Chapter 5 - David didn't scream.He wanted to.
But something inside him had gone strangely cold.
Rebecca was bleeding in his arms.
Mark was searching the darkness.
And a voice had just referred to him as a subject.
Not a person.
Not a husband.
A subject.
David looked at the key in his hand.
A tiny metal key.
Stamped with one number.
"Mark."
"What?"
"Call an ambulance."
Mark looked at Rebecca.
"She's alive."
Barely.
He ran upstairs.
David stayed beside her.
"Rebecca."
Her eyes opened slightly.
"David..."
"I'm here."
"You have to leave."
"No."
"They'll come back."
"Who?"
She struggled to breathe.
"The people behind Echo."
"What is Echo?"
Her lips moved.
"Not a project."
David leaned closer.
"It's a place."
"What place?"
She looked terrified.
"Room 17."
Then she lost consciousness.
Sirens appeared in the distance.
Mark returned.
"We have maybe five minutes."
David lifted Rebecca carefully.
"We're taking her."
Mark nodded.
They rushed upstairs.
But the front yard was empty.
No attackers.
No cars.
Nothing.
The police arrived first.
Then paramedics.
Within minutes Rebecca was loaded into an ambulance.
David stood in the rain watching the vehicle disappear.
Mark approached.
"You heard what she said."
"Room 17."
"We need to find it."
David looked at the key.
"First we figure out where."
By morning, Rebecca was in intensive care.
David sat outside her room.
Emily sat beside him.
Neither had slept.
After several hours, Emily finally spoke.
"Dad."
"Yeah?"
"Mom was afraid of you."
David looked at her.
"Why?"
"She said you changed after the accident."
"What accident?"
"The one you don't remember."
David's stomach tightened.
Emily pulled a photograph from her pocket.
She had found it at home.
It showed David twelve years earlier.
But something was wrong.
He looked younger.
Different haircut.
Different scar.
Different eyes.
Standing beside him was a man David recognized.
James Holloway.
On the back were six words.
THE FIRST DAVID NEVER CAME HOME.
David stared at the picture.
"Where did you get this?"
"Mom kept it hidden."
Mark came over.
"There's something else."
He placed a laptop on the chair.
"I traced the medical facility from the photograph."
David looked.
An old private hospital.
Closed eleven years ago.
Its official name:
St. Gabriel Research Center.
Mark continued.
"The building was demolished."
"Then how do we find Room 17?"
Mark opened another file.
"There are no records."
David frowned.
"No records?"
"None."
David stared at the screen.
"Unless..."
Mark nodded.
"Unless the facility wasn't officially registered."
David understood.
They needed to find someone who worked there.
Three hours later, they found one.
Dr. Helen Cross.
Former neurologist.
Retired.
Living alone outside the city.
She opened the door holding a shotgun.
"I knew someone would come."
David froze.
"You know me?"
Dr. Cross stared at his face.
Her expression collapsed.
"You survived."
David swallowed.
"Apparently."
She lowered the shotgun.
"Come in."
Inside the house were stacks of medical journals and old photographs.
Dr. Cross looked at David for a long time.
"They told us you were dead."
"Who?"
"Everyone."
David sat.
"What happened to me?"
She was silent for several seconds.
Then:
"You were brought to St. Gabriel after a car accident."
"Who brought me?"
"James Holloway."
David froze.
"James was dead."
"Not then."
Dr. Cross opened a locked cabinet.
Inside was an old VHS tape.
She placed it on a table.
"Before I show you this, understand something."
"What?"
"The man in this video is you."
David watched the screen.
A younger version of himself sat in a white room.
He looked terrified.
A camera pointed at him.
A voice asked:
"State your name."
The younger David answered:
"Daniel Vale."
David stopped breathing.
"What?"
The video continued.
"Do you know who you are?"
"Daniel Vale."
"Who sent you?"
"Nobody."
"Who do you trust?"
The younger man looked straight into the camera.
"My wife."
The interviewer paused.
"What is your wife's name?"
He answered.
"Rebecca."
David stared at the screen.
The video ended.
Dr. Cross removed the tape.
David's hands shook.
"Who is Daniel Vale?"
She looked at him.
"You."
"No."
"Yes."
"Then who was David Whitmore?"
Dr. Cross whispered:
"A fabricated identity."
David stood.
His mind was racing.
"Why?"
She stared at him.
"Because Daniel Vale was the only man who escaped Room 17."
Mark stepped closer.
"What happened there?"
Dr. Cross looked at the door.
Then whispered:
"Room 17 wasn't a room."
"What was it?"
"A machine."
David frowned.
"What kind of machine?"
Dr. Cross's eyes filled with fear.
"A machine designed to make one person's memories belong to another."
David went still.
Then his phone rang.
A text from an unknown number.
WE KNOW YOU SPOKE TO HELEN.
Below it was a photograph.
Emily leaving the hospital.
A red circle was drawn around her.
Another message appeared.
NEXT TIME, WE TAKE YOUR DAUGHTER.
David's blood turned cold.
Mark read the message.
"We're moving."
David looked at Dr. Cross.
"Where is Room 17?"
May you like
She whispered:
"Under the hospital."
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