The road began to wind upward, climbing into the steep, rocky hills that overlooked the frozen valley.

The wind shook the heavy frame of the truck, whistling through the door seals.

Up ahead, through the thick curtain of snow, a pair of bright red lights appeared.

Charles slowed the vehicle to a crawl.

A massive iron security gate blocked the road, flanked by high stone walls topped with razor wire.

Beside the gate, a small stone guardhouse sat in the dark.

A single security camera, covered in a shroud of ice, pointed down at us like a frozen eye.

The gate did not open.

Charles stopped the truck, the engine idling heavily in the quiet.

“This is it,” I said, my heart pounding in my ears.

Just as Charles reached for his door handle, the bright floodlights above the gate snapped on, blinding us in a sudden glare of white.

I shielded my eyes with my hand, the harsh glare of the floodlights cutting through the snow-speckled windshield of the truck.

Charles kept his hands flat on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white under the sudden light.