32. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
Aishitemasu (I love you)
Hutton
T hey aren’t trying to hide it. It’s all a ruse to draw me in, knowing I’ll come for my son. One down…
“ Little bird, you need to run. Don’t let them catch you…run.”
Holing up in the parking ramp of the old Trinom Labs on the wellness center property, I pick apart the message Keir was handed on the thumb drive. It isn’t the words, which are vague and simple. It’s the code running beneath them. It mirrors the Nautilus code I used to hack into the government’s classified records and extract dark-web secrets.
When I developed it at sixteen, I’d glibly called it -the DTMY-Dying to Meet You code. Hints were dropped in the message to Eden, but I didn’t pick up on it right away. It’s essentially a virus that infiltrates and strips away information before rendering whole systems destroyed. I was paid almost three million dollars by the FBI for that code…albeit an altered and tamer version. That code in the wrong hands will wipe out government infrastructures, power grids…that code can launch nuclear weapons.
But I’m not dumb enough to trust any government, especially not the same agency partially responsible for the tortures I suffered growing up. I alone have the full code in my mind. It’s not printed anywhere or recorded in any way.
Is that what they want? Are members of the FBI posing as The Realist cult members? Why the copycat killings then? Why take Weston?
Is this about our blood and the isolated gene found within it, the supercell cluster? Lassiter, Wells and Hutton discovered a component in both Eden and my blood which could cure a multitude of diseases, because it will stop mutations and unnatural cell degeneration. That discovery resulted in the sprawling research laboratory on the Camp Carroll property.
Whatever the purpose, I know I’m meant to figure out where Weston is. It’s a puzzle to crack.
A thirty-nine-minute blackout of recording;
The Starlit Fleet rental matching FBI agents in the New York area seen minutes prior;
The ninja talk;
Dying to Meet You;
Mention of the true Realists;
The note to Eden mentioning “why you must die”;
The killings of people associated with either the Bradford or Lassiter families;
Lawrence Hutton…
Contributor to my genetics, but certainly no father. He had strange proclivities like germophobia, physical fitness in preparation for doomsday, the ability to look at people like material, and a fascination with riddles, hidden meanings…games.
Nature versus nurture…I will never again look at another human being as little more than a tool to use. Eden and the kids changed that. The other traits I come by naturally, it seems. It also means Number One’s contribution has left me with the ability to be a monster.
Not one person standing between Weston and me is going to walk away; they were dead the moment Wes was taken.
There has been no movement in the parking ramp, or this abandoned area of the property. The wellness center rests on a hill beyond a grove of trees to the south, not visible from anywhere but the top floor of the research labs. I don’t need to look at it to know at least one person was planted there by either The Realists or the FBI shadow group to track Eden and leave threats.
It always comes back to Camp Carroll.
I was always supposed to die here.
Avoiding it has caused a ripple effect that won’t stop unless I put an end to it.
Before it gets dark outside, I slip from my hiding place in the parking ramp, dressed all in black with my hoodie up. Weston would say I’m a ninja moving in the shadows through the trees, lightly stepping to make as little noise as possible. My destination is the last place I want to return, but after showing Eden the spot, I need to leave her a way out.
So, in the event I can’t help her she can still survive this. Bringing along the weapons from a safe I keep in my office, I shut out the memories plaguing my mind.
At the tree with the nailed-on skull, I place a fully loaded handgun, resting it against the bark behind the dirt-marred bone. Sticking out of the jaws is an envelope containing all the words I may never get to say to Eden again. Telling her I’d suffer every second of pain again to love her. That no matter what happens to me, it was worth it. The kids were worth it.
Then I do what everything in me screams against with every step I take. I go inside the shack. I order myself not to notice the devices used to “strengthen” me, the gruesome photos meant to mentally steel me but fueled my nightmares instead, or the stains of blood splatter on the walls. I place a handgun in one corner, then drop a pocketknife on the metal folding chair that’s fashioned with both ankle and wrist straps and is bolted to the floorboards.
I take one last look at the decaying walls and the nature eating away at this space before I slink into the dusk, lightly stepping to return to my hideout.
As I approach the parking ramp, I catch sight of an object in one of the glass windows from the labs in the building. The light catches it, making it glint. It moves away and back. There’s someone inside the labs.
Game on. I’m getting closer Wes… I’m coming .
The state police had searched the abandoned labs. It was one of many locations we floated by the investigators as a place the Realists might choose to use. But deep down, I thought Weston would be at a member’s home. If he’s here, it’s even clearer they are using him as bait.
I didn’t come directly here when I left home. My first stop was to Starlit Fleet, where I managed to get further than a badge did. I was given a contact name. It was a made-up name, which we already knew, but they also managed to comb through payments pinpointing where it was made from. While officers waited for a search warrant to learn the same information, I located the company using my hacking abilities: a shell company set up only days prior connected to a bank in Bermuda. The name on the account is Michael Wells. Another nod to the Realists since it can’t be him.
Once I hit a wall, I came here to Camp Carroll…or, as it is now called, the Horizon Wellness Center property. Signs the abandoned lab had been searched remain from tire tracks and doors left open inside. I know all the hiding spaces and hidden rooms, and there are no signs of Weston. No signs anyone else has been here.
Each place is left unoccupied but still standing: the lab building, the house towards the lake, the guard shacks, and the housing block. I searched it all. But they had been searched already by the FBI and local law enforcement.
I continued to search every couple of hours, knowing they would arrive eventually.
Bolting through doors and up the stairs to the third floor, I don’t slow until I’m steps from the lab I’d seen movement in. The entire corridor on this level is floor-to-ceiling glazed glass. Much of it is visible, except that southwest corner. My body stills outside the open doorway, sudden movement alerting me to a person lunging at me.
We tackle one another, rolling back to strike the wall. I’ve got an arm around his neck before I realize who I’m fighting. I don’t let go, adrenaline coursing through me. “Scholl?”
“Get off me.” He pushes back on me. “Let go.”
Very slowly, I release him.
We try speaking at the same time. “What are you-”
“Fuck, what’s goi-”
He tells me he knew he’d find me here. That whatever I think I’m doing, all I’m going to accomplish is getting myself killed.
So be it. But I’ll find Weston first and get him home safely.
We both stand. Before I can question if he’s here working, I see a piece of paper sitting on the metal cart inside the lab room. “What’s that?”
“I hadn’t looked around the lab yet. I saw someone out of the corner of my eye and ducked in here.” Matt joins me at the cart, looking down at the note.
In block print: Two down. In the lab across the hall, find the tablet. Weston wants to say hi.
I’m seeing red. Two? Does that mean Eden or one of the other kids has been grabbed?
Blood drains from Matt’s face, and my body feels like it’s going to explode when we pick up the tablet and hit play. Weston’s beautiful little face fills the screen. A noise of frustration comes from Matt.
Our son smiles and says, “Hi, Daddy H! Ai…” His face bunches up, finger scratching the side of his nose. “Aishi-Aishitemasu. That means I love you in Japanese.”
“Oh my God.” Matt groans next to me. “Wha-”
I cut him off, my voice rough with emotion, “Shut up.”
We may miss a clue if he blabs while it’s playing. The instant Weston appeared on the screen, my chest felt constricted.
A digitized voice can be heard off camera saying, “Weston, what do you want your daddy to know?”
His eyes widen looking at the person speaking. He clasps his hands together as he squirms in his seat. “Daddy? Can I come home now?” Matt slams his hand into the cabinet next to us swearing under his breath. I’m imagining making the kidnapper’s death as horrifying as possible.
The voice’s tone changes, getting sterner. “That’s not what you were told to say, Weston, was it?”
He shakes his head slowly before saying, “Thirty-nine. Star black. Three down.” The words are said carefully, like he had to commit them to memory.
Thirty-nine…minutes the security camera was down?
Star black…Starlit Fleet blacked-out SUV?
Three down…three of us taken?
I can feel my pulse raging, and Matt looks like he’s ready to help me put the kidnappers in the grave.
The screen goes dark.
“That’s it?!” His eyes look wild. “That’s all?!”
The voice was digitized, making it unrecognizable…male or female? Was it masked because we know this person or simply to protect them until they reveal themselves? Weston was uncomfortable but not scared…even when they were more forceful.
He knows them. I touch the ninja action figure of Weston’s I’ve been carrying in my pocket.
Matt is hitting the play button on a rant about the sadistic mind games being played. I’m running it all through my head…it’s a puzzle. We know who this person is…
I grab Matt’s arm. “I know where Weston is.”