CHAPTER 8: THE FACILITY THAT NEVER CLOSED
The lights came on one after another.
First the building nearest the gate.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Then an entire row of windows illuminated simultaneously.
The abandoned facility wasn't abandoned.
Someone was inside.
A lot of people.
Isabella stared through the windshield.
Her face had gone completely pale.
“Dad…”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
“I've been here.”
My heart tightened.
“You've never been here.”
She shook her head.
“I have.”
“You were a baby.”
“I know.”
“How could you remember?”
She pressed her fingers against her temples.
“I don't remember with my eyes.”
“What do you mean?”
“I remember with my head.”
Nobody spoke.
Even Adrian looked disturbed.
The man in the white coat stepped closer.
“She's right.”
I glared at him.
“You stay away from my daughter.”
He smiled.
“You still don't understand what she is.”
“She is my daughter.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
I opened the vehicle door.
Adrian grabbed my arm.
“Don't.”
“I'm not sitting here.”
“They want us inside.”
“Then I'll go inside.”
“That is exactly what they want.”
I looked at the facility.
“If we stay here, they'll take her anyway.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
He knew I was right.
He slowly opened his door.
“Stay behind me.”
We stepped out.
Elena followed.
Beatriz remained in the vehicle.
I looked at her.
“Come.”
She shook her head.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
She stared at the facility.
“Because I know what happens in there.”
I walked to her window.
“You're coming.”
She looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because you owe Isabella the truth.”
She closed her eyes.
Then stepped out.
We walked toward the gate.
The men in white coats didn't stop us.
They simply watched.
That frightened me more than guns would have.
Nobody raised a weapon.
Nobody shouted.
They just moved aside.
As if they had expected us.
The gate opened completely.
Beyond it stood a long concrete path.
On both sides were dead trees.
At the end was the main building.
Its windows were black.
Except for one.
A single room on the third floor.
The light inside flickered.
Isabella grabbed my hand.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Don't let them take me upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because that's where the other baby was.”
Elena stopped walking.
“What other baby?”
Isabella looked at her.
“Your baby.”
Elena's face collapsed.
“What did you see?”
Isabella pointed toward the building.
“He was crying.”
“When?”
“After they took you away.”
Elena's hands began shaking.
“What did they do?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you see his face?”
Isabella nodded.
“Same eyes as you.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Then Isabella added:
“He had a mark.”
“What mark?”
“A triangle.”
Adrian suddenly stopped.
I looked at him.
“What?”
He didn't answer.
“Adrian.”
He pointed toward the facility.
“That's the identification mark.”
“For what?”
“For the children.”
My stomach turned.
“How many children?”
He didn't answer.
“How many?”
“Seven.”
I stared at him.
“Seven?”
“Seven children were brought into this program.”
“Why?”
“To test whether the biological key could be transferred.”
“What happened to them?”
Silence.
I looked at Elena.
She whispered:
“Only one survived.”
I looked at Isabella.
“No.”
Elena nodded.
“Her.”
The words echoed in my head.
Only one survived.
My daughter.
We reached the entrance.
The doors opened automatically.
A woman stood inside.
She looked to be in her sixties.
Gray hair.
White coat.
No expression.
She looked directly at Isabella.
Then said:
“Subject Seven.”
I stepped in front of my daughter.
“She has a name.”
The woman smiled.
“Isabella.”
I frowned.
“How do you know her?”
“We've been waiting eight years.”
My blood ran cold.
“Waiting for what?”
“For her to come back.”
I looked at the hallway.
“Who runs this place?”
The woman didn't answer.
“Where is the man in the dark suit?”
“Which one?”
I realized something.
There were probably many people involved.
“How many people work here?”
“Enough.”
“Who is in charge?”
She smiled.
“Your father.”
I turned.
My father wasn't with us.
He had stayed behind during the escape.
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
She walked toward us.
“He has been here for years.”
I felt sick.
“He's running Black Meridian?”
“No.”
She stopped.
“He's trying to destroy it.”
I didn't know what to believe anymore.
Every truth came with another lie attached.
The woman pointed toward the elevator.
“Third floor.”
I looked at Isabella.
She was staring at the elevator.
“No.”
She backed away.
“Don't make me go there.”
I crouched.
“You don't have to.”
The woman interrupted.
“She already has.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“She went there as an infant.”
Isabella suddenly screamed.
The hallway lights flickered.
A door at the end opened.
Inside was a room.
White walls.
White floor.
White ceiling.
Exactly what she had described.
The white room.
I felt sick.
We entered.
There was a small metal table in the center.
A chair.
A monitor.
And a glass crib.
My daughter stopped breathing.
She stared at the crib.
“I remember that.”
I walked toward it.
Inside the glass crib was a tiny bracelet.
I picked it up.
It had Isabella's name engraved on it.
But beneath her name was another name.
NOAH.
Elena screamed.
“No…”
She grabbed the bracelet.
“My son.”
I looked at her.
“You knew his name?”
She nodded.
“Noah.”
Her tears fell onto the bracelet.
“They told me he died.”
The woman in the white coat spoke calmly.
“He did.”
Elena turned toward her.
“You killed him.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
The woman looked at Isabella.
“She did.”
I froze.
“What?”
Elena stepped backward.
“What are you saying?”
The woman pointed at Isabella.
“Subject Seven caused the system failure.”
I shook my head.
“She was a newborn.”
“Yes.”
“She couldn't do anything.”
“She didn't need to.”
The woman walked toward the monitor.
She pressed a button.
A recording began.
A baby's cry filled the room.
Then another.
Two babies.
Two distinct cries.
I looked at Isabella.
She covered her ears.
“No.”
The recording continued.
A male voice said:
“Begin synchronization.”
The lights in the room flickered.
The first baby's crying stopped.
The second baby started screaming.
The woman whispered:
“Noah died during the synchronization.”
Elena collapsed.
I grabbed the edge of the table.
“What synchronization?”
The woman looked at me.
“The two children were connected.”
“How?”
“Through the system.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It wasn't supposed to.”
She looked at Isabella.
“She was never meant to survive.”
I stared at the screen.
The recording showed two glass cribs.
One contained Isabella.
The other contained a newborn boy.
Noah.
Then I saw something.
A person standing between the cribs.
I recognized him.
My father.
He was holding a tablet.
Watching the monitors.
He looked terrified.
Then another person entered the room.
I froze.
The woman beside him was younger.
Much younger.
But I recognized her immediately.
Beatriz.
She was holding baby Isabella.
I looked at Beatriz.
She began crying.
“I told you.”
“You were here.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about Noah.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my daughter was part of this.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to me for eight years.”
“I was trying to keep her alive.”
I looked at the screen again.
My father suddenly turned toward the camera.
And spoke.
The recording had sound.
His voice filled the room.
“If you're watching this…”
He paused.
“…then I failed.”
I stepped closer.
He continued.
“Isabella must never be allowed to remember the synchronization.”
My heart stopped.
“Because if she does…”
The screen flickered.
My father's face distorted.
Then his final words came through.
“She will remember where the system is buried.”
The recording ended.
Silence.
I looked at Isabella.
She was staring at the screen.
Then she whispered:
“I remember.”
Everyone turned toward her.
“What do you remember?” I asked.
She pointed toward the wall.
“There.”
I looked.
There was nothing.
Just white concrete.
She walked toward it.
Slowly.
She placed her tiny palm against the wall.
Then whispered:
“Open.”
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
“Open.”
A deep mechanical sound echoed beneath the floor.
The wall split down the middle.
Everyone stepped backward.
A hidden room appeared.
Inside was a massive server system.
Hundreds of blinking lights.
Screens.
Files.
Hard drives.
Photographs.
Names.
Thousands of them.
And in the center was a single chair.
A black chair.
With restraints.
I stared at it.
“What is this?”
The woman in the white coat whispered:
“The memory room.”
I looked at Isabella.
She was staring at the chair.
Then she said something that made everyone freeze.
“I remember sitting there.”
Elena shook her head.
“You were a baby.”
“I know.”
“Then how?”
Isabella slowly turned toward me.
Her eyes were filled with tears.
“Because someone made me wake up.”
I felt a chill.
“Who?”
She pointed toward the chair.
“There was a man sitting beside me.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“He looked exactly like Dad.”
My heart stopped.
“My father?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
She pointed at me.
“You.”
Nobody spoke.
I stared at my daughter.
“I wasn't there.”
Isabella began crying.
“Yes, you were.”
The woman in the white coat suddenly stepped backward.
Her face turned pale.
“No…”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She whispered:
“That isn't possible.”
“What isn't possible?”
She stared at Isabella.
“The memory transfer was never supposed to work.”
I looked at my daughter.
Then at the server room.
And finally at the photograph lying on the floor.
A photograph of me.
Standing beside baby Isabella.
Inside this exact facility.
The date was eight years ago.
But I had never been here.
I was certain.
Until I noticed what I was wearing.
The same shirt.
The same watch.
The same scar.
And in my arms...
Was Isabella.
Alive.
Awake.
Looking directly at the camera.
I dropped the photograph.
Then a voice came through the facility speakers.
My own voice.
“Welcome back, Isabella.”
I looked up.
The speakers crackled.
My voice continued:
May you like
“You finally remembered.”
And then every door in the facility locked simultaneously.
