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Chapter Twenty-Three: The Last Scientist
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2026-08-05 23:56:43No one spoke.
The old man stood at the end of the corridor as though he had been expecting us for years.
He wore a spotless white laboratory coat despite the dust-covered passage surrounding him. A pair of silver-rimmed glasses rested low on his nose, and a faded identification badge hung from his pocket.
The name had almost completely worn away.
Only the first letter remained.
D.
Inspector Mara Voss raised her weapon.
“Don't move.”
The old man smiled politely.
“At my age, Inspector, I assure you I have no intention of running.”
“You know who I am?”
“I know all of you.”
His eyes settled on Ronan.
“Victor Ashcroft has his mother's eyes.”
Then they shifted to me.
“And Sebastian's determination.”
My heartbeat slowed.
“You knew my father.”
“I knew him before he became chairman.”
“Who are you?”
The old man's smile faded.
“A man who has spent twenty-four years waiting to apologize.”
Silence filled the corridor.
Daniel stiffened.
“You're one of them.”
The old man looked at him with quiet sadness.
“You survived.”
“You remember me?”
“I remember every child.”
That single sentence sent a chill through me.
Every child?
Ronan stepped slightly in front of me.
“What children?”
The old man didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward the steel door behind us.
“Close it.”
Inspector Voss frowned.
“No.”
“If you leave it open, they'll know you've arrived.”
“Who's they?”
“You've been asking the wrong question all night.”
His voice remained calm.
“The question isn't who is following you.”
He looked directly at me.
“It's who has been following your family for twenty-four years.”
A tactical officer approached the old man cautiously.
“Hands where I can see them.”
The old man complied without resistance.
“You're very young.”
The officer blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“You remind me of another guard.”
His eyes drifted toward the ceiling.
“He thought this place could never become a prison.”
The corridor fell silent again.
I studied him carefully.
His coat was clean.
His beard neatly trimmed.
His shoes polished.
Someone living underground for decades shouldn't have looked like that.
Unless...
“You're not trapped here,” I said.
His eyes met mine.
“No.”
“You've been choosing to stay.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He gave a weary smile.
“Because someone had to remember.”
Ronan noticed it too.
“There isn't enough dust.”
The old man nodded approvingly.
“Good.”
“You noticed.”
“You've had electricity.”
“Yes.”
“Running water.”
“Yes.”
“Food.”
“Yes.”
Inspector Voss lowered her weapon a fraction.
“Who's supplying you?”
The old man became quiet.
“I can't answer that.”
“Can't?”
“I gave my word.”
“To whom?”
His expression softened.
“To your father.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“My father has been here.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
The words struck like a physical blow.
“He was alive?”
“He still is.”
Marcus had been right.
My father had survived.
I took an involuntary step forward.
“Where is he?”
The old man's eyes filled with regret.
“I don't know.”
“You just said—”
“He left.”
“When?”
“A little over an hour ago.”
“To go where?”
“He didn't tell me.”
My frustration boiled over.
“You expect me to believe my father found this place, spoke with you, hid a key, vanished, and never told you where he was going?”
“No.”
He sighed.
“I expect you to believe he was running out of time.”
Ronan folded his arms.
“What was so important that he risked coming here?”
The old man's gaze shifted to me.
“He wanted to make sure Adrian reached this facility before anyone else.”
“But we didn't.”
Daniel spoke for the first time in several minutes.
“Four people entered before us.”
The old man's expression changed.
“They came?”
“Yes.”
His shoulders slumped.
“Then we've already lost something.”
“What?” I asked.
Instead of answering, he turned and walked farther down the corridor.
“Come with me.”
Inspector Voss immediately objected.
“No one goes anywhere until I know who you are.”
The old man stopped.
Then, with surprising care, he removed his identification badge and handed it to her.
She read it once.
Then again.
Her face lost all expression.
“What is it?” I asked.
She silently passed the badge to me.
The faded lettering was barely legible.
Dr. Nathaniel Dawson
Senior Genetic Research Director
Project Genesis
The name meant nothing to me.
But beside me...
Ronan inhaled sharply.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
Dr. Dawson smiled sadly.
“I've had that problem for a very long time.”
He resumed walking.
After several seconds, I followed.
Ronan stayed beside me.
Neither of us spoke until we reached a circular laboratory sealed behind thick observation glass.
The room beyond was immaculate.
Computers.
Medical equipment.
Storage cabinets.
Everything looked frozen in time.
Except for one thing.
Mounted on the far wall was a row of framed photographs.
Dozens of them.
Children.
Boys.
Girls.
Different ages.
Each smiling at the camera.
Each photograph carried a small brass plaque beneath it.
Subject A-03
Subject A-07
Subject A-12
Subject A-18
My pulse quickened.
I searched the wall.
There was no photograph labeled A-01.
Only an empty frame.
Its plaque still remained.
SUBJECT A-01
Below it, someone had placed a single handwritten note.
Reserved for Adrian Vale.
A cold silence settled over the laboratory.
Dr. Dawson looked at the empty frame.
Then quietly said,
“Your father refused to let us put your picture there.”
I turned toward him.
“What exactly was Project Genesis?”
He closed his eyes for a long moment.
When he opened them again, they were filled with shame.
“It began as an experiment.”
He paused.
“And became a family.”
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