Some were injured.
Some looked unconscious.
Men in black tactical clothing walked between them.
Emily stood beside Alexander.
She began shaking.
Alexander paused the video.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No."
"Emily."
"No."
She pointed.
"That's him."
A man appeared on screen.
Mid-forties.
Expensive suit.
Silver hair.
A scar above his right eyebrow.
He spoke calmly to someone off-camera.
"Transfer the Nevada group by Friday."
Alexander frowned.
"Who is he?"
"Daniel Voss."
"Who's that?"
"Owner of Voss Security Solutions."
Alexander looked at her.
"And what does that have to do with Black Mesa?"
Emily swallowed.
"Everything."
She explained.
Voss Security officially provided private security contracts for mining companies and government facilities.
Unofficially, according to Emily, it ran an illegal network hidden in abandoned desert properties.
People who owed money disappeared.
Witnesses disappeared.
Whistleblowers disappeared.
Some were transported.
Some were threatened.
Some were never seen again.
Emily had worked as a payroll assistant for one of Voss's companies.
She had discovered financial transfers that didn't make sense.
Millions of dollars.
Shell companies.
Private airstrips.
Payments to officials.
Then she discovered the names.
People reported missing.
People officially declared dead.
But still receiving payments.
She copied everything.
Voss found out.
"I ran."
"And they caught you."
She nodded.
"They took me to Black Mesa."
Alexander looked at the video.
"How did you escape?"
"I didn't."
He looked at her.
"What?"
"Someone helped me."
"Who?"
Emily stared at the screen.
"A man named Caleb."
Alexander waited.
"He was one of them."
"One of Voss's men?"
"Yes."
"Why help you?"
"He had a daughter."
Emily's voice cracked.
"She disappeared."
Caleb had been searching for her for two years.
He had discovered that Voss was responsible.
When Emily told him what she had found, he decided to help.
They escaped together.
But during the escape, Caleb was shot.
Emily ran.
She had reached the highway.
Then someone found her.
The rest was a blur of desert, headlights and fists.
She remembered waking beneath the wreckage of a vehicle.
She crawled.
Walked.
Fell.
Walked again.
Until she reached Alexander's property.
Alexander looked at the screen.
"Why here?"
Emily shook her head.
"I don't know."
Then she looked at the old garage.
"Maybe because God was tired of watching me run."
Alexander didn't answer.
He simply closed the laptop.
"Tonight, you're sleeping here."
"They'll come."
"Probably."
"What will you do?"
Alexander stood.
He walked to a locked cabinet.
Inside were old tools, ammunition and a faded photograph.
He picked up the photograph.
A younger Alexander stood beside a woman and a little girl.
His daughter.
Sophie.
He looked at the photograph for several seconds.
Then he put it back.
"I'll do what I always do."
Emily watched him.
"What's that?"
"Fix things."
The First Motorcycle
At 4:12 a.m., Alexander heard an engine.
Not a car.
A motorcycle.
He stepped outside.
One headlight appeared on the highway.
Then another.
Then a third.
A motorcycle stopped outside the garage.
The rider wore a black vest.
He removed his helmet.
He was an enormous man with a gray beard.
He looked at Alexander.
"Alexander Carter?"
Alexander's hand moved toward the wrench.
"Who wants to know?"
The man took a folded photograph from his pocket.
He held it out.
It showed Emily.
Alexander's stomach tightened.
"Where is she?"
Alexander said nothing.
The man looked toward the garage.
"You should know something."
"What?"
"We aren't Voss."
Alexander didn't move.
The man continued.
"My name is Marcus Hale."
He tapped the patch on his vest.
"Desert Saints Motorcycle Club."
Alexander stared.
"I don't know you."
"You don't need to."
Marcus looked toward the dark horizon.
"But you need to know we're here because Emily sent a message before she disappeared."
"What message?"
"She said if anything happened to her, find the mechanic in Beatty."
Alexander's eyes narrowed.
"Why?"
Marcus smiled sadly.
"Because Caleb trusted you."
Alexander understood.
"Caleb was one of yours."
Marcus nodded.
"He was my brother."
Silence.
"He was killed two nights ago."
Alexander looked toward the office.
Marcus continued.
"We've been looking for Emily since."
"How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"You don't."
Marcus put the photograph away.
"That's the problem with the desert."
He turned toward his motorcycle.
"Everybody lies."
Then he stopped.
"Except the dead."
He looked back.
"Caleb died trying to get her out."
Alexander stood beneath the flickering red sign.