At 6:04 in the morning, the first delivery truck reached the town and found every front door open.
The engines of parked cars were cold. Breakfast sat untouched on kitchen tables. A kettle screamed inside a house with nobody in it.
There were no footprints leading away. No emergency calls. No signs of violence. Only the steady hum of electricity moving through a place that had forgotten its people.
By noon, the road signs were blank.
Police searched every room. By sunset, satellite records no longer showed the town. The investigators who had entered that morning could not agree on its name.
At 2:17 the following night, a radio operator received a transmission on a dead frequency.
“We are still here. Please stop looking.”