Chapter 10 - The Signal Beneath the Naval Station
The communications station had been officially closed for nine years.
Its rusted gate stood open.
Rain swept across the cracked road as the van rolled past leaning antennas and concrete buildings stained black by salt air.
The real Evelyn Ross—if she was telling the truth—kept both hands visible on the steering wheel.
Eleanor sat restrained in the back beside Mason.
Ghost remained pressed against my knees.
The navigation screen displayed Ethan’s transfer status, but the signal moved beneath the facility rather than through it.
“There are tunnels,” Evelyn said. “Cold War infrastructure. Most were sealed.”
“Most?” Mason asked.
“My sister’s program reopened sections without Navy documentation.”
Eleanor gave her a flat look. “You signed the authorization.”
“I signed a coastal equipment audit.”
“You signed what you were told to sign.”
Their bitterness sounded old.
We entered a maintenance building and found fresh tire tracks crossing the dusty floor. A freight elevator stood behind a false wall.
Ghost pulled toward it.
Mason tried his command.
“Hold.”
Ghost slowed but looked at me.
I hated what that meant. Mason had cared for him for six months. Whatever lies had surrounded the assignment, his attachment was real. Yet Ghost now treated me as the person whose decisions mattered most.
“Wait,” I told the dog.
He stopped.
Mason looked away.
Evelyn used Eleanor’s thumbprint to unlock the elevator panel. A green light appeared.
“You had access,” I said to Eleanor.
“I had containment responsibility.”
“For Ethan?”
“For what he carried.”
The elevator descended.
Concrete walls passed through a grated opening. The air grew colder.
At the bottom, a corridor stretched beneath flickering lights. Medical carts stood abandoned along one wall. The white compass symbol crossed by a red line had been painted above every doorway.
Ghost’s claws clicked against the floor.
He led us to a room containing surveillance equipment, servers, and a biometric monitor.
One line remained active.
CROSS, ETHAN J.
Heart rate: 52.
Respiration: 8.
Status: MOBILE TRANSFER.
My hands began shaking.
“He’s alive.”
Eleanor’s face revealed nothing.
Mason examined the system. “The readings could be simulated.”
“Why simulate a respiration rate?”
“To make us follow.”
A printer beside the terminal activated.
A page emerged.
It contained my name, Social Security number, veterinary license, bank accounts, home address, and a photograph taken at the clinic that morning.
At the top was a label:
AUTHORIZED MEDICAL CUSTODIAN—PHASE LANTERN.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
It looked perfect.
I had never signed it.
Evelyn whispered, “They’re transferring legal custody to you.”
“Of Ethan?”
“No. Of the program.”
Alarms sounded.
The biometric signal disappeared from the monitor.
A steel barrier slammed across the corridor behind us, cutting off the elevator.
Gas hissed from ceiling vents.
Mason pulled his shirt over his mouth and searched for a control panel.
Eleanor began laughing.
“You followed exactly where they wanted you.”
Ghost scratched at a cabinet in the corner. I opened it and found respirators—four of them.
There were five people.
Eleanor’s smile widened.
May you like
“Now you learn which Ross sister they expect you to leave behind.”
📖 See whom I denied the final respirator—and what Eleanor confessed while the gas filled the underground room in CHAPTER 11. 👇
