The klaxon didn’t give them time to catch their breath.
Julian led the way through the Lower Cable Bay, his boots squeaking against the wet rubber matting. Behind him, Elena pushed Clara’s wheelchair with quick, purposeful strides, while Lin Mei carried the ten-foot fiberglass grounding hook like a spear across her shoulder.
The passage sloped upward toward the main bunker stairs, cutting through solid coastal bedrock. Heavy bundles of shielded coaxial cables hung from iron ceiling racks, humming with fifty-cycle generator hum. Every twenty feet, a wire-caged incandescent bulb threw an amber pool of light across the damp granite floor.
Then they hit the threshold.
Ten yards ahead, where the rough stone tunnel joined the finished concrete vestibule of the transmitter building, a thick yellow stripe was painted across the floor.
It was four inches wide, painted with bright industrial enamel.
To the left of the stripe, the wall was rough, damp basalt marked with the tarnished brass seal of the Grand Halcyon Hotel: PROPERTY OF GRAND HALCYON QUARANTINE CORP -- EST. 1954.
To the right of the stripe, the walls were smooth, whitewashed cinder block bearing the blue-and-white seal of the Federal Communications Commission: HARBOR BROADCAST STATION WHBR 89.9 FM -- STUDIO B INTAKE.
