Chapter 5: The Fire in the Archive
The corridor erupted into flashing crimson light.
A mechanical alarm pulsed through the underground complex.
"Security breach detected."
"Archive purge initiated."
The calm, artificial voice repeated every few seconds.
My father looked at me.
"They're destroying everything."
I handed Lily to Mark.
"Take her upstairs."
She grabbed my wrist.
"No!"
Her frightened eyes searched mine.
"Don't leave me."
I knelt in front of her.
"I'm not leaving."
"I promise."
"I just need to stop the bad people."
She stared at me for several seconds before giving a tiny nod.
"Come back."
"I will."
Mark picked her up and hurried toward the staircase while my father and I sprinted deeper into the corridor.
The red lights revealed another steel door at the very end of the passage.
Unlike the others, it stood slightly open.
Smoke drifted through the gap.
I kicked it wider.
Heat rushed into my face.
Inside was a massive archive room.
Metal filing cabinets stretched from floor to ceiling.
Rows of servers blinked against one wall.
Dozens of external hard drives lay scattered across the floor.
In the center of the room, flames were already climbing over a stack of folders.
Someone had poured gasoline.
The fire spread unnaturally fast.
"They planned for this," my father muttered.
I grabbed the nearest fire extinguisher hanging beside the entrance.
The safety pin snapped free.
White foam exploded across the burning papers.
For a moment, the flames retreated.
Then another burst of fire erupted from the opposite side of the room.
There was too much fuel.
Whoever had started the blaze wanted nothing left behind.
My father pulled open the nearest filing cabinet.
Instead of financial records or property deeds, it contained hundreds of individual files.
Each one bore the photograph of a child.
Names.
Birthdays.
School addresses.
Medical histories.
Family routines.
Some files dated back nearly fifteen years.
My father stared in horror.
"This isn't one family."
"No."
"It never was."
I shoved as many folders as I could into a large canvas equipment bag lying near the wall.
Every second mattered.
Paper curled and blackened around us.
Smoke thickened.
Then I noticed something strange.
One filing cabinet hadn't been touched by the fire.
Its drawers were locked with a biometric scanner.
Someone had tried to protect whatever was inside.
I wiped soot from the scanner.
A faint green light blinked.
Fingerprint required.
Behind me, my father coughed.
"We don't have time."
"We make time."
I searched the room frantically.
On the desk lay a ceramic coffee mug.
Still warm.
Beside it rested a pair of disposable latex gloves.
Whoever had been here had escaped only moments earlier.
Then I saw it.
A half-empty bottle of water.
Condensation still clung to the plastic.
Fresh.
Very fresh.
The person hadn't expected us to arrive this quickly.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
I answered without thinking.
The same calm voice returned.
"I admire your persistence."
I didn't respond.
"You've already saved enough evidence to ruin Daniel."
"But Daniel was never important."
My heartbeat slowed.
"What do you mean?"
"He was useful."
"Nothing more."
I glanced toward the biometric cabinet.
"What are you hiding?"
A brief chuckle.
"Open the last drawer."
The line went dead.
"The last drawer?" my father asked.
I looked down.
Unlike the others, the lowest drawer had a manual keyhole.
No fingerprint.
No keypad.
Just a lock.
I yanked.
Nothing.
Then I spotted a heavy crowbar leaning against the wall.
Three powerful strikes.
The lock burst apart.
The drawer slid open.
Inside rested a single black binder.
No title.
No label.
Only one photograph clipped to the cover.
It was a picture of me.
Taken almost ten years earlier.
Standing outside Lily's future preschool.
Years before Lily had even been born.
I felt the room spin.
My father looked over my shoulder.
"That's impossible."
I opened the binder.
The first page read:
Project Sparrow
Subject Candidate:
Michael Carter
Status:
Rejected
Reason:
Excessive paternal attachment profile.
I stared at the words without understanding.
Page after page described psychological evaluations.
Behavior predictions.
Personality testing.
Records from college.
Employment history.
Even private medical appointments.
Someone had followed my life long before I ever met Lily's mother.
"What is Project Sparrow?" my father whispered.
Neither of us had an answer.
Suddenly, a violent explosion shook the archive.
One of the servers burst into flames.
The ceiling rained sparks.
The sprinkler system failed to activate.
"They disabled it," my father shouted.
"We have to go!"
I shoved the binder into the equipment bag.
Along with several hard drives.
One laptop.
Two external SSDs.
Anything that looked important.
The smoke became unbearable.
We ran toward the exit.
As we reached the corridor, we heard shouting from upstairs.
Police.
Multiple officers.
Their voices echoed down the staircase.
"This way!"
"Basement's clear!"
"Watch your footing!"
Relief washed over me.
Then it vanished.
A single gunshot echoed from above.
Everything stopped.
Another shot.
Then screaming.
Not Lily.
Not Mark.
An officer.
My father grabbed my arm.
"Someone's still in the house."
We raced up the stairs two at a time.
The kitchen came into view.
Chaos.
Guests crouched behind overturned tables.
Police officers aimed their weapons toward the living room.
A front window had been shattered.
One officer lay wounded on the floor, clutching his shoulder.
Another officer shouted,
"Suspect fleeing through the orchard!"
I searched the room desperately.
"Lily!"
Mark emerged from behind the kitchen island, still holding her tightly.
She was safe.
I nearly collapsed with relief.
But something else was wrong.
Very wrong.
Daniel was gone.
So was Tessa.
And standing near the broken front window, one detective slowly picked up a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a single car key.
Attached to the keyring hung a silver tag engraved with three simple letters:
D.R.
The same initials we had found in the underground archive.
The detective looked at me grimly.
"I don't think those initials belong to your brother."
He turned the tag over.
On the reverse side was a full name.
My breath caught as I read it.
Dr. David Reynolds.
The name meant nothing to me.
But judging from the detective's expression...
May you like
It meant everything to him.
End of Chapter 5
