Page 76 of Jenna's Protector
Mitzy updates us on the latest drone reconnaissance, confirming that the place appears abandoned.
We all know how quickly that can change.
As the hour of our departure draws near, my thoughts turn to Jenna. She survived unimaginable horrors yet built a new life for herself.
That takes grit.
I draw on that now, letting it steel my resolve and sharpen my focus.
We leave after a tense, silent lunch. The weight of what we’re about to do hangs heavy in the air. The journey to the target is long, and the silence in the transport is broken only by the occasional crackle of the comm and the low thrum of the engine.
I stare out the window, watching the landscape blur past, mymind racing with possibilities and contingencies. Every mile brings us closer to the place that haunts Jenna’s nightmares.
As we travel northward on PCH-1, the rugged coastline and endless ocean to our left, the sun dips toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of molten gold and crimson fire.
We near our destination, and the fiery colors reflect off the waves, casting a warm, ethereal glow over the landscape. Then comes an hour or so of waiting for darkness to envelop the land.
We park some distance away and navigate with the aid of night vision goggles. The compound rises like a malevolent specter, its high walls and barbed wire looming in the shadows, a foreboding presence against the starless sky.
“Drones show no signs of activity. It looks abandoned.” Mitzy’s voice crackles over the earpiece.
The Rufi fan out silently around us, their sensors probing the darkness. Through the eerie green of our night vision, the world takes on a ghostly quality. Shadows writhe, and every sound cuts through the silence like a knife, each one sharp enough to quicken the pulse.
“Comms check.” Ethan’s voice is a low rumble in my ear.
The team checks in one by one: Blake, Walt, Gabe, Hank, Rigel, and finally, me.
Blake sticks close to me, keeping me in formation with the team. Ahead, Gabe and Walt take point, their movements fluid and ghost-like in the faint light.
Shadows stretch and twist, every rustle of leaves or snap of a twig setting my nerves on edge.
We pause at the edge of the compound, where a hulking, malevolent presence lurks behind high walls and rusted gates. It’s like something out of a nightmare, with harsh angles and oppressive architecture.
“No heat signatures detected,” Mitzy reports. “You’re clear to proceed.”
It’s eerily still, with no signs of life or movement. Just the whisper of the wind through the long grass and stunted trees. Gravel crunches softly beneath our boots.
Ethan gives the signal, and we move in, melting into the darkness. The gates creak open, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness of the night.
“Two on the door.” Ethan’s command is sharp and focused.
Gabe and Walt stack up on the door, their movements fluid and precise. The door swings open with a rusty creak, revealing a long, dark hallway.
We move forward, our steps echoing in the emptiness. The air is stale and thick with the smell of dust and decay. It tastes like abandonment, like forgotten things left to rot.
The first room we come to looks like a classroom, with desks and chairs arranged in neat rows. A whiteboard stands at the front, faded lessons still scrawled across its surface.
“Clear.” Walt’s voice is a tense whisper.
Dust coats every surface, muffling our footsteps as we move through the abandoned halls.
We clear the rooms methodically, the Rufi sweeping ahead. Their sensors probe every corner and crevice. We press on, moving from room to room. A dormitory, beds stripped bare. A cafeteria, tables, and benches coated in a layer of grime. It’s like a ghost town, a snapshot of a life interrupted.
But it’s when we descend to the lower levels that the true horror of this place reveals itself. The air grows colder, damper. The walls are narrow and oppressive. Then we see them.
The cells.
“Jesus Christ.” Hank’s voice is rough, echoing my own thoughts.