Blood and the Drive
I drop to my knees beside him. My hands hover over the wound. Blood spreads across his shirt in a dark bloom. Too much blood. Too fast.
"Dad—"
"The drive." His voice is wet. Bubbling. "Get—"
Hatch's boot comes down on his wrist. Pins his hand to the concrete. She reaches into his pocket. Extracts the drive with two fingers like she is plucking a flower.
"Thank you kindly for your service, Dr. Carver." She examines the drive in the red emergency light. "Your country appreciates your sacrifice."
I lunge for her. One of her men catches me by the collar. Slams me against the wall. The impact drives the air from my lungs. My vision sparks white.
"Now, now." Hatch pockets the drive. "Let us not compound tragedy with foolishness."
My father's hand finds mine. His grip is weak. Trembling. His lips move but no sound comes out.
"We need to stop the bleeding—" I try to pull free. The man holding me tightens his grip. "He needs—"
"What he needs is beyond your capacity to provide." Hatch nods to her men. "Bring the boy. Leave the father."
"No—"
They drag me toward the door. I twist. Fight. My father's hand slips from mine. He is trying to sit up. Failing. His mouth forms words I cannot hear over my own shouting.
The last thing I see before they haul me into the corridor is his hand reaching for me. Still reaching. Always reaching.
They throw me in the back of a transport. Military grade. No windows. The engine rumbles to life and we are moving before I can orient myself in the darkness.
I slam my fists against the metal wall. Once. Twice. The skin splits across my knuckles. Blood makes my hands slick.
"That will not help." Maya's voice. Close. Right beside me in the dark.
I freeze. "Maya?"
"They grabbed me outside. Thirty seconds after you went in." Her shoulder presses against mine as the transport takes a corner. "I tried to warn you but—"
"He is dead." The words come out flat. Empty. "My father is dead."
"Maybe not. The shot looked high. Could have missed the heart—"
"You did not see the blood."
"I've seen plenty of blood." Her hand finds mine in the darkness. Squeezes once. "People survive worse."
The transport hits a pothole. We both slam against the wall. When we settle, her hand is still holding mine.
"How did they know?" I ask. "How did Hatch know we would be there?"
"She's been tracking us. Has to be."
"No. She was already there. Waiting. She knew exactly where we were going before we arrived." I pull my hand free. Press my palms against my eyes. "My father said—he said he told them. But that makes no sense. Why would he—"
"Maybe he didn't have a choice."
"There is always a choice."
"Is there?" Maya shifts in the darkness. "Your father faked his death. Went underground for three years. You think he did that without making deals? Without compromising?"
"He would not—"
"Everyone compromises, Eli. That's how you survive."
The transport slows. Stops. Voices outside. The sound of locks disengaging.
"Whatever happens," Maya whispers, "don't tell them anything they don't already know. Make them work for every piece."
The doors open. Blinding light. Hands grab us. Separate us. I catch one glimpse of Maya's face—jaw set, eyes hard—before they drag her in a different direction.
They take me down a corridor. White walls. Fluorescent lights. Everything too bright after the darkness. My eyes water. I cannot stop blinking.
A door. A room. A chair bolted to the floor.
They do not tie me down. They do not need to. Two guards by the door. Both armed. Both watching.
I sit. Wait. My hands will not stop shaking.
Hatch arrives twenty minutes later. She carries a tablet and a cup of coffee. The coffee smells like cinnamon. My stomach clenches with hunger I did not know I had.
"You look peaked." She sets the coffee on the table between us. "When did you last eat?"
I do not answer.
"My grandmother used to say that stubbornness on an empty stomach is just foolishness with extra steps." She slides the coffee toward me. "Go on. It is not poisoned. I need you functional."
"Where is Maya?"
"Miss Solis is comfortable. Answering some questions of her own." Hatch settles into the chair across from me. "Now. Let us talk about these codes."
"I do not know anything about them."
"Oh, I think you do. I think your father told you quite a bit during your little reunion." She taps the tablet. Brings up an image. The underground facility. The vault. "This system required dual biometric access. Your father's credentials and yours. Which means he registered you in the system. Which means he trusted you with something."
"He did not tell me anything."
"Eli." She leans forward. Her voice drops. Becomes almost gentle. "I am not your enemy. I know it feels that way right now. I know you are grieving. But we are on the same side."
"You shot my father."
"I did what was necessary to secure assets critical to national security." No apology in her voice. No regret. "Your father was a fugitive. A thief. He stole classified information and went into hiding. Did he tell you that part?"
"He was trying to save—"
"Save what? The world?" She laughs. Soft. Almost kind. "Is that what he told you? That he was some kind of hero?"
"The sun is dimming. The crops are failing. People are—"
"People are scared. And scared people will believe anything that gives them hope." She swipes the tablet. Shows me another image. My father. Younger. Standing beside a woman I do not recognize. "Your father was brilliant. Truly. But brilliance and stability do not always coexist."
The woman in the photo has her hand on my father's shoulder. She is smiling. He is not.
"Who is that?"
"Dr. Sarah Chen. Your father's research partner. She died four years ago. Suicide." Hatch lets that word hang in the air. "Three months before your father faked his death and disappeared."
My throat is dry. "What are you saying?"
"I am saying your father was not well. I am saying he became obsessed with theories that had no basis in fact. I am saying Dr. Chen tried to help him and it cost her everything." She closes the tablet. "The sun is not dimming, Eli. The data your father stole does not contain codes to save the world. It contains evidence of his own deteriorating mental state and the damage he caused to a classified research program."
"No—"
"Yes." Her voice is firm now. Final. "And now I need to know what he told you. What he made you believe. Because if you are out there spreading his delusions, if you are convincing others that the sky is falling, you will cause panic. Riots. People will die."
I stare at the coffee. Watch the steam rise and dissipate.
"He was not crazy."
"Then prove it. Tell me what he said. Let me show you the truth."
The door opens. One of the guards leans in. Whispers something to Hatch. Her expression does not change but something shifts in her posture. A tightening.
"Well." She stands. Smooths her skirt. "It seems we have a complication."
"What complication?"
"Your father is not dead." She says it like she is commenting on the weather. "He is, however, in critical condition at a secure medical facility. The doctors give him perhaps six hours. Maybe less."
My heart slams against my ribs. "I need to see him—"
"That can be arranged. Under certain conditions."
"What conditions?"
"You tell me everything he told you about the codes. You help me understand what he was planning. And in exchange, I will take you to him. Let you say goodbye properly." She pauses at the door. "You have five minutes to decide."
They leave me alone. The coffee grows cold on the table. I do not touch it.
Six hours. Maybe less.
I close my eyes. Try to remember everything my father said in the vault. But it is all fragments. Pieces. The array—if we angle the panels—the voltage drop—
He did not tell me about the codes. He did not explain what they were for. He just grabbed the drive and—
And then Hatch shot him.
The door opens. Not Hatch. Maya.
She looks unharmed. Tired but unharmed. She crosses to me. Sits in the chair Hatch vacated.
"They let you go?"
"They let me come talk to you." Her voice is careful. Measured. "They want me to convince you to cooperate."
"And will you?"
"That depends." She leans back. Crosses her arms. "What did your father actually tell you about the codes?"
"Nothing. He did not have time—"
"Eli." She cuts me off. "I need you to think very carefully about your next words. Because I'm about to tell you something and you need to be ready to hear it."
The air in the room feels suddenly thin.
"What?"
"Your father didn't fake his death to save the world." She watches my face. "He faked it to save you."
"What are you talking about?"
"Three years ago, there was an incident at the research facility where he worked. An experiment went wrong. Dr. Chen died. Your father was blamed. They were going to arrest him. Charge him with negligence. Maybe manslaughter." She pauses. "But the real problem wasn't the charges. It was what they'd found in his research. Evidence that he'd been running unauthorized experiments. Using his own son as a test subject."
The room tilts. "No—"
"The burn scars on your arms. The way you squint even in darkness. The fact that you can calculate solar angles in your head without thinking." Her voice is gentle now. Almost apologetic. "Those aren't accidents, Eli. Those are side effects."
"You are lying—"
"I'm not. And I think part of you already knows that." She leans forward. "Your father was trying to create humans who could survive the dimming. Who could process light more efficiently. Who could see in darkness. He used experimental gene therapy. On himself. On Dr. Chen. And on you."
My hands are shaking again. I press them flat against the table.
"The codes aren't instructions to save the world," Maya continues. "They're the research data. The gene sequences. The experimental protocols. And Hatch wants them because if that information gets out, if people learn what your father did—"
"It would destroy everything." I hear myself say it. Hear the words come out of my mouth. "The government. The research program. The trust."
"Exactly." She reaches across the table. Takes my hand. "Your father faked his death to protect you. To make sure you'd never be connected to his research. And now he's dying to protect you again. Because if Hatch gets those codes, if she can prove what he did, she can bury it. Bury him. And you walk away clean."
"But the sun—"
"Is dimming. That part's true. But there's no magic code to fix it. There's just data about illegal human experimentation and a father who loved his son enough to become a monster."
I pull my hand away. Stand. The guards by the door tense but do not move.
"How do you know all this?"
"Because I'm not just a farmer, Eli." Maya stands too. "I'm a federal investigator. Have been for two years. And I've been tracking your father since the beginning."
The floor drops out from under me.
"You—"
"I didn't know you'd be involved. That part was real. Meeting you. Working with you." Her voice cracks. Just slightly. "Everything after that first day was real."
"Get out."
"Eli—"
"Get out!"
She does not move. "You have a choice. You can tell Hatch what you know—which is nothing, I believe you about that—and she'll let you see your father. Let you say goodbye. And then this ends. You go back to your life. Or—"
"Or what?"
"Or you can trust that your father had a reason for everything he did. That maybe the codes are more than just research data. That maybe he really was trying to save something." She moves toward the door. Stops. "But if you choose that path, you're choosing it alone. Because I can't help you anymore. I won't."
The guards open the door for her. She pauses in the threshold.
"For what it's worth," she says, "I hope you get to say goodbye."
Then she is gone.
Hatch returns ten minutes later. She does not sit. Does not bring coffee. Just stands in the doorway with her tablet and her patient smile.
"Well?"
"I will tell you what I know. In exchange for seeing my father."
"Smart boy." She gestures to the guards. "Bring him."
They take me to a different transport. This one has windows. I watch the city slide past. Gray buildings. Empty streets. The sun is setting but it is wrong. Too dim. Too fast.
Maybe my father was not crazy. Maybe he was just the only one willing to see.
The medical facility is underground. Of course it is. Everything important is underground now. They lead me through corridors that smell like antiseptic and fear. Past rooms with closed doors. Past doctors who do not look up.
My father is in the last room. Alone except for the machines keeping him alive. Tubes and wires and the steady beep of a heart monitor.
I stop in the doorway. Cannot make myself go further.
"You have ten minutes." Hatch checks her watch. "Then we talk."
She leaves. The guards stay outside. I am alone with my father and the machines.
I cross to the bed. Sit in the chair beside it. His hand is cold when I take it.
"Dad?"
His eyes open. Slowly. He sees me. Recognizes me. His mouth moves.
"Eli—"
"Do not talk. Save your strength—"
"No time." His grip tightens. Barely. "Listen. The codes—not what—they think—"
"I know. Maya told me. About the experiments. About—"
"No." He coughs. Blood flecks his lips. "She is wrong. The codes—they are real—the sun—"
"Dad—"
"The drive. Not the one—Hatch took. Different drive. Hidden—in the vault—behind the—" He coughs again. Harder. The monitor beeps faster. "Behind the panel—left side—you have to—"
The door opens. Hatch. Early.
"Time's up."
"Wait—" I lean closer to my father. "Behind what panel? Where?"
But his eyes are closing. His hand going slack in mine.
"Dad!"
"He's crashing." A doctor pushes past me. Starts working. Shouting orders. More people flood the room.
Hatch's hand on my shoulder. Pulling me back. Away.
"Come on. Let them work."
"No—"
"Eli." Her voice is firm. "There is nothing you can do."
She is right. I know she is right. But I cannot make myself leave. Cannot stop watching as they try to restart his heart. As the monitor flatlines. As the doctor finally steps back and shakes his head.
"I'm sorry," someone says.
But I am not listening. I am thinking about the vault. About the left panel. About a second drive that Hatch does not know exists.
About my father's last words and whether they were truth or delusion or something in between.
Hatch is talking. Asking me questions. But I am not hearing her. I am calculating. Planning. The vault is three miles from here. The facility will be locked down but there are always gaps. Always ways in.
"Eli." Hatch's hand on my arm. "I need you to focus. What did he say to you just now?"
I look at her. At her patient smile and her folksy warmth and her eyes that miss nothing.
"He said he was sorry."
"That's all?"
"That is all."
She studies my face. Searching for the lie. I keep my expression blank. Empty. Give her nothing.
Finally, she nods. "All right. We'll get you processed and released. You can go home. Try to—"
The lights go out.
All of them. Every light in the facility. The machines die. The monitors go silent. Emergency lighting kicks in but it is dim. Red. Wrong.
Shouts in the corridor. Running footsteps. Someone screaming about a power failure.
Hatch's hand drops from my arm. She is already moving. Barking orders into a radio.
I do not wait. I slip past her. Into the corridor. Into the chaos.
Someone grabs my arm. I spin. It is Maya.
"This way." She pulls me toward a side exit. "We've got maybe ninety seconds before backup power—"
"You did this?"
"I told you everything after that first day was real." She kicks open a door. "That includes the part where I decided you might be right."
We run. Through corridors. Past confused guards. Past doctors trying to restart equipment. The emergency lighting flickers. Fails. Comes back.
We burst through an exit into the cold night air. A vehicle is waiting. Engine running. Driver's seat empty.
"Get in." Maya slides behind the wheel. "We're going back to the vault."
"How did you—"
"Your father wasn't subtle. Left side panel. Hidden drive. I heard him too." She guns the engine. We lurch forward. "Question is, what's on it that's worth dying for?"
Behind us, the facility lights come back on. Alarms start wailing. In the rearview mirror, I see guards pouring out of the building.
Maya takes a corner too fast. We skid. Recover. She is grinning now. Wild. Reckless.
"Seventeen percent chance this works," she says. "But I've beaten worse odds."
We race through empty streets. The sun is gone now. The darkness is complete. But ahead, I can see the entrance to the underground facility. The vault. The panel on the left side.
And whatever truth my father died protecting.
Maya slams on the brakes. We are here. The facility entrance is open. Unguarded. Too easy.
"It's a trap," I say.
"Obviously." She kills the engine. Pulls a gun from under the seat. "But we're going in anyway."
We move toward the entrance. Side by side. The darkness swallows us whole.
And then I hear it. A voice. Familiar. Impossible.
My father's voice. Coming from inside the facility. Speaking words I cannot quite make out.
Maya hears it too. She freezes. Looks at me.
"That's not possible," she whispers. "He's dead. We saw—"
The voice gets louder. Clearer. Not my father. A recording. Playing on a loop.
"—behind the left panel you will find—"
We run. Into the facility. Down the corridor. Into the vault.
The panel is open. Someone beat us here. The space behind it is empty except for a small speaker. Still playing my father's voice.
"—a choice. Trust what you have been told. Or trust what you know to be true. The codes are real. The sun is dying. And you are the only one who can—"
The recording cuts off. The speaker sparks. Dies.
Maya and I stand in the empty vault. Staring at the space where the second drive should have been.
Behind us, footsteps. Multiple. Heavy. Armed.
We turn. Hatch stands in the doorway. She is not smiling anymore. She holds up a small drive. Different from the first. Older.
"Looking for this?" She steps into the vault. Her men fan out behind her. "Your father was clever. I will give him that. But not clever enough."
"How did you—"
"Because I have been listening to every word you have said since you arrived at the medical facility. Every word your father said. Every word Miss Solis said." She pockets the drive. "Did you really think I would leave you alone with him? That I would trust you?"
Maya's hand moves toward her gun. Three rifles snap up. Aim at her chest.
"I would not," Hatch says. Uses the same words she used on my father. The same tone.
Maya's hand stops. Drops.
"Now." Hatch looks at me. "Your father's recording mentioned a choice. So let me make it simple. You can come with me. Help me understand what is on this drive. Work with the government to address whatever crisis may or may not be coming. Or—"
She nods. One of her men steps forward. Presses a gun to Maya's head.
"Or Miss Solis pays for your father's sins."
The vault is silent except for our breathing. Except for the click of the safety coming off.
"Choose," Hatch says.
And I realize my father was right about one thing. There is always a choice. The question is whether you can live with it.
I open my mouth to answer.
The lights go out again.
But this time, they do not come back on.