Dryden looked around and found the chopper, two miles away to the west. It was flying in a slow, tight circle above a distant barn and its outbuildings.

“Alright, keep on it,” Grace said. He let go of the key switch, then opened the door and got out. He waved to one of his men, coming forward from the next Jeep.

“Get everyone on foot,” Grace said, then nodded at the woods. “I want a sweep of the whole subdivision, three agents to a house, fast and thorough. We’re looking for any means of access to the underground complex. We’ll check here and then we’ll look downtown. Go.”

The agent turned and ran back to his Jeep, waving others toward him.

Dryden climbed down out of the back seat, along with Danica. Grace met them, then turned his focus in toward the nearest houses, barely visible through the screen of underbrush.

“Any chance you’ll spot the ones you lived in?” Grace asked.

Dryden considered the nearby homes. Like the storefronts downtown, they were rotted and falling apart. From outside, much of the recognizable detail was obscured by tree limbs. On the insides, there was probably little left but exposed framing and piles of collapsed drywall.

I’m not sure I’d know mine even if I could remember it, Dryden thought, but didn’t say.

To Grace, he said, “When in doubt, try like hell.”

The man nodded, appreciating it but unable to make himself smile. He clapped Dryden on the shoulder, then moved off quickly to take charge of his people.

Together, Dryden and Danica made their way into the trees. They could hear the FBI teams mobilizing, off to the south.

After the first twenty feet, the dense ground-level brush ended and the space opened up, as Dryden had hoped it would; this far in under the canopy, there wasn’t enough sunlight for small plants. There was only a carpet of dead leaves and pine needles, probably several years’ worth.

They had just passed into that space when Danica stopped and turned toward something off to the left. Dryden followed her gaze, and saw the remains of a small playground. It stood at the farthest tip of the forest, snugged up against the road. There was a merry-go-round and a teeter-totter and a swing set, all hopelessly tangled in dense shrubs and strangler vines.

Dryden found his focus drawn especially to the swings, though he couldn’t say why. He glanced at Danica and saw her staring at them, too.