Both figures below reacted instantly.
The captain stepped forward, his body shifting protectively in front of his son, his hand dropping to the shotgun strap. The boy went still behind him—not frozen with fear, butalert, ready to move in whichever direction his father told him to.
Callan stepped into the doorway slowly, hands visible, palms open.
“You made it,” he called down to them.
His voice echoed off the concrete walls and came back softer.
For a moment, no one moved.
The captain stared up at him, studying his face, his hands, the doorway behind him.
He let out a breath that sounded as if it had been held for days.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.
“You’re real.”
Callan gave a small, tired smile.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“We’re real.”
* * *
The captain stepped forward.
Up close he looked older than he had through the monitor—late forties, maybe early fifties. Wind-burned skin, a thick gray beard that hadn’t seen a razor in a while, and eyes that carried the heaviness of a man who hadn’t slept properly in a very long time. Every line on his face told a story about the days behind him, and none of them were good.
The boy followed right behind, taller than most sixteen-year-olds but thin in that way teenagers get whenthey’ve grown too fast.
The captain shifted the shotgun off his shoulder, holding it loosely at his side, not pointed at anything.
“Name’s Jeff Landbridge,” he said, extending his free hand.
Callan stepped forward and shook it.
“Callan. Sloane’s the one inside manning the controls.”
Jeff nodded toward the boy beside him.
“This is my son, Ethan.”
The kid gave a small nod, fingers gripping the strap of his backpack.
“Thanks for letting us come in,” he said quietly.
Something about the way he said it—careful, almost formal, the manners—hit me harder than I expected.
“No problem,” Callan replied. “Glad you made it.”
While they spoke, I moved to the control panel and hit the switch to lower the tide gate. The machinery rumbled again deep in the walls as the heavy steel barrier slid back into place, sealing the channel behind the boat.
Then I secured the interior door, sliding the heavy bolt across with a loud metallic clank that echoed through the corridor.
The aquarium stood sealed again.