Chapter 7 - The Boy Who Never Existed
“And I was never your biological mother.”
Marcus stared at Eleanor.
The underground laboratory seemed to contract around him.
For thirty-eight years, his identity had rested on facts so basic he had never thought to question them. Eleanor was his mother. Adrian was his father. The Vance house had been his childhood home. The photographs in silver frames, the birthdays, the Christmas mornings, the arguments at the dinner table—all of it belonged to one continuous life.
Now Eleanor had reduced that life to three words.
You were brought.
Marcus backed away.
“No.”
Eleanor’s face was wet with tears.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don't.”
“Marcus—”
“Don't call me that.”
She flinched.
Rebecca watched them silently.
Marcus pointed toward the old projection still flickering across the concrete wall.
“You said that baby was Marcus.”
“My son.”
“Your biological son.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to him?”
Eleanor looked at the floor.
“He died.”
“When?”
“Three days after he was born.”
“And three days later Adrian brought me home?”
“The same day.”
Marcus laughed, but the sound contained no humor.
“How convenient.”
“It wasn't.”
“Where did I come from?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe Adrian walked through the door carrying a newborn and you never asked?”
“I asked.”
“And?”
“He said you were from the Mnemosyne program.”
Marcus glanced at Rebecca.
Her expression had changed.
“What?” he asked.
She hesitated.
“The dates.”
“What about them?”
“If Eleanor’s sister gave birth to Rachel and me thirty-four years ago, and you're thirty-eight—”
“You weren't from our cohort,” Marcus finished.
“No.”
Eleanor wiped her face.
“Adrian had been conducting preliminary trials years before the twins.”
Marcus stared at her.
“On children?”
“On embryos. Pregnancies. Families.”
“People.”
“Yes.”
“You keep changing the vocabulary whenever the truth becomes ugly.”
Eleanor accepted the accusation without defending herself.
Marcus approached her.
“What was my designation?”
“I never knew.”
“Did Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“Did Rachel?”
Eleanor looked toward Rebecca.
“I think she eventually discovered it.”
Marcus remembered Rachel's behavior during the final year before her supposed death.
The unexplained phone calls.
The nights she stayed awake after Chloe had fallen asleep.
The locked drawer in her desk.
Marcus had believed she was frightened of dying.
Maybe she had been frightened of something else entirely.
“That's why Rachel investigated Adrian.”
Rebecca nodded slowly.
“She wasn't only investigating Chloe.”
Marcus turned.
“She was investigating me.”
“I think so.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because until tonight I didn't know who you were.”
A metallic sound echoed through the tunnel.
Everyone fell silent.
Footsteps.
Ruiz had not followed them into the passage.
Neither had the police.
Someone else was down there.
Rebecca switched off the projector.
Darkness swallowed them.
Eleanor whispered, “There's another exit.”
“Where?”
“Through the records room.”
They moved quickly.
Marcus followed the dim emergency strips along the floor while Rebecca stayed behind him.
The footsteps continued.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Whoever was following them was not trying to hide.
They reached a heavy wooden door.
Eleanor entered a six-digit code.
Nothing.
She tried again.
Red light.
“What's wrong?”
“The code changed.”
Rebecca pushed her aside.
“Try Chloe's number.”
Marcus looked at her.
“4719?”
Rebecca nodded.
Eleanor entered it.
The door unlocked.
Nobody spoke.
Chloe knew codes she had never learned.
Now those codes were opening facilities abandoned decades before her birth.
Inside the records room were hundreds of metal cabinets.
Most had been emptied.
But one wall remained untouched.
Marcus shone his phone light across labels.
**R SERIES.**
**A SERIES.**
**C SERIES.**
Then:
**M SERIES.**
Rebecca stopped.
“M.”
Marcus opened the first drawer.
Files.
Dozens.
M-01.
M-02.
M-03.
He searched faster.
M-11.
M-12.
Then one folder had a red stripe across it.
**M-13**
Beneath the code was a date.
Marcus's birthday.
His hands began shaking.
“This is me.”
Eleanor moved closer.
Marcus opened the folder.
The first page was a neonatal photograph.
A newborn boy.
On his left shoulder was a dark crescent-shaped birthmark.
Marcus touched his own shoulder through his shirt.
Same mark.
He turned the page.
**SUBJECT M-13**
**MATERNAL SOURCE: CLASSIFIED**
**PATERNAL SOURCE: CLASSIFIED**
**TRANSFER STATUS: VANCE HOUSEHOLD**
**PRIMARY OBSERVER: A. VANCE**
Marcus stopped.
“Observer?”
Rebecca took the file.
“Adrian wasn't raising you.”
Marcus stared at her.
“He was studying me.”
Another page contained developmental milestones.
Age two: language acquisition.
Age four: facial-recognition testing.
Age six: nightmare episodes.
Age eight: spontaneous recall event.
Marcus frowned.
“I don't remember that.”
Eleanor did.
He saw it immediately.
“What happened when I was eight?”
She looked away.
“What happened?”
“You woke up screaming.”
“Children have nightmares.”
“You weren't describing a dream.”
Marcus waited.
“You described a room.”
“What room?”
“This room.”
Marcus looked around.
“No.”
“You had never been here.”
“Maybe Adrian brought me.”
“He didn't.”
“How can you know?”
“Because after you described it, Adrian became terrified.”
Marcus looked at his file again.
The next page was marked:
**MEMORY SUPPRESSION AUTHORIZED**
His stomach turned.
“They did something to me.”
Eleanor whispered, “Yes.”
“What?”
“Adrian gave you medication for several months.”
“And you allowed it?”
“I thought he was treating seizures.”
“You signed the authorization.”
She said nothing.
Marcus slammed the file against the cabinet.
The footsteps outside stopped.
Someone was directly beyond the door.
Rebecca whispered, “Turn off your light.”
Marcus did.
Silence.
Then a voice came from the other side.
“Subject M-13.”
Marcus froze.
Not Adrian.
A woman.
Older.
Calm.
“It's time you remembered me.”
Eleanor made a tiny sound.
Rebecca turned toward her.
“You know that voice.”
Eleanor whispered, “We need to run.”
The door handle moved.
Locked.
For now.
Marcus searched the records.
“If my memory was suppressed, maybe there's something here that tells us why.”
Rebecca opened another drawer.
Eleanor grabbed her.
“Leave it.”
Rebecca pulled away.
“Why?”
“Because some things were buried for a reason.”
Marcus laughed softly.
“That sentence has destroyed enough lives.”
He continued searching.
Then Rebecca found a cassette tape.
**M-13 — SESSION 41**
An old recorder sat on a shelf.
Marcus inserted the cassette.
Eleanor lunged for it.
“No!”
Rebecca blocked her.
Marcus pressed PLAY.
Static.
Then Adrian's younger voice.
“Marcus, can you tell me who visited you last night?”
A child's voice answered.
Marcus's voice.
“I don't know her name.”
“Describe her.”
“She looks like Mommy.”
Eleanor covered her mouth.
On the tape, Adrian asked:
“Eleanor?”
“No.”
“Who, then?”
“The other mommy.”
Marcus felt cold.
Adrian continued.
“What does the other mommy tell you?”
Child-Marcus answered:
“She says you're lying.”
“About what?”
“About where I came from.”
A long silence followed.
Then Adrian asked:
“Does she tell you her name?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
The recording distorted.
Marcus leaned toward the machine.
The name disappeared beneath static.
Then the child's voice returned.
“She says she'll come back for me.”
The tape ended.
Marcus stared at Eleanor.
“Who was she?”
“I don't know.”
“You recognized the voice outside.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Tell me.”
The door suddenly shook.
Someone was entering a code.
Eleanor grabbed Marcus.
“Your biological mother.”
Marcus froze.
“You said you didn't know who she was.”
“I lied.”
The keypad beeped.
One lock disengaged.
Rebecca whispered, “Who is she?”
Eleanor looked toward the door.
“My sister wasn't the only woman Adrian used in the program.”
Second lock.
Marcus stared at Eleanor.
“Name.”
“Irene Vale.”
Rebecca's face changed.
“You're lying.”
Eleanor looked at her.
“You know her?”
Rebecca whispered, “Everyone in Mnemosyne knew that name.”
Third lock.
Marcus's pulse accelerated.
“Why?”
“Because Irene Vale wasn't a subject.”
Rebecca backed away from the door.
“She designed the program.”
Marcus felt sick.
“My biological mother created Mnemosyne?”
Rebecca nodded.
“And according to Rachel's research, she died before you were born.”
Fourth lock.
Marcus almost laughed.
Another dead parent.
Another impossible resurrection.
Then the door opened.
A woman stood in the darkness beyond.
She was perhaps sixty-five.
Silver hair fell to her shoulders.
A thin scar crossed the right side of her face.
In one hand she held a pistol.
In the other, Captain Brown.
Chloe's teddy bear.
Eleanor whispered, “Irene.”
The woman smiled.
“Hello, Eleanor.”
Then her eyes moved toward Marcus.
For a moment, the weapon lowered.
Her expression softened with something disturbingly close to affection.
“My beautiful boy.”
Marcus stared at her.
“You're my mother?”
Irene's smile disappeared.
“No.”
Marcus felt Eleanor stiffen beside him.
Irene stepped into the room.
“That's what Eleanor was told.”
She placed Captain Brown on the cabinet.
Then she pointed at the M-13 file in Marcus's hand.
“You've finally found your record.”
Marcus forced himself to speak.
“Who are my parents?”
Irene looked almost amused.
“You're still asking the wrong question.”
“What question should I ask?”
She approached until only a few feet separated them.
“Why does Chloe remember this place?”
Marcus glanced at Rebecca.
Irene continued.
“Why did Rachel choose you?”
Another step.
“Why did Adrian spend decades observing you?”
Marcus tightened his grip on the file.
“And why does every generation of Project Mnemosyne eventually lead back to M-13?”
“What am I?”
Irene studied his face.
Then she reached into her coat and removed a photograph.
She placed it beside the neonatal picture from Marcus's file.
The photograph was old.
Much older than Marcus.
It showed a young man standing outside Blackwood House.
Marcus stared at the face.
His own face.
Not similar.
Identical.
The photograph was dated **1958**.
Marcus looked at Irene.
“This is fake.”
“No.”
“Who is he?”
Irene answered quietly.
“Subject M-1.”
Marcus looked again.
Same eyes.
Same jaw.
Same crescent-shaped birthmark visible above the man's shirt collar.
“That man would be nearly ninety.”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
Irene glanced toward the ceiling.
“At the hospital.”
Marcus froze.
“Sublevel Three?”
“No.”
Her smile returned.
“Much closer to Chloe than that.”
Marcus's blood went cold.
Irene raised the pistol.
Not at Marcus.
At Eleanor.
“Tell him.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Please.”
“Tell him why Chloe's DNR was created.”
“I didn't authorize it.”
“I know.”
Marcus stared at Irene.
“You did?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Irene looked at the photograph of M-1.
“The first successful subject.”
Marcus could barely breathe.
“M-1 tried to kill Chloe?”
Irene shook her head.
“You still don't understand.”
She looked directly at Marcus.
“M-1 didn't sign the order to kill Chloe.”
A distant phone began ringing inside the laboratory.
No one moved.
Irene's expression darkened.
“He signed it to kill the girl everyone believes is Chloe.”
Marcus felt his heart stop.
“What does that mean?”
Irene picked up Captain Brown and squeezed its left paw.
A hidden seam opened along the teddy bear's back.
Inside was a tiny storage device.
She placed it in Marcus's hand.
“Watch the file.”
Rebecca found a laptop.
Marcus inserted the device.
A single video appeared.
The timestamp was from six nights earlier—the night Chloe was admitted to the hospital.
Marcus opened it.
The footage showed Chloe sleeping in Room 614.
At 2:13 a.m., a nurse entered.
She injected something into Chloe's IV.
Minutes later, two orderlies arrived with a transport bed.
They removed Chloe.
Marcus stared at the screen.
“No.”
Five minutes later, the door opened again.
Another girl was wheeled into the room.
Same age.
Same hair.
Same face.
Identical to Chloe.
The girl was placed in Chloe's bed.
Marcus couldn't breathe.
The video ended.
Irene watched him.
“The child you've been protecting for six days isn't your daughter.”
Marcus stared at the screen.
Then at the memory of the little girl who had called him Dad, clung to his hand, and screamed that Eleanor had killed sixteen children.
His voice broke.
“Where is Chloe?”
Irene raised her eyes toward him.
“That is the question Adrian has been desperately trying to answer.”
She paused.
“Because your real daughter disappeared six days ago.”
Marcus stood frozen.
Irene's final words were almost a whisper.
“And whoever took her has already activated M-1.”