Chapter 13 — Midnight Visitor
377 Words
The old clock on the Sub-B wall ticked louder in the silence, its second hand jerking toward midnight.
Evelyn sat rigid beside her father, her hand locked around his wrist as if the faint pulse there could anchor her. Blackwell stood at the door, every muscle coiled, a shadow against the dim light.
At 00:01, the footsteps came.
Measured. Unhurried. Echoing down the concrete corridor.
Blackwell raised a finger for silence. Evelyn barely breathed.
The steps stopped outside their door. A pause. Then the handle turned with a soft, deliberate click.
Marcus Liu entered.
Or rather—the shell of him.
He wore his radiology coat, pressed and clean, though the ID badge swung backward, hiding the photo. His eyes were open, unblinking, pupils dilated too wide for the light.
“Patient transfer,” he said flatly. The voice was Liu’s, but the cadence was wrong—each word dropping like it had been chosen by another tongue.
Evelyn’s stomach clenched. “He’s—he’s not—”
“Quiet,” Blackwell murmured. His hand hovered near his pocket, where a scalpel gleamed faintly under the light.
Liu’s gaze drifted to the bed. “Asset ninety-three. Verification required.”
He stepped closer, movements stiff but efficient, like a marionette on invisible strings. The air around him carried a faint chemical tang, as if he’d just left a lab.
Evelyn rose, blocking the bed instinctively. “You’re not taking him.”
Liu’s head tilted, the motion too sharp, too sudden. His lips stretched into something that wasn’t a smile.
“Obstruction logged.” His voice clicked at the edges, almost digital. “Secondary asset identified. Evelyn Hart. Pending transfer.”
Her blood went cold.
Blackwell moved. One step forward, his body cutting between Liu and Evelyn.
“You’ll log this too,” he said evenly, “asset not compliant.”
Liu blinked slowly, then fast—two patterns in succession. For a moment, his face twitched, like someone else was pushing through the surface.
Then he spoke again, but the tone was different—warmer, chillingly familiar.
“Doctor. You never returned my calls after Havana.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. It wasn’t Liu’s voice anymore. It was hers—the woman from Chapter 10, speaking through him.
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