Page 11 of Silent Shadows

Minutes pass as we all review footage, notes, scans, and maps.

Still nothing.

No anomalous heat signatures. No audio spikes that don’t have a clear, rational explanation. No unchecked areas. No movement that holds up to scrutiny.

Just trees.

Wind.

Us.

Jax leans back first, exhaling. “Yeah… I got nothing.”

Taylor groans. “We were so close, though. I swear the energy was different.”

“Energy is not a measurable metric,” I say, even though part of me knows exactly what she means.

Maya watches me instead of the screens. “Miles.”

I don’t look at her. “I’m still going.”

“You’ve reviewed that clip six times.”

“Seven,” Jax corrects. I don’t look away from the screen.

“Miles,” she repeats, softer now.

I stop.

Because I know that tone. The let it go voice.

I lean back in defeat, dragging a hand over my face. “Yeah. Okay. It’s a bust.”

No one says anything.

No one has to.

Taylor lets out a breath, flopping fully onto the seat. “Hate that for us.”

“Ditto, girl,” Jax says.

“So…” Taylor sighs. “What next?”

I nod, staring at the paused frame on the monitor. “We log it. We move.” We’ve been in Ohio too long, following a bunch of random sightings that blew up on social media. There’s too much search activity here, and the other crews are all stepping on each other’s toes.

“Speaking of moving,” Maya says, closing out her route logs. “We need to talk about next steps.”

I turn toward her. “I already have one.”

She lifts a brow. “Of course you do. Four Corners?”

“You got it,” I say, pulling up a map. “Three separate reports on Reddit in the last two weeks. Similar height estimates, similar vocal patterns, similar environmental disruption.”

Taylor sits up immediately. “I know we were talking about it, but do you think it’s the one?”

“I think it’s a pattern,” I say. “And I want to follow it.”

Jax leans forward, interested. “Terrain?”