Chapter 6 - The Truth Inside The Old Facility
The voice came from inside the vehicle.
I knew that voice.
Not because I had heard it recently.
Because I had spent years trying to forget it.
My father's face lost all color.
Robert stepped backward.
Victor whispered:
"No."
The car door opened slowly.
A man stepped out.
Older.
Tired.
But alive.
My brother.
Michael.
For a few seconds, nobody moved.
The world became completely silent.
I stared at him.
My mind tried to reject what my eyes were seeing.
Because dead people did not come back.
That was the rule.
The only rule I had trusted for fifteen years.
But Michael was standing in front of me.
Breathing.
Looking at me.
Alive.
"Daniel."
Hearing my name from his mouth broke something inside me.
I wanted to run toward him.
I wanted to hit him.
I wanted to ask a thousand questions at once.
Instead, I just stood there.
"You were alive."
My voice sounded unfamiliar.
Michael looked down.
"I know."
The anger came before the tears.
"You knew."
He didn't answer.
"You knew I thought you were dead."
"I know."
"You let me believe that."
His eyes became painful.
"I had no choice."
I laughed quietly.
The same excuse.
Everyone had no choice.
My father.
Robert.
Victor.
Michael.
Everyone had a reason.
Everyone had a secret.
And somehow, I was always the last person to know.
"No choice?"
I stepped closer.
"You disappeared."
Michael swallowed.
"I was trying to keep you alive."
That stopped me.
Not because I believed him.
Because I hated that part of me wanted to.
My father walked toward him.
"Michael."
My brother looked at him.
The two of them stared at each other.
A father.
A son.
Two people who had lost fifteen years.
But there was no reunion.
No hug.
No relief.
Only pain.
"You should have told him," my father said.
Michael's expression hardened.
"You should have."
The words hit everyone.
I looked between them.
"What does that mean?"
Nobody answered.
Again.
I stepped back.
"No."
My voice became louder.
"Not again."
I pointed at all of them.
"No more looking at each other like I don't exist."
Silence.
"I want the truth."
Michael looked at me.
Then at the old facility across the street.
"Not here."
I almost laughed.
"Of course."
He looked serious.
"Daniel."
"No."
I shook my head.
"I followed you for years."
I looked at my father.
"I buried you."
Then Michael.
"I mourned you."
My voice broke.
"And both of you were alive."
Nobody spoke.
Finally, Michael nodded.
"You deserve the truth."
He looked toward the abandoned training facility.
"All of it."
The building looked exactly the same.
That was the worst part.
The old training facility had been abandoned for years.
The windows were broken.
The paint was peeling.
The entrance sign was damaged.
But inside, everything felt frozen.
Like someone had walked away yesterday.
Not fifteen years ago.
I entered with Michael, my father, Robert, and Victor.
Ethan stayed behind near the entrance.
At first, I thought he was afraid.
Then I realized something.
He wasn't afraid of the building.
He was afraid of what was inside.
Michael noticed too.
"You brought him?"
I looked at Ethan.
"He knows more than he thought he did."
Michael sighed.
"That makes things complicated."
I looked at him.
"Everything is complicated."
Nobody argued.
Inside the main room was an old training area.
Dust covered the floor.
Old equipment sat against the walls.
Then Michael walked to a storage cabinet.
He entered a code.
I watched carefully.
"You still remember it?"
He looked at me.
"It was our birthday."
My chest tightened.
A memory.
A real one.
Before everything fell apart.
The cabinet opened.
Inside were files.
Photos.
Hard drives.
Documents.
Proof.
Michael picked up a folder.
"This is why I disappeared."
He handed it to me.
The first page had a familiar name.
Thomas Mercer.
My father.
Then Michael's.
Then mine.
I looked at him.
"Why is my name here?"
Michael hesitated.
"Because they were watching all of us."
"Who?"
Victor answered.
"The Blackstone Group."
I looked at him.
"What is that?"
Robert spoke quietly.
"An unofficial network."
"Military?"
"Former military."
I looked at my father.
He nodded.
"They recruited people who knew too much."
I turned the page.
There were reports.
Surveillance photos.
My childhood home.
My school.
My workplace.
My entire life.
They had been watching me.
For years.
My stomach turned.
"Why?"
Michael looked at me.
"Because of what Dad found."
"What did he find?"
My father walked toward the table.
"A list."
He opened another folder.
Inside were names.
Hundreds of names.
Some crossed out.
Some marked missing.
Some marked deceased.
My eyes stopped.
Because I recognized one.
A neighbor.
A person from my childhood.
Someone who had died in an accident.
Except according to this file...
He had been eliminated.
I looked up.
"How many people?"
Nobody answered.
Because the answer was obvious.
Too many.
Michael continued.
"Dad tried to expose them."
"And they killed him?"
My father looked at me.
"No."
The room became quiet.
"I survived."
I stared.
"Then who died?"
My father's eyes moved toward Michael.
The silence explained everything.
I felt sick.
"You faked your death."
My father nodded.
"To protect you."
"And Michael?"
Michael looked away.
"Same reason."
I stepped backward.
All those years.
All that pain.
All those nights wondering why they left.
They had chosen this.
Even if they thought they were protecting me.
They still chose it.
Then Ethan's voice came from the doorway.
"Guys."
Everyone turned.
He was holding something.
A small device.
His face was pale.
"I found this outside."
Michael immediately recognized it.
His expression changed.
"Where?"
"Near the entrance."
Michael took the device.
Then stopped.
Because it was already active.
A recording was playing.
A man's voice filled the room.
A voice none of us expected.
"Thomas."
My father's face changed.
The recording continued.
"You thought hiding your sons would end this."
Nobody breathed.
"You were wrong."
Michael moved closer.
The voice continued.
"The truth was never the problem."
A pause.
"The problem was that Daniel was the only one who didn't know."
My heart stopped.
The recording ended.
Everyone looked at me.
I didn't understand.
"What does that mean?"
My father didn't answer.
Michael looked terrified.
"Daniel..."
"No."
I stepped away.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Then my phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
One sentence.
"You are not Thomas Mercer's son."
I stared at the screen.
My hands went cold.
Then a second message appeared.
A photograph.
A hospital record.
My name was written at the top.
But underneath it was a different father's name.
May you like
And the person who sent it wrote:
"Ask Michael why he really found you."
