The Ghost File

The cabin was eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards and the rhythmic clicking of Tricia's fingers against the laptop keyboard. The decrypted file stared back at her, a single image of herself as a child, flanked by two unknown men in lab coats.

Jared sat beside her, his expression tense. Reed, their reluctant host, leaned against the doorframe, watching them with wary curiosity.

"You sure you want to do this?" Jared asked, his voice low.

Tricia didn't answer immediately. She hovered over the next command, her breath shallow. There was no turning back now. Whatever was hidden in these files could change everything she thought she knew about herself.

She hit enter.

The screen flickered, and a series of documents flooded the screen. Medical reports. Psychological evaluations. Experiment logs.

Her stomach twisted as she scrolled through them. Each file was marked with the same coded header: S.O.L.A.C.E. ACTIVE ASSET.

Her hands trembled. "They labeled me as an 'active asset.' Creepy?"

Jared frowned, his eyes scanning the text. "It means you weren't just a test subject. You were a part of something bigger. Something ongoing."

Tricia clicked on one of the reports. The text was dense with scientific jargon, but a few lines stood out:

> Subject T-045 has shown increased cognitive adaptability beyond standard projections. Memory suppression remains effective, though anomalies have been detected. Further conditioning required.

She inhaled sharply. "Memory suppression?"

Jared's expression darkened. "They erased parts of your past. Made you forget things."

Tricia clenched her jaw. "Then we need to find out why."

She kept scrolling. More files. More redacted information. Until,

A name.

Dr. Marcus Lorne.

The name sent a shiver down her spine. She had never heard it before, but something about it felt… familiar.

Reed finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. "Lorne. That name rings a bell."

Tricia turned to him. "You've heard of him?"

Reed nodded slowly. "I used to work in intelligence. Back in the day, there were whispers about a Dr. Lorne being involved in classified human experiments. Off-the-record research, black-budget projects. The kind of stuff that gets buried deep."

Jared exhaled. "So he's real. And he's been involved in this from the start."

Tricia clicked on another file. It was a list of subjects. The names were redacted, except for one.

T-046: Maya Raines.

Tricia's heart nearly stopped. Maya.

She had died trying to protect her. And now, it was clear that Maya had been part of this project, too.

She stared at the screen, her hands tightening into fists. "Maya knew more than she wrote me. That's why she was killed."

Jared rubbed his jaw. "If we can find out what she uncovered before she died, we might get our answers."

Tricia's mind raced. If Maya had been an 'active asset' like her, that meant there were others. Other people who had their pasts stolen. Other people who might still be out there.

She turned to Reed. "Can you help us track Lorne?"

Reed studied her, then sighed. "I might know someone who can. But if we go down this road, there's no walking away."

Tricia's voice was steel. "I stopped running a long time ago."

She turned back to the laptop, her pulse pounding.

Dr. Lorne held the key to everything.

And she was going to find him, no matter the cost.

Buried Names, Buried Truths

The air inside the cabin was thick with tension as Tricia scrolled through the decrypted files, her mind racing. Dr. Lorne. The name felt like a loose thread in a tangled web, one that, if pulled hard enough, might unravel the entire mystery behind Project S.O.L.A.C.E.

But it wasn't just Lorne. Maya had been a subject too. And if Maya had died trying to protect Tricia, then there was no telling how deep this went.

Jared leaned against the wooden table, arms crossed. "So we have a name. Now what?"

Reed exhaled, rubbing the scar on his jaw. "I know a guy in Chicago. Used to be a journalist before he got too close to things people didn't want uncovered. If anyone has dirt on Lorne, it's him."

Tricia nodded. "Then we go to Chicago."

Reed smirked. "I don't recall signing up for a road trip."

Jared clapped him on the shoulder. "Too late, old man. You're in this now."

The Article That Shouldn't Exist

Twelve hours later, they sat in a dimly lit bar in downtown Chicago. The walls were lined with old newspapers and framed black-and-white photos, memories of a time when the truth was still printed in ink.

At the far end of the room, a man in his sixties sat nursing a whiskey. His salt-and-pepper beard made him look rugged, but his sharp eyes told a different story, this was a man who had seen too much.

Reed led the way. "Frank," he said, pulling out a chair. "Still alive, I see."

Frank grunted, setting down his glass. "Reed. Thought you were dead."

"Not yet," Reed replied, sliding into the seat across from him.

Tricia and Jared followed, and Frank's gaze flickered to them. "New faces. You bring trouble, Reed?"

"Always." Reed smirked, then nodded toward Tricia. "She's looking for information on a name I think you'll recognize."

Frank sighed, reaching for a cigarette. "I'm retired."

Tricia leaned forward. "Dr. Marcus Lorne."

The name hung in the air like a ghost.

Frank's hand froze mid-motion. His expression darkened. "Where the hell did you hear that name?"

Tricia met his gaze. "I found it in a classified file connected to Project S.O.L.A.C.E."

Frank let out a dry chuckle. "Jesus. You really don't know what you're stepping into, do you?"

Jared tensed. "Then enlighten us."

Frank took a slow drag of his cigarette before exhaling. "I spent years digging into Lorne. Back in the '90s, he was a rising star in the biomedical field, genetics, neurological research, the works. Then, one day, he just… vanished. No records, no public statements. Like he never existed."

Tricia frowned. "Except he did."

Frank nodded. "And the only reason I even got close to him was because of an article I wrote in 2004. It was about a series of disappearances, young kids, mostly orphans, with no one to report them missing. I had a source who swore Lorne was involved."

Tricia's breath caught. Orphans.

Frank pulled out a worn manila folder from his bag and slid it across the table. "This is the last surviving copy of that article. The paper I worked for scrubbed it from their archives. A week after it was published, my source disappeared, and I got a friendly warning to drop it."

Tricia hesitated before opening the folder. Inside was a yellowed newspaper clipping with the headline:

"Children Vanish Without a Trace, Is There a Scientific Conspiracy?"

She scanned the text, her pulse hammering. Then, her eyes landed on a list of names.

And there it was.

T-045: Tricia Hale.

Her entire body went cold.

Jared read over her shoulder. "Holy,"

Reed muttered a curse under his breath.

Tricia felt like the world was tilting beneath her feet. This wasn't just a theory. This wasn't speculation. This was proof.

Frank studied her. "You recognize one of those names, don't you?"

She swallowed hard, nodding. "Mine."

Frank leaned back, shaking his head. "Well, kid, looks like you just found out exactly why they want you dead."