The Nevada Signal

The battered sedan bounced along the dusty track, each jolt sending a fresh wave of unease through Benjamin. The Nevada desert stretched out before them, a vast, shimmering expanse of ochre and sagebrush under a sky so intensely blue it felt painted. It was a stark contrast to the humid Virginia air he remembered, a world away from the clamor of Washington D.C. and the sterile quiet of the hospital room. Colonel Mitchell sat beside him, her gaze fixed on the horizon, her usual crisp military bearing softened by the endless quiet. Agent Torres, ever the observer, occupied the back seat, his eyes scanning their surroundings with an almost predatory intensity.

"Are you sure about this, Colonel?" Benjamin asked, his voice raspy. He still wasn't entirely used to the sound of his own voice, a voice that had carried him through the chaos of 1918 and now echoed in the hushed halls of 2026. "Nevada? It just seems... so random."

Mitchell turned to him, her expression unreadable. "The coordinates led us here, Lieutenant. Project Asteria's energy signature, faint as it is, is strongest in this region. It’s what Theodore’s research indicated, and it’s what we have to follow." She gestured towards a cluster of jagged rocks in the distance, their forms distorted by the heat haze. "The readings are originating from that area."