Chapter 4 - The PhotographAlexander stared at the photograph.
The date was printed on the bottom.
October 3, 2009.
He remembered that year.
His father had been alive.
Elena had supposedly been studying abroad.
They could not possibly have known each other.
Yet there they were.
His father, Richard Vale, standing beside a younger Elena.
And between them was a little boy.
Alexander’s face went pale.
“Who is that?”
Mia stared at the picture.
She looked confused.
“I don't know.”
Evelyn stepped closer.
She saw the photo.
The gun slipped slightly in her hand.
“Where did you get that?”
Alexander turned.
“Thomas dropped it.”
His mother said nothing.
“Mom.”
Silence.
“Tell me the truth.”
Evelyn finally whispered:
“Your father had a second family.”
Alexander stared.
“What?”
“Not another wife.”
“Then what?”
“A project.”
He frowned.
“What project?”
Evelyn moved toward a wall panel.
She pressed three hidden switches.
The panel opened.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
Alexander looked down.
“You built this?”
“No.”
“My father did.”
They descended.
Mia stayed close to Alexander.
The staircase smelled of dust and cold metal.
At the bottom was a steel door.
Seven was engraved in the center.
Alexander inserted the brass key.
The lock clicked.
The door opened.
Inside was a room filled with boxes.
Hard drives.
Photographs.
File cabinets.
Medical records.
Alexander walked forward.
He picked up a folder.
His name was on it.
ALEXANDER VALE.
He opened the file.
Birth records.
School records.
Psychological evaluations.
Medical reports.
And one sentence written in red ink.
SUBJECT DOES NOT KNOW THE TRUTH.
Alexander stared.
“Subject?”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“He was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From the people who funded his work.”
“What work?”
Evelyn pointed toward a glass case.
Inside sat dozens of photographs.
Children.
All between five and ten years old.
Each had a number.
One.
Two.
Three.
Mia saw them.
She stepped backward.
“No.”
Alexander noticed.
“What is it?”
She pointed to photograph number twenty-four.
A little girl.
Gray sweater.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same scar above her eyebrow.
“Mia?”
She shook her head.
“That isn't me.”
Alexander looked closely.
The photograph was dated eight years earlier.
The child was only five.
Same face.
Impossible.
Then the speaker in the room crackled.
A woman’s voice came through.
Elena.
“Alexander.”
He froze.
“Listen carefully.”
Her breathing was rapid.
“You cannot trust your mother.”
Evelyn reached for the speaker.
Elena continued.
“Room Seven isn't a vault.”
Alexander stared at the microphone.
“What is it?”
Her voice cracked.
“A laboratory.”
The lights flickered.
“Your father didn't build it to hide something.”
A pause.
“He built it to create something.”
Alexander felt the room tilt.
“Create what?”
Elena whispered:
“A replacement.”
The speaker went silent.
Mia suddenly screamed.
Alexander turned.
The girl was pointing behind him.
One of the photographs had changed.
The picture now showed Alexander.
Standing beside Elena.
Holding Mia’s hand.
May you like
But the photograph had been dated tomorrow.
And in the background of the image stood Alexander’s dead father.
