A Message From Twenty Years Ago
William's notes contained hundreds of fragments.
Most were incomplete.
Names without explanations.
Coordinates.
Dates.
Photographs.
But one page was different.
It contained a direct message.
Henry read it aloud.
"If you're reading this, I'm already dead."
Samuel closed his eyes.
Henry continued.
"Do not trust the official story."
Another sentence followed.
"The men of Black Ridge were not abandoned."
Henry stopped.
Samuel whispered,
"Keep reading."
"They were moved."
"Moved where?"
The next page contained coordinates.
Virginia.
A remote military property.
Henry stared.
"That's only forty miles from here."
Samuel's face became pale.
"William believed the survivors were brought home."
"But why?"
"Because someone wanted them hidden."
Henry continued reading.
The final line said:
**One of them is still alive.**
Silence filled the room.
Samuel looked at the military photograph.
Seven men.
Seven names.
One survivor.
"Who?"
Henry searched William's notes.
There were no answers.
Then Atlas walked toward the table.
He sniffed one of the photographs.
It showed an old military facility.
Atlas suddenly scratched the floor.
Henry looked down.
A tiny folded paper had fallen from the photograph.
He opened it.
Inside was a handwritten sentence.
**ASK THE MAN WHO CAME TO THE FUNERAL.**
Henry looked at Samuel.
"Who came?"
Samuel thought.
"Several veterans."
"Anyone unusual?"
Samuel suddenly remembered.
"There was a man."
"Who?"
"He stood near the back."
"What did he look like?"
Samuel's voice became quiet.
"About seventy."
"Gray coat."
"And he left before the ceremony began."
Henry stared at him.
"Did you know him?"
Samuel shook his head.
"No."
Then Atlas began growling toward the cemetery entrance.
