Chapter 2 #2
Opposite that is a bank of monitors mounted into the wall and wired into our camera feeds, drone footage, and whatever else we’re currently analyzing. Right now, they flicker with recorded darkness and empty forest.
There's a small kitchenette in the back that only ever sees any action from me. Sleeping quarters are in the middle. The space is tight but functional. We have everything we need: bunks, storage, and just enough privacy to keep from losing our minds completely.
I drop my pack onto the bench, running a hand through my hair.
“Alright,” I say, heading straight to the monitors. “Let’s pull footage, cross-check the audio, and see if anything slipped.”
Jax is already there, plugging in his camera. “Way ahead of you.”
Maya slips in last, tablet in hand, already pulling up our route logs. “I flagged a few timestamps where environmental noise dropped more than expected. Could be something.”
“Or nothing,” Taylor says, stretching her arms over her head while sitting in the driver’s seat.
“Or data,” I counter, already scrubbing through a thermal clip.
We fall into this part easily—the breakdown and analysis where we all try to turn a night of nothing into something we can use.
Minutes pass as we all review footage, notes, scans, and maps.
Still nothing.
No anomalous heat signatures. No audio spikes that don’t have a clear, rational explanation. No unchecked areas. No movement that holds up to scrutiny.
Just trees.
Wind.
Us.
Jax leans back first, exhaling. “Yeah… I got nothing.”
Taylor groans. “We were so close, though. I swear the energy was different.”
“Energy is not a measurable metric,” I say, even though part of me knows exactly what she means.
Maya watches me instead of the screens. “Miles.”
I don’t look at her. “I’m still going.”
“You’ve reviewed that clip six times.”
“Seven,” Jax corrects. I don’t look away from the screen.
“Miles,” she repeats, softer now.
I stop.
Because I know that tone. The let it go voice.
I lean back in defeat, dragging a hand over my face. “Yeah. Okay. It’s a bust.”
No one says anything.
No one has to.
Taylor lets out a breath, flopping fully onto the seat. “Hate that for us.”
“Ditto, girl,” Jax says.
“So…” Taylor sighs. “What next?”
I nod, staring at the paused frame on the monitor. “We log it. We move.” We’ve been in Ohio too long, following a bunch of random sightings that blew up on social media. There’s too much search activity here, and the other crews are all stepping on each other’s toes.
“Speaking of moving,” Maya says, closing out her route logs. “We need to talk about next steps.”
I turn toward her. “I already have one.”
She lifts a brow. “Of course you do. Four Corners?”
“You got it,” I say, pulling up a map. “Three separate reports on Reddit in the last two weeks. Similar height estimates, similar vocal patterns, similar environmental disruption.”
Taylor sits up immediately. “I know we were talking about it, but do you think it’s the one?”
“I think it’s a pattern,” I say. “And I want to follow it.”
Jax leans forward, interested. “Terrain?”
“Mixed. Desert, canyon, some forest pockets. Remote enough to avoid heavy traffic.”
“Good for drones,” he says, already thinking ahead.
Maya nods slowly. “Logistically, it’s doable. We’d need to restock, reroute—”
My phone buzzes on the counter.
I glance down and see it’s my brother, Owen.
He’s been hard to reach for the last year or so, on base at Area 51. Owen can’t really talk much, let alone tell us anything about what he’s working on. Since our parents died, it’s just us—and I’d deny it, but I miss him.
Maya sees it and elbows me. “Take it. We should all check in with him.”
I nod, hesitating for half a second before answering.
Owen’s the grumpy older brother to not just me, but to all of us.
He was on the crew for a while doing investigative work, better known as hacking.
His work on extraterrestrial activity eventually caught the Air Force's attention, and he left. He’s brilliant but has a bit of a penchant for sticking it to the man.
How a man who's been arrested multiple times got a job with the government, I have no idea.
“Hey, you’re on speaker,” I say.
There’s a beat of static, then his voice cuts through—flat, grounded, exactly what I expect. “You guys still playing in the woods?”
Taylor grins. “We prefer the term ‘field research.’”
“Pretty sure you prefer the term vibes, Tay,” he shoots back. “So, did you find anything?”
I pause.
“No,” I admit.
“Shocking,” he deadpans.
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “It was one site.”
“It’s always ‘one site,’” he replies. “Then another. Then another.”
“And eventually,” I say, sharper now, “we get something.”
There’s a beat of silence on the line.
“You still believe that?” he asks.
The question hits harder than it should.
“Yeah,” I say, quieter this time. “I do.”
Another pause.
Then: “Good.”
I blink. “Good?”
“Yeah,” Owen says. “Someone’s gotta.”
Taylor shoots me a look like What does that mean? and I shrug.
“What’s your situation?” I ask. “Same cases?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Same classified nonsense. Same desert. Different day.”
I chuckle at his dismissal of such a monumental opportunity. People would kill for his job. “Owen, Area 51 isn’t just a desert; it’s a highly controlled—”
“Miles,” he cuts in, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. “It’s sand. And secrets. That’s it.”
Jax snorts.
“You coming back anytime soon?” Taylor asks.
“Depends,” Owen says. “You find your big hairy friend yet?”
“Working on it,” I reply.
“Mm-hmm.” Another pause, and I pick up on his shift in tone.
“I’m going to take this to my bunk,” I say, taking it off speaker. Once I’m out of earshot, I ask, “What’s up?”
“Just… Don’t burn them out.”
I frown. “What?”
“Your team,” he says. “Don’t run them into the ground chasing something you can’t prove. You’ve got other cases. You’re in Ohio, right? I heard of a crazy Moth Man sighting near Columbus recently. We also haven’t checked in on Frogman in a minute. Just don’t let Bigfoot be the hill to die on.”
My chest tightens.
“We’re not—”
“I’m just saying,” he cuts in. “Know when to pivot.”
I glance toward the front of the RV where the crew is crowded around a map. Owen knows what this one means to me, and how I don’t want to let it go. Not when we’re nearing the twentieth anniversary of my parents’ deaths.
“I know what I’m doing,” I say.
“Never said you didn’t,” Owen replies. “Just said don’t forget they’re following you, not the thing.”
The line crackles.
“Gotta go,” he adds. “Try not to get eaten.”
“You first,” I smile, thinking of him surrounded by men in black suits and sunglasses.
The call drops.
Silence settles around me for a second before another wave of hushed, speculative chatter drifts through the RV. I rejoin the group, sitting to look at the map.
Taylor exhales, sitting upside down on the bench, legs thrown over the backrest like gravity is optional. “He’s still Owen.”
“He’s pragmatic,” Maya says.
“He’s annoying,” Jax adds.
I don’t say anything, his words echoing in my head.
Don’t burn them out.
Don’t forget they’re following you, not the thing.
I shake it off, turning back to the map.
“Well, I think we should move,” I say, with more certainty than I feel. “Four Corners. New terrain. Something different.”
Taylor grins. “Knew you were gonna say that.”
Jax nods. “I’m in.”
Maya studies me for a second longer, like she’s deciding whether to push. She knows Four Corners means something to me. She’s heard the stories of Owen and me and our parents running around Utah, Arizona, Colorado, and New Mexico, looking for something more.
Then Maya nods. “Alright. I’ll start logistics. But before we break for the night… We need to talk about something.”
“Is it something that can wait until we hit the road in the morning?”
“It can’t,” she says.
That gets my attention.
I lean forward, turning toward her. “Okay. That tone is concerning.”
Jax glances up. “Yeah, that was a ‘we’re about to pivot the entire operation’ tone.”
Taylor sits upright. “Oh, I love that.”
“I don’t,” I say.
Maya closes her laptop halfway, like she’s physically containing the information. “I secured us a media opportunity.”
There’s a beat where they all stare at me.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
She doesn’t even blink. “Okay, hear me out. It’s a show, and the host would come and follow us.”
A million ways a media personality could make us look dumb flash through my mind. I can’t let that happen to this team.
“Sorry, Maya,” I reply, “but I don’t think so.”
Jax leans back, grinning. “Okay, but now I really want to know what it is.”
Taylor nods enthusiastically. “Same. I’m intrigued.”
“Maya,” I say, removing my glasses to run a hand down my face. “We’ve talked about this. We are not turning this into content for people to consume like it’s a joke. We’re not those people.”
“It already is content,” she says. “You just wouldn’t control how it’s seen.”
“That’s exactly my point. I don’t want any of us looking stupid or making fun of this.”
“No,” she counters. “Your point is that you don’t trust anyone else to represent it the way you would.”
“I don’t,” I shrug without hesitation. She’s right.
Jax lets out a low whistle. “Well. That was honest.”
Maya holds my gaze. “It’s not about trust. It’s about reach. It’s about support.”
“We don’t need reach,” I argue. “We just need results.”
“And how do you plan to support this long enough to get those results?” she asks.
“We’ve been… sustaining it.” I almost laugh, knowing I’m full of shit.
“Barely,” she says with a sad smile. We both hate talking about finances, but we know we won't be able to smile about our situation much longer. It kills me that she’s right on this one.
But that’s why they say to surround yourself with people smarter than you.
I just want to make sure we’re not setting ourselves up to be a joke.
Taylor shifts, glancing between us. “Okay, are we talking like… YouTube documentary? Netflix? Because if it’s Netflix, I vote yes.”
“It’s not Netflix,” Maya says.
“Lame,” Taylor mutters.