Chapter 18

The bus journey stretched on for hours, winding through desolate roads until it finally reached its destination. The mountain path in the dead of night looked like a pale, lifeless serpent. Jack Cheney trudged forward, his pack slung over his back, each step crunching through the frozen terrain. His Air Force coat was crusted with ice, crackling with every movement. He couldn't help but wonder—when Sarah Quinn first came here, the weather had been even harsher. Did she hear the same eerie...