CHAPTER 8 LEVEL F
“Level E transfer complete. Welcome to Level F.”
The computerized voice echoed through the chamber as the platform carrying Ava vanished beneath the floor.
“Ava!”
Ethan lunged forward.
His hands struck the closing metal panels just as they sealed over the opening.
The impact sent pain through his wrists.
He barely felt it.
“Ava!”
No answer came from below.
Only the low mechanical hum of machinery moving deeper beneath the hospital.
Margaret stood several feet away, perfectly still.
The emergency lights painted half her face red.
For the first time since Ethan had entered Sublevel E, she looked uncertain.
Not frightened.
Not yet.
But surprised.
“You didn’t know about Level F,” Ethan said.
Margaret’s eyes shifted toward him.
“Of course I did.”
Ethan turned slowly.
“You’re lying.”
Margaret’s expression hardened.
“I built this system.”
“No.”
Marcus stepped away from the sealed door and studied the control panel mounted beside it.
“You controlled Level E.”
His fingers moved across the keypad.
“But this transfer was automatic.”
Lena helped Eleanor remain upright near the wall.
Eleanor’s breathing was shallow.
Her face had gone pale the moment the computerized voice announced Level F.
She stared at the floor as though something buried beneath it had reached up and touched her.
“Eleanor,” Ethan said.
She did not respond.
He crossed the room.
“What is Level F?”
Eleanor’s lips trembled.
“There was never supposed to be a Level F.”
Margaret gave a sharp laugh.
“She’s confused.”
Eleanor looked at her.
“No.”
Her voice was weak, but clear.
“You’re the one who should be confused.”
The lights flickered.
Somewhere behind the walls, heavy locks engaged one after another.
Marcus examined the panel again.
“The elevators are dead.”
“What about the escape route Ava showed me?” Ethan asked.
Lena pointed toward a narrow maintenance seam in the western wall.
“It should be there.”
Ethan rushed to it and pressed both hands against the metal.
Nothing moved.
Marcus joined him.
Together they found the hidden latch Ava had indicated.
Marcus pulled it.
The wall opened three inches, then stopped.
A steel barrier had descended behind it.
“Sealed,” Marcus said.
Ethan turned toward Margaret.
“Open it.”
“I can’t.”
He crossed the distance between them.
“Open it.”
Margaret lifted her chin.
“You still think anger makes you powerful.”
Ethan stopped inches from her.
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“Evidence makes me powerful.”
He held up the drive containing the surveillance footage.
“And you’re standing in the middle of a facility filled with it.”
Margaret smiled.
“You believe that footage will survive tonight?”
A loud vibration rolled through the floor.
Eleanor grabbed Lena’s arm.
“That isn’t an elevator.”
Marcus looked toward the sealed platform.
“What is it?”
Eleanor’s eyes widened.
“A transport rail.”
Ethan felt cold spread through his chest.
“Where does it go?”
Eleanor looked at Margaret.
Margaret said nothing.
“Where does it go?” Ethan demanded.
“To the original Caldwell research site,” Eleanor whispered.
Silence filled the chamber.
Marcus stepped closer.
“What research site?”
Eleanor struggled to breathe evenly.
“Charles funded neurological research before Ethan was born.”
Ethan stared at her.
“My father?”
“Charles wanted to treat trauma.”
Eleanor’s voice became bitter.
“Margaret saw another use for it.”
Margaret’s calm finally cracked.
“You don’t know what Charles wanted.”
“I was his wife.”
“You were his weakness.”
Eleanor stepped forward despite Lena’s attempt to steady her.
“And you were his greatest mistake.”
Margaret’s eyes flashed.
The air between them seemed to sharpen.
Ethan forced himself to look away.
“Ava is being taken to that site?”
Eleanor nodded.
“If the old rail still works.”
Marcus pulled out his phone.
No signal.
He checked his radio.
Only static answered.
“We’re cut off.”
Lena moved toward the room where Dr. Harris had disappeared during the chaos.
“He may know another way.”
Ethan followed.
They found the adjoining medical bay empty.
A chair lay overturned.
Blood marked the edge of a counter.
The restraints on the treatment bed had been cut.
Dr. Harris was gone.
Marcus crouched beside an open ventilation panel.
“He escaped before the lockdown.”
Margaret’s smile returned.
“You’re wasting time.”
Ethan looked at her.
“You know where he went.”
“I know Harris values survival.”
A metallic click came from the ceiling.
Marcus immediately drew his weapon.
Small black lenses emerged from recessed panels around the room.
Cameras.
Then the monitors along the far wall switched on.
Ava appeared on every screen.
She was strapped into her wheelchair inside a narrow glass compartment.
The platform beneath her was still moving.
Her face looked pale.
But her eyes were open.
“Ethan,” she said.
Her voice came through the speakers with a faint delay.
Ethan rushed toward the monitors.
“Ava, can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
She looked beyond the glass.
“I’m moving through a tunnel.”
“Are you hurt?”
“My left shoulder.”
She took a careful breath.
“Nothing feels broken.”
Ethan closed his eyes for one second.
Relief came and vanished.
“Can you stop the platform?”
“No controls inside.”
Ava turned her head.
“There are numbers on the wall.”
“What numbers?”
“F-six.”
The screen flickered.
Then Dr. Harris stepped into view behind her compartment.
Ethan’s body went rigid.
Harris had blood along one side of his face.
He held a syringe in his right hand.
Ava saw Ethan’s expression reflected in the glass.
She turned.
Harris smiled.
“You should have signed the documents.”
Ava kept her breathing steady.
“You should have left the country.”
Harris’s smile faded.
He pressed a control beside the compartment.
Metal restraints snapped over Ava’s wrists.
Ethan struck the monitor.
“Harris!”
The doctor looked directly into the camera.
“Mr. Caldwell.”
“You touch her, and I will find you.”
“You already found me.”
Harris held up the syringe.
“You simply arrived one level too late.”
Marcus aimed his weapon at the screen as if he could shoot through it.
“What are you giving her?”
Harris glanced at the fluid.
“Something more permanent.”
Ethan turned toward Margaret.
Her face had lost all color.
“That isn’t your formula,” he said.
Margaret stared at the syringe.
“No.”
Eleanor moved closer to the monitors.
“What color is the label?”
Ava looked down.
“Black.”
Eleanor’s hand flew to her mouth.
“What does black mean?” Ethan asked.
Eleanor did not answer.
“What does it mean?”
“It was never approved.”
Her voice broke.
“Charles ordered every dose destroyed.”
On the screen, Harris inserted the syringe into a port beside Ava’s chair.
Margaret rushed toward the control station.
“Stop!”
Everyone turned.
She began entering codes with shaking fingers.
Ethan stared at her.
“You’re trying to save Ava?”
Margaret did not look at him.
“I’m trying to stop Harris.”
“Why?”
“Because that compound doesn’t erase memories.”
The chamber went silent.
Margaret hit the final key.
The system rejected her access.
A red message appeared across every monitor.
PRIMARY AUTHORITY OVERRIDDEN.
Harris leaned close to Ava.
“It replaces them.”
Ava stared at the syringe.
“With what?”
Harris looked into the camera.
“With the memories Margaret spent thirty-five years trying to bury.”
The injection mechanism began to move.
Then every screen abruptly changed.
A grainy video appeared.
A young woman lay strapped to a hospital bed.
Eleanor gasped.
Beside the bed stood Charles Caldwell.
And in his arms was a newborn baby.
Marcus stepped toward the screen.
The infant wore a bracelet.
The camera zoomed in.
A handwritten name was visible.
MARCUS VALE.
Marcus stopped breathing.
Behind him, Margaret whispered one word.
“No.”
The video continued.
Charles handed the baby to another man.
The man turned toward the camera.
Ethan recognized him from the old records.
Stephen Vale.
Then Charles spoke.
“Take Marcus away before Margaret learns there were two boys.”
The footage froze.
Ethan slowly looked at Marcus.
Marcus looked back at him.
Neither man spoke.
On the monitor, a countdown appeared beside Ava’s injection port.
TEN SECONDS.
NINE.
EIGHT.
Margaret backed away from the screen.
“There weren’t supposed to be two survivors.”
SEVEN.
Ethan grabbed her arm.
“What does that mean?”
SIX.
Margaret looked from Ethan to Marcus.
Her eyes filled with something far worse than fear.
Recognition.
FIVE.
Then she whispered the truth that shattered the room.
“You’re not cousins.”
FOUR.
“You’re brothers.”
THREE.
May you like
The syringe plunged into the port.
END OF CHAPTER 8
