Chương 4: Point of No Return

Jonathan's pen moved across the page in the dim morning light of his study. He'd never been good at expressing his feelings. But the words came easier than he'd expected them to, maybe because this felt so final. He wasn't writing with hope or uncertainty. The words poured out. He wrote of all the things that he should have said over the last two years but was too stubborn to be the first to talk.

About how proud he was of David's choice to follow his mother's path and how sorry he was for trying to force him into a life he didn't want. Jonathan signed his name at the bottom of the letter, folded it carefully, and wrote 'David' on the envelope. He placed it on his desk, atop a small stack of papers, where it would be found. His thoughts drifted to the life insurance policy, but he pushed it aside. What needed to be done, needed to be done.

The pre-dawn air was crisp as he loaded his truck full of the gear he'd prepped the night before. He performed a final equipment check before sliding each item into its specific spot on the truck. He was breathing heavily at the end of it and wiped his brow as the rear-driver side door was closed. Just as he was pulling onto I-90 East, the sun began to rise. Seattle traffic was comparatively light at that time of day but still annoying enough to cause impatience.

As he passed a particularly slow driver, he looked hard out his window and raised his hand in question. Jonathan clenched his jaw. He needed to move. He needed to act. Instead, he was stuck in slow-moving traffic. As he approached the Snoqualmie Pass, the traffic thinned. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as memories tried to surface. Marcus's first deployment. The pride in his son following in his footsteps. The way Marcus had stood in his uniform, looking so much like Jonathan had twenty years earlier.

Focus. Plan the approach. The landscape opened up as he crossed into Eastern Washington. Unfortunately, fewer cars meant more time alone with his thoughts. He'd been running on anger and almost no sleep since the notifications officers had arrived at his house. Now that he was forced to sit still, everything he'd been pushing away tried to crowd in. If whatever's in there killed Marcus, it can kill me too.

He drove for another hour before pulling off onto a service road two miles from the reported location, but the valley didn't reveal anything useful from that angle. Jonathan drove further, taking increasingly rough back roads until he found higher ground. He grabbed his binoculars from the bag behind his seat and jumped out of the truck. His hands felt sweaty in a way he hadn't experienced since his first deployment.

Everything felt off like he was putting on an old jacket that just didn't quite fit the same as before. His first observation point showed him little—only distant vehicles and what might be a camp. He marked it on his map and kept moving. It took an effort of will not to immediately rush in, but he knew that if things were rushed, he might not even make it deep enough to find out what really happened—what really killed his son. The second and third vantage points gave him nothing.

On the fourth try, though, he caught a glimpse of something that made his breath catch.

"What the…" He'd seen some blurred pictures and read articles describing what was being called a Rift. Seeing it with his own two eyes was entirely different. He stayed crouched and stared at it for several minutes through the binoculars. Even from the distant hill he was on, the portal seemed so out of place. As if it had been edited in by some sort of software. Its edges crackled with an otherworldly energy that made the air around it waver like heat waves off hot asphalt.

Nothing in nature glowed so brightly with such an abnormal shade of blue. That same light cast strange shadows on the surrounding equipment and personnel, making them look almost ghostly in its glow. Marcus faced this thing. He entered that portal and whatever is in there, took him from me. Jonathan stayed in a crouch and moved back from the vantage point, careful to stay hidden from potential spotters and guards below. He made his way back to his truck and took some time to hide it more thoroughly.

Now that he knew he was in the right place, Jonathan was willing to devote a few more hours on scouting out the camp and their movements. He cut and covered the truck with branches from nearby trees, while it was still obviously a truck, it would fool a passing glance. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. As he moved through the scrubland on foot, his boots crunched on the dry ground.

He remembered the proper way to step quietly, even if his knees protested more than they used to. After an hour of careful movement, he found a position that overlooked the whole operation. The camp was bigger than he'd expected. It had multiple checkpoints and regular patrols around the outer edge. These weren't just local police or weekend warriors. They all moved with a coordinated purpose. Through the binoculars, he counted at least three shifts of personnel.

His original plan of sneaking in on foot died as he studied the layout. There was too much open ground and too much general movement through the camp. While there weren't too many people, there were several dozen moving about like a busy hive. They would spot him before he got close. He considered a few different approaches after that. A night infiltration was always an option, but he was certain that those below would have some sort of sensors or night vision set up.

He could create some kind of diversion and make his move when they were distracted, but it was the sort of plan that worked best with a team. Lastly, he could pose as someone else, either a member of the team or someone dropping something off for the camp, but he quickly marked that as unrealistic. Ultimately, he pinpointed the barriers at the checkpoints to be the largest point of weakness. While it would stop traffic, it wasn't tight or sealed off like an actual government facility would be.

Also, they had set up their barriers, assuming that people would come up the main road. The Western approach had fewer guards, probably because the terrain made it seem less viable. Been a while since I've done anything this stupid without a team to back me up. He spent another hour watching the guard changes, trying to convince himself that he hadn't already decided to ram through the barricade. The longer he watched, the clearer his plan became, though. Strike first, strike hard.

If he had the element of surprise and struck first, he had a real chance at getting through to the portal. Speed and surprise were his only real options. He knew his truck might not survive, but it didn't really need to. I might not survive. When he finished his recon, the sun was beginning to set. He checked his gear one final time and reorganized his bags for quick access. He opened his ruck and put the rifle horizontally across it before synching the top flap down so that it held the M4 in place.

He tapped the trusty leather sheath, strapped to the side of the bag before placing the pack on the passenger seat. Last, he holstered the pistol on his hip. Whatever killed Marcus is through that portal. That's all that matters. He waited until the guards changed shifts and started the engine. The truck moved quietly down the service road, lights off. When he reached the final turn, he didn't hesitate. The engine roared to life as he floored the accelerator.

At fifty yards out, the guards spotted him, but it was far too late. He smashed his truck through the barrier at 60 miles per hour, metal scraping and screaming against metal. The initial barrier gave way with a shriek of twisting metal. The hollowed metallic bar was there as a deterrent rather than a true blockade. Past that, two military Humvees blocked the inner road, but their spacing left just enough room for him to squeeze his truck behind the leftmost vehicle.

Guards scattered as he accelerated further, their weapons raised but hesitating to fire with their own vehicles and personnel so close. A young soldier dove out of his path, rolling into a drainage ditch. The first shots cracked through the air, several causing his windshield to star with impact points. He ducked his head and hunched his shoulders as the truck bounced. The engine protested but held as he pushed it harder and kept driving. More rounds peppered the side of his truck.

The rear window exploded inward, showering the cab with safety glass. A sharp pain bloomed in his left shoulder, and he saw a grazing wound when he looked down. His jacket was torn and red began to leak into his clothes. He swerved around their vehicles, fighting the wheel as his front driver's side tire blew out with a pop. The truck lurched violently to the left. Jonathan wrestled with the steering wheel, muscle memory from combat driving courses kicking in.

The rim scraped and sparked against the ground, but he kept going. The truck engine screamed in protest as he pushed it harder, the whole frame shuddering. Just need to make it a little further. He could hear more shots behind him, but they were falling behind. He'd chosen his approach well, and Jonathan knew it would take them several minutes to organize any kind of pursuit. The truck was damaged but still running, if barely.

The blown tire made the truck pull hard to the left, requiring constant correction to keep it going straight. It only took him another few seconds of speeding and following the service road deeper into the camp to reach the glowing blue portal. Several people were gathered around it, though none seemed to be the military type. The blue glow filled up his windshield and as he looked at it, the light seemed to move in an unnatural way. He slammed the brakes and skid to a halt fifteen meters from the tear in space.

He grabbed his pack and threw it over a shoulder before stepping out and drawing his pistol. Researchers from around the Rift yelled and raised their hands, calling for help and demanding information from Jonathan. He kept the pistol at a high ready and moved closer, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. His head swiveled back and forth as he took in as much information as possible. Several people in white lab coats emerged from a tent.

They shouted at the workers who were abandoning tablets and monitoring equipment in their haste to get away from Jonathan. One woman stood her ground, shouting into a radio while gesturing toward the tent. He ignored her and caught a glimpse of another researcher trying to save what looked like sensor equipment. The man was frantically disconnecting cables from tripods arranged in a semicircle around the portal. Moving forward with bent legs, he closed the distance to the portal.

When it was clear that no one present would try to stop him, he looked up at the giant anomaly. His pistol felt familiar in his hand, and he felt his heart slamming into his chest. This is for you, son. Jonathan walked forward and into the light, feeling his rucksack and clothes lose most of their weight. His stomach lightened, and it felt like he was reaching the top of a roller coaster peak at speed. He didn't look back as the blue light swallowed him whole.