Chapter 9: Signal

  The tunnel bent left, then sloped downward again, sharper this time. The air grew colder, thinner. Their breaths misted now, barely visible in the flashlight’s weak glow. A faint vibration pulsed beneath their boots.

  The next junction splits into three paths. The central tunnel had collapsed entirely, concrete and rebar tangled into an impassable wall. To the left, a heavy door with the faded stencil “Evac Route C – Maintenance Yard Access.” To the right, an open hallway vanished into deeper dark.

  Emilia turned toward the labeled door. “This is it.”

  Maria tested the handle. Locked. She tried the keyring. The first one didn’t fit, the second stuck, and the third turned with a soft, satisfying click.

  Before she opened it, Maria hesitated. Her hand hovered on the latch. “Do you feel that?” she asked quietly.

  Emilia tilted her head and then nodded.

  The vibration again. Subtle, but constant. Like something big was moving far away. Not close. But not far. Maria opened the door slowly. The hinges creaked, loud in the silence. She swept the beam ahead.

  The tunnel beyond was different. Wider. Reinforced with steel ribs. Red paint flaked from the walls in warning stripes. Emergency signage lined the corridor, most of it unreadable now. But one symbol stood out clearly and unmistakably: A lightning bolt inside a triangle, a high-voltage zone.

  Maria frowned. “This was meant for maintenance trams, maybe?”

  “Or fuel trucks,” Emilia murmured, pointing at a faded map etched onto the wall. The maintenance yard wasn’t far. Maybe half a kilometer, if they could trust the scale. But between here and there was a control gate and a fueling depot.

  “Let’s go,” Emilia added.

  As they passed under a collapsed section of ductwork, Emilia slowed and pointed her flashlight upward. The beam shone on a nest made of twisted wires and insulation. Something had been living here. Recently. A cracked eggshell lay half-hidden in the debris.

  Neither of them wanted to guess what kind of creature hatched from it. Then the tunnel shook. A sudden, distant thud. Like something heavy falling. Or landing.

  Maria stopped, heart hammering.

  “Feel that??” Emilia asked, her voice quivering.

  Maria nodded once. “Run.” She hissed.

  They sprinted. Boots slapped on wet concrete. Their flashlight beams jumped and swung wildly over steel walls and warning signs. The sound came again, closer now. Something was scraping the walls or maybe the floor. It wasn’t chasing them. It sounded slow, as if the creature were on a stroll.

  They reached the gate. A chain-link barrier stretched from floor to ceiling. Behind it was the depot. A wide open space, probably for supply trucks, and beyond that, a faint beam of sunlight slanting down from an access hatch.

  Maria grabbed the lock. Jammed a key in. It didn’t turn.

  Behind them, the scraping grew louder. She fumbled for the next key. She stuck it in, tried it…nothing.

  Emilia felt tears in her eyes. Her heart was racing, her body was vibrating with terror. She looked back. A pair of eyes in the dark looked back. The eyes were low and watching with an alien intensity.

  “Fuck, Fuck, fuck, third key!” Maria gasped. Her hands were trembling. She didn’t see the pair of eyes behind them, but her soul was screaming. Something was there, and her blood was roaring in her ears like never before. She inserted the key…and it turned!

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  The lock fell away. They shoved the gate open, metal rattling. They ran and didn’t stop. Never looked back and didn’t close the gate.

  They ran into the depot, toward the light.

  Toward the yard and whatever hope remained.

  The depot spilled out into a cracked concrete lot, half-swallowed by jungle. Vines hung from rusted scaffolding. Crates marked with the Ingen logo were scattered across the ground, some shattered open, others intact but streaked with mildew and rot. The access hatch overhead, a maintenance lift maybe, hung ajar, sunlight beaming through in pale gold slants.

  Maria bent over, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. Her lungs burned, her hands were shaking, and the roar of blood in her ears deafened her. Emilia leaned against a rusted railing, eyes still wide, scanning the tunnel entrance.

  Nothing followed…yet.

  A moment passed. Then another. Silence broken only by their labored breathing.

  “Did you see it?” Maria asked between breaths.

  Emilia didn’t answer right away. She was shaking. “Eyes…just...eyes.”

  Maria swallowed, wiped her forehead with a dirty sleeve. “Let’s go, hurry.”

  They moved again, slower now. The adrenaline was now running its course. Both women could feel the weight of their eventual crash-out. But neither had the option to stop. Despite how heavy their limbs were, they pushed forward. The maintenance yard had once been organized, with cargo lanes, fueling stations, and marked zones, but time and weather had pulled it apart. Weeds sprouted between every crack. A gas pump lay on its side, nozzle still attached to a crumbling hose. A pair of forklifts sat dead under a collapsed awning, their tires flat, paint bleached.

  “There,” Emilia pointed to a squat building at the far end. The sign above the door was barely readable: Communication control – Authorized staff only.

  Maria jogged toward it, stepping over old chains and shattering crates. The door was steel and sealed with a keypad. She tried the handle anyway. It clicked open. No power.

  The interior was dark. Not as dark as the tunnel. She shone the beam of the light around the room. It was dusty, rows of equipment lined the walls, cabinets with punch cards and faded stickers, lights long since gone cold. A heavy console sat beneath a dust-covered plastic dome, its keys yellowed with age.

  Emilia found a manual switch and tried it. Nothing.

  Then Maria spotted it, along the back wall, a tall emergency cabinet with a red handle. She yanked it open. Inside was a backup battery pack, the kind used to power emergency transmissions. It looked intact, though the plastic was warped slightly.

  “Think this’ll work?” Emilia asked.

  “Only one way to find out.” Maria opened the terminal panel. Cables were frayed. Dust coated everything. But the battery clipped in place with a solid thunk. She held her breath and flipped the power on.

  A slow whine. Then a flicker. The console lit, faint and struggling, but alive.

  Emilia covered her mouth, whispering, “Oh my God.”

  Maria sat down hard in the cracked office chair. Static hissed from a nearby speaker.

  She scanned the band. Longwave only. No satellite. But she found a signal, faint but there. A beacon, maybe. It had to be automated.

  Then… a voice.

  “…station…repeat…code four response…unknown contact…location unstable…this is—”

  Static swallowed the rest.

  “Say something,” Emilia said. “Try to send something back.”

  Maria pressed the transmission key. “This is Isla Nublar, Communications Post Echo-3. We need help. Two of us are alive. Five dead. Please respond.”

  She let go. The speaker stayed silent.

  Then came the softest click. A carrier tone followed by the most glorious words they’d ever heard.

  “Signal received. Please hold.”

  Maria blinked. Emilia stared at her.

  “They heard us,” Maria whispered. “Someone heard us.”

  From the jungle outside the depot, something screamed. It was an alien sound that made their blood turn cold. Maria turned the volume down, and Emilia killed the lights on the console. They crouched behind the metal desk, eyes on the open door. The comms still hummed, a fragile thread of hope in the growing dark.

  They would hold on. They had to.