Chapter 4 - THE FACILITY ON DEVIL’S PEAK
Three days had passed.
The state police were hunting Thomas Miller. Across every news channel in the country, Thomas's face was broadcast under bold red banners: WANTED FOR THE MURDER OF MAYOR VANCE AND THE ASSAULT OF SHERIFF COBB.
They called him a madman. They said he had lost his mind after his eldest son vanished two years ago. They warned the public that he was armed, dangerous, and traveling on foot with a small child and a rabid dog.
They didn't know the truth. They didn't have the ledger.
Fifty miles north of Oakhaven, hidden high in the pine-choked fog of Devil’s Peak, stood St. Jude’s Sanatorium. It didn't look like an asylum. It looked like a fortress. Surrounded by twelve-foot-high chain-link fences topped with razor wire, security cameras rotated silently under floodlights.
At the base of the perimeter fence, crouched low in the wet ferns, was Thomas.
His clothes were torn, caked in dried mud and rain. Beside him, three-year-old Leo was fast asleep, wrapped tightly in Thomas’s dry flannel jacket. And standing guard over them both was Goliath.
The dog had changed over the last three days. He was no longer the chained beast that barked in terror at the village. He was a silent shadow, a loyal soldier who moved with terrifying intelligence. He had hunted rabbits for Thomas and Leo, led them around police roadblocks, and kept them warm through freezing nights.
Thomas pulled the wet leather ledger from his pocket and opened it under the dim moonlight.
Subject T.M. – Sector 4 – Isolation Cell 108.
"He's in there," Thomas whispered to himself. His heart slammed against his ribs. "My boy is inside that hellhole."
"How are we getting in, Daddy?"
Thomas turned. Leo was awake, his large brown eyes reflecting the perimeter lights.
"You and Goliath are going to wait in the old hunter's cabin down the ridge," Thomas said softly,cupping his small son's cheek. "It's safe there. Daddy is going to go inside and get Toby."
Leo shook his head violently, tears welling in his eyes. "No! The bad men are in there! The doggy needs to go with you!"
Goliath stepped forward. He pressed his wet nose against Leo's hand, giving a single soft whine, before turning to Thomas and letting out a low, determined growl.
The dog refused to leave Thomas's side.
Thomas looked at the beast. "You won't let me do this alone, will you?"
Goliath took two steps toward the wire fence.
"Alright," Thomas whispered. He looked down at Leo. "Leo, listen to me very carefully. You stay inside the hollow tree right behind us. Do not make a sound until Daddy comes back with your brother. Do you understand?"
Leo nodded bravely, wiping his nose with his sleeve, and squeezed into the large hollow base of an ancient oak tree, entirely hidden from sight.
Thomas turned back to the facility.
He didn't have a gun. He had a heavy iron crowbar he had stolen from a gas station, a box of matches, and a dog that had come back from the dead to settle a debt.
"Let me show them what happens when you take a man's son," Thomas growled.
Goliath didn't bark. He squeezed through a small gap beneath the chain-link fence where the earth had washed away from heavy rain. Thomas followed, pulling his body through the cold mud, tearing his shoulder on the barbed wire, but feeling no pain.
They crept through the shadow of the main compound. Up ahead, a heavily armed guard in black tactical gear stepped out of the side entrance to light a cigarette.
"Goliath," Thomas whispered barely above a breath. "Quiet."
The black hound moved like smoke.
Before the guard could even raise his rifle to his lips, Goliath hit him from the blind spot. Two hundred pounds of muscle slammed the guard against the brick wall. Goliath's jaws clamped down on the man's wrist, snapping the bone before he could reach his radio.
The guard tried to scream, but Thomas was already there. Thomas slammed the iron crowbar into the guard’s chest, knocking the air out of him, then dragged him into the dark boiler room beneath the facility.
Thomas grabbed the guard’s keycard and weapon belt, strapping a 9mm pistol to his waist.
"Where is Sector 4?" Thomas demanded, holding his crowbar over the trembling guard’s face.
"You're... you're too late..." the guard gasped, coughing up blood. "The harvest... it started an hour ago..."
"WHAT HARVEST?!" Thomas shouted, slamming the guard against the concrete floor.
"The doctor... Dr. Mercer... he's selling the children tonight... to international buyers... they're transporting Sector 4 to the airstrip in twenty minutes!"
Thomas's vision went red. He struck the guard unconscious, swiped the keycard, and sprinted down the long, sterile, white corridor of the underground complex, Goliath running at his heels.
The hallways were a maze of glass observation rooms and steel doors. Alarms suddenly began to blare overhead—a deafening, high-pitched screech accompanied by flashing red strobe lights.
SECURITY BREACH IN SECTOR 1. ALL UNITS REPORT.
"They know we're here," Thomas said through gritted teeth. "We don't have time to hide!"
They turned a corner into a wide open lobby—and ran straight into four armed guards carrying assault rifles.
"FREEZE!" a guard shouted, raising his rifle.
Goliath didn't hesitate. He let out a deafening, terrifying roar that shattered the glass panels along the hallway. The dog leapt off the concrete wall, diving straight into the lead guard, knocking him into the rest of the squad like bowling pins.
Thomas drew his pistol and fired.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The tight corridor exploded into chaotic gunfire. Muzzle flashes illuminated the cold white walls. Thomas dove behind a metal gurney, returning fire with frantic precision born of pure desperation.
Goliath tore through the guards, biting, dragging, and dismantling their formation with brutal efficiency.
Within ninety seconds, the hallway fell silent again, save for the blaring alarm and the heavy, ragged breathing of Thomas and the dog.
Thomas was hit. A bullet had grazed his thigh, soaking his jeans in crimson, but he didn't care.
He ran to the heavy blast door marked: SECTOR 4 – ISOLATION.
He swiped the stolen keycard.
The heavy steel door hissed open, revealing a dark, damp room filled with row after row of small iron cages.
Inside the cages were children. Dozens of them. Thin, terrified, with hollow eyes.
"Toby!" Thomas screamed, his voice breaking. "TOBY!"
From the far corner of the room, inside a small cage locked with three heavy chains, a thin, frail hands reached out through the iron bars.
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A weak, cracked voice called out into the red light of the alarm:
"Daddy...?"
