Written with assistance from AuthorAI and ChatGTP

The woods pressed in on both sides, dark and thick, as Joey wiped the sweat from his brow. The air smelled of wet earth and pine needles, the kind of smell that always reminded him of Darrick’s childhood in these hills. Beside him, the older man moved silently, his rifle cradled casually but ready, eyes scanning every shadow.

“Right here,” Darrick whispered, crouching near a rocky outcrop. He pointed to a narrow, vine-covered entrance half-hidden behind ferns. The steel-reinforced arch of an old mine shaft rose from the earth, black as midnight. Joey’s stomach clenched. He had seen enough death to know the kind that waits underground.

“This thing still safe?” Joey asked.

“Safe enough,” Darrick replied. “They abandoned this place fifty years ago. Only thing alive down there now is us — if we don’t screw it up.”
Joey nodded, checking his gear one last time. The moonlight barely touched the gaping maw of the shaft, but Darrick produced a small lantern.
Its dim glow revealed rusted tracks disappearing into darkness. The sound of a bat fluttering echoed faintly. Joey swallowed.

They climbed down the ladder, metal scraping against rock. Each rung vibrated with tension. At the bottom, the tunnel opened into a narrow corridor hewn from stone. Dust motes floated in the lantern’s halo. The air was cold, damp, smelling of mold and old smoke. Joey could hear water dripping somewhere far ahead.

They moved quickly but carefully, listening for any sign of patrols above. Darrick paused at a fork in the shaft. “This way,” he said, nodding toward a section that angled directly beneath the hangar. “The old ventilation shaft opens just below the main floor. We can sneak in without being seen.”

Joey’s heart thumped. “And the guards?”

“Probably few and predictable. They won’t see us until it’s too late.” Darrick smiled faintly. “That’s the beauty of old infrastructure.”

The tunnel narrowed. Joey had to stoop, brushing against damp stone walls. Every footstep echoed softly, mixing with the creak of the old wooden supports. A loose stone tumbled, clattering on the metal tracks, and Joey froze, holding his breath. A distant shout carried from above.

Darrick waved him forward. “They didn’t hear. Keep moving.”

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. They reached a ventilation shaft sealed with rusted grates. Darrick pulled out a small crowbar and worked it free. The air above smelled faintly of jet fuel and heated metal — the hangar. Joey’s pulse spiked.

“Ready?” Darrick asked. Joey nodded, gripping his pistol tightly.

One by one, they climbed the ladder into the shaft, metal scraping, limbs cramped and muscles straining. At the top, they peered through the grates. Flames and light spilled from the hangar below as machinery hummed. Crates of narcotics lined the floor, armed guards patrolled, and

Tim’s distant shout carried faintly to them.

Darrick slid the grate open silently. “We’re in,” he whispered. “Now we just move.”

They dropped down into the shadows, pressed against steel supports, hearts hammering. Joey could see the tension in Darrick’s stance — the older man was calm but deadly, each movement precise, anticipating every patrol. Joey felt alive in a way he hadn’t in years. The adrenaline burned through his veins.

“First objective: reach the fuel line,” Darrick muttered. “If they try to fly out, it stops here.”

Joey followed, moving low and fast. Every footstep was a negotiation with the shadows. Lights flickered from above as a guard passed, pacing lazily, unaware of the intruders beneath him. Joey’s hands shook slightly as he checked his pistol.

“Almost there,” Darrick murmured, pointing toward the center of the hangar. Joey could make out Allie’s figure through the haze of smoke and fluorescent lights. Heart twisting, he saw her locked in confrontation with Juliette.

Darrick clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Timing’s everything. When I signal, we hit the fuel line. Flames, chaos — and we get your people out.”
Joey nodded, swallowing hard. The moment stretched taut between fear, hope, and fury. Every second was a lifetime. Above, the engines hummed, guards shouted, and the world waited for a spark to ignite it all.
 

Flashbulbs burst like fireworks as Juliette Ekans stepped up to the podium.

Behind her, a sleek banner hung from the hangar rafters: THE EKANS FAMILY FOUNDATION — HOPE. PROGRESS. HUMANITY.
Her voice poured through the speakers smooth as honey. “Today marks a new chapter in our mission to bring sustainable hope to developing nations. Food. Water. Medicine. Technology. These are not luxuries — they are rights.”

The crowd of journalists applauded politely, camera drones hovering in a soft, electric hum. The scent of engine oil and metal lingered beneath the veneer of perfume and champagne.

From the hangar’s far door, Kurt led Tim inside.

The cuffs were gone, but the implication wasn’t. A heavy-shouldered guard shadowed them as they entered, keeping a discreet but watchful distance. Tim’s eyes flicked toward the platform where Juliette stood, radiant under the lights.

Kurt leaned closer. “No matter what bed your sister’s in, you’re still an outsider here, you know that?”

Tim didn’t answer. His expression stayed blank, but inside, he agreed.

I’m not one of them. Never was.

Juliette smiled for the cameras, her voice echoing through the hangar’s perfect acoustics. “In partnership with our allies across the globe, we’re proud to announce the next phase of our humanitarian outreach — a fleet of mobile distribution aircraft capable of delivering relief anywhere in the world within twenty-four hours.”

Behind her, the jet gleamed under stage lights, every inch polished to corporate perfection. On its side, the Ekans Foundation logo — a stylized serpent curling protectively around the Earth — shone like a lie dressed in gold.

Allie stood to the side of the platform, Jessie in her arms. The boy pressed his face into her shoulder, small sobs trembling against her blouse.

She murmured soft, rhythmic shushes, her eyes never leaving Juliette’s back.

Tim’s stomach twisted. He caught her gaze for half a heartbeat — enough. There was fear there, but also resolve.

She mouthed something across the distance.

Now.

Juliette lifted her arms theatrically. “And of course, none of this would be possible without the tireless dedication of our family.”

The journalists murmured, jotting notes. Drones buzzed closer, recording every perfect smile.

Kurt nudged Tim forward, motioning for him to stand near the crates disguised with the foundation’s logo. The smell of jet fuel and fresh paint mixed in his lungs. He could almost taste the deceit.

Redemption, he thought bitterly. You wouldn’t know the word if it bit you.

Allie bent down, whispering to Jessie. “You have to be brave, sweetheart. Just like Uncle Tim, okay?”

Jessie sniffled, clutching his toy car. “Are we leaving?”

Her throat tightened. “We’re going to see the plane. But quietly. Just us.”

Juliette gestured grandly toward the hangar doors. “Behind me, our cargo bays are already loaded with thousands of units of life-saving medicine, bound for those who need it most. Every crate you see is a promise of hope.”

Cameras pivoted to film the branded containers — the same containers Tim knew were filled with narcotics and weapons.

Allie took her chance. As the flashbulbs turned toward the cargo, she slipped toward the side door — the one without windows, marked
“Maintenance Access”. Jessie’s small shoes squeaked once on the floor, and she froze, holding her breath.

No one turned. Juliette’s charisma drowned everything.

Tim saw them go. His pulse thudded in his ears. He wanted to move, to follow, but Kurt’s hand clamped on his arm like a vice.

Juliette’s speech rolled on, the words blurring into hollow rhythm. “Together, we can heal what’s broken. Together, we can rewrite our story.”

Tim glanced at the exit where Allie had vanished, the door now closed. He imagined the narrow service corridor beyond — concrete walls, humming lights, the faint echo of Jessie’s soft crying.

He forced his jaw to unclench. Every muscle screamed to act, but he couldn’t — not yet. Juliette had eyes everywhere, and if she suspected…
A roar of applause snapped his attention back. Juliette bowed her head slightly, smiling for the cameras. “From the ashes of greed rises generosity,” she declared. “The Ekans Family Foundation stands for a new era of compassion.”

Tim almost laughed — a dry, hopeless sound he swallowed before it escaped.

Compassion. You don’t even know what that means anymore.

Kurt leaned in. “You better clap, tough guy. Cameras love the background reaction.”

Tim raised his hands slowly, giving two half-hearted claps. His eyes never left the hangar door Allie had used.

Through the wall of lights and applause, he could almost feel her moving — fast, desperate, every second counting down. He pictured her gripping Jessie’s hand, whispering directions, praying no one noticed.

He didn’t know if she’d make it out.

He didn’t know if he would either.

But he knew one thing — when Juliette turned her back for the last time, he’d make sure the lie died with her.

The applause faded. Juliette raised a hand to quiet the crowd, her smile brilliant and cold. “Now,” she said, “let’s prepare for the flight.”

And somewhere, behind the walls, a small door clicked shut — the sound of a sister’s gamble, a fuse for disaster.