CHAPTER 13: THE FATHER WHO NEVER DIED
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The man at the bottom of the stairs stood beneath the red emergency light, one hand gripping my wife's arm.
He looked older than I remembered.
Much older.
His hair was almost completely white.
His face was thinner.
But there was no mistaking him.
The scar above his eyebrow.
The crooked left shoulder.
The gold wedding ring my mother had buried with him.
My father.
The man I had watched die.
The man whose funeral I had attended.
The man whose grave I had visited every year.
Alive.
Standing beneath the laboratory.
Holding my wife hostage.
I could barely speak.
“Dad?”
His eyes moved toward me.
And then he smiled.
Not warmly.
Not lovingly.
Like a scientist observing an experiment that had finally produced the expected result.
“You've grown.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Daniel stepped in front of me.
“You.”
My father looked at him.
“Hello, Daniel.”
Daniel's face twisted with rage.
“You're dead.”
“I was supposed to be.”
“You let me believe you abandoned me.”
“I did abandon you.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Why?”
My father looked toward my wife.
“Because you were no longer useful.”
Daniel's fists tightened.
“You took me when I was six.”
“Yes.”
“You tortured me.”
“I kept you alive.”
“You killed sixteen children.”
My father shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at Daniel.
“Victor killed them.”
Victor.
I suddenly remembered.
Victor had always been afraid of someone.
Someone above him.
Someone who controlled the archive.
Someone who had been pulling strings from the shadows.
My father.
Victor hadn't been the mastermind.
He had been the servant.
I looked at my father.
“You created Blackridge.”
He smiled.
“I helped create it.”
“You lied to Mom.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“You lied about your death.”
“Yes.”
I felt something inside me break.
“Why?”
My father looked at me.
“Because you were the most important part of the project.”
I laughed bitterly.
“I was your son.”
“You were my son.”
The distinction hurt.
My father continued:
“That was precisely why you were valuable.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“You used both of us.”
My father shook his head.
“I used you.”
He pointed toward me.
“I protected him.”
I stared at him.
“You call that protection?”
“You survived.”
“I spent my entire life believing my brother was dead.”
“You lived.”
“I lost my wife.”
“You found her.”
“My daughter was kidnapped.”
“She is alive.”
I felt rage rising.
“You destroyed my family.”
My father looked at me calmly.
“I built your family.”
Silence.
Then my wife spoke.
“Don't listen to him.”
My father turned toward her.
“You always were difficult.”
She looked at me.
“He's lying.”
My father tightened his grip on her arm.
“She's been lying to you for years.”
I stared at her.
“About what?”
She shook her head.
“Don't.”
My father smiled.
“Ask her who she was before she met you.”
I looked at my wife.
She closed her eyes.
I felt the same old wound open again.
“Who were you?”
She didn't answer.
My father did.
“Subject Four.”
My blood went cold.
“No.”
My wife whispered:
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
“You were a subject?”
She nodded.
“I was seventeen.”
My father continued.
“She was one of the first successful carriers.”
I remembered the files.
Subject 17.
Composite lineage.
The natural correction.
I looked at my wife.
“That's why you were chosen to marry me.”
She nodded.
“At first.”
“At first?”
“I was supposed to monitor you.”
“Then what happened?”
“I fell in love with you.”
My father laughed.
“You became emotional.”
My wife looked at him.
“And you became a monster.”
His expression hardened.
“You knew the risks.”
“I knew what you did to Daniel.”
“You didn't know everything.”
“I knew enough.”
My father turned toward me.
“She betrayed the project.”
“She betrayed you,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Because she loved me.”
He stared at me.
“She loved the experiment.”
My wife suddenly screamed:
“No!”
Her voice echoed through the chamber.
“I loved him!”
My father slapped her.
I lunged forward.
Daniel grabbed me.
“Wait.”
I fought him.
“Let me go!”
“That's what he wants.”
My father smiled.
“Your brother understands.”
I looked at Daniel.
He was staring at our father with hatred.
“What do you want?”
My father answered immediately.
“Emily.”
I pulled my daughter closer.
“No.”
“Then your wife dies.”
“No.”
“Then Daniel dies.”
He pointed toward him.
Daniel didn't move.
“Or,” my father said, “you can finally finish what I started.”
He gestured toward the laboratory.
“Three generations.”
I shook my head.
“You're insane.”
“I'm a scientist.”
“You murdered children.”
“Sacrifices.”
“You kidnapped my wife.”
“Containment.”
“You stole my brother.”
“Research.”
“You call everything something else so you don't have to admit what you are.”
For the first time, his expression changed.
Anger.
Good.
I wanted him angry.
Because angry people made mistakes.
My father stepped forward.
“You think you're different from me?”
I stared.
“You think you're a hero?”
“No.”
“Then what are you?”
“A father.”
He looked at Emily.
“And that's why you're going to lose.”
My wife suddenly looked at me.
Her eyes were filled with fear.
“Listen to me.”
I nodded.
She whispered:
“The old house.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The archive beneath the house isn't the real archive.”
My father turned sharply.
“Enough.”
My wife continued.
“The real records are somewhere else.”
My father raised his gun.
“Stop.”
She looked directly at me.
“The cemetery.”
My stomach dropped.
“My mother's grave?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Your father's grave.”
I stared.
“You said his body was never buried there.”
My father went still.
My wife whispered:
“Because there is no body.”
The room fell silent.
My mother had told me my father died.
The funeral had happened.
The grave existed.
But the body had never been there.
My father had staged his death.
And apparently, he had hidden something beneath his own grave.
I looked at him.
“You kept the original archive there.”
He smiled.
“You're finally learning.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Then why bring us here?”
My father looked at him.
“Because the archive needs all three of you.”
“Why?”
“Because the original experiment was never completed.”
I frowned.
“What experiment?”
My father pointed toward Daniel.
“Subject Zero.”
Then toward my wife.
“Subject Four.”
Then toward me.
“Subject Five.”
I froze.
“Five?”
He nodded.
“You were never Subject 17's father.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
He looked toward Emily.
“She was designed from three subjects.”
I stared at my daughter.
“No.”
“Daniel provided the original repair mechanism.”
My wife provided the correction.”
He looked at me.
“And you provided the stabilizer.”
My voice shook.
“Then why call me Subject Five?”
“Because you were the first person born naturally with the stabilizer.”
I suddenly remembered the files.
Subject 17.
Subject 18.
The missing names.
The redacted information.
My entire life had been part of the experiment.
My father continued:
“You were supposed to have died.”
I felt cold.
“What?”
“Your body rejected the treatment.”
“But I survived.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
My father smiled.
“Because your mother refused to let us take you back.”
I looked at my mother.
She had been standing silently near the stairs.
Tears ran down her face.
“You saved me?”
She nodded.
“I took you and ran.”
My father looked at her.
“And I let you.”
She stared at him.
“You followed us.”
“I watched.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to know whether the experiment would work naturally.”
My stomach turned.
“You watched me grow up.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me fall in love.”
“Yes.”
“You watched my daughter being born.”
“Yes.”
“And you let us believe you were dead.”
“Yes.”
I could barely breathe.
“You never loved us.”
My father's face became strangely calm.
“I loved the result.”
Daniel whispered:
“You're not our father.”
My father looked at him.
“No.”
Daniel's expression changed.
“I stopped being your father a long time ago.”
Then he raised his gun.
He aimed it at me.
“Now give me Emily.”
I pulled my daughter behind me.
“No.”
He pulled the trigger.
Daniel moved faster.
He stepped between us.
The bullet struck him in the chest.
“DANIEL!”
He collapsed.
Blood spread across his shirt.
Emily screamed.
My wife screamed his name.
I dropped beside him.
“Stay with me.”
Daniel coughed.
“I knew…”
“Don't talk.”
“I knew he'd shoot.”
“Stay awake.”
He grabbed my hand.
“Listen.”
His voice was barely audible.
“The grave.”
“What?”
“The grave isn't the archive.”
He coughed again.
“It's the key.”
My father suddenly looked alarmed.
Daniel smiled weakly.
“You forgot…”
He looked at me.
“I'm not the only one who knows.”
My father raised his gun again.
Then my mother stepped between us.
“Enough.”
He stared at her.
“You.”
She held something in her hand.
A small remote.
My father's face changed.
“What did you do?”
My mother smiled through her tears.
“I learned from you.”
She pressed a button.
Every screen in the laboratory turned on.
Hundreds of files appeared.
Names.
Dates.
Photographs.
Medical records.
Everything Blackridge had hidden.
My mother had uploaded the archive.
My father stared at the screens.
“No.”
She pressed the button again.
The files began transmitting.
My father lunged toward her.
Sarah shouted:
“Run!”
I grabbed Emily.
My wife broke free.
Daniel tried to stand.
We ran toward the stairs.
Behind us, my father's voice thundered:
“You can't erase me!”
My mother screamed back:
“No.”
She looked at him.
“But the world can see you now.”
We reached the upper corridor.
Then every alarm in the building began screaming.
A computerized voice announced:
EXTERNAL CONNECTION DETECTED.
DATA TRANSFER: 12%.
My wife grabbed my hand.
“Keep moving.”
“Where?”
“The cemetery.”
“What about Daniel?”
“He's alive.”
I looked back.
Daniel was stumbling after us.
Blood covered his shirt.
But he was moving.
We reached the exit.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
One photograph.
My father's grave.
The stone had been removed.
Beneath it was a steel door.
And beside the door stood Victor.
Alive.
Under the photograph were five words:
YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES. COME ALONE.
I looked at my wife.
She saw the message.
Her face went white.
“Don't go.”
“I have to.”
“No.”
“They have Victor.”
She grabbed my arm.
“You don't understand.”
“What?”
She whispered:
“Victor isn't working for your father anymore.”
I stared at her.
“Then who is he working for?”
She looked at Emily.
Then at Daniel.
Then toward the cemetery.
“I don't know.”
A second message appeared.
This time, it contained a video.
I pressed play.
Victor was standing beside the open grave.
Behind him was another man.
A man whose face I couldn't see.
Victor looked into the camera.
“Your father thought he created Project Echo.”
He smiled.
“He didn't.”
The unseen man stepped closer.
Victor moved aside.
The camera finally revealed his face.
My breath stopped.
Because I recognized him.
He was the doctor who had signed my birth certificate.
The doctor who had supposedly died twenty years ago.
He looked directly into the camera.
And said:
“Your father was only the first generation.”
Then the video ended.
I looked at my wife.
“What does that mean?”
She whispered:
“It means your father wasn't the founder.”
I felt a chill.
“Then who was?”
My wife looked toward the cemetery.
“The man who raised Daniel.”
I turned toward Daniel.
He was staring at the phone.
His face had gone completely white.
Then he whispered:
“I remember him.”
“Who?”
Daniel looked at me.
“The man in the video.”
He swallowed.
“He wasn't my doctor.”
“He was what?”
Daniel's voice trembled.
“My grandfather.”
I stared at him.
Our grandfather.
The man I had never seen.
The man who had supposedly died before I was born.
The man who had created Blackridge.
And suddenly the entire nightmare became something far older than my father.
Something that had been waiting for us before any of us were born.
The data transfer reached:
73%.
Then the lights went out.
And somewhere above us, a car engine roared to life.
Someone was leaving the cemetery.
With my father's body.
May you like
Or what I thought was my father's body.
And whatever was buried beneath that grave was about to be opened.
