PART ONE South Secondary

CHAPTER 1

Area 51, underground

It was a Tuesday. A little after four in the morning. But time didn’t seem to matter as the reverberating hum of shuffling boots sounded against the concrete of an apparently endless subterranean tunnel system. The place was massive. Acres of underground corridors joined large cavernous sections big enough to park commercial airplanes. Tons of concrete and miles of pipe shaped the labyrinthine maze. Decades of oxidization and rust had weathered the walls. Life didn’t seem to flourish here.

The stillness of containment haunted the entire scene as Master Sergeant Ryan Pierce stepped forward. He was the leading man of a small US Air Force security unit. Unlike soldiers on a regular military base, the four members of this motley crew were not in typical Airman battle uniforms “ABU’s”. They were dressed more like civilian contractors — the kind one would expect to see in Iraq or Afghanistan. They wore blue jeans, boots, T-shirts, and tactical vests. They wore no rank and no identification. Secrecy was paramount here, and ambiguity within its ranks was what made places like this work. The only consistency to their attire was their weapons. The soldiers guided their steps carefully and held high-powered assault rifles big enough to take on a tank. These guns were unique, special ordered, and were certainly not something one could get at the local gun shop. They were heavy and miserable to carry. The team was patrolling the large tunnel system carefully, and the strain of uncertainty was visible across all their faces.

Pierce was of medium build and in his midthirties. Caucasian. He had not shaved in days. He wore a thick pair of Buddy Holly government-issued eyeglasses. With his height, crew-cut hair, and five o’clock shadow, he could have passed for a sixties NASA engineer. He was attractive enough to fit in with the rest of the twentysomethings behind him. Pierce was from good stock. His father was a successful businessperson and Pierce never really needed to work for anything. Because he had been the all-star wrestler of his small town in Connecticut, growing up had been a breeze. Pierce had a disdain for women and was well-known on base for being a chauvinist.

Flanking Pierce’s right was a younger female, Specialist Martinez, who carried a discerning expression. How did I get this patrol? she thought. Pierce looked back at her and picked up on her strain.

She had been reluctant to go on the mission. He had made her go and felt power over her submissive demeanor. The military prepared people to lead with aggression or to follow orders like sheep in a herd. His team was shorthanded that morning, and she was filling in. She had barely stepped off her daily airplane ride from Las Vegas when she was pulled into the mission. The woman sarcastically grinned and stepped behind Pierce. The other duo of soldiers, Donovan and Carpenter, cautiously scanned the location behind Martinez. It was their job to protect the rear of the unit.

Like Pierce, the men looked like intellectuals rather than tough guys. The air force was renowned for its brains more than its muscles. On this particular day, though, this unit might have to fight for their lives. The team cautiously continued through the cold facility. Everyone was on alert. The tension was high.

An inconspicuous narrow hallway seemed to capture Martinez’s attention. Something sounded like music. It was distant and barely audible over the loud drone of the facility. She stopped and looked to the others. They obviously hadn’t heard the same thing she had. They were too focused on another corridor that led out to a massive pump room. Martinez slowly veered toward the long corridor, leaving formation. The other two men casually passed her by.

The place was known as South Secondary. It was a two-hundred-acre underground facility located thirty minutes from the main Groom Lake Base by way of an off-road vehicle. It was built during the Cold War. It could hold an entire city’s population. Its original purpose was to protect high-level government officials from a nuclear war, but over the years, it had become a storage unit for controversy and myth. Separating fact from fiction was a daily task for most who worked at the base. Only a few people even knew South Secondary existed. UFO lore and rumors made it difficult to distinguish what the base’s true purpose was. But one thing was certain to Pierce and his team: South Secondary was the last place anyone at the base wanted to patrol that day.

Pierce stopped and glanced back at his team. He hadn’t realized Martinez had stepped off. She had vanished from his sight. He skimmed back toward the other two. Where the hell is Martinez?

The other two looked around with equal confusion.

Worthless. Pierce nodded with agitation to the men, and they quickly retreated back down the tunnel.

Martinez walked to the edge of a line on the concrete floor. It was a faded black-and-yellow caution line that bordered the adjoining corridor. She stood with her toes at the edge. Her body tilted forward. The haunting sounds of twenties jazz music echoed back toward her. What the hell is that noise? She gazed forward with curiosity. Am I losing it?

Something was pulling her into the hallway. Maybe temptation. Perhaps curiosity. Whatever it was, she couldn’t resist. She took a step into the hallway. She moved her boots over the caution line and planted them firmly on the other side. She had crossed into the hallway with one solid step.

Her trip was short-lived. A hand grabbed her shoulder, shocking her back into reality. Holy shit! She looked back. It was almost as if she had just woken up from a nap. It was Pierce. He had a firm grip on her and was pulling her back. His scowl seemed to indicate she should have known better.

“Let’s go.” He motioned angrily with his head. “We’re wasting time.”

Martinez reluctantly nodded and followed him back into formation.

The loud whistle of escaping air pressure cried out from a distant ventilation pipe. Something had ruptured. The pump room was old. Regular maintenance seemed to escape this section of the facility. Pierce and the others silhouetted a large open doorway. Before them lay a massive labyrinth of dated water treatment machinery and facility clutter. Stacked rows of waterlogged cardboard boxes leaned against the surrounding walls with the heaviness of time. Years of forgotten equipment, tools, and junk lined the perimeter. The room smelled like dust and mildew.

Pierce’s attention was drawn to the screaming ventilation pipe. It was several yards away. He could see it, but getting to it was the real problem. It would require them to crawl under a row of large rusted-out water tanks. They would have to actually get dirt under their fingernails and dodge layers of thick spider webs and other unpleasantries. Pierce’s face wrinkled with reluctance. He looked back to his unit.

Let’s move and get this over with. Entering this area was a big risk. The place was alive with brown recluse spiders and black widows. Aside from that, the area was toxic with old water treatment chemicals and respiratory allergens. Pierce took the first step forward.

“Carpenter and Donovan, stay here and keep cover,” he ordered. “Martinez, with me. Up center.” Pierce shouldered his rifle and lowered himself to the dusty floor. He was immediately disgusted.

The others snapped into action. The two men hustled in opposite directions. They were relieved they hadn’t been chosen to climb under the rat’s nest.

Martinez wasn’t so lucky. She followed Pierce like a good soldier, silently cursing her other two comrades as they escaped. Before ducking down, Martinez took one last look back at the long tunnel they had just come from. I just want to get out of here. She lowered her body into the uninviting environment and followed directly behind Pierce. Her palms pressed into the dirt and dust covering the concrete floor, and Pierce’s boots were in her face.

Pierce muscled his way about thirty feet into the space that was less than two feet wide. His knees were soaking wet. The pipes above his head dripped from condensation. The room was humid — a mix of the trapped heat from the desert above and the coolness brought on by the broken pipe. Pierce’s head veered upward from the floor. That goddamned pipe is taking forever to get to. They had only been crawling for a moment, but it felt like hours. The passageway was treacherous and slow. He struggled to keep from being caught up on various low-hanging objects as they made their way through.

The room seemed to open up in the center, and Pierce and Martinez fell out from under the crawl space of pipes. They had finally reached a point where they were able to stand. Pierce cast an eye over his surroundings, taking in the new environment. Some type of airflow line had ruptured. Pierce quickly ran his hand across the rusty surface before ducking below for a better look. A small, narrow crack along the bottom edge was an indication of sabotage. These pipes were four inches thick. The precision of the gash was representative of a laser or diamond cutting tool. He reached up to a walkie-talkie transmitter clipped to his beige flak vest.

“S-one. Over,” he squawked.

A frenzy of radio static proceeded.

“South two,” a distant voice replied.

Pierce looked around with hesitation. “Found the pressure leak. We’re on level three. Looks like someone’s been here. Over.”

“Copy. Response units have been notified. Return for debrief. Watch yourselves. Over,” the radio voice replied.

Pierce nodded to Martinez. “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he whispered.

She couldn’t have agreed more.

“Copy, Base Command. En route,” he concluded and released his radio.

Off in the distance, a heavy door slammed. The noise carried through the facility like a gunshot. Donovan and Carpenter rubbernecked toward the hallway. The men could hardly contain their concern. No one else was supposed to be down there. Donovan stuck his head through the pipe and whistled back to Pierce. “You hear that, Sarge?”

“Yeah. Don’t just stand there,” Peirce replied.

He motioned to the man to check it out. Donovan reluctantly snapped to the order and pulled back. Pierce ducked down to begin the long journey back.

Martinez sighed with a hint of relief. Maybe we’re safer here.

Donovan moved slowly from the area back down the long corridor. He swung his rifle forward and readied it to fire. His hands twitched with the nervousness of a rookie. He had never experienced combat. He was a glorified security guard — a rank up from a normal air force cop but slightly less respected. At least regular military cops had seen action and fought crime. The security police units at Area 51 had little to do most times other than scaring off curious tourists and amateur UFO hunters. But today was different. Donovan and the others were entering into no-man’s-land.

Another hallway opened up as Donovan stepped closer toward the direction of the sound. The echo vanished. He had little to go on, yet he moved away from the others.

An open door led into a small maintenance closet. The room inside was dark. Donovan moved against the wall and leaned into the threshold. It was hard to see inside. He looked back at Carpenter. He was still covering Pierce and Martinez. This sucks. His mind raced. He took a deep breath and entered the room.

Two large shelves were on both sides of the room. Rusty tools and fifty years of cobwebs and dust cluttered them. An object crashed to the floor in the back of the room. Donovan jumped at the noise. It sounded as if something had fallen from the shelf. He placed his rifle up over his shoulder and mounted the sight with one eye. He stepped forward, aiming the barrel of his gun toward the corner.

Something crossed behind him in a blur. He kept his scope on the corner, unaware of the movement behind him. The corner of the room seemed clear, yet he was still suspicious. He quickly pivoted and started to make his way back to the door. As he cleared the corner of the shelf to his left, something rushed in and tackled him to the ground. His gun discharged. The dark room lit up like a fireworks show. The large magazine emptied. This unleashed a spectacular hell of fire and flashes through the tight space. Bullets flew and ripped through concrete and shelving.

Carpenter heard the sound of ammunition fire from outside. He raced toward the door. He looked around in a frenzy as he skidded into the threshold of the room. There was no sign of Donovan. He turned back down the hallway. His legs buckled with the sensation of heaviness. Within a flash, his body was lifted up from the floor and tossed up toward the ceiling. His body then slammed into the walls back and forth like a rag doll. Whatever had ahold of him slung him about with little effort. Screams of death echoed through the cavernous space.

Pierce and Martinez had just climbed out of the rat’s nest and rolled into the hallway when Carpenter’s screams traveled back to them. Martinez took cover against the wall. Pierce hunched down next to a large pipe that ran down the corridor. They held steady for a moment. The hallway was clear — no sign of either man. Pierce flashed a look toward the visibly shaken Martinez.

He motioned with a look, suggesting her to advance first. It was the look he was famous for. Risk-taking wasn’t an asset on his résumé. His rank afforded him the ability to make the burden of risk someone else’s problem. Ryan Pierce was known for making his subordinates do his dirty work. Martinez was visibly apprehensive. Pierce shooed her on with an irritated scowl.

Martinez reluctantly shook her head and started her cautious charge down the corridor. Pierce aimed his rifle, offering her cover from the safety of his position. Martinez quickly slid into the adjoining hallway. The coast seemed clear. She carefully gravitated toward the end of the corridor. It spilled out into another tunnel. She glanced back toward the place she had started. The area was quiet. She stopped and turned back around, holding a look of indifference. A twitch of movement caught her attention down the hallway before her. She snapped her weapon up and took aim. Her eyes opened wide with discovery.

Standing before her were several extraterrestrial creatures. They were beaming back toward her with aggression. Their bodies were vaguely humanlike, yet they appeared much different in size and form. Their eyes were black and elongated, and they ran down from their foreheads to their cheekbones. Their skin was leathery and gray. They stooped over with a hunchback lean. Their arms dangled downward like apes. At around eight feet tall, they towered over Martinez.

Oh shit! Her body winced at the sight. She started slowly shuffling backward, trying to stay calm and not to stumble. She aimed her rifle at the creatures as they slowly moved in toward her. She was outnumbered and was backing herself into a wall. Through her shortness of breath, she worried it was going to be her last. She was trembling. Before her finger could squeeze the trigger of her rifle, the band of creatures made the attack. They raced toward her, ripping her down to the floor like a pack of wolves.

Pierce slid back as Martinez’s screams and ricocheted gunfire carried back through the hallway. He jumped to his feet and blasted off in the opposite direction.

Through a corridor of concrete, Pierce ran all out, not wasting a second to look back. His machine gun rattled in his hand like cheap jewelry. His breathing was hard to contain. The end of the corridor was approaching. Escape seemed possible. The faint glow of a distant room lingered from around a sharp corner. He exploded around the corner with a sense of victory.

Something struck him from the side with enormous impact. His legs buckled beneath him. His head slammed to the pavement, and his body collapsed on top of his rifle. Everything went dark.

Pierce lay across cold concrete. He was unconscious as the sounds of the emerging hostiles closed in on him.

CHAPTER 2

It was complete blackness — the kind of image one would see when eyes are sealed shut. The only sensory information was sound. The interior drone of a driving car overpowered the darkness as the muffled hum of passing intersection traffic buzzed through a cracked window outside. It sounded like a dream. It was distant and echoed.

A little girl spoke gently in the darkness. “Are you coming back?”

A woman’s emotional, guilty whimpers could be heard in the background. The weeping woman sniffled through the space, almost overtaking the little girl’s question.

“Mamma, where you going now?” the little girl’s voice continued, and it repeated this several more times.

The sounds of the car began to dissipate with the arrival of a new surroundings. The ghostly, faint ambience of twenties jazz music scratched from the copper horn of an old Edison phonograph machine. The faint echoes of laughter and chatter accompanied the music.

Where the hell are we? When the hell are we?

The darkness ended through the perspective of Stacy Hanna. She was an attractive, thirtysomething Caucasian. She was lying on her side. The aging concrete floor pillowed her face. She studied the setting with a disorienting scowl and sat up in a painful hurry. Everything was blurry. She blinked multiple times, and her ears felt muffled.

Where the hell am I? This wasn’t the office she last remembered. She had left Washington Dulles International Airport at 6:30 a.m. and flew to Las Vegas. From there, it was only another twenty minutes to the Groom Lake Base by private plane. She last remembered a thirty-minute briefing from a high-ranking colonel. He had spent most of the session staring at her breasts. Her memory seemed to escape her from there.

She narrowed her eyes as the brightness of the environment flooded her groggy face, and an image of a person began to form as her eyes adjusted out of the blur. She quickly pinned her back up against one of the walls to observe her surroundings and secure herself.

She glanced around. Her face slowly soured at the sight. The room was somewhere around eight hundred square feet and looked like some type of Cold War bunker. She couldn’t help feeling immediately trapped. There were no windows. A large metal door framed the wall across from her and was also hard to miss.

Her attention suddenly angled toward a young white man slouched over on the floor against an old filing cabinet. He was slowly gaining consciousness when their eyes locked. He was in his early thirties and was dressed in filthy mechanic’s coveralls. He shook off his slumber and looked away without concern. Despite his handsomeness, he certainly didn’t look friendly. He glanced around the room with a gruff, throaty moan and rubbed the grogginess from his unshaven face.

The clicking of heavy footsteps grabbed their attention. Another person was moving across the room. It was a large, imposing black man. He was about sixty years old, and he seemed to be on a mission. He held a red plastic credit card — shaped object and gave it a good once-over. He shoved it into his pocket, lumbered toward the metal door, and tugged the rusted old handle solidly. It was sealed tight. No one was getting in, and it seemed to comfort him. He looked across the room like an inspector and shook out a wristwatch from under the sleeve of his burgundy dress sweater. The time was three fifteen in the afternoon. It was anyone’s guess how long they had been inside this place. Russell looked the part of an office worker. He wore a neat necktie and dress shirt underneath the sweater. A pair of casual Dockers helped sell the image of a confident man on the verge of retirement.

The man quickly shuffled back and forth with a pondering scowl. His movements were distracting and hard to miss. Hanna watched him aggressively as he hovered close to her personal space. She couldn’t find the words to express her confusion. Maybe it would just take some time to wake up. Hopefully someone would have some answers to where they were.

A coughing spasm coming from across the room interrupted the solitude. Yet another person was inside this eight-hundred-square-foot bunker. It was an attractive black female in air force ABUs. The patch on her jacket’s collar indicated her rank. She was a first lieutenant. An embroidered name patch across her chest bared the last name of Sullivan.

The lieutenant woke up choking on her own spit. Her face seemed dull and sickly. It was as if the blood had drained from her face. She rolled her head to the floor and tried to catch her breath. She glanced up with embarrassment, slowly discovering she had an audience.

Everyone looked toward her as she cleared her throat and swallowed the phlegm back down. The young man pivoted away with annoyance. He took in a long sigh to showcase his agitation. Gail slowly settled herself and rolled back to the wall.

No one seemed familiar. Everyone seemed equally perplexed.

Hanna nodded to the woman, looking for some type of connection. There was none. Gail quickly angled away and withdrew back into her isolation. The woman’s disinterest surprised Hanna. Being the only other female, an alliance between them seemed logical. Yet the lieutenant offered nothing of the sort.

Hanna slowly glanced down. At the bend in her arm was a long strip of medical tape that sealed down a cotton ball. Oh my God! She quickly ripped off the tape to notice a small red dot on her arm. It was the marking of a needle. Who did this?

“What is this?” Hanna sighed with building anger.

The older man spoke from the side of his mouth. “Relax.”

The younger man smirked at the reply. He seemed to know something but remained silent. He slowly stood up and went toward the corner of the room, watching Hanna struggle to comprehend the situation.

“They’re moving stuff on base. We’re all right. We just have to be patient,” the older man continued, and he retrieved the gauze taped to his arm.

“Who did this?” Hanna replied.

The older man casually walked over to a weathered armchair tucked away in the corner and plopped down, putting the old chair in an even more compromising position. He leaned forward and rubbed his face with exhaustion. “Security police put us here. They’ll be back soon enough.”

“They don’t have any right to do this!” Hanna fired back, still stuck in the fact she had been given a shot.

“It’s messed up how they do you, but on base, they pretty much own you. They do it so you don’t see anything. It’s for national security. It happens all the time. Think of it as a good nap compliments of Uncle Sam,” the older man replied with a sarcastic chuckle.

The older man sat back and rested his arms across his chest. He seemed comfortable in the situation.

Hanna glinted over at the younger man as he crossed his arms and soured his face. It was obvious the situation annoyed him.

CHAPTER 3

The hours appeared to fade into obscurity as the four strangers sat in torturing solitude, quietly plotting their next interactions with one another. The air was stale. A lingering sense of indifference only added to the awkwardness of the situation. No one wanted to speak first. The silence was taking its toll, especially for the older man. He was still trying to make eye contact with the others. He sat up and produced the red card from his pocket. He gave it a good look. The fine print on the reverse side of the card offered a series of protocols for an emergency situation.

YOU ARE INVOLUNTARY ACTIVATED AS A SECURITY CAPTAIN (“SC”) THROUGHOUT THE DURATION OF THIS EMERGENCY LOCKDOWN.

THIS CARD MUST STAY IN YOUR POSSESSION UNTIL YOU ARE DEACTIVATED BY YOUR NORMAL REPORTING CO OR A CLEARED SUPERVISOR.

AS SC, YOU MUST MAINTAIN ALL NATIONAL SECURITY AND CONFIDENTIALITY PROCEDURES DURING YOUR ASSIGNMENT AND MUST CONTAIN ALL OTHER PARTIES IN YOUR GROUP IN THE DROP-OFF AREA UNTIL FURTHER CLEARED.

SECURITY POLICE WILL SECURE YOUR DROP-OFF AREA ONCE THE BASE HAS BEEN CLEARED THROUGH BASE COMMAND OPERATIONS. AT THAT TIME, YOU WILL RELINQUISH YOUR DUTY AS SECURITY CAPTAIN AND TURN OVER THIS CARD TO YOUR ACTING CO OR SUPERVISOR.

The older man finished reading the card with a sense of purpose. He took a great deal of pride in his assignment, and he carried the card like a swagger stick. He flipped the card in his fingers. The sound was enough to capture the young man’s attention. He gawked toward the older man and sighed heavily. The older man smirked. It was a way to break the silence. He looked back toward the younger man. “You new around here? I’ve never seen you before.”

The younger man ignored the comment and stood up, slowly taking a seat on top of an old desk near the corner of the room.

Hanna fixated on the card with intrigue. It was hard to avoid. The older man was taunting the room with it like a child with a new toy. “What is that?” she asked.

“It means I’m the security captain right now,” he replied with slight arrogance. “Only one of us gets to be the captain, and it looks as if they chose me this round,” he continued with a snicker.

The younger man shrugged off the comment and stood up from the desk. He stepped toward a small shelf cluttered with first-aid supplies and military rations. He began rummaging through the objects, aiming to be even more obnoxious than the older man with the card. He angled his back away from the others and spoke with a heavy Slovak accent. “We’ve been here three hours.”

The older man perked up at the younger man’s voice. It was the first time any of them had heard him speak. The older man smirked. “Two and a half.”

Hanna pondered and watched the tense exchange.

The older man returned to the red card that floated through his fingers as if he were a magician. Hanna adjusted herself and looked over to the younger man for a response. Both men apparently were alphas, and neither seemed to be the type to take orders well. They both had something to prove. She feared the tight space would only fuel the conflict.

The younger man remained focused on the supplies. Hanna watched on, choosing her next words carefully. The situation was becoming more hostile. The tone needed to be lightened. “How long do we have to stay in this place?” she asked the older man with the red card.

“As long as it takes,” he replied swiftly.

His answer wasn’t enough to satisfy, but anything further on the subject would most certainly create more tension. Hanna sat back in her chair. I’ll need another approach. Her next move would assert her position in the room. She needed to act, but it needed to be smart. She quickly stood up and stepped toward the older man with a confident sway. “Look. You gotta give us something. We’ve been here a long time. At some point, we’ll need to use a restroom,” Hanna pleaded diplomatically.

The older man angled back to his red plastic card and sighed with almost scripted frustration. “You know how many of these I’ve been in, Miss…” he boastfully replied as his voice trailed off.

“Hanna. My name is Stacy Hanna,” she replied quickly.

The older man shrugged her off and stood up, clasping his tired knees for support as he made the arduous climb back to his feet. Hanna was tall, but he seemed to look down upon her regardless. “You gotta stop asking so many damn questions. It’s against protocol.”

Hanna stood back and took in the comment. This guy is going to be tough to break. Her plan of intervention had failed. The older man was clearly in charge, and maneuvering around him would take more time. She quietly retreated to the office chair that the older man had just forfeited. The chair looked dangerous to sit in, especially after hosting the man’s weight for the past hour, but it was better than sitting on the hard floor.

The older man hobbled toward the first lieutenant with a patronizing glare. She was sitting on the floor in the corner. She deflected her line of sight, trying to avoid the conversation.

The large man stopped a few feet away, towering over her like a monster. He stared down with a smirk. His silence only seemed to accentuate the creepiness of the moment. “How you holding up, LT?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied with a self-convincing shoulder shrug.

The woman’s body movements suggested she was trying to avoid a conversation.

“You asthmatic or something? All that coughing you’ve been doing. It could be the anesthetics,” he persistently continued.

The young lieutenant replied with a slight shake of her head. “I’m just nauseous.”

From across the room, Hanna observed the conversation with intrigue. How did this woman become an officer? The lieutenant was clearly not wanting to take any level of leadership or engage in a conversation with strangers. She recoiled and sank back into her dark corner, attempting to vanish from sight. Something seemed interesting about these two. They have a history, Hanna thought.

“Wait a minute. Where do I know you from?” the older man pressed the lieutenant. “You look familiar.”

The woman sighed and pushed back farther from the man. He was stepping closer to her with each breath. She couldn’t escape. Then the man narrowed his eyes with realization. “Ah, special projects. Yeah, we worked together about a year ago on the drone program at Creech. You remember?”

“Gail Sullivan,” the lieutenant responded quickly.

She hated this moment and just wanted him to stop. Her shortness in the conversation only seemed to instigate the man even more. He was trying to get at something.

Despite her apparent body language, he continued. “They still got you here? I’d think they would have sent you back to Nellis by now.”

Gail looked off with a sense of discouragement.

Hanna sat up in the chair intently. Nellis? That’s where they send the fuckups. She watched the exchange across the room as if it were a soccer match. Something about the man’s words was correct. Military culture was difficult as it was, but being a woman in a commanding position was impossible for most to overcome. Maybe pride had Gail Sullivan shackled to the job. Whatever it was, she certainly didn’t want to talk about it with the older man. Nellis was the base outside of Las Vegas they sent career officers like Gail Sullivan to debrief and retrain for special projects at Area 51 and the neighboring Creech Air Force Base. The older man’s question seemed to imply something. She must have fucked up.

The man sighed with a smirk. “Russell Turner, civilian services. My team does the payroll for special projects.” He offered her his hand.

She gave him a nod and looked away.

“Nice to see you again,” he replied.

The feeling was obviously not mutual. “Yeah, sure,” she dismissively moaned from the side of her mouth.

Russell Turner sighed with disappointment. The conversation was going nowhere. Gail was giving him nothing. Silence quickly returned to the room.

He stood awkwardly like a post holding up the awkward walls. He looked around, not knowing what direction to take. His attention drifted toward the desk near the younger man. He lumbered across the room toward the desk and grabbed the office chair parked underneath. He flashed the younger man a daring scowl and slowly dragged the office chair back across the room toward Hanna.

The chair was vintage sixties and hadn’t seen an oiling for years. The chair screamed as the four bottom wheels rolled across the hard concrete. It was worse than nails on a chalkboard. Russell seemed to enjoy the group’s suffering. Hanna would be his next social victim.

She caught his arrival from the corner of her eye. She had known men like Russell Turner her entire short career, and she knew how to manipulate them via their egos. Avoiding him would be a missed opportunity. She had a second chance at figuring out where they were. However, it was impossible not to feel uncomfortable as he sank into the rickety office chair. He leaned right into her space, an obvious display of power. She looked up and politely smiled. She was in for an earful, but she was an expert at faking interest.

“What about you, Miss Hanna?” Russell asked.

She smiled, pondering her answer carefully. This man did not know she held a higher security clearance. Her discretion was even more important. Divulging any information about her job and why she was there could get her in trouble and possibly fired. She glared around the room for a beat, silently agonizing over the response. She pivoted back up to the man. “DOD,” she replied ambiguously.

Russell cut her off with a deep chuckle, almost knowing what she would say before the words left her mouth. Something was amusing to him about her response. He had juggled his whole adult career dealing with civilian brass. He had very little respect for Washington bureaucrats, let alone women in power. He chuckled again. “What do they got you here for?”

Something. Anything boring. Her mind raced and looked for a comeback. “I’m an auditor,” she replied.

The response was close to being the truth, but it had a bit of deception. Hanna was DC’s other set of eyes. It was her job to know things the military didn’t want Washington to know. She had worked her way through law school and had found a home with the Department of Defense for the past five years. The job was arduous, and it had taken its toll on her marriage.

Russell was caught off guard by the response. Perhaps he had assumed less of her. He certainly hadn’t expected that. “What do they got you auditing? You shutting us down?” he continued, trying to phrase it as a joke.

Hanna smirked. “Not that kind of auditor. I risk assess security procedures and brief members of Congress on national security. Vulnerabilities, such as cyber threats. Pretty boring stuff.”

Russell sighed with relief and made light of the conversation. “I was going to say that I’ve only got two years before retirement. Don’t be cutting me off early,” he replied sarcastically.

“That’s someone else’s job.” She laughed and turned back toward him. “Now, if you’re a security risk, that’s another question.”

The conversation drew the younger man’s attention from across the room. All the talking was making him uneasy and agitated.

Russell slowly leaned back to his chair and plopped down with a reminiscing stare. His entire life seemed to be projected across the inside of his skull.

“I was One Hundred Twenty-Eighth Airborne Command. Actually I almost had a job with the Department of Defense. A buddy of mine was gonna get me a job after I got out, but that was when they started cutting back military…”

Russell’s speech faded with the arrival of an interjection from across the room. It was the younger man. His Eastern European accent cut through the conversation like a Cold-War missile. “Hey! Talking about our jobs and life stories…I’m sure that’s against protocol,” he said with great confidence.

Russell snapped to the comment. His embarrassment was noticeable. He wasn’t accustomed to being interrupted, especially from a man half his age. To make it worse, the young man had undermined his authority in front of the women. Russell shook off the comment as though he had been sucker-punched and puffed up his chest. He leaned forward in his chair and started rubbing his hands together, preparing for combat. “Yeah? What do you know about that?”

Hanna studied the conversation carefully. What is happening here? Who are these guys?

To her surprise, the young man didn’t take the bait. He casually walked over to the desk and sat back down, flashing an instigating smile back at Russell. Despite his disheveled appearance, the young man seemed to be the cannier of the two. He knew better than to fall into the old man’s trap.

The silence only provoked Russell further. He looked over to Gail for approval. She was not interested in getting involved. She angled back to the floor and hid her head from the others. Russell refocused on the younger man and plotted his comeback. “Where you from? That accent. Is it Russian?”

The young man knew exactly where Russell was headed with the question. As a foreign national, he was accustomed to being distrusted because of his Slavic nationality. His Armenian and Russian heritage had made him an easy target for jokes and skepticism. After all, he worked on one of America’s most top secret military bases. His employment would seem suspicious to most. But his skills in mechanical engineering were what had attracted the air force. His father was a Soviet military officer who had sold secrets to the West for decades. The young man was given his job because of his father. He was one of a very few mechanical engineers who wasn’t a natural-born citizen. His job afforded him special security clearances, which made him even more vulnerable to accusation and conspiracy gossip.

Russell leaned toward Hanna. “There’s your security risk right there,” he joked.

Hanna gritted her teeth and angled away from him. She was enjoying the sideline and certainly wasn’t to be pulled into the game. Russell smirked and returned to Dimitri. “Jump ship? Moscow too cold?”

Russell casually sat back in his chair with a redeeming smirk.

But something had still failed to unnerve the young man. He smiled and looked off. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. He kept it cool. He was in complete control, and the old man didn’t appear to know it.

Something about the young man’s restraint appealed to Hanna. As an auditor, she had learned to read people. Perhaps that was the reason she had been put in the room in the first place. Maybe one of these people is a breach. But who? The Russian? Something about the situation was suspicious, and she struggled to figure out the meaning of her intuition. She moved her attention back to Russell, who continued to toil over his next insult.

Russell slowly leaned back in his chair and stared at the younger man — from his worn boots to his five-dollar haircut. Sarcasm hadn’t worked. He needed something bigger. Something more passive aggressive. “Uncle Sam offer you something for your secrets?” said Russell.

The younger man looked up. That one had gotten his attention.

“The government will hire anybody as long as they got something to gain from it. I don’t blame you, though. I’ve been to Russia.”

The younger man sat down on the edge of the desk quietly. He looked up at Russell with a puzzled face. “That’s amazing. Is there anything you haven’t done?” he replied mockingly.

Russell’s desperate attempt at an insult still had no bearing on the man. The young man’s calmness only seemed to move him to higher ground. If there had been any veneration toward Russell, he had taken it away by simply remaining silent.

Hanna shook her head at Russell’s audacity. The young man’s comment seemed to bring the room back to life. Gail raised her head from her lap and looked up with a smirk. It appeared Russell had been put in his place.

CHAPTER 4

The state of isolation had taken its toll on the group. The nauseating hum of florescent lighting only intensified their misery and suffering. Long periods of silence and solitude were a form of torture, and it started to show on Hanna’s tired face. She fought to keep herself coherent. Her head bobbed from left to right, struggling with the weight of gravity. Her eyelids were getting heavier with each passing second. She shook her legs out to try to gain circulation back into her body. It didn’t work. Her blood was like concrete settling in her veins. Stiffness in every part of her joints. She lifted up from her chair and moved to the floor. She placed her shoulder blades firmly against the rivets in one of the wall panels and sighed in relief. It was euphoria. This certainly felt better than lying with her arm propping up her head.

Her peace was short-lived. She slowly opened her eyes again. She gazed across the space. The sounds of one of the others moving around pulled her away from the moment of escape. It was the young man. He had stood up from his stupor and was approaching the wall across from her. He placed his ear firmly against the surface of the cold metal wall like a suction cup.

The younger man’s sudden odd behavior interested Hanna. What is he listening to? Maybe he hears something.

However, she wasn’t the only one who was watching. Russell watched with amusement, almost waiting for his chance to take another go at the Russian. He twirled the red plastic card in his fingers as a taunting mechanism.

The younger man stared ahead with deep focus. He was hearing something.

Russell chuckled, breaking the stale silence. “What’s the score?” He laughed to himself at his own bad joke. “What are you hearing?”

The younger man placed his finger to his lips and shushed the sixty-year-old man like a child. Russell recoiled at the insult. The young man kept his eyes forward and his ear to the wall. “Be quiet.”

Russell stood up quickly “If you know something we don’t—”

The younger man shoved away from the wall and stood toward the center of the room. He glanced up at the large bowl-shaped lighting fixture hanging from the ceiling from a narrow wire. “The backup generators,” he said.

“So what? Who gives a damn?” Russell replied sharply.

“We’re running on auxiliary power. We’re not on the north side of the base.”

Russell reacted to the comment as he would to the smell of bad breath. He took a minute to contemplate. Perhaps he didn’t know as much as he thought he did. Maybe the Russian had something to tell. “You’re overthinking it,” Russell replied.

“I’m a mechanical engineer. I’ve worked on every level and every side of this base. We are not where we are supposed to be,” the man replied. “Besides, if we were, we’d be directly under the east Groom Lake runway. I haven’t heard a single plane or helicopter since we’ve been here.”

“So, where do you think we are? Mars?” Russell replied with a chuckle.

The Russian looked back with a hint of sarcasm. “Nothing is impossible around here. We all know that.”

“Your imagination is getting to you. You’re paranoid,” said Russell.

“Am I? I’ve been here for eight years. I’ve seen some crazy shit,” the man replied.

“Yeah, well I’ve worked here for almost thirteen years! And I’ve heard it all. UFO bunkers, parallel dimensions, time travel gateways. It’s all bullshit. It’s what they want the public to think. About the only thing that scares me around here is the radiation from the test site,” Russell said. “And our cafeteria is pretty scary too.”

A bad joke was the least he could say to deflect his ignorance. Hanna and Gail rolled toward the conversation. Something about the Russian’s logic was worth pondering. His claim was unfounded but troubling. No one had been awake when they were placed inside the room. No one really knew where they were. His assumption could be right, Hanna considered. There was a fifty-fifty chance he was right. There was no evidence to prove or disprove him.

Not being on the north side of the base was a disturbing notion. Also known as the Nevada Test Site, the north side of the base was in an area designated for contractors and personnel. It was the only part of the military campus where civilians actually worked and were allowed to be.

The younger man stepped toward the exit. Russell quickly muscled himself between the door and the man, blocking the exit like a concrete wall. His arm extended and pushed the man back a few steps. “Hold up,” Russell said with force.

“Get out of the way.”

“You open that door, it exposes the rest of us,” Russell said.

“I should be out there with my team,” replied the younger man.

“Look, man—”

“My name is Dimitri Jeknovorian,” he quickly corrected Russell.

The man’s name meant nothing to Russell. He shrugged. “Whatever.”

“I should be out there with my team,” Dimitri shouted.

“You’re on my team now. Now, you sit your ass down before I sit you down myself,” Russell asserted.

Dimitri locked his right hand into a fist. “Why don’t you try?”

Russell shoved Dimitri. “Get back!”

Dimitri curled back his fist and stepped forward. Hanna interjected as she shot across the floor and landed between the men. She looked up at Dimitri. “He’s right.” Her words seemed to snap him from his testosterone-intoxicated trance. “It could be anything. It’s better for us just to sit and to wait it out,” Hanna concluded.

Dimitri sighed and stepped back like a frustrated adolescent. He returned to the desk and sat back down. Although he had failed in his escape, his face read determination. He glanced over at Gail. She looked to be still contemplating his assumption about their location.

Russell nodded toward Hanna, offering his respect and appreciation. Perhaps he had underestimated her. Her intervention had saved him. Despite his size, he was not a fighter. He was in no physical shape to be taking on a man half his age.

Everyone seemed to be watching everyone else’s moves from then on.

CHAPTER 5

Darkness and silence. Nearly pitch black. Gail lifted her tired face from the cold, dusty floor. The right side of her cheek was indented and red. Her knuckles made a horrible pillow. The room was still and uncertain. Something was different. The place was much darker than before. She could hardly see her feet. The dim utility light above the door offered a small beacon for the environment. It was the same room, but the mood was different. She had barely lifted her torso horizontally toward the ceiling when she heard the sound of a liquid splatter. Her face drew toward the floor.

A small puddle of blood. Her eyes went wide with confusion. She jumped to a knee and quickly reached behind the back of her neck. Her sand-colored undershirt was soaked crimson from her collar to her breasts. Confusion took over.

I don’t feel injured! She immediately started checking herself for injury. Where the hell is it coming from? She gently caressed the back of her neck. Wait a minute!

The sensation of slickness across her skin. She retrieved her hand. Her palm was soaked in blood. A long cut spiraled down from the top of her hairline to the bottom of her shoulder blades. It looked bad, yet she felt nothing from the wound.

Gail stood up from the floor in a blur. She was caught up with figuring out how she had been cut. It took her a few moments before she realized she was alone in the room. The others were absent. She slowly drew up with the realization. What the hell? Russell, Hanna, and Dimitri had seemingly left her there. Had they been taken? She quickly stepped toward the door as confusion ripped the air from her lungs.

“Guys? Hello?” she pleaded loudly enough to travel through the thick metal door.

Pure silence. Her heart rate heightened as the silence rang in her ear. Her breathing tensed. The adrenaline took over, sending her body into a shaky mess of muscle spasms and twitches.

There was the sound of a metallic object hitting the floor. It rolled endlessly across the space. Gail looked down to her feet. Rolling beside the heel of her air force — issued boots was a long pencil-shaped device. It sounded hollow like a copper plumbing pipe. What the hell is that? She narrowed her eyes with confusion. She scooped it from the floor and gave it a good investigation.

The surface of the object was strange. It had small air vents that ran around the circumference. It was lightweight but very strong. Maybe titanium? Despite its shiny appearance, she could grip it. It was as if it had been treated with some special coating. The object was easily handled. Its purpose was hard to identify at first, but as Gail tilted the object toward the tip, there appeared to be a clue. She could lift a small flap at the top of the object with her thumb, exposing the inside. A series of razor-sharp needle heads rested below the flap.

Gail shrugged. The object’s purpose was not the leading question of the moment. She tossed the object to the floor and set her focus back on the door. Not much larger than a regular office door, this gateway was ominous and intimidating. Its age had something to do with it. Built sixty years prior, the door had seen years of abuse and shoddy patchwork. It was assembled with several strips of iron that recklessly overlaid each other and were pinned together with large, rusty bolts. This door had taken a beating. It had character. It had kept the room safe for years.

Gail slowly stepped toward the door. Her trembling hand reached out for the lever. Her anxiety was difficult to contain. She knew opening the door was a risk, but she had no other choice. As her fingers wrapped around the edge of the lever, an enormous impact from outside forcefully shook the doorframe. Gail recoiled her hand back quickly. Her gasps bounced around the room like an echo chamber. Something was trying to get in. Gail took a step back with reluctance. “Hello?” she cried with uncertainty. “Can someone hear me?”

The door was still. Deadness again filled the room. Gail was beside herself with confusion. She stared back at the door with speculation. Her confusion was slowly morphing into aggravation.

“Help! Who’s out there?” she screamed out.

She held her breath and waited for a response. The request remained unanswered. Her strength slowly dissipated. No one was going to respond to her. She stepped back, contemplating her next move.

Something phantomlike caught her attention from her peripheral vision. She couldn’t see it, but she knew it was there. It moved behind her. It was a shadow against the wall, and it vanished into the background. She froze. Fear gripped her bones. Who is in this goddamned room? She could hardly rotate her head. Her eyes did all the work. She slowly angled back to the other side of the room. No one was there. She was still alone — with the exceptions of an old filing cabinet, a chair, and a desk. She exhaled noisily and moved toward the other corner. Maybe it was her imagination getting the best of her.

How fast she had forgotten the impact from outside the door. Her focus resettled. She looked back at the door with speculation for a beat before taking notice of the ductwork above her head. Could I escape this way? She moved about the wall and rubbed her hand against the rusty surface. Come hell or high water, she was determined to find another way out.

Shuffling sounds of movement resounded throughout the room. They weren’t Gail’s movements. She stopped in midstep, startled beyond belief. This time she wasn’t imagining anything. The sound was real. It was defining. She was not alone after all. Planted behind her was the faint profile of what appeared to be another person. However, its elongated head and twisted upper torso suggested otherwise. Gail agonized over her next move. She didn’t want to look, but curiosity was a basic human flaw. She slowly pivoted back toward the door.

It was something horrifying. Standing before her was a creature. Its body was similar to a human’s, yet something was different. Its black, vertically slanted eyes were large enough that Gail could see her own reflection. Its head was elongated toward the sky in the shape of a volcano. Its skin was dry and leathery. It was completely naked. A small set of genitals suggested its sex. It tried to communicate. A wheezing sound painfully pushed through its twisted jawline. Gail stumbled back and let out a scream. Her mind started to slip. The room started to falter and twist. Her balance started to lean. Everything was becoming more distant. The room faded away into darkness. Gail felt the sensation of weightlessness.

It felt as if an eternity had passed since Gail had opened her eyes. As she lifted her heavy lids, she realized she wasn’t in the same space anymore. This new place was quite different. It was flooded with lights. Clean. Sterile. The only thing she could see was metal grating on the floor below her. She was lying belly down on some type of cold surface. The muscles in her body began to spasm, but there was no pain otherwise. Her body felt light. It was like floating underwater. Her physical state was relaxed.

Then there was a twitch of movement in her forearm. She started yanking her fists back and forth, and she realized she was in constraints. Her entire body — arms and legs — was strapped down to a metal table. Her body was completely naked. Her smooth skin twisted back and forth in the constraints. She groaned with frustration and then panic. Her consciousness started to return. A sudden jerking movement. The table she was strapped to started to tilt upright. Her body slid down as gravity took over. The constraints around her ankles tore into her legs as the weight of her body shifted. More of the room came into view. It was some type of medical space. Large tables lined the walls. Sophisticated machines were all around. Tubes and vats of liquid seemed to be in full use, pumping God knows what. The unnerving sounds of servos and mechanical machinery burned through her awareness with the ferociousness of a forest fire. Her eyes began to balloon with emotion. Hopeless tears streamed down her face. She was powerless and naked. She could only endure what was about to happen to her. Would it be pain? Molestation? Death?

She screamed out, but no one was there to hear her. Her bare feet kicked back and forth in the restraints, slowing taking the pressure off her legs. The weight of gravity and the friction of the restraints burned the skin around her ankles. A gaping gash about four inches wide snaked down the course of her spine toward her ass. Her skin was folded back like paper. Small pins hinged the incision open. She resembled a high school biology project. Her entire spinal column was viewable.

The table finally shook to a stop. Pure silence again. Gail twisted her head back and forth to see if she could see behind herself. It was difficult. She was locked in pretty tight. Then the unnerving presence of another creature moved in from behind her. Its hand reached toward her skull. She could see it from the corner of her eye, but she was helpless to defend herself.

“No. God. Please!” she pleaded helplessly.

All she could do was watch in horror as it reached toward the back of her head. It’s long, dangling fingers wrapped around the back of her skull and pressed in, almost in a massaging manner. She fought the touch with aggressive head motions, trying to break from its clasp, but it wasn’t enough to deter the captor. The creature squeezed harder. She screamed out in agonizing pain.

Gail’s scream echoed through the space like the transition of a train leaving a tunnel, taking her far away from the horror of the previous environment. The sudden warm feeling of a human touch pulled her from the fog of torment. The location morphed back into a familiar setting. She was back in the first room. The others desperately rushed to her side. It was the ending of a nightmare, but it had felt real.

Russell and Hanna quickly wrestled Gail up from the floor. The goal was to keep her from hurting herself. Her arms flailed around wildly. Her head bucked back and forth toward the floor. She was frantic and uncontrollable. Hanna slid her arms under Gail’s neck, cradling her head from the hardness of the floor.

Dimitri stood nearby and took in the spectacle with helplessness. He didn’t know what to do.

Russell looked down at the frantic woman with confusion. “LT?” he shouted out to her.

The woman’s frantic body continued to seize. Her eyes moved around her sockets like the steel ball in a pinball machine. Her skin was pale and sweaty. She looked like hell. She certainly did not resemble the quiet lieutenant they had come to know the last few hours. Hanna took the mothering role. “Sit her up!” she cried out, fighting the weight of Gail’s head.

Gail continued her epileptic fit. Russell had little patience for this type of thing. He didn’t respond well to others’ suffering and certainly didn’t know how to comfort. He leaned down into her, placing his mouth inches from the side of her face. “All right. You’re all right. Calm down. Calm down!” he shouted into her ear, losing patience.

His demands only made things worse. Gail’s seizures distended. Her legs flailed around, kicking out uncontrollably. Hanna flashed a look up to Dimitri, who had been standing there and waiting for something to do.

“Get her other leg!” she shouted to him.

Dimitri stirred from his daze and lassoed her legs with his muscular arms. She was little trouble for him. The group pinned Gail to the floor, locking her into a human straitjacket. At last they seemed to have her under control.

Gail continued to kick and scream, but her efforts were slowly fading with fatigue. Her rage quickly melted into despair. Tears wreaked havoc on her tortured face.

The outburst was all Hanna could bear. Her mind was racing. What the hell happened to this woman?

The distraction of Gail’s fit seemed to provide an unexpected opportunity. The door was unguarded. Russell was completely consumed. Hanna glanced up to Dimitri. Her look seemed to indicate something. Now’s your chance, buddy!

He was thinking the same thing. He angled back toward the door and slowly released Gail’s legs. His motion immediately attracted Russell’s attention away from Gail. He was onto Dimitri and knew where he was headed.

Dimitri jumped from the floor and made a quick attempt for the door. Russell painfully climbed up to his feet and rushed the young man from the side, shoving him sideways. “Where you going?” Russell demanded.

Dimitri tried to move around the man like a basketball player, spinning toward the door. It was pointless. Russell’s large body blocked the goal like a brick wall.

“Get out of my way!” shouted Dimitri.

Hanna looked up toward the men. She couldn’t help but rooting for Dimitri’s success. “We need to get her help!” Hanna pleaded to Russell desperately.

Russell sat on the comment for a second. He knew she was probably right, but opening the door would present more uncertainty — not to mention it would be on him. After all, he was the security captain.

Dimitri made a second attempt for the door. “Move!”

He reached toward the door lever. Russell smacked his hand away. Dimitri recoiled his hand and looked at his fist. “Fuck this!” Dimitri replied with anger before rushing Russell for the tackle.

Dimitri was smaller than Russell, which made him more agile. Despite his size, Russell was ill prepared for Dimitri’s move, which caused him to stumble backward toward the door. The men crashed into the door and struggled back and forth. Dimitri worked his body into a spin, slowly pivoting Russell away from the door and toward the other wall.

Russell started sliding around the floor, losing balance. He was wearing dress shoes. The bottoms were slick and hard. It seemed Dimitri had control. But the sixty-year-old man hadn’t given up. He quickly shifted his weight forward, putting more downward pressure on Dimitri’s legs. The strategy started to work. Dimitri slowly felt the weight and started to buckle downward. Russell managed to maneuver his body toward the door and dragged the wrestling match backward. He slowly wedged his back up against the door’s surface and barricaded it shut with his body. There was nothing Dimitri could do now. The weight of Russell’s body was resting against the door seal. The door was also supporting him, which gave him unbreakable balance. Despite the obvious, Dimitri reached back toward the door handle. Russell pulled back and landed a right hook over the top of Dimitri’s head, sending the Russian to the floor instantly. “It ain’t happening,” Russell spit out, struggling to catch his breath.

Hanna turned her focus toward Gail, who began to settle. The movement distracted the men. They looked over. Russell seemed to find a moment of peace in Gail’s departure from chaos. It was enough to bring the temperature of the situation down a few notches.

Hanna softly rested Gail’s head on the concrete, and she hustled toward the men. Russell could tell by the look on her face he had lost his key ally.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she shouted toward Russell. “I’ll take the risk. This woman needs help!”

Russell had given thought to her case, but the red card he held in his pocket made it clear. No one was to leave the room until they were cleared. The card was sufficient to keep Russell on task. He scoffed at Hanna, defending his position. “There’s a reason why they haven’t come to get us. It’s not safe out there!” Russell reaffirmed. “We ain’t opening this door,” he concluded, sounding off the last breath of his comment to Dimitri.

Hanna knew she had no chance at moving him. Dimitri had failed. Russell was simply too big and overpowering. Perhaps that was the reason he was given the task to keep them there in the first place. He had a great sense of duty and honored his own authority. Breaking him down would require more of a coordinated effort. She needed Gail. Gail was the only one in a military uniform. Perhaps her opinion could persuade Russell. However, she was still a mess and was in no state to be giving her thoughts. Everything seemed to be at a stalemate again.

Unlike Hanna, Dimitri was not willing to surrender so easily. He understood Russell’s physical weaknesses. They were his knees and balance. He had to be taken quickly and unexpectedly. Perhaps the opportunity wasn’t right at that moment, but he was determined to try.

Russell fixated on Hanna, redefining his position to her. It was the one last chance Dimitri had. He quickly lurched forward, shoving Russell away from the door. However, Russell was ready this time. He quickly grabbed Dimitri’s coveralls and shoved him backward. Dimitri threw up his fists. Boxing it out could be a better solution.

Russell lifted his fists into a fighting stance. “Come on. Come on,” he taunted.

Hanna jumped out of the path. Dimitri leaped forward with a wide swing. Russell easily blocked the punch with his left arm and swung toward Dimitri’s head with his right. Dimitri was quick to respond. He moved his head back. Russell’s fist sailed by his face, missing him by inches. Dimitri pulled back and countered with a right hook, clipping Russell on the tip of his jaw. Dimitri made a second assault with his left. This time, Russell was more than ready. He quickly blocked Dimitri’s fist with his left forearm and sent a beefy right hook down on top of the young man’s head for a second time. Dimitri crashed to the floor. He reached his hand up, clutching the top of his head in agony. The impact was much worse than any face hit. This second time felt like a concussion. Dimitri shook off his daze and tried to get back up. Russell stepped in and pushed him back to the floor with his foot. It was pointless. Russell had still managed to win.

Gail lifted herself up from the floor. She was back in her own body.

“Stop this!” she demanded.

Everything in the room went still. Not even the sound of a breath followed her words. Everyone stood frozen. Gail slowly investigated the back of her neck with her hands. No blood. Her A perplexing scowl covered her face.

“I’m OK,” she reassured the others.

Russell’s attention faltered. He slowly stepped back to the door and rubbed his fists. His face sunk with regret. Although he had followed protocol, he couldn’t help feeling he had crossed the line. He glanced back to Hanna, who avoided eye contact.

Dimitri slowly climbed back to his feet, wiping the dazed look from his unshaven face. Determination continued to radiate from his weary eyes. He was getting out of that room come hell or high water, even if he had to kill somebody. He needed to be ready.

CHAPTER 6

A lingering sense of hostility kept the room in a persecuted state of silence. The things that had led the four strangers to their moment of conflict seemed a lifetime ago. Just an awkward feeling of gloom and segregation remained. Time didn’t matter anymore. It felt like an eternity since they had seen sunlight. Perhaps it didn’t even exist anymore.

Russell tried to make himself comfortable as he kept the door barricaded with his back. He nestled his head between the door’s two metal plates. It helped keep his head from bobbling. He had to find some comfort in his position. He wouldn’t be moving for a while.

Hanna glanced over the room, unable to sleep. She couldn’t contain her resentment for the situation. She had lost her ability to think. Exhaustion coupled with dehydration was also wearing her down. I can’t take this much longer. If there is a hell, this is it. The room was becoming stuffier and hotter as the breathing of human carbon dioxide started to mask itself as bad breath.

The sound of a throat clearing stabbed the silence. Hanna looked over, reacting to the noise. It was Dimitri. He was sprawled out on the floor. His head rested against a rusty filing cabinet. He looked far worse than she did.

Hanna’s expression seemed to remind him how ridiculous he looked lying there. He slowly rose from the floor and paced over to a small air vent located on the wall above the desk. He raised his hand to the vent. The look on his face was grim. There was no airflow.

Dimitri’s actions were curious to Hanna. He couldn’t sit still. Despite his obvious fading physical state, he remained determined. His persistence was anything but humbled by the situation. True to his job as an engineer, he was investigating and making calculations. Hanna carefully glanced over to Russell to see if he was paying attention. He was out cold and completely oblivious to Dimitri’s movements.

Dimitri’s face soured as his fingers twiddled above the vent. He looked back down to the floor with a perplexing glare. He shuffled over to the desk and plopped down on the corner with a heavy sigh. We’re fucked.

Hanna narrowed her eyes with suspicion. She gave one last look back to Russell before making a move. She slid across the room quietly and nestled her shoulder up against Dimitri’s. Leaning into him for a whisper, she gently spoke. “What’s up?”

Dimitri said nothing. His silence indicated something had gone wrong.

Hanna pressed on. “Seriously. What’s up?”

Dimitri sighed with defeat and sat up, clearing his throat again. “Generators shouldn’t be running. It means there’s no power on the base. The airflow is weak, and eventually, it’ll stop pumping to us. We’ll suffocate,” he explained nonchalantly.

Hanna’s attention drifted up toward the inconspicuous air vent on the wall. Dimitri’s prediction was alarming. She couldn’t find the words to reply. All she knew was that she believed him. Their time was now under an hourglass.

“What do you remember from this morning?” he asked.

Hanna was taken aback by the question. Dimitri was serious. He was trying to get at something. She pondered it over for a moment. She shrugged. To her surprise, her memory had escaped her. A disorienting moment had somehow blocked her consciousness. She couldn’t answer his question, and she fumbled for words. “I don’t remember anyone drugging me or bringing me here. That’s for sure,” she replied. She narrowed her mouth slowly with a troubling realization.

“What day is it?” Dimitri asked with a bit of a snicker, almost as if testing her further.

Hanna replied sharply, “Thursday.”

“No. It’s Monday.”

Hanna looked back at him as if he was insane. It was impossible. There is no way it can be Monday. She laughed to herself. He’s lost it. She had already worked earlier in the week. She remembered the flight from DC. It had been on a Wednesday. She remembered flying commercially to Las Vegas and then taking a private charter jet to the base. The flight had been less than forty-five minutes. Once they had deplaned on a hot, dusty runway, she had been taken with a dozen other visitors by bus for another thirty minutes to a set of administration buildings. Surely Dimitri was mistaken about what day it was.

Something on Hanna’s face told Dimitri she didn’t believe him. He nodded casually and took in a deep gulp. “This morning, I had breakfast with my younger brother,” he replied as his voice faded off with a depressing memory.

Hanna looked on. She was not sure what to say. That didn’t sound like a bad thing. Why is he so troubled? The comment didn’t seem to hold any importance to the debate over which day it was. Hanna waited for Dimitri to finish his thought.

“He’s been dead for five years,” the Russian reluctantly continued.

Hanna scoffed at the comment with disbelief. How could that be? She held for a moment to see if the man would crack a smile. He held steady. This wasn’t a joke to him. Shit. He’s serious. She couldn’t find words to reply to his comment. Maybe something happened to his brain when Russell hit him.

Dimitri looked back at her with utter seriousness. “This morning didn’t happen the way we remember it. Frankly, I have no idea how long we’ve been here. I’m starting to think our consciousness is an illusion.”

His words seemed to take the air out of her lungs. What if he’s right? How long have we been here?

Dimitri slowly pivoted away and returned to the comfort of the hard concrete below the desk. Hanna sat quietly, grappling with the man’s claim. As ridiculous as it sounded, something about that idea seemed to make sense.

Across the room, Russell’s hand lay limp over the top of his knee. His wristwatch dangled around his wrist. The second hand was dead still. The wristwatch was stuck at three fifteen. Time had frozen.

Gail had barely pulled herself together and found the strength to stand up. She staggered to the corner and captured the attention of the others.

Glad she’s moving around. Hanna could relieve herself of any duty as the room’s official caretaker.

Gail was still struggling to make sense of the horrid nightmare from earlier. It had felt too real to ignore. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced. Maybe it was a side effect of the sedation shots we got.

Hanna watched Gail pace around from the safety of the other side of the room.

Gail had seemed to gravitate toward Russell. He was in the chair nearby, slowly waking up from his snooze. He glanced up and locked eyes with her. Perhaps a mistake. Gail was looking for a shoulder, and Russell was the only logical option. Their shared history gave him a slight advantage over the others. Gail was typically a private person. She had a shrink she had stopped seeing a few years prior. She had been off her depression medication for months. She had felt as though she had been doing better — until this.

Russell nodded toward the lieutenant. Gail looked across the room. Dimitri and Hanna seemed to be at a safe distance. They couldn’t hear her if she whispered. “Where did you guys go?” she asked Russell from the side of her mouth.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

Gail angled back with a look of dead seriousness. “I woke up, and you guys were gone. But there was someone else in here.”

Russell shook his head and fumbled for a response. “Maybe you’re just tired, LT. It’s been a fucked up day.”

Gail dropped her head to the floor, trying to rationalize her thoughts. She was failing at convincing Russell her nightmare was real. Russell had little patience to begin with. He was quickly growing tired of the conversation, but he was trying his best not to be rude. He was doing a terrible job at that. His body language was hard to ignore. He sighed and looked away, impatiently tapping his foot against the hard concrete.

“I’m telling you. I know what I saw,” said Gail.

“I’m sure it felt real, but it was just a bad dream, Gail,” Russell said with an awkward smirk.

“You’re dismissing me.”

Russell shrugged it off. “I’m just saying—”

“I was by myself!” she said.

Russell glanced over to Hanna and Dimitri. He almost wished he was in an argument with the Russian. The other two were in their own worlds. Gail’s conversation was of no interest to them, and who could blame them? It sounded like nonsense.

Russell moved back to Gail and escorted her further away from the other two. He pulled her into a sort of huddle with his arm, trying to keep his voice concealed and trying to protect her from further embarrassment.

“No one has left the room, Gail. Look, you’re tired, and you really need to settle down. You’re being ridiculous. Now, it’s none of my business, but isn’t this the same kind of thing that got you in trouble at Creech?” he continued in a harsh whisper.

Gail looked up at Russell with a daring scowl. “You know nothing about me.”

“Maybe. But I know you almost declassified an entire program because of your emotional meltdown,” he replied.

“And what about you, Russell Turner?” Gail snapped back. “There’s got to be a reason why you’re stuck at level three and were never offered a promotion. It’s why they’re forcing you out early, isn’t it? Maybe it’s because you also run your mouth off too much. I guess we’re both liabilities, right?” Gail stepped back and gently pushed the hair from the back of her neck. “Here. Is there anything there? At least look and humor me.”

Russell sighed with fatigue. He just wanted to return to his seat. His legs were tired, and he still had not recovered from the ordeal with Dimitri.

“Come on,” the lieutenant pressed.

Russell took in a heavy breath of hot air. He would patronize her one last time. He slowly focused on the back of her neck, right below the hairline.

“Come on. Do you see anything?” Gail demanded impatiently.

Russell did a double take. “Wait.”

His words seemed to gnaw at Gail’s anxiety. Hanna and Dimitri snapped their heads toward the conversation.

Russell gently moved her hair farther up the back of her neck. It was the most intimate he had been with a woman other than his wife in years.

“Yeah. You got something here,” Russell said.

Gail’s face sunk with horror. “What? What is it?”

Russell moved in for a better look. His eyes were focusing on the base of her skull. “Here. Something right here. At the top of your neck,” he continued reluctantly.

The suspense was too much. Gail shook with impatience. “What?” she shouted.

Russell’s seriousness dissipated. A smile started to crack along his doughy face. He pushed her neck forward with his index finger. “It’s a hickey,” he said and started to chuckle.

Hanna rolled her eyes at Russell’s relentless efforts to be funny. This was another example of the man’s bigoted attitude toward women. Perhaps he got off on making women nervous. Gail was not amused. She smacked his hand away and stepped back to the corner — to his surprise. Russell hadn’t expected her reaction. Being the master of comedy, in his own mind, seemed to blind him from the reality of his annoying jokes.

“Come on. Relax. There’s nothing there,” he replied.

Gail angrily covered her neck and turned back toward the wall. She had trusted him, but it was a mistake she immediately regretted. He had been making a mockery of her since they had woken up in the room. She knew she was on her own. “Forget it,” she muttered through tight lips.

Russell knew he had taken it too far, but he felt it was worth it. He seemed to get his swagger back. “Come on, LT,” he pleaded with an unrepentant, cocky smirk.

“I said drop it,” replied Gail sharply.

She sat back down into the tattered office chair and pivoted toward the riveted wall. Russell angled toward the others and shook off the moment’s amusement. Then the sight of Dimitri made him forget the humor. He turned back to Gail, towering over her as she adjusted back into her uncomfortable chair. “We’ve been through a lot today. You just gotta relax and lighten up. We’ll get through this. We’ll be out of here in no time at all.”

It was the most genuine thing he could muster. After all, he had bet on it. There was no indecision or wavering. He had practiced his pitch since he had discovered the red plastic card in his pocket.

Russell’s words trailed off with contemplation. Perhaps he was more or less trying to convince himself.

There was movement across the room. It was the pant legs of Dimitri’s thick coveralls rubbing against each other as he stood from his spot and shuffled into a corner. His back was turned to Russell and Gail. He was positioning himself in urination mode. Then the drawn-out sound of a zipper. It was an obvious gesture to get under Russell’s skin. The zipper was like nails on a chalkboard. Russell couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. Dimitri’s audacity surpassed his own.

Gail was still locked up in her own frustration and completely unaware of Dimitri’s actions. Russell was the only person noticing the situation.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” he shouted.

Dimitri didn’t look back, but the commotion was hard to ignore. Hanna looked up, took notice, looked back to Russell as his anger started to boil over. Not again with these guys.

“Hey!” Russell continued.

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing?” Dimitri replied.

Dimitri barely looked back to fire his response. He wanted to create a confrontation, and it was working.

Gail turned and noticed Dimitri. Her face soured, but something about Russell’s agitation amused her. It was disgusting, but it was great to see Russell getting so fired up again.

Hanna wasn’t amused by Dimitri’s bold action and more focused on another skirmish breaking out. She tracked Russell’s hands as they slowly tightened into fists.

“You got two ladies standing right here, asshole,” Russell continued.

Dimitri thought about it for a moment. A flurry of insinuating responses filled his head, but he had to choose carefully. Otherwise, it would be another missed opportunity. He thinks he has so much power over us. Dimitri snickered to himself and flashed a look back. “Sorry, Mr. Boss Man. You mind if I take a piss?” he replied with a sarcastic tone as he slowly pivoted around and faced Russell. “Or should I hold it for another four hours?”

Russell had hit a wall. He was speechless with rage. His blood was boiling. He knew it would cost him his job. His retirement. His benefits. Everything was at stake. He wanted to kill the man. He stepped toward Dimitri with his chest puffed out and his fists lifting into the air. Dimitri swung around and positioned himself for the assault.

Hanna knew she had to intervene. She quickly jumped in front of Russell, keeping him from initial contact. However, she bounced off the man’s body like a racquetball. He wasn’t an easy one to stop.

“Look here, you little bastard!” he shouted over Hanna to Dimitri.

Dimitri slowly stepped forward, hoping Russell would make the first move. It would give him the justification he needed to hurt the old man. He stepped back and lifted his forearm to block a hit.

The sensation of g-force rocketed through the room. An explosion off in the distance captured everyone’s attention. The entire place rattled with the aftershock of an earthquake. The lighting started to fail. Dry-rotted foam insulation rained down from the ceiling like a fake winter display. Russell’s right foot had hardly hit the floor in front of him when he froze like a statue. Everyone braced as the last bit of electricity rushed through the circuits. The room went completely dark. Blackness. The comforting, steady hum of drones faded away. The stuffy smell of sweat and dust was even more apparent without the sensations of generators or the visibility of the space.

The clatter of rearranging movement haunted the room. Russell took the first heavy sigh. The movement wasn’t good. He wasn’t able to protect the door. He couldn’t even find his way back to the door. If any of them wanted out, that person could do so without any trouble from him. He was afraid to walk. His legs were locked. His fists were ready. He felt the faint warmth of Hanna’s body heat a few centimeters away. Hopefully it’s Hanna, he thought. If it’s the Russian, I’ll kill him.

“Stay where you are,” he directed everyone, but he really meant Dimitri.

More shuffling ensued. His order hadn’t been followed. The group was obviously defying him with a brazen protest. Russell had finally found himself a king without a castle. The order sounded ridiculous and desperate.

Hanna needed to find the wall. She slowly backed up, her shoulder blades making contact with the cold, riveted texture behind her. The wall was welcoming. It provided some protection, at least from one side. Her mind raced with possibilities. She had known these men for only a few hours, but she knew enough about life to know when a woman was most vulnerable. In the darkness, she trusted no one. She reached her arms out in front of her and felt around through the nothingness. If something is going to happen, it’s now. Just be ready! Then a little whimper seeped from across the room. It was Gail. One could only assume the darkness was an unwelcome reminder of her recent nightmare. Hanna couldn’t see Gail, but she knew where she was. She imagined Gail’s tormented moment and how alone she must have felt. She’d had little connection with the lieutenant since her arrival, but she felt as if she should try to avoid another panic attack.

Hanna started a trip toward the corner, but it was short-lived. The darkness ended and took new form through a digital wristwatch lighting up Dimitri’s tired, sweaty, agitated face. Hanna froze in her step and beamed back. Dimitri inspected the darkness with a glower, trying to take notice of sounds vibrating up above. He angled back toward the ceiling.

Hanna glanced up in a daze. It sounds as if the roof is going to collapse. The sound was distinct and carried an ominous bending metal noise that reverberated through the walls and floor and into the bones in their feet. If there had been an explosion outside, then perhaps the room was compromised.

Russell backed up and found the edge of the desk. His attention was moving back toward the door across the room, but it was still dark. “Everybody, just be cool.”

The comment seemed to be more for him. He was more intense than the others. Some serious shit is going on out there. I’m glad I did my job, he couldn’t help but think smugly.

Dimitri tried desperately to listen to the sounds, but Russell’s interjections and heavy breathing were creating a hindrance. “Everyone, shut up!” Dimitri hissed.

The sounds of distant servos and generators sputtered out from above as Dimitri’s words faded away. The room went into a deep, numbing silence. The only thing that could be heard was the swell of breathing coming from Gail and Russell. Hanna could hear her own heartbeat. It was the rushing of blood to her head. Her senses were on full alert. Her legs started to weaken. Her mouth tasted chalky and like metal.

A new sound arrived. Pings and twisting metal bounced around from every direction. The place sounded like a submarine sinking helplessly toward the ocean floor. There was pressure against metal. Steel was being bent. The air in the room seemed to be vacuumed out. Then a loud slam came from above. Something crashed on top of the ceiling so hard that the entire place shook up and down. The group flinched. Everyone braced.

“This is it. It’s going to collapse!” Gail cried out.

Hanna was less dark. She welcomed the commotion from above. It was progress. It was the end of a silent stalemate that had them asking the same questions. Where are we? Why are we here? When can we leave? Now, something seemed to propel change. Staying in the room was looking less and less like a safe bet.

Dimitri was unshaken by the commotion. The sounds only solidified what he had already believed to be true. The power to the base was collapsing — not the roof. The generators were loud when they shut down and sounded rough and clamoring. It wasn’t uncommon for them to make an impact as they had. It was the sound of the intake valves closing to keep whatever air had been pumped into the facility from escaping. The generators were only supposed to last a few hours down here. They were not where they were supposed to be. This part of the base was uninhabitable. Their time with oxygen was running out.

“There go the gennies,” he said with an I-told-you-so shrug.

He released his watch, and his face vanished back into the darkness.

More shuffling around the room created an unsettling swirl of chaos.

Russell responded nervously, “Everyone, stay put.”

Hanna replied in a hurry. “No. We’ve got to move!”

“No one’s going anywhere. Just hold up!” Russell asserted.

Hanna started to move. Russell had anticipated it. He quickly stepped forward. His hand reached through the blackness, clumsily feeling for Hanna’s arm.

“I’m not waiting,” Hanna shouted.

She felt Russell’s girth. His massive body grabbed her. His hands were dry and scratchy. His fingernails were longer than they should be.

“You have no right. Get off me, Russell!” she demanded.

Russell wasn’t budging. “Just relax. Hold up!” he replied.

The room started to change again. It slowly came alive. The overhead light slowly illuminated with a pulse, becoming brighter every few seconds. The servos and generators began to sputter back to existence. There was a sign of relief on Hanna’s face. She looked to Russell. He had been right. Waiting was the right thing to do for the moment.

Dimitri’s surprise lingered. He couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. The return of the generators was improbable. Something else was happening.

Russell started to relax. He released Hanna and stepped back toward the wall. Hanna’s attention drew upward to the lighting fixture as it slowly steadied with a bright, hopeful beam. Russell looked up at the ceiling almost as if praying to the gods above. The bright light flooded down from above, soaking his face with a moment of rebirth. Thank God, he thought. Thank God I was right!

Russell’s divine moment offered Dimitri an opportunity. In a blur, Dimitri railroaded the sixty-year-old man, knocking him away from Hanna and the door. Russell lost his footing. He stumbled back and tried to regain balance, landing on top of the desk on the other side of the room. Dimitri toppled over the top of him, slowly mounting him into a choke hold. Russell struggled to grasp Dimitri’s coveralls. The stiff fabric was difficult take hold of, but it was too late anyway. Once Dimitri wrapped his arms around Russell’s neck, it was all the old man could do to stay in the fight. The men slid across the desk and rolled off, crashing to the floor.

Hanna watched the struggle with indifference. She turned to the unguarded door. Its prospects were motivating. She knew she had to make the move.

Gail was quick to notice Hanna’s intentions. She didn’t like Russell, but she empathized with him in his moment of restraint. With the uncertainty of the explosion they had just felt, there was room for caution and pause. Blindly running out would be a bad idea, she rationalized.

Hanna made her move. Gail wasted no time jumping to her feet and muscling over to block Hanna’s path. “Hanna, wait.”

Hanna stared back, uncertain what to do. Gail’s face said it all. She wanted Hanna to think about this first.

Dimitri flashed a look up to Hanna from the struggle. She stood paralyzed. What is she waiting for? His mind raced with frustration. “Go!” he shouted.

Hanna knew he was right, but her body was reluctant to respond. Gail had planted herself before her. The two women locked eyes. They were thinking the same thing. Who is going to make the first move? Hanna was not the confrontational type.

Gail wasn’t much of a fighter herself. Neither wanted to act first. Gail didn’t like confrontation, but Hanna would be easy to take if she had to.

Hanna looked back toward Russell’s pathetic situation. The exhibition was violent. He was pinned to the floor, and he was choking on his own spit. He desperately reached out toward her. His face was bursting red. He struggled to speak out. Dimitri had him good. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but it was enough to make a person pass out. Dimitri put unrelenting pressure on Russell’s throat which he regulated slowly.

Hanna looked past Gail and toward the door. She was unsure if she would have the courage to shove her from the door.

“Wait!” pleaded Gail. “We don’t know what’s going on.”

Hanna ruminated on the thought for a beat. Logic was in Gail’s notion. But perhaps the fear was the only thing containing them.

“What are you waiting for?” Dimitri shouted again from the floor.

His words pulled Hanna from her indecision. She brushed past the lieutenant and reached toward the metal latch that sealed the door. Gail sighed, stepped back, and let her pass. She turned and quickly backed up toward the wall. She wasn’t sure what was on the other side, and she wanted to create some distance from the entrance. Hanna grabbed the metal lever and shoved it up. The door started to creak open. Everyone focused on the door crack getting larger.

The distant sound of gunfire was a cause for second thought. Hanna stopped in midstep as the ambient murmur of an automatic assault rifle sputtered out somewhere nearby. The door was cracked open into a dark hallway. The sound trickled into the room, but it felt as if it was right there. It was enough to cause her to flinch. She panicked. She slammed the door shut, dropped the lever, and locked them back inside. They weren’t going anywhere soon. Hanna stepped away from the heavy door and backed herself into the corner. She gazed down at Russell as Dimitri slowly released his grip in shock.

CHAPTER 7

A zoetrope effect. The flicker of gunfire and darkness. The strumming chaos of muzzle flashes blasted through the nothingness of a large open tunnel. This place was familiar. A long corridor system. It was massive but somehow felt suffocating. The concrete walls seemed to close in as the last bit of bullet fire sputtered into oblivion.

The sweat-drenched face of Master Sergeant Ryan Pierce reanimated. He woke from an unconscious state of shaking muscles and short breaths. It was the kind of sensation one felt when suddenly waking up from a short nap. What the hell? he thought as the first sight of his surroundings came into view. It was a nest of corroded pipes that snaked down a long hallway. He was lying flat against the floor. His head was positioned straight forward and was locked toward the ceiling. It didn’t feel as though he had fallen. He felt placed. His head slowly rose toward a dim utility light that struggled from above. The chaos of a gun battle seemed to have vanished. It felt like an eternity ago.

Pierce slowly sat upright and looked forward in confusion. His back was stiff. His neck was cramped. How long have I been lying here? Too long! He checked his surroundings. His weapon was missing. His entire unit had vanished. The quietness of the place was disturbing. Where am I? The last thing he remembered was seeing his fellow soldiers ambushed by an unseen foe. He lifted to a knee and then stood fully upright. His legs were shaky, but at least he still had a pair. It was a good sign. His body was still intact. That was good too. He grabbed a large concrete column for support. He looked around, catching his second wind. No one was there.

Pierce quickly jettisoned himself from the narrow hallway into an intersection of the facility. Which way is north? He realized painfully that his situation had not improved. His internal compass seemed to be evading him. Nothing made any sense. He glanced back down the corridor and did a double take. He had made little progress. The unsettling sound of an unwanted ruckus deep within the facility seemed to be a clue about which direction to avoid. He looked toward where the noise was coming from in a panic and raced off. His boots slapped against the pavement like a baseball card in the spokes of a child’s bicycle. His legs carried him faster than he had expected. I know a place, he thought. I can get there through the pump room and stairwell.

Pierce turned a dark corner and stopped quickly. Looking off, he noticed an inconspicuous metal door at the end of a long hallway. He widened his eyes with discovery, and he dashed toward the door in a frenzy.

Russell continued to struggle with Dimitri. Dimitri loosened his grip, but he still had the advantage over the sixty-year-old man.

“Let me go, you son of a bitch!” Russell demanded with his last bit of strength.

The room was getting blurry. Russell’s consciousness was wavering. He could see Hanna and Gail and the door. Hanna was contemplating her move. In his foreground, he noticed Dimitri’s arm wrapped around his neck. The pressing sensation against his throat was enough to make him gag. Dimitri had no intention of letting him go just yet. The gunshots had little bearing on Dimitri’s attitude about the situation. He wanted Hanna to open the door.

Hanna stood back from the door and pondered what she had heard. “It sounded like gunfire,” she rambled.

Maybe there was a good reason why the group of strangers were put here. Maybe it was a death squad. A group of killers going room to room killing people. Her imagination battled with her reason.

“What are you doing? Go, goddamn it!” shouted Dimitri.

“You open that door, we all die!” said Russell from Dimitri’s choke hold.

“He doesn’t know shit. Open the door!” Dimitri countered.

“Think about it. You just heard a gunshot, Hanna!” Russell argued.

Hanna sank back against the wall. Russell’s words were enough to convince her to stay put. Dimitri couldn’t believe what was happening. He had physically overpowered Russell, but the man’s desperation and fearful logic had beaten him.

“This is your last chance!” shouted Dimitri.

“I open this door, it’s on me,” Hanna replied painfully.

Obviously, if something went wrong, she would be held liable. Violating national security procedures came with severe penalties. Not only could she lose her job, but she could go to prison. Opening the door was not only risky; it was criminal. The urgency of the situation was too much for her to process. She looked back toward Dimitri with an empathetic scowl. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Russell sighed with relief. Dimitri shook his head in disgust.

Pierce arrived at the door and started investigating it. It was sealed shut. The door could have been sealed for days. No light seeped from the cracks. It was heavy. He pushed against it. It must weigh a ton. It was the kind of door that could only be locked from inside. There wasn’t a door handle. It looked as though it swung inward. There were no signs of welding marks keeping the door shut. It was an indication someone was inside.

These particular rooms were used back in the fifties as ammunition storage. Throughout the years, the lower-level breakouts, as they were known to staff, were used for different purposes — junk storage mainly. But at one time in the late sixties, the breakouts were used to interrogate military dissidents and prisoners, and they even hosted CIA torture sessions. These rooms stood as a monument to the reality of what it took to maintain American supremacy, and the making of the free world wasn’t pretty. Plenty of blood had been spilled in these chambers, and several ghosts behind these iron doors could testify to this truth.

Pierce could not help but feel the haunting history of the breakout room he stood before. However, it was the safest place he could be at that moment. He needed to get inside. He stood back and rapped his knuckles against the hard surface. The door rattled with a solid drumming sound.

“Hello? This is Master Sergeant Ryan Pierce,” he called out. “Anyone inside?”

Through the five inches of iron, Hanna stood paralyzed on the other side of the door as she reacted to the sound. Her mind raced with possibilities.

The sound equally startled Gail. Her eyes grew wide as she stepped back quickly. The man’s arrival seemed to have caught everyone off guard. Dimitri released Russell. Russell rolled over and coughed toward the floor. He angled up as Dimitri quickly stood up and backed away with shock.

Russell smirked with relief. Perhaps the ordeal was over. Perhaps he could have Dimitri arrested for his assault.

Pierce was in a hurry. No response had come to his callout. He banged away at the door again — this time with more urgency. “Hello? I know someone’s inside,” he continued. “I have level-two clearance. Open up.”

The man’s voice trailed off through the door. He sounded miles away. Hanna looked over to Gail for some type of direction. Gail offered none. She shook with indecision and fear. She had no way to be sure it wasn’t a trap.

Russell slowly climbed back up to his feet. He could breathe again. He was shaken but OK. He looked up at Hanna.

“Hello!” Hanna shouted out.

Gail was surprised. Why would she do that? Gail felt even more trapped. She glared at Hanna and her audacity. “What are you doing? You insane?” she scoffed with a forced whisper.

Hanna didn’t care. She dismissed Gail’s disdain and moved toward the door. “Who’s out there?” she shouted through the door.

Hanna’s faint voice returned to Pierce. His attention went back to the door. He quickly placed the side of his head against the cold surface to listen. “Yeah…yes. Open the door. Security police. Ryan Pierce. Come on,” he called out. “My tag is zero two nine.”

Something felt desperate about his call. Hanna knew there was urgency. She looked back to Russell.

“It could be a trap,” he replied without looking at her.

She looked back to the door as it vibrated slightly with another impact from outside.

Pierce used his shoulder to slam into the door a few more times. He obviously knew this wouldn’t help, but perhaps it would prove his determination to whoever was on the other side. Maybe it would be enough to convince someone to open the door.

Gail wasn’t convinced. She needed more facts. She stepped back to the door and shouted, “What is your business, Pierce?”

Pierce stopped and considered his reply.

Gail’s voice carried through from the other side. “We’re under protocol lockdown. Tell us why we should open this door.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond. Given the situation, they were not obligated to open the door. Giving them too much information would only deter them further. Besides, no one would believe him anyway. “The base in under assault,” he replied.

The man’s voice traveled back to the other side and hit the group with shock. If the man’s claims were true, then they risked exposing themselves to more danger. Doing nothing could have equal consequences, though.

Russell wasn’t buying it. He shook his head with disapproval. “It’s a trap. He’s lying.”

“What if he’s not? We can’t just leave him out there,” replied Hanna.

Gail pondered Hanna’s wisdom. It seemed to be the only thing that made sense. Gail leaned toward the door again. “Who’s your reporting CO?” she shouted.

“Howl. Major Howl under Twenty-Second Command,” Pierce replied.

Gail nodded to Hanna. His story checked out. Security police reported to Major Thomas Howl.

From the outside, Pierce was growing more impatient by the moment. His instincts were to shoot the door open — if that would even work. These doors were iron and virtually indestructible. Bullets wouldn’t do it. He would need to prove his side. He would need to prove he wasn’t a threat. He would need to appeal to their hearts. “Look. If you don’t open this door, I’m going to die. Please. I’m begging you. Please.”

Gail tracked back to Hanna. She knew what they had to do, but she didn’t want to be the one to do it. Hanna was within arm’s reach of the door’s lever anyway. It was an easier grab for her — or maybe it was just Gail’s excuse. Gail stood back and nodded.

Hanna looked to Dimitri. He nodded back. Everyone was ready. They would need to act immediately.

Hanna angled back to the door and slowly reached toward the large metal lever that had kept them safely contained for hours. Her hand trembled.

Dimitri came close to the door, preparing himself for a takedown. Whoever was coming through the door wouldn’t suspect he would come from the blind spot of the wall.

Gail slowly stepped back, allowing the others to do the job. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the sight of Hanna’s trembling hand reaching up to the door’s lever.

Pierce banged angrily on the door. “Open the door, goddamn it! Hurry!”

The sound of a loud commotion at the end of the long hallway seemed to beat out the last bit of calmness he contained. Something was approaching from behind. It was moving fast. His time had run out. He was trapped, and his fate rested in the hands of those he hadn’t seen — the strangers on the other side of the door.

Hanna’s action was quick. She grabbed the door lever and started to move it upward. It didn’t rise as easy as the first time. There was pressure against the door, which made it harder to unlock. From the other side, the man’s weight pressed against the surface, shoving it forward with immense force. As the lever cleared the lip of the frame, the door swung forward fast. The man’s body plummeted forward into the room like a floodgate of bone and flesh. He crashed to the floor with an enormous thud, landing on his side. He cried out. Hanna wasted no time sealing the door again. The man quickly unholstered a Browning sidearm from the bottom of his tactical vest.

“Get the weapon!” Russell shouted out.

Dimitri dived to the floor and grabbed the man’s hand. Russell dashed over and grabbed the man, pinning him to the floor as Dimitri wrestled the handgun from his sweaty palm.

Pierce rolled to his back and looked up in a daze. He had lost his weapon. Strangers surrounded him, and their motivations were certainly unclear.

Hanna sighed with relief. The man was disarmed and was no longer a threat.

Pierce looked over the room and found Gail. She was the only one in a military service uniform.

She recognized him, but they’d never had a conversation. Things were like that on base. It was possible to work with the same person for years and never know a name or hold a conversation. Ambiguity was how a base like this survived. Gail knew who Pierce was as soon as he fell into the room. He worked for an exclusive group — a group that had very high clearance. A group that was cut off from everyone else. They were the bad boys of security operations on base. Although she outranked him, he was autonomous. Her authority would mean little to him.

Dimitri stepped toward the man and motioned him up with the gun. “Sit up.”

Pierce shook off his inner frustration and complied. He knew he better obey. The younger man didn’t seem to be a person he would want to confront. He slid across the floor and rested up against the wall.

Hanna grabbed the squeaky chair Russell had occupied for hours. She pushed it toward Pierce as an offering of solidarity.

Dimitri, however, was less consoling. He kept a watchful eye on the prisoner and made sure he didn’t forget who had the gun.

Pierce slowly climbed up and plopped into the seat. Everyone remained quiet. No one knew what to say.

“Why were you running?” Dimitri asked.

The man said nothing. He continued to fight off the pain, using his struggle as an excuse to avoid eye contact.

“Hey. He asked you a question,” Hanna demanded from across the room.

The man was a good soldier. Getting him to talk wouldn’t be easy.

“You were running from something,” said Russell as he gravitated toward the conversation.

Pierce continued to ignore the interrogation.

“Hey,” Dimitri shouted.

Pierce looked up. Dimitri was the only one who could get his attention. Maybe it was the gun. Pierce sat up and looked at the others. “There’s a patrol about fifteen minutes out.”

His response was intriguing to Gail. “What’s your SC, Pierce?” she asked.

The man was uncomfortable replying. He had already given up too much information. He carefully selected his words. “Level five. Under CC Howell. That’s all I can tell you.”

Pierce still had his walkie-talkie radio clipped to his vest. Hanna reached out for it. “Can you radio him?”

Pierce glanced up at the audacity of the question. It was amusing to him. Who the hell are you? He had never seen her before. He had a photographic memory. It was a job requirement. Her face registered nothing. She was certainly not someone he would take seriously. He looked back to Gail. She backed Hanna up with her expression. He chuckled. “Here.” He quickly removed the radio from his vest. “Have it. They’re blacked out,” he continued and tossed the radio to Hanna.

It was one of those “here, catch” moves; it was a dick move. Hanna almost dropped the radio, fumbling it in her hands. She contemplated for a second before forcing it into Gail’s hands.

Gail’s tired face said it all. If she accepted the radio, she would be forced to take a leadership role — something she had tried desperately to avoid that day. All eyes were on the lieutenant, though. She sighed with frustration and reluctantly placed the transmitter to her dry lips. “Ten-fourteen, base command. Lieutenant Gail Sullivan. Over.”

There was nothing but static. All the people in the room held their breaths and waited for a response.

Gale continued. “Base command, come in.”

Silence again. Pierce snickered. “They know where we are. They’ll get to us,” he said with a smug smile.

Gail looked down on the silent radio with a sense of defeat. Radio silence was unusual and indicated something unprecedented had happened.

“Where’s the rest of you? Your team?” asked Gail.

“You can request a briefing from my CO,” Pierce replied.

“Can you at least tell me the classification?” she asked, but she knew the answer.

Pierce felt it was pretty obvious. She should have known what classification it was when no one responded to her radio call. He looked back up and rolled his eyes. “Reno.”

His one word seemed to trail off and sent chills down Russell’s spine. He looked back to Gail and then over to Dimitri. Dimitri wasn’t surprised.

Neither was Gail. She took in a heavy breath and contemplated what it meant for their situation. Hanna flashed a look back to the others. She was the only one who seemed left out. “Classification for what?” she asked impatiently.

Russell looked to Gail for an interpretation. She was lost in deep thought. Russell tried his best. “It means the base has been evacuated.” He glared back at Pierce. “But why? Why were we brought here?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re safe here,” replied Pierce.

“No, we’re not,” Gail replied sharply as she stepped toward the door.

Her legs were quick to go. She dropped to a knee. She reached out her hand for the side of the chair, but she missed. She fell to her side.

Hanna and Russell jolted at the fall. They swooped in quickly to respond.

“I’m fine,” Gail shouted, fighting off Hanna’s assistance.

Hanna continued to help anyway.

“I said I am fine.”

She meant it that time and offered Hanna a look of death. Hanna backed off. “Whatever,” she said and paced away in the opposite direction.

Pierce shook his head, trying to reaffirm his position. “They’ll come to get us.”

“Nobody is coming,” Dimitri responded abruptly.

Everyone rubbernecked toward him. He looked back at the air vent. “We’re in South Secondary,” he continued.

Pierce knew the truth. Dimitri was correct. He was smarter than he looked. Dangerous. He was someone worth keeping a distance from. Hanna and the others didn’t seem to know what to say. If South Secondary was nothing else, it was a shit-hole situation to be in.

“South Secondary?” Hanna asked.

“It’s a part of the base that doesn’t belong to us,” Russell replied.

Pierce looked away. Hanna angled back to the master sergeant for a response. No one wanted to speak.

CHAPTER 8

Dimitri rummaged through various supply bins on top of the filing cabinet. What can we use? He sifted through meal rations, first-aid buckets, and empty ammo boxes. He was on a mission to find something that would be useful on a journey. Nothing too much of value.

Hanna stood nearby and kept a watchful eye on Pierce. Russell had the door blocked. He leaned up against the door with his arms crossed. The moment seemed to be safe. Hanna stepped toward Dimitri, keeping her voice low. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

“There are tunnels about five more stories underground from where we are now. They go out as far as gate one. It’s the only way out.” Dimitri then looked back toward Pierce, who was sitting across the room. “I’m sure that’s how they brought us here.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? To leave? What if he’s telling the truth?” Hanna replied.

Dimitri then grabbed what seemed to be the only bottled water among the supplies and downed it as if dying of thirst. As the last gulp traveled down his throat, he replied to the question with certainty. “They’re not sending a unit down here. It’s a one-way trip. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one who put us here.”

It was an alarming thought, but Hanna believed him.

Across the room, Gail’s condition started to attract Pierce’s attention. She desperately coughed and gagged for air. Something was obviously physically wrong with her, but something about her symptoms scratched at Pierce’s mind. She seemed to be fading fast. He had seen this before, but he couldn’t place it. Wonder what she was exposed to. Perhaps it was just the dust in the room.

Pierce turned to Russell. “How long has she been like this?”

Russell shrugged the comment off. It was as if Gail wasn’t in the room with them. “I don’t know.”

Dimitri and Hanna entered the conversation from the other side of the room. Dimitri stopped just short of the man’s boots. Pierce looked up, coming to terms with an inevitable conflict.

“How far are we from accessing the digs?” Dimitri demanded.

Pierce looked off and said nothing.

“The elevator. How far is it from where we are now?” Dimitri continued.

Pierce dropped his head and looked away, trying to avoid the question. Dimitri kicked the side of the man’s boot. “Come on. You’re in this shit with the rest of us. You think it matters?”

“A court-martial is the last thing you need to be worried about. That’s for sure,” Russell added.

Pierce chuckled and started to rise from his chair. Dimitri shoved him back down. He wanted to say something, but Dimitri seemed to be crazier than he was.

“You don’t want to go through the tunnels. You go down there, you won’t come back,” he replied, and he glanced over to Hanna.

Hanna stood puzzled for a few seconds. The entire situation sounded like bullshit. Pierce was clearly withholding something. It was her job to recognize a lie. She was an expert at reading people. It was the one thing that made her really good at her job auditing for national security failures. She had questioned generals and politicians who were better liars than Pierce.

“You came in that way,” Dimitri replied.

“I don’t remember anything. I woke up, and here I am.”

“Help us find another way then,” Hanna interjected.

Pierce shook his head and chuckled. “Go yourself. Good luck.”

Dimitri smiled. He wasn’t sure what action to take. Russell and Hanna looked at each other with frustration. Hanna had had enough. “You’re hiding something,” she replied.

Pierce interrupted her quickly. “Am I? Tell me.”

“Why were we put here?” asked Hanna.

Pierce scoffed at the question and rolled his eyes. “I don’t need to answer to you.”

“No, but you need to answer to me, Master Sergeant Pierce. And you’re going to lead us out,” Gail replied, stepping from the shadows of the room.

It had taken all her energy to stand. She slowly wiped the sweat from her tired face and lumbered toward the door.

Pierce couldn’t help but notice her determination, but he wasn’t afraid to disappoint her. “Sorry, Lieutenant. With all due respect, I think I’ll stay right here,” he replied arrogantly.

Pierce’s smugness ended with the arrival of a sound. It was the sound of tapping. Dimitri’s index finger tapped against the Browning pistol in front of him. His eyes locked down with killer instinct. Pierce’s attention rolled back down to the gun and then back up to Dimitri. Gail stepped forward and positioned herself next to Dimitri.

“You should have stayed with your team, Master Sergeant,” said Gail.

Pierce sighed. He had been defeated. He was going to have to lead them out of that room and revisit the hell he had desperately escaped. He would make it his mission to protect himself.

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