The mountain air bit into their skin like tiny razors. Even after the long hike, sweat turned icy under their clothes. They had left the trader camp behind two days ago. Since then, it had been endless climbing—quiet, steep, and filled with silence so loud it pressed on their ears.
Li Wei walked first, head slightly tilted like always—listening. Rui followed, still barefoot despite the jagged rock. Her hands were smudged with dirt, her eyes wide but quiet. She hadn't spoken since last night's dream. Not a word. Just that same humming. Chen brought up the rear, carrying a bag twice his size, muttering jokes under his breath. Not for laughs anymore, but because silence was worse.
"You know what I miss?" Chen said as they turned around a mossy bend. "Street food. Greasy noodles, dripping down your chin. Not dried rat strips and moss tea. Remember tea? Like real tea?"
No answer.
He sighed. "Right. Humor's dead. Long live gloom."
Then they saw it.
Built into the rock face like a wound was a half-rusted steel door, the paint peeled off like old skin. A logo barely visible above it read: "Hollow Ridge Sector—Z Division", etched in faded red.
Li Wei approached slowly, placing his palm on the cold metal. "This was real," he muttered. "Not a myth."
"Are you sure it's not just another empty shell?" Chen asked. "We've walked into a dozen like this. Ghost bunkers. This could just be—"
The door hissed.
They froze.
It wasn't just the sound—it was the sudden warmth. A low hum began from within. Lights flickered to life around the entrance, cold white tubes illuminating the frost-kissed ground.
"No power source visible," Li Wei whispered. "It's running off something internal."
"Or someone's still home," Chen added, gripping his blade.
They exchanged glances. Rui moved first.
The air was filtered and warm. Too warm. Unnatural. As they entered the corridor, long-forgotten technology whirred to life: security cameras turned in their direction, automated lights tracked their movement, and the floor vibrated with faint energy beneath their boots.
Then the voice came.
"Welcome back, Director Wei. Authentication… failed. Unauthorized presence detected. Initiating low-level observation mode."
Chen blinked. "Wait—Director who?"
Li Wei's expression didn't change. "Ignore it. It's running on old data."
They stepped into what looked like a lobby. Desks bolted to the floor, long stripped of computers. Cracks in the walls. But everything was… too intact. Like someone had been trying to keep it clean.
"Echoes," Li Wei muttered. "This place has been listening for years. I think… I think it never really shut down."
In the corner, a display screen buzzed to life with flickering static. A low, feminine voice—mechanical and tired—spoke:
"This facility was meant to end the virus. Instead, it began something far worse."
Rui tilted her head. "Who's she?"
"Maybe not a who," Li Wei said. "An Echo. A remnant of whoever once was."
Suddenly, sirens flickered red. The voice returned, colder:
"Mutation readings detected in the lower lab. Subject containment breach logged. Countdown to system lockdown initiated: 8 hours."
Chen laughed nervously. "Okay, great. What's a road trip without some locked doors and flesh-eating science experiments?"
Li Wei ignored him, focused on a dusty console behind the reception desk. He reached into the wiring, pulling a half-melted cable, splicing two ends together with surgical precision. Screens lit up—blueprints, logs, fragmented files.
"Look at this," he said.
Rui peered over his shoulder.
Project Ghost Batch
Subject 0107: Active
Status: Experimental Control Lost
A tiny icon glowed red beneath it—MATCH FOUND.
The face on the screen was unmistakable.
Rui.
Chen stepped back. "Hold on. Is that real?"
Li Wei didn't answer. He turned to Rui. "You knew."
She nodded slowly, voice barely a whisper. "But I didn't remember until now. Not everything. Just… pain. Cold. And fire."
The screen flickered again—showing corrupted footage: children in restraints, needles, a scientist arguing with a soldier. Then black.
Hours Later
The trio found a temporary room to rest. Rui curled on the cot, shaking.
Chen sat cross-legged on the ground. "So let me get this straight," he said. "You're a weapon. A literal tiny death machine."
"I'm not," Rui said, quietly. "Not anymore."
Chen grinned. "Good. Because we already have one brooding killer on this team, and I like balance."
Li Wei didn't react. He was staring at the monitor in the corner, where camera feeds showed something large moving through the lower levels.
Something that had once been human.
It moved with purpose. A mass of skin, steel, and screams. Dozens of eyes—some dead, some alive—opened and blinked. It dragged a chain of bodies behind it, some twitching.
It stopped before a sealed door.
Inside the door: the cryo-vaults.
Inside the vaults: the rest of the Ghost Batch.
Li Wei closed the terminal.
"We need to leave," he said.
Rui stood. "They'll follow."
Chen shrugged. "Then we lead them somewhere they can die ugly."
"Not enough," Li Wei said. "The world's cracking open again, and we're standing on one of the fault lines. If we don't stop what's down there… more will come."
"Then we crack it first," Chen replied.
Rui held up a rusted tag she'd found earlier. On it, a name: Dr. J. Lang.
"I remember this," she whispered. "He told me I wasn't human."