Chapter 50

Chapter 50 (Nell’s POV)

The road narrowed the farther we drove. Trees leaned in from both sides, tall and close like they were trying to swallow the car whole. We hadn’t seen another vehicle in miles.

Rick hadn’t said much since that last sentence.

“There’s only one person who can keep you hidden now — and you won’t like him.”

I didn’t ask questions right away. I just stared out the window, the dull throb in my shoulder reminding me I was still here, still running, still unsure if I was really escaping or just falling deeper into the same trap.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked, my voice soft.

Rick glanced sideways at me. "A place my father used to use. It’s safe. Off the grid."

I frowned. "Your father again?"

He nodded. "He had... connections. Some of them stuck around even after he died."

"And this person… the one you said I won’t like?"

Rick’s grip tightened around the steering wheel. “His name’s Langston. Ex-intelligence. He used to be part of the early phases of the memory program.”

My stomach dropped. "So, he’s one of them?"

"Not exactly," Rick said. "He turned on them. Walked away when things got too dark. But he’s not the warm and fuzzy type, Nell. Don’t expect comfort. Just safety."

I leaned back against the seat, watching the woods blur past. Everything felt like it was closing in again. No matter where I went, it always came back to the experiment. To secrets. To people like Dr. Cross… like Langston.

And to Alex.

I looked at Rick. "Why would Langston help you?"

"Because he owed my father. And I promised not to drag him back into this unless it was urgent. You qualify as urgent."

I turned my head away. I didn’t feel important. I just felt tired.

After another fifteen minutes, the SUV turned down a gravel path barely wide enough for the vehicle. Trees scraped along the sides as we crept forward. The cabin was hidden behind a wall of pine—old, weathered wood, a rusted roof, and a chimney that leaned slightly to one side.

It didn’t look like much.

But I already knew looks could lie.

Rick parked the SUV near the side porch and cut the engine. The silence hit fast—dense and complete, like the world had gone still.

He looked at me seriously. "Let me go in first."

I nodded.

Rick stepped out, boots crunching on the gravel. I watched him walk up the creaking steps and knock three times, then twice more. Some kind of pattern.

A full minute passed before the door opened.

A tall man stepped out.

He wore black—coat, shirt, pants. His gray hair was cropped short, his face lined like weathered stone. He didn’t smile. He didn’t look surprised. His eyes scanned Rick, then drifted to me in the car.

My heart thumped.

Langston.

He didn’t wave us in. He just stood there, then turned and walked back inside.

Rick gestured for me to follow.

I climbed out slowly. My legs felt stiff. The air was colder here, sharper. I zipped my jacket as I walked to the door, my footsteps quiet behind Rick’s.

Inside, the cabin was dim and simple. One large room with a fireplace, a few old couches, a wooden dining table. Books were stacked everywhere. A hallway led deeper inside.

Langston stood near the fireplace, arms crossed.

“You brought her here,” he said without turning.

Rick nodded. “She needs a place to lay low.”

Langston looked over his shoulder, straight at me. His eyes were hard but not cruel. “I told you never to come here unless it was worth my silence.”

Rick stepped aside, giving me space to speak.

I swallowed hard. “I’m Nell.”

Langston’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I know who you are.”

I blinked. “You do?”

He looked at Rick. “She stays for now. But I don’t want trouble. You understand?”

Rick nodded. “We just need a few days.”

Langston said nothing more. He turned and disappeared down the hallway.

I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Rick gave me a look. “That went better than expected.”

“I’m not sure that was good,” I muttered, still tense.

Rick showed me to a small room off the main hall. It had a bed, a window, and a single lamp. I sat on the edge of the mattress and stared at the floor.

“Rest if you can,” he said. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

I nodded. “Thank you, Rick.”

He hesitated in the doorway. “I meant what I said. I’m trying to protect you.”

Then he left.

I sat there for a while. Listening.

Langston’s voice murmured once in the other room, too low to hear.

Eventually, the cabin fell quiet.

But sleep didn’t come.

\---

I woke hours later to silence. My phone was still dead. My throat was dry. I got up quietly, opened the door, and stepped barefoot into the hallway. The floorboards creaked under me.

No one else seemed awake.

I walked down the hall slowly. My eyes scanned the walls, lined with faded paintings and dusty bookshelves.

At the end was a locked door.

I tried the handle gently. It didn’t budge.

But there was another door next to it—slightly ajar.

I pushed it open.

It was a small study.

Stacks of files, documents, and old machines filled the space. A broken monitor sat on the desk, and papers littered the drawers.

Something drew me in.

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

One stack of folders sat higher than the rest. My fingers brushed over them. I paused when I saw the label on one:

PHASE I – SUBJECT ARCHIVES

My chest tightened.

I looked around once more.

Then slowly opened the folder.

Most of it was unreadable—code numbers, test logs, medical data. But halfway through the stack, something slipped free and floated to the ground.

A photograph.

I picked it up.

And everything stopped.

It was me.

And Alex.

We stood side by side, younger, maybe eighteen or nineteen. His arm around my waist. I was laughing, my hair in a messy bun. He was smiling at me.

The photo was old, slightly worn, but real.

It was impossible.

My breath caught painfully. Tears stung my eyes.

This shouldn’t exist.

This moment. This proof.

We had lived something real.

Even if no one wanted us to remember.

I turned the photo over.

There was a handwritten note.

“Field Memory Test — Approved”

My fingers trembled.

I wasn’t just a subject.

I was part of it from the very beginning.

My knees felt weak. I leaned on the desk, trying to steady myself. My mind raced.

What else had they hidden from me?

What had they hidden from Alex?

A floorboard creaked behind me.

I froze.

Slowly, I turned around.

Langston stood in the doorway, half-shadowed.

His eyes locked onto the photo in my hand.

Then he looked at me.

“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he said coldly.