At precisely 0500 hours, Lieutenant Ethan Mercer loaded his duffel into the back of an unmarked olive-drab SUV.
No unit markings.
No registration numbers.
No destination placard.
Only a small white stencil on the rear bumper:
PROPERTY OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY
The driver was already behind the wheel.
He was somewhere in his late fifties, broad-shouldered beneath a faded field jacket, with silver stubble and deep creases around his eyes that suggested decades spent outdoors. His name tape simply read:
HOLLIS
He glanced at Ethan's duffel.
"Travel light?"
"I was told to."
Hollis nodded once.
"Good advice."
That was the end of the conversation.
Fort Merritt disappeared behind them just after sunrise.
The highway remained busy for another hour before gradually giving way to smaller state roads winding through farmland and scattered towns.
Ethan watched familiar America slide past his window.
Gas stations.
School buses.
Churches.
A diner advertising homemade biscuits.
Ordinary places filled with ordinary people beginning ordinary days.
He found himself wondering how long it would be before he saw another one.
Around midmorning they stopped for fuel.
Hollis filled the tank while Ethan stretched his legs.
The station clerk greeted him with an easy smile.
"Long drive?"
"So I've been told."
"Where you headed?"
Ethan almost answered.
Instead he realized...
He didn't actually know.
He looked toward Hollis.
The older man was watching him.
Not suspiciously.
Almost...
Expectantly.
Ethan smiled politely.
"Government business."
The clerk laughed.
"Ain't that always the answer."
Back in the SUV, Hollis pulled onto the road without saying a word.
Ten minutes later he finally spoke.
"Good."
Ethan looked over.
"What?"
"You didn't tell him."
"I couldn't."
"You'd be surprised how many people try."
By noon the interstate had vanished behind them.
Cell service dropped from five bars to two.
Then one.
Eventually the signal icon simply disappeared.
Ethan checked again twenty minutes later.
Nothing.
He switched to offline maps.
The blue location marker froze.
Then quietly vanished.
He frowned.
"My GPS just quit."
"It'll do that."
"For how long?"
Hollis shrugged.
"Depends."
"On what?"
"You'll see."
The road narrowed.
Pavement became cracked asphalt.
Asphalt became patched gravel.
The mountains slowly rose around them, blue silhouettes layered against one another beneath a hazy summer sky.
Dense forests crowded the roadside.
The trees seemed older here.
Thicker.
Their branches intertwined overhead until long stretches of road became green tunnels where sunlight barely reached the pavement.
Ethan noticed the first abandoned logging road shortly after one o'clock.
Concrete barricades blocked the entrance.
Heavy steel cables stretched between them.
A weathered sign read:
ROAD CLOSED
Nothing unusual.
Five minutes later they passed another.
Then another.
Then another.
Every side road leading deeper into the mountains had been sealed.
Some recently.
Some decades ago.
None showed any signs of maintenance.
"Lot of closures," Ethan observed.
"Mhm."
"Flood damage?"
"No."
"Fire?"
"No."
"What then?"
Hollis smiled faintly.
"They just don't go anywhere worth driving."
The radio had played quietly for most of the morning.
Country music.
Traffic updates.
Weather forecasts.
Without warning...
The music dissolved into static.
Hollis didn't reach for the dial.
The static lasted nearly a minute before a faint voice emerged.
"...copy...copy..."
Another burst of static.
"...does anybody..."
Silence.
Then music returned as though nothing had happened.
Ethan looked over.
"You hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"The radio."
"It gets interference."
"That wasn't interference."
Hollis kept his eyes on the road.
"Out here..."
he said quietly,
"everything sounds like something."
Clouds rolled over the mountains during the afternoon.
The air cooled noticeably.
Fog began gathering in the valleys below.
Not thick enough to hide the landscape.
Just enough to soften it.
Around three o'clock they passed a small church sitting alone beside the road.
White paint peeled from its siding.
The parking lot was empty.
Its front doors hung slightly open.
As they drove past...
The church bell rang.
Once.
Deep.
Clear.
Ethan turned in his seat.
No one stood outside.
No vehicles occupied the lot.
The bell rang again.
Then stopped.
He looked at Hollis.
"You know somebody's there?"
"No."
"You didn't even look."
"I never do."
"Why?"
Hollis took a slow breath.
"Because if someone's ringing that bell..."
He didn't finish.
Several miles passed in silence.
Ethan eventually realized he didn't want him to.
Late afternoon settled over the mountains.
They hadn't passed another vehicle in nearly an hour.
The forests seemed endless now.
The road climbed steadily higher.
Even the birds had grown quiet.
Hollis finally slowed the SUV near a faded wooden sign.
Most of the lettering had weathered away.
Only two words remained legible.
BLACK OAK
Beyond it lay what appeared to be a forgotten mountain town.
Empty storefronts.
Boarded windows.
A rusting pickup truck with flat tires.
An old barber pole frozen halfway through a turn.
The place looked abandoned.
Yet...
Smoke drifted from one chimney.
Ethan watched it disappear behind them.
"People still live there?"
"A few."
"They don't seem interested in leaving."
"They don't seem interested in much."
The road narrowed again.
Trees crowded closer.
The mountain seemed to swallow the last traces of civilization.
Then...
Ethan noticed something odd.
There were no road signs anymore.
Not one.
No mile markers.
No speed limits.
No county lines.
Nothing.
As though the highway department had simply stopped acknowledging the road existed.
He checked the dashboard clock.
4:42 p.m.
His wristwatch read 4:37.
He frowned.
"Your clock's fast."
Hollis glanced at it.
"No."
"My watch says—"
"I know what your watch says."
Neither of them spoke again.
Just before sunset the road curved sharply around the side of the mountain.
The trees opened.
Ethan expected a military installation.
A checkpoint.
Buildings.
Maybe an antenna array.
Instead...
He saw a fence.
Not a simple chain-link fence.
A towering perimeter topped with overlapping coils of razor wire.
Motion sensors.
Thermal cameras.
Floodlights.
Beyond it...
Another fence.
And beyond that...
Guard towers.
The installation stretched across the mountainside farther than Ethan could see.
He let out a quiet whistle.
"That's... larger than I expected."
Hollis didn't answer.
The SUV rolled toward the main gate.
Armed Military Police stepped from reinforced guardhouses, rifles already shouldered.
One raised a hand.
The gate remained closed.
Another soldier walked slowly around the vehicle, checking beneath it with a mirror.
A third compared Ethan's face against a photograph inside a classified binder.
No one smiled.
No one spoke beyond clipped procedural commands.
Finally, the massive steel gate began sliding open.
Metal groaned against metal.
The sound echoed across the valley.
As they drove through, Ethan looked beyond the inner perimeter.
He saw barracks.
Maintenance buildings.
Communications antennas.
Vehicle depots.
Enough infrastructure to support a company-sized element.
His eyes continued searching.
"What exactly are they protecting out here?"
Hollis looked through the windshield.
"You'll see in about five minutes."
They drove another mile.
Rounded one final bend.
And Ethan's breath caught.
In the middle of an enormous clearing...
Surrounded by floodlights...
Guard towers...
Concrete bunkers...
And enough razor wire to secure a missile silo...
Sat a single weather-beaten wooden shack.
Its paint had long since peeled away.
One side leaned slightly.
The porch sagged beneath its own weight.
It looked as though a strong wind could knock it over.
Yet every rifle on the perimeter was pointed toward it.
Not outward.
Toward the shack.
Ethan stared through the windshield.
"...You've got to be kidding."
Hollis parked beside the operations building but made no move to get out.
For a long moment he simply looked at the shack.
Then he spoke so quietly Ethan almost didn't hear him.
"I hope it likes you."
Before Ethan could ask what he meant...
A warm amber light appeared in the shack's only window.
No one reacted.
Not a single soldier on the perimeter even turned to look.
Except Ethan.
He stared at the lonely light glowing against the gathering darkness.
Something about it felt...
Expectant.
As though the shack knew he had arrived.