "He's fine. Out like a light."

They backed out of the room and closed the door softly, but the air remained cold, almost unnaturally so. Eddie was about to suggest heading back to bed when the soft creaking noise returned. This time, it came from the living room.

Buck gripped the flashlight tighter, glancing at Eddie. "Do we check it out?"

Eddie hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."


Together, they moved through the house, their footsteps cautious. When they reached the living room, the temperature dropped even further, as if they had walked straight into a refrigerator. The lights flickered briefly, casting strange shadows along the walls.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, the cold receded. The air warmed slightly, and the house fell into an eerie silence. The whispers stopped.

Eddie turned to Buck, his face tight with concern. "I don't think this is just the house settling."

Buck nodded, his expression grim. "No. Something's definitely off about this place."

They stood there in the dark living room, the silence pressing in around them. Whatever had caused the cold spots, the whispers, the strange noises—it was still there, lurking just out of sight, waiting for them to let their guard down.

And deep down, Eddie and Buck knew that this was only the beginning.

Their fresh start in Columbus, Indiana, was about to take a much darker turn.