The Cascadian Four-Part One

October 14

All was quiet in the city of Sheridan. Everybody was sleeping. Except for one very important person-Manuel Neto. He was, at the very moment, breaking into the house of a recently deceased resident of Sheridan-his father. But nobody was supposed to know of the connection between them. It was of utmost secrecy. Only he, his father, and certain members of a top-secret government agency were aware. It was that very same government agency that had ordered him to infiltrate the house.

He broke the lock and went inside. Everything was a mess. His father had left all of his belongings to Manuel’s brother, who was not aware of the family secret-that they were all secret agents. Despite the mess, it only took him 1:30 to get in and out, unnoticed by the sleeping residents of the quiet street. Of course, he knew what he was looking for.

He quickly walked down the street to his 1950s car, which he had parked on the outskirts of town. He drove off into the Willamette Valley, holding in his hand a very important object.

The next day, early in the morning, four children, unaware of the gigantic conspiracy they were about to be wrapped up in, took a walk through the woods outside Sheridan. They were hoping to see animals, but as they strolled down the deserted road, they came upon a wreck of a car. It was a vintage model and had crashed in a patch of leaves and dirt not far from the road. The four of them, Sewar, Maya, Hans, and Nazmul, came closer to the wreck.

“The wreck looks new,” remarked Hans. “Like very new.”

“The door is open, so the driver must have left. Do you think he’s hurt?” Sewar asked.

“No. I do not see any blood anywhere, and if he was otherwise seriously hurt,” said Nazmul, “he would not have made it far. I do not see a corpse around here, so I think the driver is okay.”

A sudden bang, like the sound of a large door slamming, reverberated through the forest.

“What was that?” Hans asked, eyes darting around.

“I don’t know,” Maya replied, “but let’s find out. Come on!”

She ran through the forest, and the other kids begrudgingly followed her until they found a small, indiscreet manmade trail.

“Look at that. Fresh footprints,” Nazmul announced. They were large, like those of an adult man’s boot, and led off the trail. “Let’s follow them!”

They continued along the fresh trail until they reached a clearing in the woods.

The area was filled with plants, and tucked into the side of a hill was a concrete entrance to an underground area.

“Is this a bunker?” Maya asked.

“It appears so,” Nazmul replied, examining the door closely. There was some graffiti on it, but that looked ancient, as if no human had stood in this spot for years. But someone had shut the door. Which meant someone had gone in. Probably the same someone who left the footprints.

“Whoever is inside probably does not want us here,” Sewar told the others, “So we should stay hidden.”

And that was when the explosions started.

They came from inside the bunker, causing the kids to run back. But nothing came flying toward them-the bunker remained intact.

“That is a very strong bunker,” Hans commented.

“Yes it is,” said a voice behind them. “Yes it is.”

They turned to see a dark-skinned man in a suit smiling. Two people, dressed in camouflage army gear, flanked him. The kids saw an armored truck behind them.

“Are you with the government?” Sewar asked.

“Yes I am,” he said. “And so are you. Starting now.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“What you witnessed here is highly classified. The only people allowed to come here are government agents of our secret agency. And since you came here, the policy says we must recruit you.”

“For what agency?” Nazmul demanded.

“Our agency does not have a name. It is so classified. You children are four of only around 20 members. Welcome to a new adventure. Now, come on in,” he said, motioning to the bunker. “That’s an order,” he said when they did not move.

The bunker door slammed shut behind them. The first room was a long hallway with yellow and black flooring. Another door was at the end. The man opened it, leading into another hallway with vaulted doors going down the sides. Inside one of them, as they walked in, the lights flickered on, revealing what appeared to be an underground classroom. A projector shone a picture of a rainy residential street. As they filed into seats, it switched to a white-carpeted hallway in an office building. People were walking by.

“If you have any questions, now is the time to ask,” he said.

“Who are you?” Maya asked.

“My name,” he said, “Is Manuel Neto.”

“What was the explosion earlier?” Hans inquired.

“It was a routine test of the bunker’s walls. As you could see earlier, it did not breach them from inside. Nor will it be able to breach them from outside.”

“What is ‘it’” Sewar asked.

“Explosives,” Neto answered. “Now I will explain what you have been recruited for.

The projector screen switched to an old video of a man in a wheelchair. Franklin Delano Roosevelt. He was talking, sitting in a windowless area. Two soldiers stood at the edge of the frame.

“If you are seeing this,” he said, “then you are part of an elite government agency. It was founded yesterday. This classified group of people is tasked with taking down the most dangerous criminals in the Pacific Northwest. Nobody knows we exist. We maintain utmost secrecy to stay in operation. I will probably be long dead when you see this, but welcome.”

No sooner had Neto finished playing the video than another explosion sounded on the other side of the door. From the look on his face, this wasn’t a test. Footsteps clanged on metal outside the door. 

“Open up!” someone shouted.

“This is a code red,” a computerized voice said. “I repeat, this is a code red.”