Uncovering the Truth

The air inside the facility felt colder than the abandoned streets outside, as though the walls were holding onto something far darker than just the chill of neglect. Every step we took sent echoes bouncing off the cracked walls, reverberating through the hollow, lifeless space. Dust hung thick in the air, swirling in the faint light filtering through the broken windows. The place was dead—but the secrets it held were alive, waiting for us.

I stood frozen in front of the desk, my fingers brushing over the file with my name printed on it. Project Echo: Liberty Crox. The words stared back at me like an accusation, a reminder that my past was more complicated—and darker—than I had ever imagined.

Apollo stepped up beside me, his face tight with concern as he scanned the room. Zeke was already by the monitors, his fingers dancing over the keyboard, trying to dig deeper into the system. The faint hum of the monitors was the only sound that cut through the heavy silence.

"This doesn't feel right," Apollo murmured, his voice low. "We're not safe here."

He was right. There was something about this place that gnawed at me. It wasn't just the eerie quiet or the stale air—it was the feeling that we weren't alone. Like someone had been here, watching, waiting. But I couldn't leave. Not yet. Not until I had answers.

"I need to know what this is," I whispered, picking up the file, my hands trembling. My name, my family's name, tied to this abandoned facility, to a government project I had never heard of.

I opened the file, my eyes scanning the yellowed pages. Dates. Locations. Medical records. My breath hitched as I recognized some of the names—doctors who had treated my mother, facilities where she had been taken. But it was more than that. They had been tracking us—tracking me.

Zeke's voice broke through the silence, sharp and urgent. "Liberty, you need to see this."

I turned, my heart racing as I moved toward him. The screen was filled with lines of code, but Zeke navigated through it quickly, pulling up encrypted files, their labels flashing on the screen. Subject Profiles. Experimental Trials. And then, something that sent a chill down my spine: Project Echo: Phase One – Infection Control through Genetic Manipulation.

"What the hell is this?" Apollo asked, stepping closer, his eyes narrowing at the screen.

Zeke's fingers flew across the keys. "It looks like... they were experimenting with something tied to the infection. But these files—they're all classified. We're talking high-level clearance. The kind of stuff they bury deep."

I swallowed hard, my eyes glued to the screen. "What does this have to do with me?"

Zeke hesitated, glancing up at me. "I don't know yet. But I've found something—an audio log. It's encrypted, but if I can break through the firewall—"

"Do it," I said, my voice barely steady. I needed answers. Now.

As Zeke worked, the tension in the room thickened. The silence was unbearable, the weight of the secrets pressing down on us. My mind raced, piecing together fragments of what little I knew about Project Echo. My mother's illness, her disappearance—none of it had been an accident. They had been watching us for years, manipulating things in the shadows, pulling strings I hadn't even realized were there.

I glanced at Apollo, his face grim. He hadn't said much since we'd arrived, but I could see the worry etched in his expression. "This isn't just about the infection," he said quietly. "This is about control. About using people—using you."

I felt a sickening knot form in my stomach. He was right. The government wasn't just containing the infection—they were manipulating it. Experimenting on people, on families. On mine.

Before I could respond, Zeke let out a triumphant grunt. "I've got it. The encryption's breaking."

The screen flickered, and then an audio file crackled to life. The sound was distorted, but the voices were clear enough to send a chill through me.

"...subject is responding to Phase One treatment. Initial resistance to the virus is higher than expected. Genetic modifications are showing promise, though we're still monitoring the side effects..."

The voice was clinical, detached, but there was something familiar about it. Something that made my heart pound in my chest.

"...target profile, Liberty Crox, exhibits resilience beyond standard parameters. Further observation required before advancing to Phase Two..."

My breath caught in my throat. They were talking about me. I was the subject.

Zeke's eyes widened as he listened. "This is... they were using you, Liberty. Your genetics, our family... they were part of the experiment."

I staggered back, the weight of the revelation crashing over me. "Is mother... was she part of this too?"

Apollo stepped forward, his hand resting lightly on my arm. "Liberty—"

"Answer me!" I shouted, my voice cracking. My pulse was thundering in my ears, my mind reeling from the implications. "Was she part of this experiment?"

Zeke hesitated, scrolling through more files, but before he could respond, a faint sound reached us from outside—an eerie, low growl.

Apollo's grip on my arm tightened. "We need to go. Now."

I froze, my mind still racing with what we had just uncovered. But the sound of the growl—the unmistakable sound of something inhuman—brought me back to the present.

"Liberty, we have to move," Zeke urged, grabbing his tablet.

I took a shaky breath, shoving the file into my bag. There would be time to process this later. Right now, survival was the only thing that mattered.

As we made our way toward the exit, the growls grew louder. The infected were near, but this time, they sounded different—more aggressive, more... coordinated. My heart pounded in my chest as we reached the door.

"We can't go out the same way we came in," Apollo said, his voice steady but tense. "They're blocking the path."

"Back entrance," Zeke replied, already pulling up the map. "There's an old utility tunnel that runs underneath the building. We can take it to the other side of the district."

The urgency in his voice left no room for argument. We moved quickly, weaving through the debris-strewn hallways of the facility. The air was thick with dust, and my lungs burned as I forced myself to stay focused.

But my mind was still spinning. Project Echo wasn't just some random government experiment. It was me. It was my family. They had been using us, controlling us, all in the name of some twisted science. And now my mother's illness—her death—wasn't just a tragedy. It was part of their plan.

The thought made me sick.

We reached the utility door, and Zeke quickly worked the lock, his fingers moving with practiced speed. The sound of growling echoed behind us, closer now. The infected were closing in.

"Come on, come on," Zeke muttered, finally pulling the door open. "Let's go."

We descended into the tunnel, the darkness swallowing us whole. The walls were damp, and the air was thick with the smell of mold and decay. My footsteps echoed in the narrow space, each one a reminder that we were still being hunted.

But this time, it wasn't just the infected. The government was out there, too. And they knew everything about me.

We moved quickly through the tunnel, the sound of the infected fading behind us, but the weight of what we had uncovered clung to me like a shroud. I had spent so long chasing the truth, but now that I had found it, it was darker and more dangerous than I had ever imagined.

As we neared the exit of the tunnel, Apollo's voice cut through the silence. "What now?"

I looked at him, my mind still racing, my heart still pounding. "We keep going," I said, my voice firmer than I felt. "We find out who's behind this. And we stop them."

But even as I said it, I felt the weight of those words settle over me. Because the truth was out there, and it wasn't going to let me go.