Chapter 15 - We found the SUV twelve miles outside the city.Abandoned.
Engine still warm.
Doors open.
No driver.
No passengers.
Only one object remained inside.
A battered green stuffed dinosaur.
Evan saw it.
He stopped breathing.
“That belongs to Noah.”
“Your brother?”
He nodded.
I picked up the dinosaur.
Something rattled inside.
I opened the seam.
A tiny recorder fell into my hand.
I pressed play.
Static.
Then a child's voice.
“Jonathan.”
I looked at Evan.
He whispered:
“Noah.”
The recording continued.
“They said you'd forget.”
A pause.
“I knew you wouldn't.”
Then footsteps.
A door closing.
Then Noah's voice again.
“Jax knows where they took us.”
I looked at the dog.
He was already moving toward the woods.
We followed.
For nearly an hour, he tracked the scent.
No headlights.
No roads.
Only darkness.
Then he stopped beside an abandoned farmhouse.
The front door was open.
Inside, the walls were covered with photographs.
Not children.
Me.
Hundreds of photographs.
Me at work.
Me with Jax.
Me leaving my house.
Me buying coffee.
Me sleeping.
Someone had watched me for years.
On the center wall was one sentence:
WE NEVER NEEDED TO CONTROL YOU.
Below it:
WE ONLY NEEDED YOU TO REMEMBER.
I turned.
Jax was staring at a basement door.
The lock was broken.
We opened it.
Stairs descended.
At the bottom was a room.
No beds.
No restraints.
Just a table.
On the table sat seven files.
The same seven children.
Only now every file had a different status.
FOUND.
FOUND.
FOUND.
All except one.
Evan opened the last folder.
His own.
Status:
ACTIVE.
Then another document slid out.
A birth certificate.
Evan Collins.
Mother:
MAYA REED
Father:
JONATHAN REED
I stopped.
The room went silent.
Evan looked at me.
“Dad?”
I couldn't speak.
My father had been lying.
Voss had been lying.
Grandfather had been lying.
Everyone had.
But the document carried my mother's signature.
The one person I knew had tried to save the children.
Then Jax barked.
He looked at the wall.
A hidden compartment opened.
Inside was a final video.
My mother appeared.
She looked directly into the camera.
“If you're watching this, Jonathan, then Jax brought you here.”
I couldn't breathe.
She continued.
“I couldn't save all of them.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“But I saved you.”
A child appeared beside her.
Young.
Maybe six.
Evan.
Then another.
Maya.
Then Noah.
She continued:
“The program will tell you these children are witnesses.”
“They aren't.”
“They are survivors.”
My mother looked toward the camera.
“And you are their guardian.”
I felt tears running down my face.
She smiled faintly.
“Your father will tell you he betrayed you.”
“He did.”
“Voss will tell you he saved you.”
“He didn't.”
“And your grandfather will tell you he owns you.”
“He never did.”
She reached toward the camera.
“One day, Jax will bring them back to you.”
The video ended.
Silence.
Then footsteps came from behind us.
I turned.
My father stood at the top of the stairs.
His hands were empty.
His face looked older than ever.
He looked at Evan.
Then at me.
And finally at Jax.
“I thought you'd hate me.”
I stared at him.
“I do.”
He nodded.
“You should.”
He descended slowly.
“There is one thing I never told you.”
“What?”
“Your grandfather didn't start the program.”
I frowned.
“Then who did?”
He stopped.
“The person who created it is still alive.”
“Who?”
My father looked toward Jax.
The dog was staring at the final file.
My father's voice dropped.
“Jax's original trainer.”
“Voss?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
My father swallowed.
“Your mother.”
I felt the room tilt.
“That isn't possible.”
“She didn't start it to hurt children.”
“Then why?”
He pointed to the file.
“She started it to expose something much bigger.”
I opened it.
The first page contained a single sentence.
THE CHILDREN WERE NEVER THE EXPERIMENT.
My heart pounded.
I turned the page.
The next line read:
THE EXPERIMENT WAS JONATHAN REED.
Behind me, Jax suddenly began growling.
Not at my father.
Not at Evan.
Not at Maya.
He was staring into the darkness behind the basement wall.
A hidden door slowly opened.
A figure stepped through.
White coat.
Gray hair.
Blood on one sleeve.
Dr. Elias Voss.
But he wasn't looking at me.
He was looking at Jax.
And he whispered:
“You finally remembered.”
Jax stepped forward.
For the first time in nine years, he broke free from my command.
He ran straight toward Voss.
And when I reached for him, the lights went out.
A single gunshot echoed through the basement.
Then silence.
Total silence.
Until a child's voice whispered beside me:
“Dad…”
“Dad, Jax got shot.”
I couldn't see.
Couldn't breathe.
I dropped to my knees.
“Jax?”
Nothing.
Then, from somewhere in the darkness, came one slow sound.
A dog breathing.
Alive.
Barely.
And another voice.
Not Voss.
Not my father.
Not any of the children.
My mother's recorded voice came from the hidden speaker.
“Jonathan…”
A pause.
“The last door is underneath you.”
May you like
The floor beneath my knees unlocked.
And began to open.
