dirt road. Zoë slowly pulls the Jeep up to the edge of the building. It suddenly becomes apparent that there are no entry doors on the ground level. There lies before us only one large white garage door. “How do we get in?” she asks, knowing full well that I don’t have the answer.
As if it heard the question, the large garage door begins to slide upward, retracting into the building. A green light above the door blinks. A tall, muscular man with inky black hair walks out from the garage and toward us. He is wearing a one-piece gray bodysuit adorned with fluorescent yellow stripes that reach from neck to wrist and underarm to ankle. The bottoms of his pant legs are tucked into the top of heavy black boots. An identically bright yellow logo is embroidered on the left side of his chest.
Mirrored aviator sunglasses cover his eyes. A black belt swoops across his chest at an angle. As he approaches Zoë’s window, it becomes evident that the belt is the strap of a large firearm. She lowers the window at his hand gesture. “Pull your car into the garage. Level two, space number six.”
Zoë slowly drives forward. The ground sharply dips down once we are through the door and it is clear we are headed underground. “Okay, that was creepy. He didn’t even ask who we are.”
The parking spaces are all full with rugged all-terrain vehicles.
We make a loop while descending. ‘Level 2’ is painted on the cement overhead in large, white block letters. Only one parking space appears open from our vantage point. “That’s probably it up there,” I offer, pointing at it.
A large, white number six is stenciled on the ground at its entrance. Zoë pulls the Jeep in, puts it in park and shuts off the engine. Two more men in the same gray suits walk up to the Jeep and open our doors. “Miss Owens. Miss Carver. We’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
After a quick look at each other, we cautiously step out of the Jeep. I swing my backpack over my shoulder and one of the men reaches for it. “I’ll carry that for you, Miss Owens.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll hang on to it,” I snap back, adding a smile at the end so as not to seem quite as defensive.
He nods once consenting to my awkward demand. “Right this way then, ladies.”
We walk past several more parked vehicles toward a large metal door situated in the corner. ‘Level 2 Security Clearance Mandatory’ is stenciled on the door in bold black letters. “I trust you were able to find us without issue?” the man leading us toward the door asks.
“It was a little bit of a rough climb, but we managed to make it in one piece,” Zoë answers.
When we reach the door he punches a numerical code into the keypad. A computer screen lights up and a robotic woman’s voice fills the air. “Ocular validation required.”
The guard leans forward, pressing his face inside of a dark void in the wall. Small green laser beams scan his eyes. The machine gives off a gentle beep as a green light above the door brightly bursts into action. The door noisily unlocks itself and slides open. The man steps inside and makes way for us to pass. “First door on your left,” he announces before taking post at the door we just entered.
A long, silent hallway sits in front of us. Bright fluorescent lights illuminate the pristine white walls and floor. We stand out to a huge degree. Our street clothing makes a bold statement: we are outsiders. The door closes behind us and the lock loudly bolts, echoing through the sterile hallway, startling us. We turn around to see that the security guard has remained just inside the door, leaving us to walk to the room alone.
It only takes a few seconds before we reach it and a few more seconds before Zoë bravely opens the door. Inside is what appears to be a bedroom. The walls are painted a pale warm gray. There are two twin beds, each covered with stark white bedding. A solitary nightstand lies between them holding a silver lamp and a digital clock.
As we walk further into the room, we see that it is more like a small hotel suite. There is a seating area off to the side with two armchairs, a small couch, a coffee table, and a television. A desk, complete with a computer, takes