Chapter 6 - The Lab Beneath Hollow PineMy Injury Wasn't an Accident
We ran.
The voice came from the corridor, but no one was there.
A speaker.
Another hidden microphone.
The door led to a second passage.
Vince shoved a steel cabinet against it.
“Move!”
We entered the lab.
The room looked abandoned.
It wasn't.
The computers hummed.
Refrigeration units glowed blue.
Rows of labeled medical samples lined the walls.
Mara stared.
“Daniel was right.”
I walked toward the nearest refrigerator.
Names were listed.
Dates.
Blood types.
Treatment codes.
Then I saw mine.
PATIENT 17
I froze.
My birth date sat beneath it.
My hands began shaking.
Mara grabbed my wrist.
“Look at me.”
I did.
“Don't fight the tremor.”
“What?”
“Let it happen.”
“Why?”
“Because stopping it is making it worse.”
My hand shook violently.
Then, slowly, the movement changed.
Mara watched my fingers.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“Your muscles are responding to nerve stimulation.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone altered your neurological response.”
I stared at her.
“You're saying they experimented on me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked around.
“Maybe because Thomas wouldn't let them continue.”
I found another file.
TOMLIN PROTOCOL.
Thomas's name.
I opened it.
Only one line remained visible.
Subject refused memory suppression.
My stomach dropped.
Mara read it over my shoulder.
“Memory suppression.”
“Someone tried to erase something.”
“What did I forget?”
She shook her head.
“We need the original files.”
A siren began.
Red lights flashed.
Vince cursed.
“Fire system.”
Smoke entered through the vents.
“Someone triggered it remotely.”
I grabbed the drive.
“Move.”
We reached the eastern hallway.
The smoke thickened.
Mara stumbled.
I caught her.
Her sleeve slipped.
Bruises covered her upper arm.
Not one.
Dozens.
Some old.
Some fresh.
“Who did this?”
She wouldn't look at me.
“Later.”
“No.”
“They'll come.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Richard.”
My uncle.
The door exploded inward.
A man in tactical gear raised a weapon.
Vince fired.
The man fell.
Another appeared.
Then another.
We ran.
A bullet struck the wall beside Mara's head.
I shoved her through the doorway.
We burst into the cellar.
Ruth was waiting.
She held a fire extinguisher in one hand.
And a shotgun in the other.
I stared.
“Ruth?”
She looked at me calmly.
“Your mother taught me never to ask permission when family is in danger.”
She handed the shotgun to Vince.
“Three men in the garden.”
“How did you know?”
“I saw them arrive.”
Mara looked at her.
“You knew?”
Ruth nodded.
“For years.”
My stomach turned.
“You knew about the lab?”
“Yes.”
“About Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“About the trust?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Ruth looked at my shoulder.
“Because your brother asked me to wait until your body was strong enough.”
I felt the floor tilt beneath me.
“What does that mean?”
She stepped closer.
“Thomas didn't die that night, Huy.”
My breathing stopped.
Ruth looked toward the corridor.
“He survived the crash.”
I stared at her.
“That isn't possible.”
“He lived for nineteen minutes.”
Vince lowered his head.
“Long enough to make one final call.”
“To whom?”
Ruth looked at Mara.
“To her.”
Mara's eyes filled.
“No.”
Ruth nodded.
“Yes.”
Then she turned to me.
“And Thomas's final words were not about the trust.”
“What were they?”
May you like
Ruth's voice broke.
“He said, ‘Tell my brother I was sorry I couldn't save him from what they put inside his body.’”
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