Zubair eased the Hummer to a crawl.
The asphalt ahead had ended in a sheet of pale dust, cracked and smooth as bone.
Beyond it, the shimmer that had filled the horizon resolved into shape—metal walls, stacked containers, fencing that had been welded into a single, seamless barrier. Floodlights stood like broken teeth, each one humming with a steady pulse.
Elias pressed his fingers into fists as the map in his lap fell uselessly to the foot well of the Hummer.
The hum of something outside vibrated through his skin, slow and rhythmic, a perfect 32-beat interval. The scientist in him catalogued it automatically—frequency, tone, amplitude—each detail filed into memory.
Incorrect, sneered the voice in his head. It's thirty-three beats, not thirty-two.
He ignored the voice. "Low-frequency power surge," he murmured, half to himself. "Probably a field generator buried under the wall."
