Epilogue
DEXTER
Three weeks. That was how long it had been since the cathedral collapsed. Three weeks since we’d dragged Crypt out of hell. Three weeks since I’d laid my hands on wounds no living creature should have survived.
He was healing. Slower than he’d admit. Still, faster than any doctor could likely explain.
The rest… none of us were healing from that.
I leaned against the clubhouse porch railing, staring out across the bayou. The swamp should’ve been peaceful. Usually, I found comfort and solace out here. Instead, it felt… strangely restless.
The water lapped softly against the cypress roots. The moon reflected across its surface like shattered silver. I couldn’t stop looking at it. Couldn’t explain why. It felt like it was waiting. Waiting for what, I had no idea.
“You look like hell,” Hack commented.
I didn’t bother turning around.
“Hmm, so I’ve been told,” I muttered.
“You sleeping?” he asked, suspicion heavy in his tone.
“Enough,” I replied as I glanced at my brother and friend.
Hack stared at me flatly. “That’s not what I asked.”
Pondering my reply, I took a sip of whiskey. “A little,” I amended.
“You’re full of shit,” he immediately shot back.
Probably.
Hack stepped beside me, carrying a matching glass to mine. He raised it and I touched mine to his with a soft clink. We tapped them to the railing, then simultaneously drank from our cups.
“You got something for me?” I asked. “Or are you just coming out here to shoot the shit?”
“Never were much for small talk, were you? I’ve been looking through what little data we recovered from the Doctor’s database before I sabotaged it,” he announced.
That got my attention, and I turned to face him. “I thought it all was corrupt.”
“So did I.” He lifted his drink to his lips. “Turns out he was paranoid.”
“Smart man,” I murmured with a humorless chuckle.
“I didn’t say that,” he wryly countered.
I almost smiled.
Hack pulled a tablet from beneath his arm.
“I recovered one encrypted patient file,” he began.
That made me pause. “Only one?”
“Only one,” he grimly replied as he frowned. “And I don’t think it was an accident.”
My pulse slowed, and my focus narrowed to only him. “What do you mean?”
“He buried it.” Hack swiped through several screens.
“The rest of the database was wiped?” I asked, because I needed clarification. Either he wasn’t making sense, or I wasn’t hearing properly.
“Completely. But this one…” He shrugged. “It almost feels like he wanted someone to find it.”
I took the tablet. Across the top of the screen, it read, SUBJECT XT-7. Below that was Status: ACTIVE, Condition: Escaped.
Everything else had been corrupted. There was no photographs. No name. No age. Only scattered notes remained.
Recovery impossible.
Displays unexpected adaptation.
Do not terminate.
Continue observation.
“What the hell is XT-Seven?” I asked, my mind spinning at the horrific possibilities after what we’d seen in that lab.
Hack shook his head. “No idea.”
Silence settled between us. Then every light inside the clubhouse flickered. Once. Twice. Three times.
Hack frowned.
“Power surge?” I guessed.
“I didn’t feel one,” he whispered.
Neither of us moved. The tablet screen suddenly distorted. Static covered the screen. Then horizontal lines. Finally, a scene appeared.
It didn’t seem to be from the recovered file. It looked like it was intentionally plugged into the file. It was definitely footage from a security camera, but certainly not one of ours.
“I don’t know how, but this just came directly through to my tablet as if it was linked into this file as a Trojan. Now I’m a little pissed, because nothing should be able to get past my security measures.” Hack seemed concerned and utterly perplexed.
“What? Where the fuck is this from?” I asked. “I don’t recognize this location.”
“Me neither,” Hack said as he stared at the video.
A swamp was in the background. In southern Louisiana, that could be damn near anywhere.
Dense fog. Moonlight.
Someone walked into frame. A woman. Barefoot. Long, wet hair. It was hard to tell the color in the black and white image. A torn light-colored hospital gown clung to her frame, stained with mud and what appeared to be blood.
She stopped. Slowly turned toward the camera. Lifted her face.
Even through the grainy image… I felt something. Deep inside my chest. Not a pain. More like… recognition. Impossible recognition.
The woman seemed to look directly at us. Then she smiled.
The screen went black.
Hack looked at me. The usually cool-as-a-cucumber computer geek was wide-eyed. “Tell me you know her, bro.”
Except, I couldn’t answer. Because I didn’t. I’d never seen her before in my life. Yet every instinct inside me… every part of whatever I was… rose to attention.
Find her.
The thought wasn’t mine. Not entirely. It rolled through me like the tide.
Steady. Certain. Urgent.
Find her.
The water at the edge of the swamp rippled. No wind at all. No fish. No alligator. I’d have sensed them—I always did.
Just… movement. As though the bayou itself had heard the command and was urging me on.
Searching, I stared into the darkness.
Somewhere out there, someone was running. And somehow, I knew she was running toward us.
Coming Next…
Kings of Anarchy: Property of Dexter