The Other Truth
1231 Words
His fist connected with the jaw before he'd even decided to swing. The impact traveled up his arm, a shock of sensation that cut through the fog of exhaustion. The man staggered backward, his hands flying up to protect his face, but Cole was already moving. Another punch to the ribs. A knee to the stomach. The man crumpled, gasping for breath, and Cole stepped over him, his chest heaving, his vision tunneling.
He was in a corridor. Long, narrow, lined with doors. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly pallor over everything. He didn't remember coming here. He didn't remember leaving the room where Elias had been sitting. But he was here, and the man at his feet was wearing a guard's uniform, and there were footsteps approaching from the end of the hall.
Cole moved. His legs were heavy, his lungs burning, but he forced himself forward. The footsteps grew louder, closer. He reached a door, threw it open, and slipped inside.
The room was small, cluttered with filing cabinets and stacks of paperwork. A desk sat against the far wall, its surface covered in loose papers. Cole pressed himself against the wall, his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the sound of his breathing.
He could hear the footsteps outside. They slowed, then stopped. A voice, muffled, speaking into a radio. Then the footsteps resumed, moving past the door and fading into the distance.
Cole let out a slow breath. He looked around the room, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The papers on the desk were recent, covered in handwriting he didn't recognize. He moved to the desk, his fingers brushing across the surface.
The papers were reports. Lists of names, dates, transactions. He recognized some of them, names he'd seen in the files. Others were new. He picked up a photograph, his gaze fixed on the image.
It was his father, standing with a group of men in front of a building. They were all smiling, their arms around each other's shoulders. His father looked younger, his hair darker, his face unlined.
Cole turned the photograph over. On the back, in faded ink, were the words: "Kabul, 2007. Charles and the team."
He put the photograph down and picked up another. This one was more recent. His father, standing alone on a dock, the water behind him. He was older now, his hair gray, his face lined with worry.
Cole studied the photograph, his jaw tight. He didn't know what to believe anymore. The truth was buried so deep that he wasn't sure if he'd recognize it if he found it. He set the photograph down and moved to the door, pressing his ear against its surface.
Silence.
He opened the door and stepped back into the corridor. The footsteps were gone. He moved quickly, retracing his steps, his gaze scanning the doors. He found the room where he'd left Elias and pushed the door open.
The room was empty. The chair where Elias had been sitting was overturned, the whiskey bottle knocked onto its side, spreading a dark stain across the table. The photograph of his parents was gone.
Cole's jaw tightened. He turned to leave, but the door swung shut behind him. He reached for the handle, but it was locked.
A click. A voice over an intercom.
"You're wasting your time, Cole. You can't find what isn't there."
Elias's voice, tinny and distorted.
"The photograph," Cole said. "Where is it?"
"Somewhere safe. You'll see it again, when you're ready to learn the real truth."
The intercom clicked off.
Cole stood in the center of the room, his hands at his sides. His chest was tight, the air thin. He heard a noise from the other side of the door, a scrape of metal against metal. He stepped back, his hand going to his knife.
The lock clicked open. The door swung inward, and Lily stood in the doorway, her face pale, a key in her hand.
"We need to go," she said. "Now."
They moved through the compound, following the path that Cole had memorized. Anna and Clark were waiting at the fence. They slipped through the gap and disappeared into the trees.
The compound fell away behind them, swallowed by the darkness.
---
They walked for hours. The ground was uneven, the path barely visible. Cole's legs ached, his shoulders tight with tension. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion.
They reached a clearing and stopped. Anna collapsed against a tree, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Clark leaned against a rock, his head bowed. Lily sank to the ground, her hand pressed against her chest.
Cole stood in the center of the clearing, his hands on his hips, trying to breathe.
"We need to keep moving," he said.
Clark looked up. "We need to rest."
"I know."
Cole sat down slowly, his body rebelling against every movement. The ground was damp, the air cool. The sun was starting to rise, the sky turning a pale gray.
Anna sat up, her eyes meeting Cole's. "Elias knows we're coming. He's been waiting for us."
Cole nodded. "I know."
"Then why are we still moving?"
Cole looked away. "Because I have to find him. I have to know the truth."
Anna's gaze was steady. "The truth is a weapon, Cole. You need to be careful with it."
Cole didn't answer. He looked up at the sky.
The clouds were thin, broken, revealing patches of pale blue.
---
The hours that followed were a blur of movement and silence. They walked through fields and forests, following the paths that Anna had mapped. Clark's contacts supplied them with food, water, and the occasional vehicle to shorten the distance. They slept in shifts, snatching moments of rest when they could.
Cole's thoughts were a constant churn. The photograph of his father. The lies and the secrets that had haunted him for so long. He knew he was close to the truth, but it remained elusive, just beyond his grasp.
He thought about the photograph Elias had shown him. His parents, smiling. The image that didn't match the story he'd been told.
He thought about the photograph he'd found in the room. The team in Kabul. The dock.
He didn't know what to believe anymore.
---
They reached a small town at dusk. The streets were empty, the windows dark. Anna had arranged a safe house, a small apartment above a closed store.
Cole stood at the window, watching the darkness settle over the town. He felt the weight of everything pressing down on him, and he knew that the truth was close. He just had to find it.
The night was quiet, still. Cole stood at the window, his hands at his sides. He thought about his father. The island. The fire. The moment he'd walked away. He thought about Elias Vance, the web of lies he'd woven.
He thought about the truth. The one that was still hiding, buried beneath layers of betrayal and secrets.
The silence was heavy, pressing against his ears. He could hear the others in the next room, the murmur of their voices, the occasional creak of the floorboards. He stayed at the window, watching the darkness settle over the town.
Somewhere out there, the truth was waiting for him.
And he was going to find it.
- Writer
