Chapter 15 - The Room UpstairsThree months later, Jake's scars had begun to fade.
Christine survived.
Lucas disappeared.
Evelyn was gone.
Mara stopped calling.
Walter was never found.
The government officially called the Mercer Ridge incident an industrial fire.
Nobody mentioned Harrow.
Nobody mentioned the twenty-three thousand children.
Nobody mentioned my father.
Life was supposed to be normal.
Instead, normal felt like a costume that no longer fit.
Jake came home from school one Friday carrying a box.
"Dad?"
I looked up.
"What's that?"
"My teacher said we had to bring something from home."
He placed the box on the table.
"My old stuff."
I smiled.
"Okay."
He opened it.
Toy cars.
Lego pieces.
A soccer ball.
Then he pulled out an old metal key.
My heart stopped.
"Where did you get that?"
"Grandpa's house."
I took it from him.
There was a symbol engraved on it.
Three black lines crossing a circle.
Harrow.
"Jake..."
He looked confused.
"I thought it was just a key."
I stood.
"Where did you find it?"
"In the attic."
The world seemed to narrow.
I drove to the Mercer estate that night.
The house had been abandoned.
The police tape was gone.
The windows were broken.
I entered through the back.
The attic was exactly as Jake described.
Dust.
Boxes.
Old furniture.
I found the place where he had discovered the key.
There was a loose wooden floorboard.
Beneath it...
A metal box.
I opened it.
Inside was a single laptop.
No power cord.
No battery.
But when I touched the screen...
It turned on.
The screen displayed one word.
WELCOME, ETHAN.
My hands went cold.
A video started automatically.
My father's face appeared.
Older.
Tired.
Alive.
I sat down.
"Ethan, if you're watching this, then Harrow has been destroyed."
He looked directly into the camera.
"But there is something I could never tell you."
The video paused.
Then continued.
"You were never the final subject."
My heart began pounding.
"Your father?"
No.
The voice came from behind me.
I turned.
Christine stood in the attic doorway.
She looked at the screen.
Her face went pale.
"That's impossible."
"What?"
She stepped closer.
"I watched him die."
The video continued.
"He chose Jake."
I stared at my son through the doorway.
"Why?"
My father's voice became softer.
"Because the sequence was never designed to create stronger humans."
A pause.
"It was designed to create a biological key capable of accessing something much larger."
The screen changed.
A world map appeared.
Thousands of red dots.
Military bases.
Hospitals.
Research centers.
Government facilities.
Private companies.
I whispered:
"What is that?"
My father answered.
"The second network."
Christine stepped backward.
"There was another?"
"Yes."
My father's face returned.
"Harrow was only the key."
"To what?"
He looked directly at me.
"To Project Eden."
The screen went black.
Then another message appeared.
ACCESS GRANTED.
I stared.
A folder opened.
Inside was a list of names.
My name.
Christine's.
Lucas's.
Evelyn's.
Jake's.
And at the bottom...
A name I had never seen before.
MERCER, WALTER: STATUS ACTIVE.
My blood froze.
Christine whispered:
"He's alive."
A notification appeared.
INCOMING VIDEO CALL.
I stared at the screen.
A man's face slowly appeared.
Walter Mercer.
Older.
Blood on his forehead.
Smiling.
"Ethan."
I couldn't breathe.
"You thought the fire ended everything."
He leaned closer to the camera.
"It didn't."
I grabbed the laptop.
"Where is Jake?"
Walter smiled.
"You still don't understand."
The screen shifted.
A live video appeared.
A room.
A chair.
A child sitting inside it.
Eight years old.
Dark hair.
Terrified eyes.
My heart stopped.
It was Jake.
But Jake was standing beside me.
I slowly turned.
My son was in the doorway.
The same face.
The same scar above his eyebrow.
The same frightened expression.
He whispered:
"Dad..."
The child on the screen looked at the camera.
And said the exact same words.
"Dad..."
I couldn't move.
Christine grabbed my arm.
"Ethan."
The boy on the screen smiled.
Then Walter spoke.
"Which one is your son?"
The call ended.
I looked at Jake.
He looked at me.
Then he whispered something that made my blood run cold.
"Dad..."
He reached into his pocket.
Pulled out a photograph.
It showed me.
Christine.
Walter.
And two identical boys.
On the back, written in my own handwriting, were six words:
ONE OF THEM ISN'T YOUR SON.
I stared at the photograph.
Then at Jake.
And for the first time in my life...
I was afraid to reach for my own child.
Because I finally understood the cruelest truth.
Walter hadn't been trying to destroy my family.
He had been building it.
Piece by piece.
May you like
For twenty years.
And somewhere in the world, another boy was waiting for me to choose which son I was willing to save.
