Chapter — 26
Sheep
Carter stepped through the gate behind the blonde man, and the noise of the crowd outside fell away — like someone had shut a door on the world.
The inside of the hangar felt nothing like the chaos outside. The vast, hollow space had been stripped down and rebuilt into a temporary command post — metal barriers carved the room into neat, sterile sections. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, bleaching the concrete floor to lifeless gray. Soldiers moved with mechanical precision between folding tables piled with crates, files, and humming radios.
The air stung of antiseptic, old oil, and jet fuel — the scent of a place not meant to last, only to function.
Medical tents lined one wall like makeshift hospital wards, their canvas walls trembling in the artificial breeze. Stretchers waited in grim rows. Some were already occupied. Nearby, a cluster of researchers huddled around glowing monitors, their words quick, clipped, and low.
But what unsettled Carter most wasn't the movement. It was the silence beneath it.
Every step, every motion — deliberate.
No wasted effort.
No idle chatter.
Like everyone already knew what was happening… and the only one left guessing was him.
The blonde man didn't move. Just stood there — quiet, unreadable.
Maybe he didn't think I'd follow him this far.
Why is he even helping me? He doesn't owe me anything.
And pity? He'd be an idiot to think that. Helping or not, this man was still from the Empire.
Carter exhaled, slapping his cheek lightly. Focus. No time for politics.
Find your family. Find Adam. Find Chris.
His gaze caught a woman in a lab coat — late thirties, hair tied back in a messy knot, clipboard in hand. Shadows bruised the skin under her eyes, the kind that come from too many sleepless nights. She looked exhausted — until she saw him.
Then the exhaustion vanished. Replaced by something sharp. Calculating.
Her eyes moved over him — his clothes, his hands — then flicked to the blonde man's insignia. Her frown formed on instinct, like she'd just noticed a puzzle piece that didn't belong.
"Uh…" Carter cleared his throat. "Where are the people being screened?"
She didn't answer immediately. Just tilted her head, shifting the clipboard. Then, without looking at him, she asked — voice low, careful, edged with suspicion:
"He brought you in here?"
Carter's shoulders stiffened. "…Yeah."
Her stare lingered a moment longer — heavy, weighing. Then, suddenly, her expression shut down. Suspicion didn't fade. It went behind a wall.
She raised a hand and pointed to a dim corridor at the far end of the hangar.
"Down there," she said, clipped, no inflection.
Before he could thank her, she turned away, scribbling something quick and deliberate on her clipboard. Not even pretending it wasn't about him.
As Carter and the blonde man headed for the corridor, the noise behind them shifted — subtle, but there.
A faint click.
A radio being keyed.
He glanced back, just enough to see her murmur into an earpiece. One of the nearby soldiers straightened slightly, posture changing.
Carter's pulse jumped.
She hadn't just pointed the way.
She'd marked him.
---
The deeper he went, the colder the air became.
The open hangar gave way to a fenced-off section of floor — sandbag walls, armed guards at every entrance. Some soldiers wore standard fatigues. Others didn't.
Their armor gleamed with strange, black alloys — alien metal that shimmered faintly under the floodlights.
A sign hung from the wire:
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
Carter hesitated. The air felt different here.
Like it was holding its breath.
He walked forward anyway, each step too loud. Behind him, the blonde man followed, unhurried, hands in his pockets — like the rifles weren't even there.
Who is this guy?
The soldiers noticed the moment Carter crossed the invisible line.
Rifles lowered.
Not at the blonde man — at him.
Their expressions were a mix of confusion, suspicion… and curiosity.
A civilian? In a school uniform? What the hell is he doing here?
Before anyone could speak, the blonde man stepped forward. He didn't raise his voice or flash credentials — he didn't need to. His presence alone made the soldiers hesitate, though not relax.
They weren't afraid of him.
They were afraid of what was behind him.
Another group approached — otherworlders, their armor whispering like metal cloth. One of them, tall and broad, sealed head to toe in black plate, exchanged rapid, fluid words with the blonde man. Not English. Not anything Carter recognized.
Then the armored man turned toward the soldiers. His voice was flat, almost mechanical:
> "Priority subject. Chosen for isolation. Subject will be monitored."
Carter froze as the man's gaze shifted to him. Even through the visor, he could feel it.
So Truth Seeker isn't the only one who speaks English, he thought grimly.
The soldiers parted the fence — not wide, just enough for one person.
The air beyond that gap didn't feel like the base anymore. It felt like somewhere else.
A place for people like him.
Marked.
---
Inside, the world shrank.
Tables and chairs scattered across the hangar floor. People sat slumped in small clusters — some upright, others curled on the ground, faces half-covered by scraps of cloth. The air was heavy, thick with exhaustion and quiet dread.
There were more of them than he'd expected. A dozen, maybe more.
Blue wristbands glinting faintly under the lights.
Teenagers, mostly. His age, maybe older. A few younger. One boy couldn't have been more than fourteen — red-eyed, cheeks streaked with salt, like he'd cried himself empty.
Carter's eyes swept the room once.
Twice.
A third time, faster.
No sign of his father.
No Adam.
No Chris.
His throat closed up. His pulse hammered in his ears. His hands wouldn't stay still.
Where are they?
The crowd blurred at the edges. His breath stuttered, caught between panic and disbelief.
And then—
> "Carter?"
A voice broke through the noise like a blade through fog.
---