Access Road — Elijah Greyhawk
The ambulance doors swung open with a metallic clatter, floodlights spilling across the gravel. Elijah climbed inside without waiting for permission, still holding Chet against his chest. The medics moved around him in a blur of motion.
“Lay him here,” the lead medic said, pulling out the stretcher rails.
Elijah hesitated, tightening his grip. The medic softened his tone. “We’re not taking him from you. We’re treating him. You stay right beside him.”
Elijah nodded and eased Chet onto the stretcher. Chet’s head lolled to the side, breath shallow, skin pale under the harsh lights.
Torres climbed in behind them. “He’s still bradying. We need to stabilize his airway.”
The medic attached a mask, adjusting the flow. “O2 at fifteen. Prep the stabilizer.”
Chet’s chest rose in a weak, uneven rhythm. Elijah leaned close. “Chet… hey. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
Chet didn’t respond. But his fingers twitched. Elijah held onto that.
###
Perimeter — Hayes
Hayes stood outside the ambulance, breath visible in the frosty night air. The facility behind them groaned as its last systems failed, a low rumble echoing through the trees.
Rourke shoved Kline toward the second vehicle, keeping a firm grip on the cuffs.
Kline didn’t resist. He watched the ambulance instead.
“You won’t save him,” Kline said quietly. “His system is destabilizing. The implant—”
Hayes stepped in front of him, voice low and lethal. “If you speak about him again, I’ll make you regret it.”
Kline’s expression didn’t change. “You don’t understand what he is.”
Hayes leaned in. “I don’t care what you think he is. He’s ours. And we’re getting him out.”
Rourke pulled Kline back. “In the truck.”
Kline climbed in, eyes still fixed on the ambulance. Hayes shut the door hard.
###
Command Vehicle — Leah Gagnon
Leah sat in the back of the command vehicle, headset still on, hands trembling slightly as the adrenaline finally ebbed. The screens in front of her showed nothing but static — the facility’s systems had fully collapsed. She exhaled slowly.
“Carter,” she said into the mic, voice steadier than she felt, “the ambulance is ready for departure. Route is clear.”
Hayes’ voice came through. “Copy. We’re loading up.”
Leah leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes for a moment. They were out. They were alive. Chet was alive. For now. She opened her eyes again, forcing herself to stay focused. “I’ll monitor the route. Call if anything changes.”
“Will do,” Hayes said.
Leah removed one glove and rubbed her eyes. “Come on, Chet,” she whispered. “Hold on.”
###
Ambulance — Elijah Greyhawk
The ambulance lurched forward, sirens silent but lights flashing. Elijah sat on the bench beside the stretcher, one hand gripping the rail, the other holding Chet’s hand.
Chet’s skin was cold. Too cold.
The medic adjusted the stabilizer attached to the implant’s external node. “Neural activity is still erratic. Whatever they did to him down there… it’s fighting us.”
Torres leaned over the monitor. “Can you dampen it?”
“Trying,” the medic said. “But the implant’s cycling through patterns I’ve never seen.”
Elijah’s voice cracked. “Just help him.”
“We are,” the medic said. “But we need to get him to the trauma unit. They’ll have the equipment to fully stabilize him.”
Chet’s breath hitched. Elijah leaned close. “I’m here. I’m not leaving.”
Chet’s eyelids fluttered. “Elijah…” he whispered, barely audible.
Elijah swallowed hard. “Yeah. I’m right here.”
The medic glanced at him. “Keep talking to him. It helps.”
Elijah nodded, brushing a hand through Chet’s hair. “You’re safe,” he whispered. “You’re out. Just stay with me.”
The ambulance sped through the night. Chet’s pulse fluttered on the monitor. Elijah didn’t look away. Not for a second.
###
Evan Demands Answers
They cuffed Kline and sent him to a holding facility. The medics were loading Chet into the ambulance for a trip to the trauma unit, Leah hovering beside them, rattling off vitals and implant readings. Elijah stood close, one hand on the gurney rail, refusing to let go.
Evan stepped forward, jaw tight, eyes burning with something deeper than anger. He pointed at Kline, then at Hayes, then at Leah.
“Alright,” he said, voice low but sharp. “Enough. Somebody start talking.”
Hayes looked up. “Evan—”
“No,” Evan snapped. “Don’t ‘Evan’ me. I’m a tribal officer and a game warden. I deal with poachers and missing kids, and assholes dumping trash on sovereign land. This I do not deal with—” he gestured at the facility behind them, at the trauma unit, at Chet’s unconscious body, “whatever the hell this is.”
Marianne stepped closer, but Evan held up a hand.
“I’ve heard you all throwing around names like we’re supposed to know them. Hale. Kline. And now Bergmann.” His voice rose, cracking with fury. “Who the hell is Bergmann? Because I’m done pretending I know every Tom, Dick, or Harry doing weird‑ass science experiments on human beings.”
Leah swallowed hard. She closed her laptop slowly, as if bracing herself.
“Evan,” she said gently, “Bergmann isn’t someone you’d know. He’s not someone anyone is supposed to know.”
Evan glared. “Then start spoon‑feeding me. Because I’m not walking away from this without understanding who thinks they can come onto our land, take our kids, and bury people alive.”
Hayes exhaled long and heavily. He stepped forward, meeting Evan’s eyes.
“Bergmann is the money,” Hayes said. “The architect. The one who built the system Hale and Kline work for. He hides behind shell companies, foreign funding, and encrypted oversight channels. He’s never on paper. Never in the room. But everything leads back to him.”
Leah added quietly, “He’s the reason Fourteen exists.”
Evan stared at them, stunned. “And you’re telling me this now?”
Hayes didn’t flinch. “Because now we have proof. Now we have Chet. Now we have Kline. And now,” — he looked toward the facility —”we bring Bergmann into the light.”
Evan shook his head, breath shaking. “I’m a tribal officer. I’m supposed to protect my people. How the hell am I supposed to do that when monsters like this exist and nobody tells us?”
Marianne stepped beside him, voice steady. “By doing exactly what you’re doing now. By standing here and demanding answers. And by refusing to let this get buried.”
Evan looked at Chet being loaded into the ambulance, his voice breaking.
“Then tell me everything,” he said. “Because I’m not letting another kid disappear on my watch.”
Hayes nodded once — a promise. “You will,” he said. “Starting now.”