Mortality Walten Files Novels & Stories

"Sebastian! Come here!" Hearing Caitlin’s voice, Sebastian rushed over. "What’s going on, Caitlin?" "Look!" Caitlin pointed to the wall, "I accidentally discovered this!" Sebastian looked at the photos and read aloud, "Eleanor, Walter, Kelly..." The names included not only Caitlin’s grandparents and mother, but also the deceased mortician, embalmer, Una, and others. They were all on the list. The deceased were marked with a red cross and the time of death was recorded.

He felt weak and vulnerable but he still pushed all thoughts away. “ Come in! ” He gave the permission and Mr Walton stepped in with two files in his hands. Tobias's hands clenched into fists wondering what else he was going to find out. “ Sir! I found out everything I could. Her personal information files are under red level security so it's almost impossible to crack them open so fast. But I have something else. ” Mr Walton told him professionally and placed the files on the table. “ Tell me. Tell me what you found out! ” Tobias was shocked to find out that her files were under red level security but he pushed that shock away for a while.

Valentina hated humanity. Those children disappeared. And I never questioned it before. I opened the encrypted archives, the ones only Valentina or her right hand could access. Good thing I was both. The files loaded. I read the first entry. The tag said: DISPOSABLE #0029 TERMINATED BY ORDER OF LADY BATHORY. Terminate. Such a polite word. It meant slaughter. Anger curled in my chest. “I will fix this,” I whispered. “All of it.” I downloaded everything, names, birthplaces, photos, execution logs, experiment reports onto a USB drive hidden under my sleeve.

She walked with me looking all perplexed. "Dead wolves don't have a file, do they?" I asked her, it was just a hint but I knew she wouldn't get what I meant. "No, that's because that particular wolf's file is burned on the day he or she dies. As people think it's no more important to keep it but wait...how is it connected to your case? Why did you say that?" She looked at me with a raised brow. "When the time will come, I will make sure you know why I said this." I winked at her before walking near the kitchen where Eva was. The little one probably heard my voice and knew I was coming because she came running halfway to me.

It worked, " Elena breathed. "It actually worked. " Keys clicked. Files opening. Data streaming across a screen I couldn 't see. "What does it say?" I asked. "What' s in the files?" Elena was quiet. Too quiet. "What does it say?" I demanded. "Everything, " she whispered. "Patient names. Death certificates. Financial records. Communications between your father and Rebecca. Evidence of bribes. Cover ups. And, and. " "And what?" "A video file. Labeled 'For Lana. Play only in my absence.

A hidden directory titled 'Project 99% Mother. Kael’s digital pulse stuttered. The file was a stratigraphic map of every woman the Council had ever used as an anchor. It wasn't a list of heroes. It was a ledger of casualties. He swiped through the names, and the horror of it rippled through the city’s grid, causing the Grand Hall’s lights to strobe a sickly, necrotic violet. Unit 1: Brain death at forty percent petrification. Unit 3: Systemic marrow collapse. Unit 8: Neural extraction failed.

"Shannon, did you find something?" They closed in on me, studying me with strange expressions that sent a chill through my body. Even my voice was starting to shake as I said, "It… It's just that I noticed how much weight Jenny had lost, so I wanted to see if she was taking diet pills! I didn't find anything else!" Mom's tense expression softened. She then pulled a medical report from her pocket. "Shannon, Jenny lost weight too quickly and became a little malnourished. Those are just multivitamins her doctor prescribed. The soap in the bathroom is also just ordinary medicated soap."

“People d‍on’t just‌ ap⁠pear at twen‌ty-‍five.” “E⁠xactl‍y.” Kieran pul​l⁠e‌d up a​noth⁠er d‌ocument​. “This is a​ death cer‍tificate. Wom⁠an named‌ Elena W‌int‍ers. Died fi‌ft⁠y⁠-t⁠hr⁠ee years ago.” My stoma​ch dro​pp‍ed. “Someone with the‌ same n‌ame. T​hat’s​—‌”

"Tell me it's fake. The death certificate—it's fake, right? He's not dead!" Danny exhaled hard, eyes already heavy with the answer. He pulled out a stack of papers and slid them over. "I'm sorry, Dr. Foster. It's real." On top—plain and brutal: [William Wright. Date of Death: March 17, 2020. Cause: hemorrhagic shock.] Delia jerked her hand back like it burned, then snatched the page again, her fingers shaking. A tear hit the corner, smearing the ink. "No... this isn't possible..."

“She wiped it.” “But she couldn’t wipe everything,” I said. I went to the physical filing cabinets. Fourth floor. Section D. Year 2022. I opened the drawer. Empty. My heart sank. Then I noticed something. A folder misfiled in the wrong section. Not under R. Under M. “Morrison.” But the date matched. My hands trembled as I pulled it out. Inside were partial records. Vitals. Nurse notes. Medication logs. But no final cause of death.