Chapter 7 - The Missing YearDaniel took us to an old farmhouse nearly two hours outside the city.
It belonged to someone he trusted.
Or so he said.
At this point, I no longer knew what trust meant.
He sat at the kitchen table opposite me.
“Thomas erased part of your memory.”
I stared at him.
“You can't erase someone's memory.”
“You can alter access to it.”
“You're saying I forgot an entire year?”
“Yes.”
“Which year?”
“The year before Oliver was born.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Daniel pushed a photograph across the table.
I recognized the dress.
The street.
The building.
But I didn't recognize the event.
Thomas stood beside me.
I was pregnant.
But the date printed on the image was eight months before Oliver was born.
I stared at my own face.
I looked terrified.
“What happened?”
“You were involved in Project Echo.”
My hands trembled.
“I don't remember.”
“That's the point.”
Daniel explained slowly.
Thomas discovered that Black Meridian had been using experimental neurological techniques to encode sensitive information into human memory.
But the experiments weren't designed for adults.
They needed people whose brains were highly adaptable.
Children.
Oliver had been exposed.
But not intentionally.
He was born into it.
His father had already worked for the program before realizing what it was.
Thomas tried to destroy it.
Instead, he discovered the archive was tied to a human memory key.
Mine.
I swallowed.
“Why me?”
“Because you were there when Thomas accessed the first system.”
“What system?”
“The Architect's private archive.”
Daniel pushed another photograph toward me.
A laboratory.
White walls.
A machine.
A woman lying inside it.
That woman was me.
I recoiled.
“No.”
“You agreed to the procedure.”
“I would never.”
“You did.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked down.
“Because you were pregnant.”
My entire body went cold.
“Thomas told you?”
“He told me everything.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
“You volunteered.”
“For what?”
“To carry the backup.”
I stared at him.
“What backup?”
“The archive.”
Daniel pointed to the photograph.
“Thomas couldn't transport the archive physically without being detected.”
“So he put it in me?”
“Not the entire archive.”
“Then what?”
“The key.”
I touched my temple.
“You expect me to believe I have some kind of code in my brain?”
“It isn't a code.”
“What is it?”
“A memory.”
The room fell silent.
Suddenly I remembered a sound.
A machine humming.
Thomas crying.
A man's voice telling me:
“Forget this.”
I gripped my head.
“Stop.”
Daniel stood.
“What's happening?”
“I remember.”
He froze.
“A room.”
“What room?”
“A hospital.”
Mara entered.
“What did you remember?”
I looked at her.
“My husband was there.”
“And?”
“He wasn't alone.”
My heart pounded.
“There was a little boy.”
Daniel's face changed.
“What boy?”
I whispered:
“Oliver.”
“That isn't possible.”
“He was three months old.”
Mara approached.
“What happened?”
I closed my eyes.
Then I remembered the final image.
Thomas carrying Oliver.
Running.
Someone firing a gun.
And Thomas turning toward me.
He shouted:
“Whatever happens next, don't trust Daniel.”
My eyes snapped open.
Daniel stood completely still.
I stared at him.
“Thomas told me not to trust you.”
Daniel's face went white.
Then he said something I never expected.
“He was right.”
Before anyone could react, the farmhouse lights went out.
A vehicle stopped outside.
Then came a voice through a loudspeaker.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
A man's voice.
Calm.
May you like
Almost polite.
“It's time to remember what your husband made you forget.”
