Catalyst

The tunnel walls seemed to close in on us as we ran, the air growing colder and thicker with every step. Water dripped from the ceiling in irregular patterns, and the faint echoes of our footsteps bounced off the stone. The infected were somewhere behind us, their guttural growls carrying through the tunnels like a warning. My heart pounded in my chest, not just from the exertion of running but from the growing weight of what we'd just uncovered.

Project Echo wasn't just a government experiment. It was me.

We turned a corner, and Zeke slowed down, holding up his hand to stop us. He pressed his tablet against the damp stone wall, pulling up a holographic map of the underground system. The faint glow of the screen cast deep shadows over his face, making his sharp features seem even more tense than usual.

"This way," he muttered, gesturing toward a side tunnel. "It'll take us further into the old maintenance network. We should be able to lose them there."

"Are we sure they're still following us?" Apollo asked, his voice low, but the urgency was clear. His eyes flickered toward me, worry etched into his features.

I didn't have an answer. I didn't even know who was chasing us anymore—the infected, the government, or the truth itself.

"I don't think we can ever be sure," Zeke replied, his voice tight. "But we're not safe here."

We moved again, slower now, navigating the narrow passageways. My lungs burned, but it wasn't just from the exertion. My mind was spiraling, twisting through everything we had uncovered in that abandoned facility. Every file, every log, every cold, clinical note about me. My hands trembled as I shoved them into my pockets, trying to steady myself, but nothing felt steady anymore.

They had been watching me.

From the very beginning, the government had been monitoring my family—my mother, my genetics—using us like pieces in a puzzle I hadn't even known existed. And now, I was part of it too. The implications weighed heavy on me, crushing me from the inside.

We emerged into a larger tunnel, the ceiling higher here, and Zeke paused to pull up his map again. I leaned against the damp wall, closing my eyes for just a moment, trying to pull myself together. But the truth clung to me like a shadow.

"Liberty."

Apollo's voice was soft, careful, and when I opened my eyes, he was standing beside me, his expression full of concern. His dark eyes searched my face, and for a moment, the world outside—the infected, the government, all of it—faded into the background.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice low, like he didn't want to break the fragile silence between us.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't even know who I am anymore."

Apollo's hand brushed mine, a light, tentative touch, but it sent a jolt of warmth through me. "You're still you, Liberty. No matter what they've done."

I looked at him, the raw concern in his gaze, the way his brows furrowed slightly like he was holding the weight of my pain as well. For a moment, I let myself lean into that warmth. The world felt too heavy, and part of me just wanted to fall into him, to feel something other than the crushing weight of the truth.

"I'm scared, Apollo," I whispered. "What if I'm not just me? What if I'm... part of it?"

He stepped closer, his hand finding mine, fingers intertwining. "We'll figure it out," he said softly, his voice firm but tender. "You're not alone in this."

I could feel the heat between us, the way his body pressed close to mine, like he was trying to shield me from the world, from the truth. My heart raced, not from fear, but from something else, something that had been building between us for longer than either of us had admitted.

But before I could say anything, Zeke's voice cut through the moment, sharp and urgent.

"Found something," he said, glancing back at us, his eyes narrowed with a mix of worry and suspicion. "You're going to want to see this."

Apollo's hand slipped from mine, and I felt a cold rush as reality flooded back in. The moment between us was gone, swallowed by the gravity of what Zeke had uncovered.

We gathered around the tablet, the soft glow illuminating the lines of code Zeke had been decrypting. His fingers moved over the screen, pulling up a series of files—encrypted, heavily protected, but Zeke's skills had gotten him through.

"What is it?" I asked, my voice barely steady.

Zeke hesitated, his eyes flicking up to meet mine. "There's more to Project Echo than we realized. It wasn't just about the infection. It's about genetic manipulation—catalysts."

"Catalysts?" Apollo asked, leaning in.

Zeke nodded, scrolling through the files. "They were experimenting on people—on certain genetic profiles—to create what they called 'catalysts.' People who could either stop the infection... or make it evolve further. They were... using you, Liberty. Your genetics were a key part of this."

My stomach churned, my body going cold. "So I'm part of this... mutation? Part of the infection?"

Zeke shook his head, his expression hardening. "Not exactly. But you're linked to it. They were waiting for something—waiting to see how your body would react to the infection. You're not just a victim, Liberty. You're part of their plan."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I staggered back, my mind reeling. This wasn't just about my mother's illness. It wasn't just about me being tracked or monitored.

I was part of the infection itself. Part of the experiment.

"Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" I asked, my voice trembling.

Zeke's expression darkened. "Because I wasn't sure if you should know. And to be honest, I still don't know if we can trust—"

"Zeke," Apollo cut in, his voice sharp. "That's enough."

But I could see the doubt in Zeke's eyes, and it rattled me. He had always been the pragmatic one, but now I could feel the distance between us. He wasn't just seeing me as Liberty anymore—he was seeing me as something else. Something dangerous.

"I'm still me," I said, my voice shaky, but I wasn't sure if I was convincing them or myself.

Zeke didn't respond. Instead, he pulled up another screen. "There's more. The encrypted files mentioned Phase Two. Whatever that is... it's coming, and we don't have much time before they act."

"Phase Two?" Apollo asked, his brow furrowing.

Zeke nodded grimly. "Yeah. And whatever it is, it's tied to Liberty. They were waiting for something. I don't know what, but it's about to happen."

I felt the weight of those words settle over me, heavier than anything else I'd heard that day. Phase Two. The infection wasn't done yet. And I was at the center of it.

Suddenly, a sharp ping echoed through the tunnel, coming from Zeke's tablet. He frowned, glancing down at the screen. "Wait... there's something else. A transmission."

"A transmission?" I asked, my heart pounding again. "From who?"

Zeke's fingers flew over the screen as he decrypted the message. "It's not from the government. It's from someone else."

He turned the tablet toward us, showing the encrypted message. A location. A request to meet. And a single name signed at the bottom.

My heart skipped a beat.

"I know that name," I whispered, staring at the screen. "It's someone from my childhood."

Apollo's eyes narrowed. "Who?"

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing. "Someone who disappeared. Someone my mother used to talk about before she got sick."

Zeke glanced between us, his expression dark. "Well, it looks like they want to talk."