CHAPTER 10: SUBJECT 18
“Daddy?”
The word came through the laboratory speakers.
I couldn't move.
Emily was still pressed against my chest.
The little girl behind the glass stared directly at me.
She looked six years old.
Dark hair.
Pale skin.
The same eyes as Emily.
The same silver bracelet.
But there was something different about her.
She wasn't crying.
She wasn't afraid.
She was smiling.
Not like a child.
Like someone who already knew how this story ended.
“Daddy,” she said again.
Emily lifted her head.
“That's not my daddy.”
The little girl smiled wider.
“Yes, he is.”
Emily stepped behind me.
I immediately moved between them.
“Who is she?”
Daniel stared at the girl.
His face had gone completely white.
“I don't know.”
“You said Subject 18 died.”
“She did.”
The girl suddenly laughed.
Daniel flinched.
“That laugh…”
“What?”
“I've heard it before.”
“Where?”
“On the recordings.”
My stomach tightened.
“What recordings?”
Daniel looked at the laboratory.
“Subject 18 was never supposed to survive.”
Victor walked toward the glass.
The little girl immediately stopped smiling.
For the first time, she looked frightened.
Victor pressed a button.
The door opened.
“Don't!” Daniel shouted.
Victor stepped inside.
The girl backed away.
“Please.”
Victor grabbed her arm.
She screamed.
Emily suddenly shouted:
“LET HER GO!”
Victor turned.
Emily broke away from me.
She ran toward the glass.
I grabbed her before she could reach it.
“Emily!”
“Daddy, don't let him hurt her!”
I looked at Victor.
“Let her go.”
Victor smiled.
“You're becoming sentimental.”
“She’s a child.”
“So is Emily.”
His expression changed.
“And you see what she is worth.”
Daniel stepped toward him.
“You won't touch Subject 18.”
Victor laughed.
“You still think you have a choice.”
Then the lights went out.
The laboratory plunged into darkness.
A scream echoed through the corridor.
Not Emily.
Not the other girl.
Victor.
Then something crashed against the wall.
Emergency lights flickered on.
Victor was lying on the floor.
Unconscious.
The little girl was gone.
I looked around.
“Where did she go?”
Daniel pointed toward the ventilation shaft.
“She escaped.”
Sarah stared at him.
“That's impossible.”
“What?”
“The vents are sealed.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not anymore.”
Emily tugged my sleeve.
“Daddy.”
I looked down.
“What?”
“She told me something.”
“What?”
Emily whispered:
“She said Mommy sent her.”
My heart stopped.
“Your mother?”
Emily nodded.
“She said her name is Lily.”
Daniel froze.
“Lily.”
“What?”
He stared at Emily.
“That's the name your mother used.”
I felt a chill.
“My mother?”
“No.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Your wife's mother.”
I stared at him.
“My wife's mother died before I met Sarah.”
“That's what everyone told you.”
I looked toward the dark corridor.
Another lie.
Another grave.
Another person who wasn't where I had been told they were.
How many ghosts had been hiding in my life?
We found the control room five minutes later.
Daniel moved quickly.
He seemed to know the building by instinct.
“Where are you going?”
“The archive.”
“Why?”
“Because we need the records.”
“What about Lily?”
He stopped.
“We find her after we find Emily's file.”
“Why?”
“Because if Subject 18 is alive, everything we believed about the program is wrong.”
Sarah looked at him.
“Not everything.”
Daniel turned.
“What do you mean?”
Sarah pointed toward a screen.
A file had appeared.
SUBJECT 18: LILY CARTER
I stared at the name.
Carter.
My last name.
My blood went cold.
“That's impossible.”
Daniel opened the file.
Birth date.
Six years ago.
The same year my wife supposedly died.
I looked at Sarah.
“Explain.”
She couldn't.
Daniel opened another document.
Parentage.
Mother:
Sarah Carter.
Father:
Unknown.
I stared.
My wife's name.
Sarah Carter.
My wife.
My heart pounded.
“Why is the father unknown?”
Daniel scrolled further.
Then he stopped.
His face changed.
“What?”
He didn't answer.
“Daniel.”
He turned the monitor toward me.
There was a genetic comparison.
Subject 18.
My DNA.
Match: 99.98%
I couldn't breathe.
“No.”
Daniel whispered:
“She is your daughter.”
Emily stared at the screen.
“Daddy?”
I looked at her.
Then at the file.
Then at Daniel.
“I only have one daughter.”
Daniel shook his head.
“You have two.”
Sarah stepped backward.
“No.”
I turned toward her.
“You knew?”
She shook her head.
“I didn't.”
“You were married to me.”
“I didn't know.”
“You were with my wife.”
“I didn't know.”
“Then who is Lily?”
Sarah's face went pale.
“I don't know.”
The alarm suddenly sounded again.
A screen flashed.
SUBJECT 18 HAS ENTERED LEVEL TWO.
Daniel looked at me.
“She knows the building.”
“How?”
“Because she was raised here.”
I felt sick.
“She escaped.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean?”
Daniel pointed at the screen.
“Look.”
A security camera showed Lily walking through a corridor.
Alone.
Calm.
She stopped beneath a camera.
Then she looked directly into it.
And smiled.
She raised one hand.
There was something in her palm.
A silver locket.
The same locket I carried.
I stared.
“She has another one.”
Daniel whispered:
“There were two.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Two lockets.”
“What do they do?”
“They open the archive together.”
“Then why did Victor want mine?”
Daniel looked at the screen.
“Because Lily has the other half.”
We ran.
The corridors twisted beneath the building.
Doors opened and closed.
Red emergency lights flashed.
Daniel led us toward Level Two.
Emily stayed beside me.
Sarah followed.
We reached a steel door.
It opened automatically.
Inside was a nursery.
Not a laboratory.
A nursery.
Small beds.
Toys.
Drawings.
Dozens of them.
I walked slowly inside.
On the wall were children's names.
Subject 01.
Subject 02.
Subject 03.
Each crossed out.
Then:
Subject 17.
Emily's name.
It wasn't crossed out.
Neither was:
Subject 18.
Lily.
I looked at the drawings.
Most were dark.
Some showed doctors.
Some showed needles.
One showed a woman holding a baby.
I recognized her.
My wife.
Beside her stood my mother.
And behind them was Victor.
I picked up the drawing.
At the bottom, a child had written:
Mommy said Daddy doesn't know.
My heart stopped.
Emily looked at it.
“Daddy?”
“It's okay.”
“No.”
She pointed at another drawing.
“That was me.”
I looked.
The picture showed a little girl holding another baby.
A man stood behind them.
I recognized him.
Me.
But the drawing had been made years before Emily could even write.
“How?”
Daniel stared.
“She remembers.”
“What?”
“Some children remember things after memory suppression.”
Emily looked at him.
“What's suppression?”
Daniel's face hardened.
“When they took memories away.”
Emily touched her head.
“Like when I forgot the house?”
I turned toward her.
“What house?”
“The one Mommy took me to.”
“Blackridge?”
She nodded.
“I remembered it before.”
“What did you remember?”
Emily pointed toward the nursery.
“That.”
We walked deeper into the room.
At the far wall was a small door.
Emily walked toward it.
“Don't.”
She ignored me.
She placed her hand against the door.
It opened.
Behind it was a narrow room.
One chair.
One table.
One old tape recorder.
Emily stared.
“I sat there.”
My blood went cold.
“You remember?”
She nodded.
“Mommy was crying.”
I entered the room.
On the table was a cassette.
My wife's handwriting was on the label.
FOR EMILY.
My hands shook as I picked it up.
Daniel found an old player.
He inserted the cassette.
Static.
Then a woman's voice.
My wife's.
“Emily, if you're hearing this, they failed to erase everything.”
My heart stopped.
Sarah covered her mouth.
My wife continued:
“I don't know how old you are now.”
A pause.
“I don't know if your father is with you.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“But if you're listening, I need you to remember one thing.”
The tape crackled.
“Your father did not abandon you.”
I looked at Emily.
She was listening silently.
“He never knew.”
My heart broke.
“He was lied to.”
Then my wife's voice became quieter.
“Everyone around him was involved.”
I looked at Sarah.
Then Daniel.
Then the empty doorway.
My wife continued:
“Your grandmother knows.”
My mother's face flashed in my mind.
“She knows where the archive is.”
I stopped breathing.
“It's beneath the house where I was born.”
The tape crackled.
Then came the final sentence.
“Do not trust the man who calls himself Victor Hale.”
The tape stopped.
Silence.
Daniel looked at me.
“We have to leave.”
“Why?”
He pointed toward the door.
Someone was standing there.
My mother.
She looked terrified.
“Mom?”
She didn't answer.
Then she looked at Emily.
“I came to take you home.”
I stepped in front of my daughter.
“No.”
My mother began crying.
“You don't understand.”
“I understand enough.”
She shook her head.
“Victor has Lily.”
“What?”
“He took her.”
I stared at her.
“You said she escaped.”
“She did.”
“Then how does Victor have her?”
“He was waiting.”
My mother looked at the floor.
“He knew we'd come here.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Where is he?”
My mother whispered:
“At the archive.”
“Where?”
She looked directly at me.
“Under your childhood home.”
My stomach dropped.
The house where I grew up.
The house I had sold after my parents moved away.
The house where I had spent my entire childhood believing I was an only child.
The house where my mother had hidden my brother.
The house where my father had signed the documents.
Everything led there.
Then my mother said:
“There is something else.”
“What?”
She looked at Emily.
“Victor isn't trying to kill her.”
“Then what?”
“He's trying to wake her up.”
I frowned.
“Wake her up?”
My mother whispered:
“Emily has been carrying a suppressed memory since she was born.”
“What memory?”
My mother looked at the cassette player.
“Who her real mother is.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“My wife is her mother.”
“No.”
My mother shook her head.
“Sarah was the woman who raised her.”
I stared at her.
“Then who is her biological mother?”
My mother looked toward the dark hallway.
Before she could answer, a child's voice came from the speakers.
Lily.
“Daddy?”
Everyone froze.
The intercom crackled.
Then Lily whispered:
“I know where Mommy is.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Where?”
A pause.
Then:
“She's underneath your old house.”
The lights went out.
May you like
And in the darkness, my mother's voice whispered:
“She's been there for six years.”
