Page 96 of Strays
Then we head to admin to sign the final paperwork: equipment return confirmation and a confidentiality clause covering anything we saw while working in High-Risk.
Takes less than an hour, then we’re out the door, heading for whatever comes next.
We get in the truck, and Great Sky blurs past the window. As soon as we cross the west bridge, the streets stretch wider, the traffic thins, and the road starts to climb.
The forest creeps in slowly. First, there were a few trees dotting the roadside. Then, thick woods closed in. Within ten minutes, the city’s completely behind us. Just pines and oaks now, towering high on either side, tangled with fresh vines and bright undergrowth.
Jay drives with both hands on the wheel. Shane sits upright in the passenger seat, alert. I keep my eyes on the treeline.
The entrance to Stone Ridge State Park is a wide metal gate cut into the trees, flanked by short stone walls that look like they’ve been there a hundred years. A narrow booth sits to the side, but it’s empty. This isn’t the real checkpoint.
Jay turns onto the access road, a narrow two-lane strip of cracked asphalt that winds uphill fast, the forest pressing tight on both sides. We follow it for another five minutes before it opens into a clearing just big enough for a vehicle turnaround, bordered by a high steel fence topped with coils of razor wire. The gate is solid reinforced metal, matte gray and unmarked.
Jay parks in front of it. I can’t see any surveillance gear, but I know it’s here. No way this place goes unwatched. Since we don’t know what else to do, we wait. After a few minutes, Shane opens his door and rolls out.
“Stretching my legs,” he says, and starts pacing.
Jay and I climb out too, leaning against the side of the truck as Shane paces in front of us.
“Never thought I’d care about leaving a fucking PD,” Jay blurts.
“It’s just that one was a fucking good PD,” Shane replies.
Yeah, sometimes we miss the weirdest things. I glance up at the blue sky, open above the trees.
“You guys remember that post-grad who monitored us when we were, like,fifteen? Georgia something?” I ask them.
Jay chuckles. “The one who used to sneak us candy bars behind the med team’s backs? I remember Shane cried when she finished her doctorate.”
Shane shoots him a look. “That’s what you remember? Candy bars? She was a nice lady. She hugged me after every one of those stupid tests with the electric shocks.”
I laugh. “You remember she was the one controlling the shocks, right?”
Shane snorts. “Yeah, but she could’ve just given the shocks without the hugs and candy bars.”
We’re all smiling when I hear a low rumble behind the gate. I catch it out of the edge of my hearing. It’s still a few minutes out. Big engine. Heavy tires grinding over uneven asphalt. Steady. Heavy. Moving with that slow, deliberate force you usually hear in a convoy. No electrical buzz. No light bar hum. No siren gear whine.
I piece it together: an unmarked SUV. Government issue. Armored.
Shane and Jay’s smiles fade, so I know they hear it too.
The sound draws closer and louder until it stops just on the other side of the gate. I hear vehicle doors open, and a moment later, the gate moves, sliding open to reveal a pack in tactical gear standing beside the black SUV.
At first glance, the vehicle looks like a Bronco, but bigger. Stretched and raised. Not a model you’d find on any lot.
Shane squints. “Is that a Bronco?”
Jay tilts his head. “Sort of. Looks like one, but on steroids.”
I’d never really thought about it before, but now it feels obvious: there isn’t a single car on the market designed to hold a Tier-One pack. Human companies make things like nests and aegis-size chairs, but no one’s redesigning a vehicle for us. So this was retrofitted. Modified as a way to cram Tier Ones aegis into human-sized machines.
The aegis are fully geared out: black vests, boots, radios clipped to their shoulders, sidearms holstered at their hips. One of them carries a tablet. We can tell right away they’re Tier-One, all of them over seven feet tall, massive builds, serious presence.
The aegis with the tablet steps forward. “Identification.”
We hand over our IDs. He scans them one by one with a handheld reader, then looks at us. “You’re cleared for entry. We’ll escort you to the garrison. Follow our vehicle. Stay close.”
Jay gets back in the truck, and we follow.
