The 13: Fall by Robbie Cheuvront, Erik Reed, Shawn Allen Page A

spun the small man around in his chair so they were eye to eye.
    “Artie,” he said in a menacing voice, “I’m serious. This is national security stuff. You even open your mouth to your dog—me, or someone like me, will show up here and kill you. You understand?”
    Artie swallowed hard. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. Not a peep.”
    “Go ahead,” Keene said, spinning him back around to face the computer.
    Artie reset the play head and started the clip again. This time the Prophet’s words echoed through the open room. When it was finished, Artie started tapping away.
    “Man, you weren’t kidding, huh? This is like some terrorist stuff, right?” He held up his hand. “I know. I know. Not a peep.”
    Artie tapped away again on the keyboard. Taylor watched him bring up an audio shelving software, complete with compressor and graphic equalizer plugins. She had an app very similar to this—but this one looked like it had a few more bells and whistles.
    “Okay,” Artie said when he was done pointing and clicking. “What I’ve done here is, I’ve muted the dude’s voice and opened up some bandwidth that should allow us to hear the surrounding sounds. If there’s anything going on, we should be able to hear it.”
    This time the video played and the Prophet’s voice was silent. In its place, a myriad of noises could be heard in the background. They listened through once without anything jumping out. They played it again. And then again a third time. Halfway through, Taylor spoke up.
    “Right there! Stop,” she said. “What was that?”
    “What?” Artie asked.
    “That dinging sound. Back it up.”
    He did and then played it again.
    “There!” she said. “Can you isolate that?”
    “I think so,” Artie said, tapping away at the keys. He rolled it back and played it again.
    “That’s it.”
    “That’s what?” Keene asked.
    “That’s a train,” she said smiling.
    “Oh … okay,” Keene said. “Yeah, that helps a lot.”
    “Isolate it,” she said, dismissing his tone.
    “That’s going to be tough,” Artie said.
    “Yeah,” she said. “Maybe for you. Move over and I’ll do it.”
    Artie smacked her hand away. “Like I said. No one touches my gear but me. Give me a second.”
    He clicked a few more buttons and played it again. The train’s audio now came to the forefront.
    “That’s good,” she said. Then, “Roll it back again. See if you can hear anything before that.”
    Artie did and started the video again, with the current filters in place. A lot of screeching and clanging was heard, but there was also something else.
    “Right there!” Taylor said again.
    “Yeah, I heard that, too,” Artie said. “Let me see if I can clean it up.”
    Again, he tapped away for a few seconds. Pushed P LAY .
    A computerized voice could be heard over what apparently was a PA-system announcement. And now, after all the shelving of the frequencies, they could hear what the female voice was saying:
    “The train is approaching. Please stand clear of the platform.”
    After that came another succession of screeches and clangs. A train was coming to a stop.
    “Hey can you boost that?” Taylor said hurriedly.
    “Yeah.”
    This time it was a different voice.
    “What’s that?” Keene asked.
    “It’s the conductor of the train,” Taylor said. “The doors must be opened, and he’s announcing where they are and where they’re going. Boost it some more.”
    Artie did and ran it back.
    “… Blue line. Next stop, UIC-Halsted, then Clinton-Blue.”
    Taylor was getting excited now. “We need to—”
    “Already on it,” Artie interrupted.
    He opened his browser. He typed in a search. Seconds later they were all looking at a transit authority map.
    “There,” said Keene, pointing to the screen. “Racine Station! Chicago.” He gave Artie a friendly smack on the back of the head and said, “Good job. We owe you one.”
    “Yeah,” Artie said, “just don’t kill me, and we’ll call it