Liam’s mind raced. What was a government facility doing buried inside a mountain in the middle of nowhere?
He followed the tunnel until it opened up into a bunkhouse. Rusted metal bed frames lined the walls, thin mattresses moldering on top of them. Tin cans of rations were scattered on the floor.
But it was the back of the room that drew his attention. A section of the wall looked different. He pressed his hand against a panel, and to his shock, a hidden door slid open, revealing a spiral staircase going down.
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The atmosphere downstairs was heavy with panic. Chairs were overturned. Papers were scattered everywhere, some half-burnt in metal bins. It looked like the people here had left in a terrified hurry.
Under a pile of debris, Liam found a leather-bound journal. The cover was cracked, but the name was legible: Dr. Harold Keane.
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