It was a slow afternoon, the kind where the silence almost makes you uneasy. I’d parked near the industrial lot off Winston Drive, sipping lukewarm coffee and checking over the last call logs when the radio crackled. Nothing unusual—background static, a few units checking in. The usual.
Then it came through, clear as day.
“Officer Maddox, Unit 9901, please confirm location.”
I froze.
That’s me. But I hadn’t checked in. No dispatch had pinged me. I double-checked the console—nothing on screen. No call, no alert. Just… that voice. Calm. Unfamiliar.
I grabbed the mic. “Dispatch, 9901. I didn’t make a request. Was that call meant for me?”
No response.
Just more static.
Then the voice came again, this time more insistent.
“Officer Maddox, Unit 9901, confirm location immediately.”
My heart rate spiked. I glanced around the empty industrial lot, the quiet streets stretching out in front of me like a forgotten corner of the city. Something didn’t feel right. This wasn’t a standard radio check. There was no urgency in the tone, but the request was too specific. It was for me.
I hit the mic again. “Dispatch, this is 9901. I’m parked at Winston and 7th, checking in for a routine patrol. Who’s calling?”
Silence.
The seconds ticked by. I waited for an answer that never came. My fingers twitched over the mic, but I hesitated. Maybe it was a glitch, maybe I had imagined it. But I knew something was off. This was the kind of thing that made my stomach churn, that gut feeling that told me I should be paying closer attention. I wasn’t the kind of cop who ignored a feeling like that.
Then, through the static, I heard it again.
“Officer Maddox, Unit 9901, we need you. Now.”
I felt a chill crawl up my spine. No dispatch officer would ever speak like that. They were calm, collected, always precise. This voice, though? It was almost desperate.
Without thinking, I grabbed the keys, started the engine, and pulled out of the lot, my mind racing with a dozen possibilities. Who was on the other end of that radio? Why didn’t they identify themselves? Was it someone messing with me? A prank?
But this didn’t feel like a joke.
I turned onto Winston Drive, the quiet streets stretching ahead of me. Every few seconds, I glanced at the radio. Nothing. It was like whoever had spoken to me was waiting, watching, but no further calls came through. It was unsettling, like I was being led somewhere by an unseen force.
I kept my eyes peeled, looking for any sign of something out of place, but the streets remained calm. There was no one in sight, no cars on the road, no pedestrians. Just the quiet hum of the engine and the sound of my own breath.
Then, without warning, the radio crackled once more.
“Officer Maddox, Unit 9901. You’re close. Just a little farther.”
The voice was faint this time, as though it was coming from a great distance. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment before fading.
I was about to respond when I noticed something in the distance. A single red light flashing in the corner of my rearview mirror. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to catch my attention. As I looked closer, I realized it was an abandoned car, parked off to the side of the road near the old factory complex. Its lights blinked on and off, though there was no one around.
I slowed the car, my instincts kicking in. The situation was starting to feel too real, too strange. I pulled up beside the vehicle and put the car in park. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I had to check.
Stepping out of the car, I was hit by a sudden gust of wind, the chill biting through my uniform. My boots crunched against the gravel as I approached the car. It looked like it had been here for a while—dust and grime covered the windows, and the door was slightly ajar.
I drew my flashlight from my belt and approached carefully, scanning the interior. The car was empty. No sign of anyone inside.
But then my light caught something on the seat—an old, faded envelope.
I opened the door slowly, grabbed the envelope, and saw it was addressed to me.
Officer Maddox, Unit 9901. You’ve been selected.
My pulse quickened. I flipped the envelope open, and inside was a single piece of paper. The handwriting was jagged, hurried, almost like it had been written under pressure.
“Find the door. The truth is behind it. Trust no one.”
I stood frozen for a moment, reading the message over and over. Find the door? What door? The truth?
A door. Something about it felt wrong, ominous.
I turned around, scanning the factory complex behind me. It looked deserted, old, and rundown. But there, near the back corner, I noticed something. A metal door, hidden behind some broken crates and debris. It hadn’t been there the last time I passed by.
I had no idea what this was about, but I knew I couldn’t leave without finding out more.
I moved toward the door, my heart thumping in my chest. As I reached for the handle, the radio crackled once again.
“Officer Maddox, stop. Don’t go in.”
The voice came through loud and clear this time. I paused, my hand hovering over the handle.
“Who are you?” I shouted into the radio. “Who is this? What’s going on?”
Silence.
I hesitated for a moment longer, then grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.
Inside, the air was thick with dust. My flashlight flicked around the room, revealing shelves stacked high with old boxes and forgotten equipment. There was a faint sound—muffled, like something or someone was moving just beyond the far wall.
I stepped cautiously inside, my mind racing. What was I walking into? What had I just opened?
And then, suddenly, I heard a sound. A voice, familiar, coming from the shadows.
“Maddox.”
I froze. I recognized that voice.
I stepped forward, calling out softly, “Is someone there?”
And then I saw her.
Standing in the shadows, her figure barely illuminated by the beam of my flashlight, was Officer Baker, someone I thought had been gone for months. She’d disappeared without a trace, last seen investigating a case involving missing persons, a case that had gone cold. Everyone assumed she was dead, or worse. I had buried those thoughts long ago.
But there she was, alive, standing in front of me.
“Baker?” I breathed, my voice shaky.
She nodded slowly, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and relief. “I never wanted you involved in this. But now… I don’t have a choice.”
I couldn’t understand. What was happening? How was she here? Why was she here?
Then the radio crackled one last time, and a voice that wasn’t hers came through.
“Do you understand now, Maddox? The door you opened wasn’t just a door to this place. It’s the door to the truth. And sometimes… the truth is the hardest thing to bear.”
My head spun, and everything clicked into place. The cases we’d thought were unrelated, the missing officers, the dark secrets buried beneath the surface. It wasn’t just a case anymore—it was an underground network, something much bigger than I could have ever imagined.
And as I stood there, facing the woman I once thought was lost, I realized that the truth always has a way of finding you, even if you don’t want to know it.
The karmic twist? I had unknowingly walked into this web, but now, I was part of the solution, not just a victim. In seeking the truth, I was no longer just following orders. I was the one who would uncover the whole story, piece by piece.
Life has a way of leading us to places we never imagined, but sometimes, the journey is exactly what we need to find ourselves.
So, take a lesson from this: sometimes, the doors we fear are the ones that will change everything. Don’t be afraid to walk through them, because you never know what you might find.
If this story resonated with you, please share it with others who might need a little reminder that the truth will always find its way. And remember, sometimes facing the unknown is the bravest thing you can do.
