I should push her away. Keep my distance. That is the smart thing to do.

  But I don’t.

  Because I am tired. Tired of chasing ghosts, of questioning every moment until it slips through my fingers.

  Even if this is all a lie... even if it's fleeting, even if it’s just another illusion, I don’t care.

  For once, I just want to believe.

  Chapter 10 - The World Still Turns.

  The wind slices through the air as I stand outside the long house. Overhead, the sky still burns with that same red glow.

  The stick I planted will tell me where I am, but it’s not enough.

  I need more. I need to understand this place. Why we’re trapped. Who’s behind it. What they want.

  I need something to fight. A name. A path forward.

  Because every moment I stand still is a moment Grace gets closer to dying.

  Grace wanted to come with me, but I couldn’t let her.

  Not this time. I need focus. No distractions.

  Still, my mind drifts to her smile, her laugh, the way her hand fits perfectly in mine. She makes the world feel lighter, even as it crumbles.

  But right now, I can’t afford to feel.

  I can’t afford to lose sight of the mission.

  Because saving her is the only thing that matters.

  I force my feet to move, stepping toward the stick. The sun has climbed higher. The shadow’s shorter.

  I mark its new position..

  Now as planned I need to build a receiver. First, I have to find those vines and test if they’re conductive. I remember seeing plenty of them in the forest I passed through when I arrived. If they show metallic properties, it could be the proof I need. That this place, this entire world, is artificial.

  If not... I’m back to square one.

  The forest surrounds everything, so no matter where I go, I’ll end up there eventually.

  I walk.

  Two minutes.

  Three minutes.

  Four minutes.

  Seven minutes.

  Nine minutes...

  Then, I see it.

  A wall of towering trees... foreign and unnatural. Their bark is dark, their trunks thick, their vines long and twisting. Despite being a forest, there isn’t a single sound. No birds. No rustling of small creatures. Nothing. The silence is oppressive, heavy, like the place itself is watching.

  I’ve never seen trees like this before. They’re too uniform, yet not identical. It feels deliberate, like someone wanted it to look natural but didn’t quite get it right.

  If this were just a barrier, why not build a wall? Why go through the trouble of making it look like a forest? Unless… they don’t want us to know what this place really is. Whether it’s natural or man-made.

  Because it doesn’t belong to either world.

  I glance back at where I came from.

  Assuming I started near the center and it took me nine minutes to reach the edge. My walking speed is around five kilometers per hour, that puts the radius at roughly 750 meters. Which means this entire place is about 1.5 kilometers across.

  I turn back to the trees. Time to get what I came for.

  The vines hang like lifeless threads, stretching 12 to 13 meters down from the branches above.

  My hands hesitate. I don’t even know if I can tear one off.

  Still, I reach out.

  The vine is dry beneath my fingers, no moisture inside.

  Strange. But exactly what I need.

  I pull.

  The vine shudders, but nothing happens. Just the whisper of leaves brushing against each other.

  Fine.

  I dig my heels into the ground and yank with everything I have.

  Thud.

  I slam into the dirt, pain flaring up my wrist. My fist throbs. Nothing broken, but definitely sprained.

  Damn it.

  But then, I see it.

  The vine is in my hands.

  Relief floods through me. One step forward. Now, I just need to test it.

  I grab a nearby stone and scrape it against the vine’s surface. The outer layer peels back, revealing something dark and dry inside.

  My pulse quickens.

  This increases the chance that it contains metallic properties. If I coat it with charcoal, I might be able to detect faint radio signals. And if I do, that’s it, that’s proof this place isn’t natural. Proof that we’re in a construct.

  Finally, I feel like I’ve actually moved forward. This might change everything.

  I wrap the vine around my shoulder and turn toward my next destination.

  Dr. Lenny.

  And, hopefully, copper.

  As I walk toward the clinic, I go over my mental checklist. I have the vine, and I can coat it with charcoal, which I can borrow from the cook. I still need copper and a metal object for grounding.

  The clinic has a metal bed. That struck me as odd the first time I saw it. There are also IV stands, which might work for grounding...

  I keep walking, lost in thought.

  A razor blade would help with the signal. I can use it as a diode, applying charcoal to the blade would enhance it even further. I don’t know if this will work,b ut I have to try.

  Standing in front of the clinic, nerves creep in. What if I raise people’s hopes, only for them to crumble into nothing?

  I knock.

  A few seconds pass before the door cracks open.

  Dr. Lenny stands inside, wearing a crisp white coat, far too modern for this place. I noticed it before, along with the clinic itself. Everything about this building stands out. Too clean. Too advanced. Too... different.

  "Come on in," he says, stepping aside.

  He was expecting me. I’d asked him yesterday, to help me make a list of when people arrived here.

  "Let’s make this quick," he adds. "I’ve got work to do."

  I nod, scanning the room. The list is important, but right now, my focus is on building the receiver.

  "Dr. Lenny," I say, "would you happen to have a razor blade? And maybe a pair of headphones?"

  He gives me a look. Not suspicion, just confusion. Fair enough. It’s a strange request.

  I press on. "I’m trying to build a receiver. Something that can detect man-made signals. If it works, we might learn more about this place. Maybe even confirm if this island is artificial."

  He exhales, running a hand through his hair. Then, he sits down in his chair and looks me in the eye.

  "Kid, I get it. You’re trying to figure things out. But people have tried before." His voice is measured, careful. "I won’t stop you. Just... if you fail, it’s okay."

  At first, it came off as discouraging. But now I see through him. He doesn’t actually believe this will work, he’s just trying to cushion the fall when it doesn’t.

  I get it.

  So I play along..

  "I understand," I say. "But I still think this is important. If we pick up a signal, it changes everything. Please, Dr. Lenny. Trust me on this."

  He nods slowly.

  "A blade is valuable here," he says. "I have some, but I can’t spare any more resources after this. You never know, these supplies might save a life. And as for headphones... I don’t have any. Sorry, kid."

  I don’t let it bother me. The razor blade is a huge step forward.

  Then my eyes land on the IV stand.

  "Can I borrow that too?" I ask.

  I see the curiosity flicker across his face. Before he jumps to conclusions, I explain.

  "I need a metal conductor for grounding the receiver. The IV stand should work."

  He studies me for a moment. Then, finally, he nods.

  Another step forward.

  Since the clinic is the tallest building here and we now have an IV stand, I thought it would be best to do the test right here.

  But something about this place feels off. Almost every house is made of wood, and there’s barely a hint of technology anywhere. Yet this clinic, though basic, feels... modern. Too modern. It doesn’t belong here.

  That thought sticks with me, refusing to let go. So I turn to Dr. Lenny and ask,

  “How come this place, where everything’s so simple and stripped of technology, has a fully built clinic? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Lenny nods. "You're right, but it is not really a mystery. This clinic was already here when people started appearing. I am not sure if it is true, but when you look at the other houses, you cannot really question it."

  This is a clue. I know it. And Dr. Lenny is wrong. This clinic is just as strange and mysterious as everything else here. It has to mean something. But what?

  Were there people here before us? If so, why would they build only a clinic? Why not homes, infrastructure... anything else? I think to myself.

  The thought won’t leave me. A clinic implies purpose. A need. A plan.

  But whose?

  "Were there any other structures when people started appearing?" I ask.

  Lenny nods again. "The roads were already in place. That is all."

  Something is not right. But at least I have more information now.

  Speaking of information...

  "Do you know where I can get a pair of earphones, Dr. Lenny? I need the copper wire from them. And I need the speaker to check for any signal."

  Lenny scratches his chin, thinking. "If there is any chance, you might try the craftsman Jack Mason. He is the one who handles building things here, farming tools, cutting tools, and so on. He collects anything he can use from the people here, so if anyone has earphones, it is either him or someone he knows."

  Farming tools and cutting tools. He probably means spades, rakes, shovels, axes, and saws, most likely all made of wood. But the way he said it makes it sound like he has no real knowledge of agriculture or physical labor. Then again, he is a doctor.

  "I see," I say. "How do I find him?"

  "He's all over the place," Lenny replies with a sigh. "Quite annoyingly social. But his house is the fourth one from yours. Look for a tall, lean man with long hair and a beard. You will not miss him."

  "Thank you, Doctor Lenny. I'll go visit him. And once I get the materials, I hope I can conduct the experiment here."

  Dr. Lenny nods, his expression unreadable.

  With that, I step out of the clinic, heading home.

  The village feels different.

  Unfamiliar eyes fixate on me, cold and unwelcoming.

  Their glares are sharp, like knives waiting for an excuse to cut.

  A message, clear and silent. I do not belong here. Not anymore.

  One wrong move, and I know they will pounce.

  I force myself to keep walking, ignoring the weight of their stares.

  Above me, the sky has darkened, stained with an eerie crimson hue. The red crack. It stretches wider now, pulsing like an open wound. I don’t know how deep the color is supposed to get when someone dies, but I know it’s close. Too close.

  A chill creeps up my spine, and I break into a hurried stride.

  About four houses down from mine. This should be the craftsman's house.

  "Please be home," I whisper, knocking on the door.

  The response is immediate no too quick. The door swings open, revealing a tall, lean man. His clothes are unkempt, his face shadowed with days of neglect, yet his lips curl into a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  He steps out, locking the door behind him, his movements brisk, impatient. He was already leaving.

  "What do you want?" His tone is curt, uninterested.

  I swallow.

  "Mr. Jack, I'm Black. I was hop..."

  "Save it," he snaps, stepping forward. "You’re the one who brought the storm, aren’t you?"

  My stomach tightens. The air between us shifts.

  They’ve seen the sky. They’ve seen me. My arrival. The changes. And they don’t like it.

  "Mr. Jack, I think there’s a misunderstanding. I...."

  Before I can finish, his hands are on my collar.

  In an instant, I’m slammed against his door.

  The breath rushes out of my lungs.

  His grip tightens, his knuckles white. "Bad news is circling about you, brother," he growls, voice thick with resentment. "They say you’re here to kill us all off."

  And then, he grins.

  Not the kind that reassures. Not the kind that forgives.

  It’s the kind that makes my blood run cold.

  "But looking at you," he sneers, "I ain't so sure you’re anything at all. You look weak. A fucking wimp."

  His gaze flickers to the side. I follow it, my breath hitching.

  A thick slab of wood, long and splintered, like it was meant for a table but repurposed for something far worse.

  His voice lowers, deliberate.

  "But listen close, you little worm. If anything...anything goes wrong because of you..."

  His eyes burn into mine, his grin splitting into something feral.

  "...we’ll tear you open, nail your guts to that slab, and leave you standing 'til the crows get bored."

  Impaled.

  The word lodges itself in my throat.

  Before I can react, he shoves me away. I stumble, my balance failing, and hit the dirt hard.

  The impact stings, but I barely feel it.

  Jack spits near my face, the wet slap of it against the mud making my stomach churn.

  His anger hangs in the air, thick and suffocating.

  But I... I don’t feel anger.

  I don’t even feel fear.

  I just feel like it's my fault.

  His voice drops, low and deliberate. Then he turns and walks away, like a threat that doesn’t need to linger, because it already sunk in.

  As if being trapped in this hellhole isn’t bad enough, now the place is starting to turn on me. People I care about are dying. Everything’s unraveling. I push myself up from the dirt, slowly, my limbs trembling.

  My body shakes, but it’s not from fear. It’s the leftover tremble of adrenaline, the kind that crawls through your muscles when your brain refuses to panic.

  You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re still alive.

  I push myself off the ground, slow and shaky. My limbs feel disconnected, like I’m borrowing someone else’s body. My palms sting, my ribs ache where I hit the ground, but it’s all background noise.

  This place is going to kill me. And I’m not going to wait around for it to happen.

  I have to fix this. I have to let them know that I’m one of them. I’m going to save them. But to do that, I need to understand where we are. And if this is a man-made structure, a controlled space, then maybe... just maybe... I can find an advantage.

  First step: get what I came for.

  Funny. With everything that’s happened, I forgot why I even came here. To find a pair of earphones.

  Damn it.

  I glance at the door. The lock’s wooden.. I wouldn’t be hard to force it open, it might break and cause mode trouble. I don’t need attention right now.

  I crouch and examine the door closely, my hands trembling at the thought of what would happen if Jack came back.

  But I have to do this. I have no choice.

  There’s no latch. No handle. Just a single round hole perfectly smooth.

  Intentional.

  Grace’s door has a rotating wooden lock, but this? This is something else.

  No metal, so it’s not a pin or tumbler lock.

  Probably a trigger. A pressure mechanism. Or some kind of puzzle lock.

  I scan the surroundings. There’s a stack of wood beside the house. Nearby, the pole Jack threatened me with still lies in the dirt, along with some thin, curled shavings from carved logs.

  I grab one. Lightweight, flexible bark. It bends under pressure but stays straight when released. Perfect.

  I insert the strip into the hole, inch by inch, tracking every change in resistance.

  Then. A soft catch.

  Spring-loaded, maybe.

  Some kind of tension plant. Flexible, strong. Crude tech with a natural twist.

  I pull the strip out and mark the depth that caused the resistance, roughly three inches. Then I snap a nearby stick to the same length.

  Okay. Let’s see if this works.

  I check the area. No one’s watching.

  I slide the stick into the hole, slow and steady. And....

  Click.

  Unlocked.

  As expected of a medieval puzzle lock.

  I slip inside and close the door behind me, quick but silent.

  It’s pitch-black.

  I feel along the table, fingers brushing cold metal. A lamp. A resin match. I strike it against the flint and the flame flares to life.

  The room glows in warm yellow.

  A bed. Shelves. Supplies.

  I move fast.

  The first shelf stops me cold.

  Metal. Real metal.

  Belt buckles. Old watches. A phone, dead, of course. If someone brought it here, they must have tried to use it.

  But it wouldn’t have gone the way they planned.

  No one gives up their phone willingly. Not here. Not like this.

  These weren’t abandoned. They were left behind. By the dead.

  And there... tucked in the corner, an earphone.

  Just one. But one is enough.

  I pocket it and scan the rest. Blankets. Clothes. Plastic containers. Nothing I need.

  I kill the lamp. Ease the door open. Look both ways.

  Clear.

  And just like that. I’m gone.

  I have evey thing I need now.

  Excitement runs wild through me, on one side, the thrill that maybe, just maybe, I’ll figure out something no one else ever has. On the other, the creeping fear that I’ll lose hope and end up just another hopeless scapegoat in this place.

  I pat my cheeks gently. “Alright... let’s do this.”

  I walk toward the clearing where I planted the stick to track the sun. The small, worn patch of ground looks the same, but I feel different sharper, more urgent. The sun’s been up for around four hours. That makes it about 10 a.m.

  I mark the current position of the shadow. Time: X.

  Just a few more hours... a few more marks... and the pattern should reveal itself.

  I turn and head back to the clinic.

  The walk feels longer this time. The same people who stared at me before are still watching, but I don’t flinch, I can't. I have no other choice. I stop at the longhouse, grab more charcoal for the blade, then move quickly, avoiding their eyes, keeping my pace brisk.

  I reach the clinic. No one stops me.

  At the door, I knock. My heart pounds.

  Please… let this be a man-made island. Let there be signals. Let there be answers...

  The door creaks open. Dr. Lenny stands there. I raise the headphones in my hand, a spark of determination in my eyes. Without a word, I slip past him into the clinic.

  “Doctor,” I say, turning to face him. “Let’s do this. Let’s figure out what this hellhole really is.”

  I grab a vine I had found earlier, and the IV stand. I pick up the razor blade and step outside.

  Lenny follows, silent and unsure.

  “We need this vine as high as we can get it,” I mutter, scanning the edge of the clinic. It’s about 3.5 meters tall. This should work.

  I make a loose loop at the end of the vine. I swing it, calculate the arc, and throw. It falls short. I try again. Miss.

  Again. Miss.

  Again...

  Miss...

  I glance at Lenny, hoping. His silence answers me, he won’t help. Or he can’t.

  I grit my teeth. Come on. You’ve got to do this. Lives depend on it.

  I throw once more.

  It catches.

  A thrill pulses through me as I slowly tighten the vine into place. It stands tall, free, and taut, exactly what I need.

  Lenny still doesn’t understand. I explain, voice steady but fast.

  “This vine... it'll act as the antenna. It's dry, dark, probably has some metallic properties. I'm rubbing charcoal on it to increase the conductivity.”

  He watches, still silent.

  I pull out the headphones and use the razor blade to carefully peel off the outer plastic, revealing the delicate copper wire inside. Thin, but it'll do.

  I wind the copper around the vine, slowly, precisely.

  And after some time.

  Fifty tight loops. This will be the inductor.

  Now for grounding.

  I cut the rest of the vine, tie it to the other end of the coil, and wrap it tightly around the IV stand.

  “Doctor, can you bring me some water?” I ask without looking up.

  He nods and vanishes inside.

  When he returns with a cup, I pour the water onto the soil beneath the IV stand, soaking it.

  “Dry soil won’t work,” I say. “We need a proper ground connection.”

  I hand him the cup back and drive the IV stand deep into the wet soil.

  Now the final part.

  I connect one end of the earphones to the base of the IV stand, the other to the razor blade.

  Then I remember... the charcoal. I quickly rub it onto the blade to improve conductivity.

  I kneel down, put the earphones on. This is it.

  I glance at Lenny. Then at the setup. Please… let this work. Please prove me right.

  I touch the razor blade to the coil.

  Nothing.

  Not even static.

  I move the blade slowly along the copper coil, point by point.

  Still nothing.

  Minutes pass.

  Five.

  Ten.

  Fifteen.

  I’m sweating. My hands tremble. My back aches from the hunched posture, but I don’t stop.

  Twenty minutes. No sound.

  I rip the earphones off and stare at Lenny. “How? How is this possible?! This has to be a man-made island, there’s no other explanation.

  Maybe... maybe they’re watching us. Maybe they’re cutting off the signals on purpose.”

  Or maybe the earphones are dead. Maybe I made a mistake. Maybe.

  I clutch my head, pressing in hard. It throbs with frustration and rising panic.

  No. I can't give up. If this is a controlled space, then cutting the signals makes sense. If they can't communicate, maybe... maybe things freeze. Maybe Grace won’t die.

  I shove the headphones back on and move the blade again, frantically.

  “You bastards...” I whisper. “I won’t give up. I won’t let you win. Letting you win means letting her die.”

  Time blurs. Lenny crouches beside me. “Kid… maybe this place isn’t what you think it is.”

  My throat tightens. My eyes sting.

  “No,” I whisper. “It has to be. Nothing else makes sense…”

  Lenny places a hand gently on my shoulder, then withdraws, wordless, and returns inside.

  I punch the ground, the pain sharp and grounding.

  I’ll figure it out,” I hissed. “I have to.”

  I waited.

  One hour. Two. Maybe three. I didn’t know anymore.

  I was lying in the dirt now, eyes half-open. My body numb. My thoughts spiraling.

  I was supposed to check the stick. Mark the time. But I can’t leave now, not if they’re waiting for me to give up. Waiting for me to look away before they make their move.

  I smiled to myself. A dry, cracked grin.

  “Not happening… assholes.”

  Some more time passes. I see a shadow fall near me. It’s Lenny.

  I look up. Against the scorching sky, he stands like a silhouette cut from the sun itself. He crouches beside me.

  “Why don’t you go have lunch? I’ll check it till then,” he says gently.

  I don’t respond.

  “Kid,” he says again, shaking me lightly. My eyes are open, but it’s like I wake up only then, from a fog, a blank haze I hadn’t noticed creeping in.

  “Go have lunch,” he repeats. “I’ll keep listening.”

  I don’t feel hungry. I don’t want to go. But I remembered I need to check the stick. If nothing else works, I have to confirm our location.

  Reluctantly, I nod. I hand him the earphones and slowly get to my feet. “If you hear anything… even just a buzz… please let me know,” I say.

  He nods. Silent. Calm.

  With heavy steps, I walk toward the small ground.

  It must be past noon by now… maybe 1 PM. The sun blazes straight above. The failure of the receiver still hangs on me like soaked clothes. If they really turned off the signals… the radios… everything… then there’s no way I’d pick up anything. But they can’t do that forever. Right?

  I reach the ground.

  No shadow.

  I kneel slowly. The stick I planted is standing tall, but the earth around it is blank. Not even a sliver of shadow.

  It hits me.

  No shadow...at this hour, that can only mean one thing.

  We’re on the equator.

  I stare at it, conflicted. I discovered something. But not the one thing I truly needed. That receiver… it should’ve worked. It should’ve caught something. Anything.

  I force myself to focus.

  Okay… solar noon at the equator usually happens between 12:00 and 12:15. I thought it was 1 PM here, but I must’ve lost track of time. It fits. No shadow during solar noon this place has to be on the equator.

  Assuming this is an island… tall trees, massive waves, storm-prone climate, everything points to that.

  Now where could it be?

  I think carefully.

  If it were somewhere between Micronesia and the Philippines, yes, the equator crosses there. But… that region is too closely watched. Too many military radars. The U.S., China, the Philippines, they all monitor those waters. There’s no way a place like this could stay hidden there.

  But the southern Indian Ocean?

  That’s different.

  It’s vast. Remote. Empty. The stretch between Madagascar and Australia is one of the least explored, least traveled regions in the world. No regular shipping lanes. No casual flights. No easy access. Just deep water and rare land.

  If someone wanted to build something and make sure no one found it… that’s the place.

  There are maybe… 50 islands, give or take. Most uninhabited. Some completely wild. And if you masked one on satellite imagery? Just label it "ocean." No one would think twice.

  That’s it. That’s the only place that makes sense.

  Somewhere, in that forgotten ocean…

  That’s where we are.

  Even after figuring out where we are, it doesn’t mean much to me.

  Sure, it’s progress.

  But not the kind that saves Grace.

  I don’t have time for lunch. Not right now.

  Even though Grace would be there.

  Even though her smile could ease this weight pressing down on me.

  No… I can’t.

  Not when she’s the very reason I have to keep moving.

  I break into a sprint, my feet pounding against the dirt as I rush back to the clinic.

  Dr. Lenny’s still there, hunched over, headphones pressed tight, eyes closed, searching for signals like he promised.

  I run up to him, breath short. “Did you hear anything?”

  He looks at me. Pauses. Then shakes his head.

  “No. Nothing.”

  As expected.

  But it still feels like someone just pressed a finger into an open wound.

  “Thanks, Dr. Lenny. I’ll take it from here.”

  He nods and rises slowly.

  I drop to the ground, snatch the headphones, and plug them in.

  Silence.

  Lenny disappears into the clinic.

  But I’m not giving up.

  I lie down on the cold earth, mud clinging to my clothes.

  Let’s try this again.

  There has to be something.

  Lying there, thoughts claw at me. My mind refuses to be quiet.

  What else can I do?

  People die here.. on their own. No signs of struggle, no foul play. It’s unnatural. Almost surgical.

  We all woke up here the same way...unconscious. When we were here the first time.

  Maybe something was done to us.

  Something beneath the skin. A slow decay, a built-in timer... something that collapses the body from the inside out.

  I press my hand against my chest.

  Could it be here? Somewhere else?

  I remember that corpse I saw. The way it was destroyed completely, uniformly. No one wound worse than another. No point of impact. Just… disintegration.

  Like a bomb that didn’t explode, it erased.

  White said he had a way to save her.

  But I don’t trust him.

  He’s always withholding, always too calm. Too calculated. The kind of calm that hides knives.

  I can’t let Grace out of my sight anymore. If I’m there when it happens... if it happens, I’ll stop it. I’ll throw myself in the way if I have to.

  So many thoughts. Each one cutting deeper than the last.

  Can I even sleep anymore?

  People are starting to turn on me. I hear them whisper. I see it in their eyes. Fear. Resentment.

  The only people I can count on now are Grace, Dr. Lenny… maybe the cook.

  I feel surrounded.

  Threats everywhere.

  No answers.

  I yank out the diode and inspect the receiver again, my fingers trembling.

  Antenna—fine. Coil—fine. Grounding—intact. Diode—operational.

  The headphones?

  What if they’re broken?

  I tear them open. The wires are soldered in tight. Speakers look clean.

  Nothing’s wrong.

  Then why is there no sound?

  Every second I waste here, Grace slips closer to death.

  If this isn’t man-made… if it’s something bigger than me…

  Then maybe I’ve already lost.

  Tears blur my vision.

  Am I wrong again?

  I stare up at the sky.

  “You like this, don’t you?” I whisper. “You like watching me fail. Watching me break.”

  Tears fall.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  Four.

  They land like tiny pearls, resting gently on the ground.

  But they don’t sink.

  I blink, confused.

  Reach down. Touch the dirt.

  It’s hard. Unnatural.

  Rock?

  I brush the surface. Beneath the thin layer of mud, more stones.

  There are rocks under here...

  My breath catches.

  Rocks under the mud?

  Wait...

  No.

  It’s all rock.

  Everything’s underground....

  The signals might’ve been shut off on the surface.

  But what if something’s still running beneath?

  What if there’s a base, hidden underground,full of sick people watching us, controlling everything?

  To control this place, they'd need machines. Massive ones.

  And machines don’t just give off radio waves.

  They give off electromagnetic fields.

  The kind I can’t detect with earphones.

  The kind I have nothing here to sense.

  Wait.

  The watch.

  The one the cook gave me.

  I snatch it up, hands trembling. Flip it over. Quartz. Even if it’s dead, there’s still a coil inside.

  My heart hammers.

  I grab a nearby stone and smash it open.

  Metal cracks. A shard slices my skin. Blood spills across my fingers.

  But I don’t care.

  I can’t care.

  There it is. The coil.

  Quartz watches can detect EM waves, ones headphones can’t.

  I rip the headphones off the receiver. Grab the diode. Connect the wire to the exposed coil.

  Here goes nothing.

  I press the diode against the coil...

  Click.

  A tiny jolt. Barely there. But it was there.

  My chest seizes.

  “Dr. Lenny!” I scream, voice cracking.

  He rushes out, alarmed.

  “I got a signal!” I shout, face streaked with tears. “I swear, I felt it. Right here.”

  I press the diode again.

  But this time...

  Nothing.

  Again. Still nothing.

  My hands start to shake. My heart pounds. “No. No, no, no, please.”

  I shift the diode, try every part of the coil. Nothing. Silence.

  I know I saw it. I know it moved.

  I press harder. My blood smears across the metal.

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this…”

  Dr. Lenny grabs me by the shoulders.

  “Black! What are you doing?!”

  “There was a click!” I shout. “A twitch! There are machines down there. I felt it!”

  He kneels, takes the shattered watch, looks at it closely and gives it a shake.

  The tiny hand inside flickers. Just once.

  My breath catches.

  “No, no no.. that’s not it! That’s not what I saw! That twitch happened after I connected the coil. This is real, Dr. Lenny! Please.. we have to dig. This is how we save Grace. This is it!”

  I break.

  Tears burst out of me. My voice cracks. I fall to my knees, trembling.

  And then

  He hugs me.

  A tight, silent hug.

  I don’t know if it’s meant to comfort me. It just makes me cry harder.

  It’s been so long since anyone’s held me like this.

  So long since I let myself fall apart.

  When the tears run dry, when there’s no more blood to give, he finally pulls back.

  “Everyone’s angry with you,” he says quietly. “You’re stirring things up. They’re looking for someone to blame, and you’re giving them a reason.”

  He pauses. “Don’t give them one.”

  I stare at him, jaw clenched. “You don’t get it.”

  “This place, it’s not real. The sky. The sand. The red crack above us, it’s all a construct. It’s being controlled from underground.”

  I gesture wildly to the broken watch.

  “I saw the coil move the moment I wired it. It twitched. I swear to you, it twitched.”

  He studies me.

  “Did it?” he asks, softly.

  I freeze.

  “Then why doesn’t it twitch now?”

  “Because they shut it off!” I shout. “They saw me find it. They’re watching us!”

  He doesn’t move. Just stares.

  And I know, something I said cracked the wrong place in his mind.

  After a beat, he nods toward the sky. “Then explain this.”

  Above us, the red crack pulses, stronger now, like it’s alive.

  The wind still blows against our skin.

  The sun still creeps across the sky, unbroken.

  “If someone built this place,” he says, voice low, “and the machines run it…”

  He lifts the broken watch.

  “Then why does everything still work… even after they knew you found them?”

  He lets the silence stretch.

  “Shouldn’t something... anything....have changed?”