Page 108 of Whispers in the Dark
Fifteen minutes later,Noah was on a secure line with a man he never wanted to call again. Off-grid, ex-militia, hacker, half-paranoid—the kind of guy who picked up a sat phone like he already knew trouble was coming.
“Noah Kaldor,” the gravelly voice said. “What did you screw up now? Your partner blew me off.”
“I need a straight answer,” Noah said. “He was taken. They have him.”
The silence crackled. “Who?”
“We don’t know. But it wasn’t street-level. This was clean, tactical. We think it ties to why he called you. Maybe about a black site.”
The militia man gave a low whistle. “That’s not a word people say out loud anymore.”
Noah pressed harder. “If he was coming to meet you, you had to have told him you had something. What was it?”
The man sighed, voice dropping. “Rumors,” he said. “Always just rumors. Stories from retired contractors, mercs, guys with haunted eyes. They talked about a black site—hidden deep. No grid. No designation. Just gone.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere in the Indian Territories, near the Black Hills. That’s as much as anyone knew. They didn’t call it a site. Theycalled it the facility that eats people. Said if you went in, you came out different—if you came out at all.”
Noah’s stomach turned. “What kind of different?”
“Zombies,” the man said. “Dead eyes. Blank minds. Obedient. Like something got stripped out, and something else got wired in.”
Noah was quiet for a second. Then, “Thank you.”
The militia man laughed bitterly. “This favor’s going on your tab.”
“If it helps me find Alex, I’ll pay it.” Noah hung up and called Brad. No hesitation.
Brad answered instantly.
“Black site’s real,” Noah said. “Deep in Indian Territory. No grid access. No confirmed location. But it exists. Rumors match the symptoms. They don’t just take people—they rewire them.”
Brad’s voice was flat, but something behind it cracked. “Then we’re running out of time.”
Noah said nothing because they both knew Alex Marcel wasn’t just gone. He was being erased.
Thirty-Six
TEN DAYS SINCE ALEX’S DISAPPEARANCE
Charlotte rested,curled on the couch, the cassette recorder gripped tightly in her hands. The heater ticked softly behind her, but the rest of the house was silent. Too silent. The faint red blink of the recorder was the only sign of movement.
The shadows in the corners felt thicker now. Not just dark—but aware. Like they were listening too.
Bailey stirred, lifting his head, ears twitching. The dog stood slowly, no growl, no sound. Just a soft breath, and then he walked to the doorway.
Charlotte’s blood turned cold.
Bailey didn’t bark. Didn’t posture. He knew. And then—she did too. The shadows shifted. A figure stepped forward, smooth and quiet. Elias.
He was inside the room now, half-silhouetted by the hallway light. He didn’t speak right away. Just watched her, as if gauging the temperature of the air, or her fear.
Charlotte didn’t move. Her voice came out a whisper, “You’re here.”
He nodded once. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t,” she said, though they both know it wasn’t true.
