Chapter 10: The Mother I Buried Twice
The alarm screamed through the underground facility.
Red lights flashed across the walls.
SUBJECT MADISON COLE HAS BEEN LOCATED.
I couldn’t move.
Not because I was afraid of the people coming for me.
Because of the one sentence Daniel had just spoken.
Your mother didn’t die.
For twenty years, I had carried the memory of my mother’s funeral.
The black dress.
The flowers.
My father standing silently beside me.
The empty feeling of being twelve years old and suddenly understanding that some people never come back.
Except now someone was telling me she had never left.
“That’s impossible,” I whispered.
Daniel looked at me with something close to pity.
“I know what you were told.””
“My father told me she died.””
“Yes.””
“You’re saying he lied to me?””
Daniel didn’t answer.
That was worse.
Hayes grabbed the file from my hands.
“Where is she?””
Daniel looked toward the corridor.
“Not here.””
“Then where?””
“Close.””
Another alarm sounded.
A voice echoed from the speakers.
“Lockdown protocol activated. All personnel secure the lower level.””
Hayes looked up.
“They’re inside.””
Daniel nodded.
“They know this room exists.””
Ghost suddenly moved.
The dog walked to me and pressed against my side.
I looked down.
“Do you know where she is?””
Ghost stared toward the hallway.
Then back at me.
Waiting.
A memory hit me.
Ethan crouching beside Ghost years ago.
“Dogs don’t forget people,” he had told me.
I laughed.
“People forget.””
Ethan shook his head.
“Not the important ones.””
The sound of footsteps grew louder.
Hayes checked his weapon.
“We need to move.””
I looked at Daniel.
“You know another way out.””
“Yes.””
“Show us.””
He hesitated.
“Madison, before we leave, you need to understand something.””
“I’m done understanding things.””
His expression hardened.
“You need to know because the next person you see may look like they’re saving you.””
A chill moved through me.
“But they won’t be.””
The door at the end of the corridor shook.
Someone was trying to open it.
Daniel turned and ran toward a maintenance passage.
We followed.
The hidden tunnel was narrow and cold.
Water dripped from the ceiling.
The walls were covered with old cables and abandoned equipment.
As we moved, I noticed something strange.
Pictures.
Hundreds of them.
Not military photographs.
Family photographs.
My childhood.
My mother holding me.
My father smiling.
Me sitting on Ethan’s shoulders during a charity event years before I knew him.
I stopped.
“How did they get these?””
Daniel looked back.
“They were monitoring your family.””
“Why?””
“Because your family was part of the project.””
I hated how easily he said it.
Like my entire life was just a file.
A research subject.
A number.
“What was my mother’s role?””
Daniel stopped walking.
“She was the original researcher.””
I stared.
“My mother was a scientist?””
“Yes.””
“She was a doctor.””
“She was both.””
I shook my head.
“No. My mother worked at a hospital.””
“That was her cover.””
The tunnel suddenly felt too small.
“My whole life was a lie.””
Daniel looked at me.
“Not all of it.””
“What part was real?””
He looked at Ghost.
“The people who loved you.””
Before I could respond, a gunshot echoed behind us.
Hayes pushed me against the wall.
“They’re close.””
Daniel opened another door.
Inside was a small room.
Empty.
Except for a phone sitting on a table.
It rang.
Everyone froze.
Daniel stared at it.
“No.””
Hayes looked at him.
“What?””
“That shouldn’t be here.””
The phone rang again.
I stepped forward.
“Who is calling?””
Daniel didn’t answer.
I picked it up.
“Hello?””
For several seconds, there was only silence.
Then a woman’s voice spoke.
A voice I had not heard since childhood.
“Madison?””
My knees almost collapsed.
No.
It couldn’t be.
“Mom?””
Everyone went still.
The voice on the phone broke.
“I’m sorry.””
Tears filled my eyes.
“Where are you?””
“I tried to come back.””
“Why didn’t you?””
A pause.
Then:
“Because your father was right.””
I froze.
“What does that mean?””
“He knew they would use you.””
My hands shook.
“Who are they?””
The woman breathed heavily.
“The people who created Ghost.””
I looked at the dog.
The phone crackled.
Then my mother whispered:
“Madison, listen carefully.””
A door slammed somewhere behind us.
My mother continued.
“They’re not trying to recover you.””
“What are they trying to do?””
Her voice became quieter.
“They’re trying to finish what they started.””
The call cut off.
I stared at the phone.
Hayes looked at me.
“What did she mean?””
I didn’t answer.
Because Ghost had started pulling me toward another door.
A door covered with old scratches.
May you like
And carved into the metal were four words.
THE FIRST SUBJECT LIVES.
