They followed the F-150 through one last switchback, and all at once they cleared the trees and saw the camp. It lay a quarter mile ahead, spread out along the banks of a river at the bottom of the valley. From this distance it was just a spill of lights—low-wattage bulbs and campfires flickering in the darkness. Danica buzzed her own window down as they drew closer; the course of the dirt road would take them along the near edge of the camp.

A minute later the first structures of the settlement went by: an old Airstream trailer probably from the 1950s; an RV a few decades newer than that, with a big awning unfurled over a picnic table; something that looked like a Quonset hut cobbled together atop a cinderblock foundation. Beside nearly every home, people hunkered around campfires in little groups, cooking hot dogs or burger patties. Every pair of eyes followed the Explorer as it went by. In the firelight, every face looked wary: men and women, mostly middle-aged or older.

Moss pulled in next to an old camping trailer. It had wheels, but at the moment its frame rested on squat piles of bricks. It appeared to be his home; there was no other structure on his lot.

Dryden pulled in behind the F-150 and killed the Explorer’s engine. He and Danica got out, and Moss gestured to a firepit next to the trailer, with plastic lawn chairs scattered around it. There was a bed of embers burning low under a metal grate across the fire, where Moss had probably cooked his dinner sometime this evening.

“Let’s talk,” Moss said.

They sat in the plastic chairs, and Moss set a few pieces of firewood onto the embers in the pit. He watched until they caught, and flames licked up through the metal grate.

“Hungry?” Moss asked them. “Thirsty?”

Dryden and Danica both shook their heads; they had hit an Arby’s off I-40, just before Danica fell asleep.

Moss stared at the fire for a long time, looking focused. Trying to assemble the details, maybe.

“Can you start with what happened?” Danica asked. “Whatever we witnessed in that town—Ashland, you called it?”

“It wasn’t a town,” Moss said softly. His gaze stayed fixed on the flames. “Not really, anyway. I guess it looked like one. It was supposed to.”

Danica glanced at Dryden, confused. He could only shake his head; he had no idea what the man was talking about.

Danica said, “I’m not sure I follow—”

“Ashland was an R & D site,” Moss said. “For black-budget defense stuff. Maybe illegal stuff. I wasn’t privy to the specifics. But on the surface it just looked like some little town. Like nothing special. A dark site—that’s the term I heard for it.”

“Are you saying it was a military place?” Danica asked.

Moss nodded. He leaned closer to the fire, holding his hands out to it.