Leah Gagnon — Point of View
Leah sat at the long table in the community center’s back office with the restricted contractor file spread before her. Thick black bars cut across the pages with deliberate precision, almost taunting her: a missing name, a sealed medical history, a buried whistleblower flag. Yet one detail remained untouched: the assignment.
BR‑12 — Maintenance / Systems Tech.
She traced the line with her finger. “This has to be him,” she murmured. “It has to be.”
Hayes leaned over her shoulder. “We need more than a file number.”
Leah nodded. “Then we follow the trail.”
She opened the regional contractor logs — the records Solstice hadn’t scrubbed clean. A cluster of entries appeared: matching dates and locations, all from the last month. Her pulse quickened.
“He’s been moving,” she said. “Rarely. But enough.”
###
Elijah Greyhawk — Point of View
Elijah stood behind her, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the screen. “Where?” he asked.
Leah clicked the first entry.
Boundary Ridge — Sector Twelve. A supply drop.
Second entry. South Canal Road — Utility Access Point. A maintenance check.
Third entry. Red Rock Flats — Perimeter Sensor Station. Two nights ago.
Elijah’s jaw tightened. “That’s the night he looked at the camera.”
Hayes nodded. “He’s checking the perimeter. Maybe sabotaging it. Maybe signaling.”
Leah zoomed in on the third entry. A signature line appeared — not a name, but an ID code.
SP‑4172.
Elijah leaned closer. “Can you trace that?”
Leah swallowed. “I can try.”
###
Leah Gagnon — Point of View
She opened the contractor's ID registry. Typed in the code. The system hesitated — then returned a single line.
SP‑4172 — Active.
Status: Restricted.
Assignment: BR‑12.
Clearance: Level 2 (Technical).
Leah frowned. “Level 2 means he’s not allowed near the kids.”
Elijah shook his head. “But he was.”
Hayes added, “Which means he broke protocol. Or someone forced him to.”
Leah clicked deeper. A second line appeared.
Last confirmed location: BR‑12 — Sublevel Access Corridor.
Timestamp: 36 hours ago.
Elijah stiffened. “That’s after he checked the road.”
Leah nodded slowly. “He went back.”
###
Eliza Morningstar — Point of View
Eliza entered the room quietly, listening as Leah explained the timestamps. “So, he left BR‑12,” Eliza said, “checked the access road, and returned.”
Hayes nodded. “Which means he’s still inside.”
Elijah’s voice was low. “And he’s still alive.”
Eliza studied the screen. “Why check the road?” she asked.
Leah hesitated. “He might’ve been checking for tampering. Or making sure the sensors were down.”
Hayes added, “Or he was looking for us.”
Elijah’s jaw tightened. “He was warning us.”
Eliza didn’t argue. She studied the entries again: the supply drop, the utility access point, and the perimeter station. Together they formed a pattern, a route, a trail.
“He’s moving in a loop,” she said. “A maintenance circuit.”
Leah nodded. “And if he’s following a schedule…”
Elijah finished with her. “…we can intercept him.”
###
Carter Hayes — Point of View
Hayes stepped closer to the table. “Leah,” he said, “can you predict his next stop?”
Leah bit her lip, thinking. “He hit Sector Twelve first. Then the canal. Then the perimeter station.”
She pulled up a map. Three points formed a rough triangle. Leah traced a line between them. “If he’s following the same rotation,” she said, “the next stop would be…” She circled a point on the map.
Old Pump Station 9.
Boundary Ridge Utility Corridor.
Hayes exhaled. “That’s isolated.”
Elijah nodded. “And dark.”
Eliza added, “And off the main road.”
Leah looked up. “It’s the perfect place to meet him.”
###
Elijah Greyhawk — Point of View
Elijah felt something shift inside him — not relief, not hope, but direction. “We're going tonight,” he said.
Hayes hesitated. “We need to be careful. If Solstice is watching—”
“They won’t be watching Pump Station 9,” Elijah said. “It’s too old. Too quiet. Too forgotten.”
Eliza stepped between them. “Elijah,” she said gently, “we do this smartly.”
Elijah met her eyes. “I know.”
He looked back at the map. “At that station, he’ll be alone. He won't have any supervisors, any cameras, and certainly no backup."
Hayes nodded slowly. “And no one to stop him from talking.”
###
Leah Gagnon — Point of View
Leah saved the map and closed the file. “We have a window,” she said. “Maybe an hour. Maybe less.”
Eliza nodded. “Then we prepare.”
Hayes grabbed his coat. “I’ll get the vehicle.”
Elijah turned toward the door. But Leah stopped him. “Elijah,” she said softly, “if he’s scared… don’t push him.”
Elijah paused. Then nodded. “I won’t.”
He stepped out into the hallway. Because the quiet man wasn’t a ghost anymore. He had a route. A schedule. A trail. And tonight, they were going to follow it.