July 4, 2057 – 11:11 p.m.
The abandoned tunnel beneath I-75
The old Michigan Central Station tunnel clings to a chill that defies the summer swelter above, water dripping from fractured tiles that once proclaimed WELCOME TO DETROIT in faded blue mosaic. Now, with letters lost to time and neglect, it mocks: WEL O DET OIT.
Four people sit in a loose circle under a single camping lantern.
Elijah Kane the quiet one in the threadbare hoodie is already here when the others arrive. Aisha Alvarez purple hoodie, carbon-fiber legs, the girl who literally ran from New York tonight sits closest to the exit, foot tapping like she's still moving. Jonah Goldstein messy curls, thick glasses, the kid who's been running their encrypted chat server from his mom's basement in Philly just showed up with pizza and a nervous smile. Kenji Tsosie flannel shirt, red sandstone in his fist, the Navajo college student who drove in from Albuquerque this morning hasn't said much since he walked in.
They all know each other's handles from Discord and encrypted calls. Tonight is the first time most of them have seen actual faces.
Jonah sets his cracked laptop on a crate and starts reading the latest voice message out loud. The voice on the recording belongs to Maya Ruiz the girl from Vegas none of them have met in person yet. She's on a plane right now, heading straight to Detroit Metro.
Jonah translates Maya's frantic message word-for-word:
"Convoy left the reservation at 1900. Twenty-three kids. Red Mirage is riding with them, looping fake footage on every traffic camera. They'll hit Michigan before sunrise."
Kenji's knuckles go white around the sandstone. "That's my cousin Kayden," he says, voice low. "Seventeen. Calls himself Red Mirage now. Hasn't answered my calls in six months."
Aisha whistles. "Kid's hiding an entire convoy from satellites. That's next-level."
Elijah finally speaks. "We stop them tomorrow night on I-75, where the old burial grounds run under the highway. That's the only stretch where Kenji can use his gift off-rez. Jonah rides inside the illusion. Aisha clears the escorts. I go straight for Kayden. Maya lands in forty minutes—she'll meet us there."
Simple plan. Ugly stakes.
Kenji stares at the floor. "There's something you all need to know." He takes a slow breath. "Kayden might not be protecting those kids. Word on the rez is… he's the one who told the feds where to find them."
The tunnel goes dead quiet. Aisha's foot stops tapping. Jonah's glasses slide down his nose. Elijah feels the air change, the way it does right before a storm decides to kill you.
Kenji meets their eyes, one by one. "Family or not, if he sold those kids… I'll bury him myself."
No one argues.
Jonah closes the laptop. "Then we move at dawn. I'll pick Maya up at the airport. Anyone want anything that isn't prison food?"
Aisha snorts. "Cinnabon. And a miracle."
Kenji pockets the sandstone. "Tell Maya to bring frybread if TSA doesn't confiscate it."
Elijah stands, ribs throbbing, hoodie darker where the blood is starting to dry.
Tomorrow the Liberty Line becomes five people instead of four.
Tomorrow they find out if blood really is thicker than freedom.