Page 5

The bureau-issued sedan wound its way along the two-lane highway, cutting through Virginia's autumn landscape. As they’d come into the Shenandoah Valley, the change in scenery from the crowded spaces of Richmond was almost mesmerizing. The leaves from the trees of the surrounding forests had just started to change—not yet the harsh oranges and yellow of fires, but a softer hue that still gave off a feeling of warmth even in the presence of autumn’s cooler temperatures.

Rachel watched the trees blur past her window, enjoying the colors. The morning sun caught fragments of frost on the branches, making them glitter like broken glass. The leather of the passenger seat creaked as she shifted her weight, trying to work out the knot of tension between her shoulders. Two years of light desk work and physical therapy had changed her relationship with long car rides. And this one had only been two hours. Had she really, once upon a time, endured five and six-hour car rides with Jack in tow?

Yes, she knew she had. But that felt like a completely different life. She found it hard to even send her mind back in that direction, searching for the memories.

"You seem different today," Novak said from behind the wheel. His hands rested at ten and two, perfect form as always. Even after months of working together, his military precision still amused her. "More... energized."

Rachel shifted again, considering his observation. He wasn't wrong. There was something about this case that had awakened something in her—a familiar surge of adrenaline she hadn't felt since before her illness. Fear and anxiousness came with it, sure…but it had her excited as well. The old Rachel, the one who had chased down Alex Lynch, was stirring.

"Maybe I am," she admitted, watching a flock of birds scatter from a nearby tree. "First time in a while I've had a case this... unique."

"Unique is definitely one word for it." Novak glanced at her, his green eyes briefly leaving the road. "Most people would say disturbing."

"Most people aren't FBI agents." She allowed herself a small smile. "And most people haven't seen what we've seen."

A comfortable silence settled between them. Rachel had resisted working with a new partner at first, missing the easy rhythm she'd had with Jack. But Novak was growing on her. He was steady, methodical—different from Jack's instinct-driven approach. Where Jack had been lightening, Novak was the slow roll of thunder: predictable, reliable, and no less powerful.

"How's Paige doing?" Novak asked, smoothly changing lanes to pass a slow-moving truck. "Middle school's rough territory. I remember my sister saying it was like Lord of the Flies with smartphones."

Rachel smiled, thinking of her daughter's latest academic triumph. "Straight A’s again this quarter. She's got a solid group of friends, too. Though these days, they mostly communicate through their phones, even when they're in the same room.”

"The joys of raising kids in the digital age?" Novak's voice carried the warmth of personal experience.

"She spends so much time in her room. I sometimes have to check if she's still breathing." Rachel paused, then added, "And how about your son... I'm sorry, I can't remember—"

"Carter," Novak supplied without a hint of offense. "He's eight. And don't worry about it—I know you’ve had a lot on your plate.”

Rachel winced, the memory coming back to her. "Yeah, but still…I should remember something like that."

Novak smiled, the expression softening his usually stern features. "Carter's doing well. Although lately, he's been trying to negotiate his way out of school every morning. Hasn't resorted to faking sick yet, but I can see the wheels turning. Yesterday, he tried to convince his mother and me that education is just a social construct. At eight years of age!”

"The classic 'my stomach hurts' routine is probably just around the corner," Rachel said, remembering Paige's own creative attempts to avoid school. "Where does an eight-year-old even learn about social constructs?"

"YouTube, probably. I'm already preparing my 'concerned but skeptical dad' face." He demonstrated, making Rachel laugh despite the grim nature of their destination.

Their laughter faded as the conversation naturally turned back to the case. The EndLight pods. The victim, Sandra Mitchell. The morning sun seemed dimmer now, as if the very mention of the case had drawn clouds across its face.

"I just can't wrap my head around it," Novak said, his voice quieter now. "A company actually manufacturing suicide booths. Like something out of a dystopian novel. And people are actually signing up to use them..." He shook his head, his jaw tightening. "I can't imagine ever being in that headspace."

Rachel felt something tighten in her chest. She looked out the window again, remembering the dark days during her cancer treatment. The pain. The helplessness. The moments when the end seemed not just inevitable, but almost welcome. The nights when she'd stared at her service weapon, thinking about Paige, about Jack, about endings and beginnings.

"You're fortunate then," she said carefully, choosing each word with precision. "To never have been there."

Novak glanced at her, understanding dawning in his eyes. His cheeks reddened. "Rachel, I didn't mean—"

"It's okay." She turned back to him, seeing the genuine concern in his face. "Really. But having faced my own mortality... I get it. The pods themselves might seem morbid, but the concept behind them? Giving people dignity in their final moments? That's not evil. It's human. Sometimes the kindest thing we can do is let someone go."

He nodded, giving her comment and insight time to breathe. After taking a deep breath of his own, he said, “And speaking of humans…it would be just like humans to take something meant for those uses and turn it into a murder weapon."

“Which makes it our job to find out who perverted something meant to ease suffering into a tool for causing it," she said. Rachel checked her phone's GPS. "We should be getting close."

Moments later, Rachel pointed out a turn up ahead. Novak slowed the sedan as they approached the turnoff. A gravel road stretched before them, disappearing into dense forest. The GPS confirmed this was their destination, but something about the scene made Rachel's skin prickle. The trees seemed too dense, too dark, as if they were guarding secrets.

As they continued down the gravel road, the forest seemed to close in around them. Branches created a natural tunnel, blocking out most of the morning light. The gravel crunched beneath their tires, the sound impossibly loud in the sudden stillness. Each pop of stone felt like a gunshot in the quiet.

"According to the coordinates," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as if the forest itself demanded silence, "the pod should be about a quarter mile ahead."

Novak nodded as the trees continued to usher them along, leading them deeper into the kind of darkness that had nothing to do with the absence of light. This was the darkness of purpose, of malice, of carefully planned endings disguised as choices.

The gravel road curved sharply ahead, and Rachel caught a glimpse of something metallic through the trees. It caught the sunlight and reflected it weakly. Her pulse quickened, the familiar surge of adrenaline flooding her system.

“I see it,” she said.

“Same here,” Novak commented.

He came around the bend and now they saw not only the metal object hidden by the trees, but a single police car as well. As they approached, a lone officer got out. He looked quite old, his beard completely white. Novak parked beside the police car, and they slowly got out to join him.

“Feds, I take it?” the officer asked in a thick southern drawl.

“That’s us,” Novak said, showing his badge and ID. “Special Agents Novak and Gift.”

As the officer nodded and started walking to the edge of the space where the gravel road dead-ended, Rachel became aware of the absolute silence of the forest. Not even a single bird seemed to be singing anywhere.

“Well, I’m just the guard,” the officer said. “Just sitting here making sure nobody messes with that contraption.” He hitched a thumb over his shoulder as he said this.

They both looked in that direction—at the so-called peaceful passage pod that had absolutely no business being out here. For a moment, its high-tech presence in the forest made Rachel feel like she’d stepped into a science fiction movie. She nearly expected a little green man to open the lid and step out to greet them.

After a good, long look, Rachel glanced back to Novak and he met her gaze. No words were necessary. They'd both been doing this long enough to know when a scene felt wrong. And this one felt very wrong indeed. The air itself seemed charged with potential violence.

She’d heard stories about agents stepping into situations or locations that just felt wrong. Some might say the energy was simply off, or that there was a bad vibe. She got that feeling now as she and Novak started forward, toward the pod.

The pod waited for them in that tall grass, and Rachel was suddenly very nervous to approach it. Maybe it had something to do with her own thoughts on death—things she had buried deep and not yet processed since her own brush with death.

Or maybe it’s just creepy as hell , she thought.

With a sigh, she took the first step toward the pod and Novak followed.