Chapter 4 - Into the Cold
The journey to the coordinates listed on the SD card was a blur of motels and late-night gas stations. I sold my car, bought an old, nondescript truck, and brought nothing but my medical bag and Titan. He traveled with his head on my lap, his breathing steadying as we crossed state lines.
We reached the Pacific Northwest, a landscape of jagged peaks and suffocating pine forests. The facility was hidden behind an abandoned logging camp, camouflaged by rusted metal and artificial hillocks. It didn't look like a prison; it looked like a tomb for secrets.
I didn't have a plan, just a burning, frantic need to see if the ghost was real. I used the credentials I’d decrypted from the drive to bypass the secondary gate. The technology was advanced, likely military-grade, but the system recognized the master key—the very one Miller had tried so desperately to protect.
Inside, the air smelled like ozone and sterile chemicals. There were rows of kennels, and beyond them, the holding cells for the "operatives." My feet moved of their own accord, guided by a strange, magnetic pull.
"Caleb?" I whispered.
The word hung in the sterile hallway. A door at the end of the corridor creaked open. A man stepped out. He was gaunt, his skin the color of old parchment, his hair graying prematurely. But the eyes—those unmistakable, warm, tired eyes—were the same.
May you like
He froze. He looked at me, then down at the dog. Titan didn't bark. He didn't growl. He let out a whimper that sounded like a sob and crossed the floor in three bounds, colliding with the man’s legs.
Caleb fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he buried his face in the dog’s neck. He looked up at me, his voice a ghost of the man I’d once known. "I told him," he whispered, gesturing to the dog. "I told him to find you if I didn't come back. I didn't think he’d actually do it."
