This morning, the operations center at Red Rock Flats had felt larger than it did now. The walls hadn’t moved, but the air had — tightening, thickening, pressing inward with the weight of what Leah had just heard from Elijah. The blueprint had been horrifying enough. But Chet’s memory — the screams, the commands, the forced movements — had turned the horror into something living.
Something happening now. Leah stood at the center table, hands braced against the edge, staring down at the printed schematic of the conditioning chamber. The lines were too clean. Too precise. Too intentional. She could still hear Chet’s voice in her mind, thin and trembling:
They’re already in the chamber.
Hayes paced near the far wall, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, clipped, all business. “Yes. We need full tactical support. No, not later — now. RCMP ‘F’ Division, tactical response, emergency authorization. I’ll send the blueprint. No, this isn’t a drill.”
Chief Samuel Greyeyes stood near the doorway, arms folded, watching both of them with the steady patience of a man who had seen too many crises unfold in too many ways. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t need to. His presence alone grounded the room.
Eliza moved between workstations, gathering maps, satellite images, and the last scraps of data Solstice hadn’t wiped. Her movements were sharp and efficient, but her jaw was tight.
Hayes ended the call and turned toward them. “RCMP is mobilizing. They’ll meet us at the border.”
Leah looked up. “How long?”
“Two hours,” Hayes said. “Maybe less if they push.”
Greyeyes stepped forward. “Two hours is too long.”
Hayes didn’t argue. “I know.”
Leah exhaled, steadying herself. “Chet said the cycle is already running.”
Greyeyes’ expression darkened. “Then we will not stop it. We’re going to interrupt it.”
Hayes nodded. “Exactly.”
Eliza set a stack of maps on the table. “The Saskatchewan site is remote. Dense forest. Old logging roads. No direct access unless you know the land.”
Greyeyes stepped beside her. “I know the land.”
Hayes hesitated. “Chief… you don’t have jurisdiction in Canada. RCMP can’t accept you as law enforcement.”
Greyeyes didn’t flinch. “I’m not asking to be law enforcement.”
Leah stepped in. “Hayes — RCMP just sent an update. They’re activating the Civilian Emergency Response Network. They want multilingual responders, cultural responders, and triage support. We know we are walking into a mass‑casualty event.”
Hayes blinked. “They’re credentialing civilians?”
Leah nodded. “Yes. And they specifically asked for Indigenous community liaisons. People the kids will trust.”
She looked at Greyeyes. “They want you.”
Greyeyes’ expression didn’t change, but something in his posture did — a subtle shift, a quiet acceptance.
Hayes exhaled. “All right. Then you’ll be credentialed as a Civilian Emergency Response Liaison. You’ll have access to the site, but you won’t carry a weapon. You won’t act as law enforcement.”
Greyeyes nodded. “I’m not here to play cop. I’m here to bring our children home.”
Hayes held his gaze for a moment, then nodded back. “Then you’re exactly who they need.”
Eliza grabbed her jacket. “I’ll prep the vehicles.”
She left the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall.
Greyeyes turned to Leah. “Are you all right?”
Leah didn’t answer immediately. She stared at the blueprint, her fingers tracing the outline of the chamber. “I keep thinking about Chet. About what he said. About what he felt.”
Greyeyes waited. Leah’s voice was quiet. “He wasn’t just a victim. He was a tool. They used him to hurt other kids.”
Greyeyes’ expression softened. “That’s not on him.”
“I know,” Leah said. “But he doesn’t.”
Greyeyes nodded slowly. “Then you tell him. When this is over, you tell him. And you make him believe it.”
Leah swallowed. “I will.”
Hayes stepped beside her. “We’re going to stop this.”
Leah looked at him. “Are we?”
Hayes didn’t flinch. “Yes.”
Greyeyes studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Good.”
Leah gathered the printed schematics, folding them carefully. “We need to brief the RCMP on the layout. They need to know what they’re walking into.”
Hayes grabbed his gear bag. “Already sent them the digital files. But they’ll want your analysis.”
Leah nodded. “I’ll give it to them on the way.”
Greyeyes moved toward the door. “We leave in twenty minutes.”
Hayes followed him out.
Leah lingered for a moment, staring at the blueprint one last time. The lines seemed to pulse under the fluorescent lights — cold, clinical, merciless. She closed her eyes.
They’re already in the chamber.
She opened them again, her jaw set. Not for long. She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.
###
Outside, the wind had picked up, carrying the scent of dust and pine. The sky was a hard, unforgiving blue — the kind that promised a long day ahead. Greyeyes stood near the vehicles, speaking quietly with Eliza. Hayes was loading gear into the back of the SUV.
As Leah moved toward the vehicles, Hayes’ radio crackled again — a brief burst of static, then a familiar voice.
“Hayes, Gagnon — I’m set up on the U.S. side. Boundary Ridge corridor. I’ve got eyes on every unofficial crossing point from the cutline to the old logging road. If anyone runs south, I’ll see them before they hit the treeline,” radioed Evan Blackhorse.
Leah exhaled, relief threading through her tension. “Evan, good. Stay put. We don’t know if Bergmann has people positioned along the border.”
“Already accounted for,” Evan said. “I’ve got two Tribal Police units from Boundary Ridge with me, and Black Rock is sending a medic team to the rendezvous point. If the kids come back across, we’ll get them to hospitals and tribal safe houses immediately.”
Greyeyes stepped closer to the radio. “Evan Blackhorse,” he said, voice steady. “You’re covering the corridor?”
“Every inch,” Evan replied. “You handle the kids on the Canadian side. I’ll handle them when they come home.”
Greyeyes nodded, even though Evan couldn’t see it. “Good. We’ll need you.”
Leah added, “Evan — if Bergmann tries to run south—”
“I know,” Evan whispered. “This is his escape route. I’m already on it.”
Hayes exchanged a look with Leah — a silent acknowledgment that Evan was exactly where he needed to be.
Evan continued, “I’ll stay on comms. You call when you have the first group of kids. I’ll have transport ready. And Leah—”
“Yeah?”
“Bring them home.”
Leah swallowed. “We will.”
The radio clicked off. Greyeyes looked at Leah. “He’s in the right place.”
Leah nodded. “He always is.”
###
Hayes closed the back of the SUV. “All right. Canada’s yours. The border’s his. Let’s move.”
They climbed into the vehicles. The engines rumbled to life. And as the convoy pulled out of Red Rock Flats, heading north toward the forest, toward the chamber, toward the children — Leah felt the weight of the moment settle into place.
Greyeyes would be inside the site. Evan would guard the border. The children would have someone waiting for them on both sides of the line.
The team was complete. The mission was clear. And Bergmann’s window was closing.