Chapter 5 - The Brother Behind The Locked Door
The photograph was still on my phone.
I couldn't look away.
My father standing inside the abandoned training facility.
A person lying on the floor.
A person who looked like me.
My mind refused to accept it.
There had to be another explanation.
There had to be.
But after everything I had learned that day, I no longer trusted the word "impossible."
Because my father was alive.
My brother was alive.
And everyone I trusted had lied to me.
I looked at Thomas Mercer.
The man I had spent fifteen years mourning.
The man who had just returned from the dead.
"Explain this."
My voice was quiet.
That scared me more than yelling.
My father stared at the picture.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he looked away.
That was when I knew.
He knew.
"You were there," I said.
My father didn't answer.
"You were inside that building."
Still nothing.
Robert stepped closer.
"Thomas."
My father closed his eyes.
"Daniel, listen to me."
"No."
I held up the phone.
"You listen to me."
The crowd had almost disappeared now.
Only a few people remained.
Ethan.
Robert.
Victor.
And my father.
Everyone who seemed connected to the truth I had spent my entire life chasing.
"Fifteen years."
My voice cracked.
"Fifteen years I believed you were dead."
My father looked down.
"I know."
"You don't get to say that."
I stepped closer.
"You don't get to stand here and act like this is some misunderstanding."
His expression changed.
Pain.
Real pain.
But I didn't care anymore.
Not yet.
"I buried you."
Silence.
"I watched Mom break apart."
Another pause.
"I watched Michael disappear."
My father's eyes moved toward me.
And for the first time, I saw something I had never seen before.
Fear.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for me.
"Daniel."
"What happened in that building?"
Nobody spoke.
Then Victor answered.
"Your father was trying to stop something."
I turned toward him.
"You don't get to explain anything."
Victor accepted that.
Maybe because he knew I was right.
I looked at Ethan.
"You said you had documents."
He nodded slowly.
"They're in my truck."
"Get them."
Ethan hesitated.
"Daniel..."
"Get them."
He walked away.
Nobody stopped him.
That surprised me.
Because if this information was dangerous, why was everyone letting it happen?
Unless they were tired of hiding too.
A few minutes later, Ethan returned with a small black folder.
He handed it to me.
"My father kept these locked away."
I opened it.
The first page was old.
Official.
Military records.
Names.
Dates.
Locations.
Then I saw it.
My father's name.
Thomas Mercer.
But underneath it was another name.
A code name.
RAVEN.
I looked at Robert.
"What is this?"
Robert looked uncomfortable.
"Your father was involved in classified operations."
I flipped through more pages.
There were reports.
Photos.
Maps.
And then I found Michael.
My brother.
The same face from the recent photograph.
Except this file was dated twelve years ago.
My hands shook.
"He was alive."
Nobody answered.
I looked up.
"He was alive twelve years ago."
Robert nodded.
"Yes."
The room felt smaller.
"Then why didn't anyone tell me?"
My father finally spoke.
"Because Michael didn't want you to know."
I stared at him.
"What?"
My father looked exhausted.
"After the accident, Michael found something."
"What?"
"A connection between your family's past and the people who were hunting us."
I frowned.
"Hunting us?"
My father nodded.
"Your brother discovered that my disappearance wasn't the beginning."
He looked at the folder.
"It was the result."
I read more.
The documents mentioned an organization.
No official name.
Only initials.
A group that had been tracking former military personnel.
A group connected to missing evidence.
Missing people.
And unexplained deaths.
My father's disappearance.
Michael's disappearance.
Maybe even my mother's suffering.
Everything connected.
But one thing didn't make sense.
"Why me?"
Everyone looked at me.
I continued.
"If this was about you and Michael, why keep me alive?"
My father looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said:
"Because you were never supposed to be involved."
The words hurt.
Not because they were cruel.
Because they sounded like the truth.
I closed the folder.
"Where is Michael?"
My father looked toward the road.
"He contacted you?"
I didn't answer.
That was enough.
His expression changed.
"What did he say?"
I showed him the message.
Don't trust Dad.
My father's face went completely still.
Robert looked at him.
"Thomas..."
My father didn't move.
"I need to know something."
I looked at him.
"Did Michael have a reason to tell me that?"
A long silence followed.
Then my father said something I wasn't ready for.
"Yes."
My stomach tightened.
"What reason?"
He looked directly at me.
"Because I wasn't the only person who disappeared."
The words made no sense.
"What does that mean?"
My father looked at the photograph again.
The one showing him inside the building.
"The person on the floor isn't you."
I froze.
"What?"
He stepped closer.
"Look again."
I opened the picture.
Zoomed in.
My breathing slowed.
Because he was right.
The person lying there wasn't me.
The angle had tricked me.
The clothing had tricked me.
But the face was different.
Older.
Scarred.
Someone I didn't recognize.
My anger turned into confusion.
"Then who is it?"
Nobody answered.
Victor looked away.
Robert became tense.
My father whispered:
"Someone who was supposed to be dead."
The same words.
Again.
Everyone in my life had become a ghost story.
I stared at the photograph.
"Who?"
My father didn't answer.
Instead, he walked toward the black vehicle across the street.
"What are you doing?"
He ignored me.
He reached the car.
Opened the door.
Then stopped.
His hand froze.
Because someone was already sitting inside.
I couldn't see the person's face.
But I saw my father's reaction.
Shock.
Then fear.
Real fear.
He stepped back.
Slowly.
The person inside the vehicle lowered the window.
And spoke.
One sentence.
A sentence that made Robert drop the folder in his hands.
A sentence that made Victor turn completely pale.
A sentence that made my father whisper:
May you like
"No..."
Because the voice belonged to someone who should have been gone fifteen years ago.
