Chapter 1
My father never would have imagined such a thing could be happening at such a prestigious facility. And to think he had given his life and dedication to the possibility of growth in this area. Just as he had devoted his life to saving humanity, he was willing to give his life to save it now.
“Stay in here, honey,” he whispered while shutting me into a secret room he had created just in case such a time would come.
I sat quietly, trying not to let my fear be heard through the floor. Footsteps entered slowly as my father began to shout.
"This has gone too far! I refuse to let my life's work be used to enslave the very people I intended to save!"
“Calm down, Vick. It’s not what you think. This is for a greater cause than you can possibly imagine. This is much bigger than your philosophical views on humankind.” I heard a large thump on the ground as my father shouted again.
“Philosophical views? This isn’t about my philosophical views! You’re killing people for your own self-interest. You never had any intentions of helping humanity!”
I had never heard my father raise his voice in my life. Hearing him shouting with such anger sent chills through my body.
What is going on up there? I thought to myself, trying to peek through the cracks in the floor. I saw a tall shadow moving closer to my father.
“You're so naive. Humans are just a small part of a much larger evolutionary pool. The work we've accomplished will be sacred for thousands of years. There's no humanity in you people. For hundreds of years, humans have stripped this planet of every resource they could find— killing each other for reasons that have no true value, fighting unjustified wars, destroying oceans, and decimating forests. Yet, you call what we're doing more horrific than the horrors humanity has inflicted upon itself."
The shadow loomed closer.
"We give humans a greater reason for life. We give them a chance to be part of something bigger, to live for a higher purpose. That’s why we allow such a low-level life form to exist. What we are, you pray to your absent gods in hopes of becoming.”
As my father began to speak in defense, I saw the shadow shift closer to him. It reached out, and in a swift, horrifying moment, I heard the unmistakable sound of my father’s body hitting the floor. The thud echoed through the room, sending a wave of terror through me.
I trembled uncontrollably, my entire body shaking as tears streamed down my face. In my mind, I screamed, but nothing came out of my mouth. It was as if I had been muted by the sheer weight of fear. I couldn’t tell if I was in shock or if the terror had stolen my voice completely.
My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. I wanted to burst out from beneath the floor, to help him, to fight, to do something. But no matter how much I willed myself to move, my body remained frozen, paralyzed as if the very presence in the room had anchored me to the spot.
Everything in me urged to act, but I was trapped—trapped by the fear, trapped by the helplessness. And all I could do was listen to the silence that followed, a silence that chilled me to the core.
I stayed there, hidden, for what felt like hours, my mind racing as I tried to figure out the right moment to check on my father. The footsteps had left the room long ago, but the fear inside me kept time suspended. I had no idea how much time had passed—minutes, hours? It was impossible to tell.
One thing was clear: I hadn’t heard my father move. He hadn’t come to check on me, hadn’t whispered through the cracks to tell me that everything was okay. He hadn’t said the words I was desperate to hear, "The coast is clear."
I wanted to believe that maybe he was just being cautious, waiting for the right moment to signal me. But deep down, I knew something was wrong. A hollow pit settled in my chest, growing heavier with each passing second. I couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that the silence was more than just eerie—it was final.
Despite knowing this, I couldn’t bring myself to move, to push open the hidden door and face whatever truth awaited me. It was as if my body was betraying me, locked in place by fear and dread. I wanted to see if my father was okay, but deep inside, I already knew the answer. He wasn’t.
I finally mustered the courage to emerge from the floor, my heart pounding in my chest as I made my way to check on my father. The sight that met me was more horrifying than anything I could have imagined. His lifeless body lay sprawled across the floor, blood pooling around him, staining the papers that had once been his life's work. The computer had been knocked over, its screen shattered, and every drawer in his desk stood wide open, their contents scattered in chaos.
All I could do was cry. No words came to me, no thoughts, just the overwhelming grief that washed over me like a tidal wave. I was only ten years old—too young to be left alone in this world, and yet, here I was. There would be no one to look after me now, no one to tell me stories at the end of the day, no one to share the triumphs of their research. All that my father had accomplished, all that he had worked for, was lost in an instant.
Through my tears, my mind raced with questions I couldn’t answer. Whose voice had I
heard? Who had he been arguing with? What was this about? My father had said something about killing people. Was it true? Why would anyone want to do this to him? Fear gnawed at me as I wondered if they would return. Would they come for me next?
I didn’t want to leave his side. For days, I stayed in the house, too afraid to move, too afraid to face the world without him. I spent my time hiding, crying, and trying to make sense of what had happened. It wasn’t until one day, when I heard a knock at the door, that my fear returned in full force. My body tensed, and I quickly scurried back into the hidden spot my father had built for us, praying that whoever was at the door wouldn’t find me.
To my surprise, the person who had knocked seemed to know about the secret. They knew exactly where our hiding spot was. Whoever it was, they weren’t a stranger to my father’s plans.
“Hurry, Elaine, quickly! We don’t have time!” the woman said urgently as she grabbed me from my hiding spot beneath the floor. Her hands were firm but gentle, and the fear in her voice told me everything I needed to know: whoever had done this could be back at any moment.
“Go grab a few things, whatever you need,” she instructed me, while she rifled through my father’s research. I stood there for a moment, confused and unsure of what she was looking for. It wasn’t until I got a closer look at her face that I realized who she was—Athena?
It had been so long since I had seen her, but I knew her well. She had worked closely with my father, though I hadn’t seen her around in what felt like forever. Despite the terror of the situation, I couldn’t help but feel a fleeting sense of relief. Someone I knew, someone I trusted, was here. A small, involuntary smile spread across my face, but there was no time to embrace or reconnect. The urgency in Athena’s movements reminded me of the danger we were still in.
I quickly ran to my room, grabbing a few clothes and stuffing them haphazardly into my school bag. In the back of my mind, I wanted to take more—something meaningful, something that reminded me of my father—but there was no time for that. Athena was already grabbing my father’s laptop and a stack of papers, scanning them quickly as if looking for something important.
I paused for a moment by the door, taking one last, heartbreaking glimpse of my father’s cold, still body. The weight of it all hit me again, but before I could linger, Athena grabbed me by the arm, pulling me towards the door. We rushed out together, the air cold and unforgiving as we ran to her car.
Once we were inside, she turned to me, her face a mixture of concern and frustration. “What happened here, Elaine? Please, tell me. Who did this?”
I could barely form words. I was still in shock, my mind clouded with fear and confusion. I stammered, trying to find my voice, but it felt like I was suffocating under the weight of the trauma. Athena asked again, her voice softer but insistent, “Did you see who it was? Did you hear anything? Anything at all?”
I shook my head, the memory of that shadowy figure still haunting me. “I don’t know. I didn’t see a face,” I managed to say, my voice trembling
