The jet did not land. It was seized by the earth. The auxiliary runway on Jeju was a brutal thing, concrete ripped up and poured back down, and the wheels connected with a sickening, violent CRACK that shot up Julian's spine. He couldn't breathe. The lights inside flashed and then came back on, shining really brightly in the dark cabin. The brakes gave this sound that was instantly killed up by the noise outside, leaving his ears ringing in the sudden quiet. The plane's engines stopped.
Cold. It hit instantly, a heavy, crushing cold. The AC was gone, replaced by the wet, raw chill of the sea and the mountain. When the main door hissed open, it wasn't saying, "Come on out." It was a failure of the seal. A vertical column of thick, salt-laced wind punched into the cabin, carrying the unmistakable scent of frozen earth and ancient pine.
Eliza was already moving, an almost animalistic shift of mass. She ignored the steps, dropping hard onto the tarmac, a soundless thud that communicated a lifetime of desperation. She never looked back. That lack of eye contact was the only thing Julian could still rely on.
On the blacktop, three men waited. Not a greeting. A transfer. They were all bundled in indistinguishable black, their silhouettes made enormous by the heavy, tactical parkas. The tallest guy held a flashlight like a heavy bat. Just one spike of light, blinding. It wasn't for seeing. It was to throw them off, wipe their minds. The two others were already handling the bag, the small, heavy sack holding the drive. They were professionals. They moved the bag like it was a live grenade: quick, precise, no unnecessary contact.
"They know what it is?" Julian managed. The words scraped. He needed a glass of water. A full pitcher.
"They know the price of failure," Eliza said, voice a low, rough rumble. She pulled him down the steps. The ground was slippery… there were pieces of ice on the floor. The black SUV was running. Engine noise was just a heavy, steady thrumming, absorbed by the damp air. It was a containment unit. A cage on wheels.
They were shoved into the back bench. The large man got behind the wheel. The other two flanked them, one in the passenger seat, the second in a jump seat facing backward, boxing them in. Julian counted the inches between his knee and the guard's knee. Twelve. Thirteen. Not enough.
The air in the cabin was oppressive. Too warm. The air was too hot. It smelled like old smoke, gun oil, and bad air freshener. That smell made Julian's stomach turn over.
He tried to look at something simple. The guard right in front had a tiny, old silver skull stitched on his coat. It didn't matter. It meant nothing. But Julian couldn't stop looking at it.
The SUV jumped forward. No gentle acceleration. It bit into the tarmac, tires spitting small stones, and immediately started climbing. The road twisted. It kept curving, an endless loop cut right into the mountain side. Julian pressed his face to the dark window. Nothing out there. Just the dizzying, sickening flash of the headlights, wet rocks and thick bushes. He leaned in close to Eliza. He had to force the words out. He didn't dare say Sterling. "The coordinates. Did he….did he give them to you, or…?"
Eliza's entire posture was a refusal to answer. Her spine was rigid. She watched the back of the driver's hood, her eyes narrowed to impossible slits. "We followed the path he laid out," she whispered, her voice dangerously thin. "He doesn't get to control the end of it. We are here. He is not."
A partial truth. Julian recognized the lie in the confidence of her tone. She was trying to fool herself more than him. Sterling was not a man who anticipated their next move; he made them do it. The GPS location had appeared in the Link not as a helpful map, but as a spike of pure, debilitating neural pain hours ago. It was a signature. A message: I know exactly where you're going to be.
Julian felt a bitter, dry taste at the back of his mouth. They had walked into a waiting room. They hadn't escaped; they were merely following the itinerary.
He glanced at the guard in the jump seat again. Unmoving. Julian wanted the man to scratch his nose, shift his weight, cough. Anything that would make him human, less like a poorly programmed robot. Julian's reflection stared back, distorted by the subtle curve of the eyewear. He looked old.
The pavement gave way with a heavy, jarring jolt. The SUV dropped two full feet. The sound changed fast. The clear splash of the tires on the road was gone. Now it was just a wet, heavy churn of mud and soaking leaves. The engine strained. Low, grinding effort. The air inside grew heavier, smelling strongly of raw earth and decaying wood.
They were off the grid now. Deep in the mountainside forest. Every bump in the road felt like a punch to Julian's tired body. His eye hurt very bad. He stared at a bead of water on the glass instead. It moved crazy, going wherever it wanted. Like their flight.
Eliza shifted. Julian watched her. Her hand was now resting on the drive bag, the fingers flexing—not holding, not protecting, but tapping. A chaotic, irregular rhythm. The pro look she usually wore was gone. Real fear was showing….the worst since they cut the Link. She was scared bad of that drive. Scared of the little box they were sitting in. And scared of what the device might actually do.
"We need water," Julian said quietly, trying to get her attention.
She didn't even hear him. Her eyes were fixed on the driver.
"They won't have food. Or water," Julian pushed, testing the edge of her patience. "If they're just transport, they'll drop us here. We need supplies. Eliza."
She finally turned. Her eyes looked hard. Not from being mad, but from being so, so tired. "The house has supplies. Sterling won't have left us to die of thirst. He needs us functioning. He needs the device intact."
The raw calculation in her voice was chilling. They were items in Sterling's inventory, not people on the run.
The car slowed, the mud track becoming a nearly vertical climb. The angle pressed Julian deep into the warm leather. It was over. The movement ended.The driver finally killed the engine. The resulting silence was total, immediate, and deafening. The silence hit hard. It was a very quiet. You could only hear the high wind and the steady noise of the ocean way down below that you couldn't see.
The driver finally spoke. His voice was low, had a thick accent, and showed zero feeling.. "End of transport. The access is open.
"The guard beside Eliza pulled the door open. A blast of fresh wind and cold mist rushed into the SUV, shoving out the old heat. Julian scrambled out. His feet sank straight down into the soft, deep mud. His dress shoes were ruined. The SUV didn't wait. It made a fast, sharp U-turn, tires spitting mud like it was angry. The headlights cut the darkness one last, blinding time. They showed nothing but a wall of old pine trees and thick, dark bushes. Then it was gone. The noise dissolved into the wilderness as if it had never existed.
They were alone. Marooned.
The structure ahead was barely visible. The building was just a one-floor cabin. It was made of dark worn out wood that had been left out in the weather. It was built right into the side of the hill. It was completely dead. No light. No smoke. No comforting sign of human warmth. It looked like a natural cavity, something the forest had allowed to exist, not a safe house. The cabin looked like a hole the forest made, not a safe place. It looked cold and mean like it didn't care what happened to them.
Eliza grabbed Julian's wrist. Her grip hurt bad. She was shivering. "Get in. Now," she said. "If we check the system, we're safer, so let's hurry."
Julian just stood there. The wind hit him hard. He breathed in the smell of pine and salt. Sterling brought them here. He knew that much. Julian tightened his grip on the heavy bag, feeling the angular edges of the drive against his palm. He looked at the cabin door. It wasn't locked. It was waiting. Julian stepped toward the shadow-draped entrance, walking toward the silence.