CHAPTER 11: BEHIND THE RED DOOR
The lights disappeared.
For several seconds, there was nothing.
No alarms.
No voices.
No footsteps.
Only darkness.
Then I heard Emily.
“Mom…”
Her voice came from somewhere beyond the corridor.
“Come find me.”
I started walking.
My father grabbed my arm.
“Victoria, wait.”
I pulled away.
“She’s in there.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know my daughter's voice.”
Ward suddenly shouted:
“Don't open that door!”
I turned.
For the first time since I had known him, General Nathaniel Ward looked genuinely terrified.
I pointed my weapon at him.
“Why?”
He said nothing.
“Why are you afraid of that door?”
His face tightened.
“Because what's behind it cannot be controlled.”
I looked toward the darkness.
“Then that's exactly where I'm going.”
My husband struggled to stand.
“Victoria…”
I looked at him.
He was pale from blood loss.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“You're injured.”
“I know.”
“You'll slow us down.”
He almost smiled.
“Still giving orders.”
“Someone has to.”
He pushed himself upright.
My father stepped forward.
“I'll stay with him.”
I nodded.
“Find a way to shut down the facility.”
My father looked at Ward.
“And him?”
I stared at General Ward.
“Keep him alive.”
Ward laughed.
“You think you can arrest me?”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“I think you're going to tell me everything.”
Then I walked away.
Gabriel followed.
Michael followed him.
Ethan hesitated.
I looked at him.
“You coming?”
“Yes.”
We moved through the corridor.
The emergency lights flickered red.
Every few seconds, the facility shook.
Somewhere above us, alarms screamed.
The deeper we went, the colder it became.
Then we reached the door.
Red.
Exactly like the one from my dreams.
I touched the handle.
My hand trembled.
Gabriel whispered:
“Don't.”
“Why?”
“Because this door isn't supposed to exist.”
I looked at him.
“You said that before.”
“I know.”
“Then open it.”
He hesitated.
I turned the handle.
The door opened.
A room appeared.
White walls.
A single chair.
A table.
And dozens of photographs.
Mine.
Emily's.
My father's.
My husband's.
Charles Prescott's.
Even Ward's.
But there was one photograph that made me stop.
A picture of me as a child.
I was maybe eight years old.
Standing beside my father.
Behind us was the same red door.
I stared.
“This can't be real.”
Michael stepped closer.
“That's your childhood home.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I knew that house.
We had lived there when I was young.
But there had never been a red door.
Gabriel pointed at the photograph.
“Look.”
On the wall behind my younger self was a small symbol.
A black circle.
Inside it, a white line.
I recognized it.
Black Lantern.
But the project didn't exist when I was eight.
At least, I thought it didn't.
Then I saw another photograph.
My father.
Younger.
Standing beside Dr. Rebecca Sloan.
And between them was a child.
Me.
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“No.”
Ethan whispered:
“What?”
I picked up the photograph.
“That's me.”
Michael nodded.
“But why?”
I looked at the date.
I wasn't even born.
I stared at the photograph.
Then realized something.
The date wasn't 1979.
It was 1999.
I had been eight.
I looked at my father.
He had lied to me.
For my entire life.
A voice came from a speaker in the ceiling.
“Not lied.”
I froze.
Dr. Sloan.
“You were protected.”
I looked up.
“Where are you?”
“Everywhere.”
The lights came on.
A camera descended from the ceiling.
Her face appeared on a monitor.
Dr. Sloan smiled.
“Hello, Victoria.”
“Where's my daughter?”
“She is close.”
“Where?”
“You're standing in the room where it began.”
I looked around.
“This?”
“Yes.”
“What began?”
“Black Lantern.”
I laughed.
“Black Lantern began twenty years ago.”
Dr. Sloan shook her head.
“No.”
“It began when you were eight.”
I stared at her.
“What did you do to me?”
“We studied you.”
“Why?”
“Because your brain was unusual.”
I stepped closer to the monitor.
“You experimented on me.”
“We observed you.”
“Same thing.”
She smiled.
“You were exceptionally resistant to memory manipulation.”
I froze.
“That's why you chose me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because we needed someone who could remember.”
“Remember what?”
Dr. Sloan looked at the camera.
“The future.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Black Lantern wasn't created to predict traitors.”
She paused.
“It was created to predict behavior.”
“Using memories.”
“Yes.”
“Whose memories?”
Dr. Sloan smiled.
“Yours.”
I felt sick.
“You used me as the original test subject.”
“Yes.”
“And Emily?”
“The final version.”
My hands tightened.
“You experimented on my daughter.”
“We didn't hurt her.”
“You kidnapped her.”
“We protected her.”
“You put a machine in her head.”
“To unlock what you couldn't.”
I pointed my weapon at the monitor.
“Where is she?”
Dr. Sloan's smile faded.
“She's remembering.”
“Remembering what?”
“The future.”
Silence.
“What future?”
Dr. Sloan answered:
“The collapse.”
I stared.
“What collapse?”
“The day the United States loses control of its own government.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“What?”
Dr. Sloan continued.
“Black Lantern was designed to identify the people who would cause it.”
“People?”
“Presidents.”
“Generals.”
“Judges.”
“Corporations.”
“Foreign agents.”
“Even civilians.”
I shook my head.
“You're talking about predicting treason.”
“No.”
She leaned closer to the camera.
“We were predicting war.”
“And you created one.”
Her expression remained calm.
“We prevented one.”
I laughed.
“By destroying people's lives?”
“By controlling the people who would destroy millions.”
I looked at the photographs.
“How many people did you manipulate?”
Dr. Sloan smiled.
“Less than you think.”
“Then how many?”
“One hundred and twelve.”
I froze.
“One hundred and twelve?”
“Yes.”
“Military officers?”
“Some.”
“Politicians?”
“Yes.”
“Judges?”
“Yes.”
“Journalists?”
“Yes.”
“And my family?”
She paused.
“Your family was different.”
“How?”
“You were the first successful subject.”
I stared.
“Successful?”
“You remembered information you had never consciously learned.”
My stomach tightened.
“What information?”
Dr. Sloan smiled.
“Names.”
“Whose names?”
“People who would eventually become threats.”
I looked at the photographs.
“That's why my memories were erased.”
“Yes.”
“Because I knew too much.”
“No.”
Dr. Sloan's voice became quieter.
“Because you knew too early.”
I felt cold.
“Too early for what?”
“The event.”
“What event?”
She looked toward something off camera.
Then back at me.
“The day Black Lantern becomes public.”
I didn't understand.
“When is that?”
Dr. Sloan smiled.
“Tomorrow.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Ward lost control.”
I looked at Gabriel.
Then Michael.
“Then why are you still working with him?”
Dr. Sloan shook her head.
“We aren't.”
I frowned.
“Then who are you working for?”
She smiled.
“The archive.”
I stared.
“The archive isn't a person.”
“No.”
She paused.
“But it has an administrator.”
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
Instead, another monitor switched on.
Emily appeared.
She was standing now.
No restraints.
No machine.
Her face was calm.
Too calm.
“Mom?”
I stepped toward the screen.
“Emily!”
She smiled.
“I'm okay.”
I almost cried.
“Where are you?”
She looked around.
“I don't know.”
Dr. Sloan said:
“She doesn't need to.”
Emily looked at her.
“Can I tell her?”
Dr. Sloan hesitated.
Then nodded.
Emily looked directly into the camera.
“Mom, I remember the red door.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I remember what was behind it.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Emily's eyes filled with tears.
“You.”
I froze.
“What?”
“You were behind the door.”
My breathing stopped.
“When?”
“Before I was born.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It does.”
She looked frightened.
“You were talking to Grandpa.”
“About what?”
“You were giving him something.”
“What?”
“A list.”
My father.
A list.
The same list Ward had mentioned.
“What list?”
Emily swallowed.
“The names of everyone who would die.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Who gave you that memory?”
“I don't know.”
“Emily, listen to me.”
Her expression changed.
“Mom…”
“What?”
“You weren't the one who created Black Lantern.”
I stared.
“You were the one who tried to destroy it.”
I looked at Dr. Sloan.
She wasn't smiling anymore.
Emily continued.
“And Grandpa didn't erase your memories.”
“What?”
“He removed them.”
I frowned.
“What's the difference?”
Emily's eyes filled with fear.
“He didn't want Ward to find them.”
“Where are they?”
Emily looked behind her.
Then whispered:
“Inside you.”
I didn't understand.
Then my father appeared on the monitor beside her.
He looked at me.
“Victoria.”
“Dad?”
His voice was shaking.
“We need to talk.”
“Where are you?”
“In the control room.”
“Is Ward there?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
My father's face went white.
“Your husband.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He woke up.”
“Is he okay?”
“He's standing.”
“Then what's wrong?”
My father looked at the camera.
“He isn't alone.”
I heard a voice behind him.
A voice I recognized.
My husband's.
“Victoria.”
I stepped toward the monitor.
“What?”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“I need you to listen carefully.”
“Where's my father?”
A pause.
Then:
“I'm sorry.”
My heart stopped.
“What did you do?”
The screen went black.
A gunshot sounded through the speakers.
I screamed.
“DAD!”
The monitor flickered back on.
My father was on the floor.
Blood spreading across his chest.
My husband stood behind him.
Holding a gun.
I couldn't breathe.
Then my husband's eyes met the camera.
And he said:
“I never betrayed you.”
He paused.
“I betrayed them.”
He looked toward someone beside him.
The camera shifted.
General Ward was standing there.
Alive.
Unharmed.
And smiling.
My husband continued:
“Now you finally know who the real enemy is.”
Ward stepped toward the camera.
“No, Victoria.”
He smiled.
“You still don't.”
The screen changed.
A final image appeared.
A list.
One hundred and twelve names.
At the bottom was mine.
And beneath my name:
STATUS: ACTIVE
Then Emily's name appeared.
STATUS: ACTIVATED
And finally:
NEXT TARGET: THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.
The screen went black.
Gabriel looked at me.
“What do we do?”
I picked up my weapon.
“We stop them.”
“How?”
I looked at the red door.
“By opening the archive.”
Michael stared.
“That could destroy everything.”
I nodded.
“Exactly.”
Then the red door behind us opened by itself.
And a voice came from the darkness.
My own voice.
The voice I had heard on the original recording.
“Victoria…”
I turned.
May you like
It whispered:
“It's time to remember.”
