BEFORE YOU FADE AWAY

CHAPTER 4: THE ACCELERATION PROTOCOL

THE ACCELERATION PROTOCOL

The electronic wail from the watch didn't stop. It was a sharp, piercing frequency that vibrated right through the floorboards.

Lily rounded the corner of the hallway, her jaw dropping as she skidded to a halt near the bottom step. "Em…is he dead? Who is that?"

"Get the towels from the kitchen," Emma said, her voice dropping into the flat, survival register she used whenever the basement pipes burst. "The dry ones. Now, Lily."

Emma shifted her weight, wedging her knees under the stranger's shoulder to roll him onto his back. He was heavy; the wool overcoat felt like dead weight, smelling of expensive tobacco and rain. When she got him turned, his head lolled back against the linoleum. His mouth was slightly open, breathing shallow and uneven.

On his left wrist, the matte-black watch screen was entirely red, the word “CRITICAL” pulsing in white text. Beneath it, a digital countdown was ticking backward from ninety seconds.

Lily returned, the towels clumped in her arms, her eyes wide behind her glasses as she stared at the man’s face. "Em… that’s Ryan Ashford. His company funds half the scholarships at my school."

"I don't care if he’s the mayor," Emma said, snatching a towel and folding it under the back of his head to keep his skull off the cold floor. "Search his coat. Look for an epi-pen, a medical card, an inhaler, anything."

Lily dropped to her knees on the opposite side, her fingers hesitant as she reached into the heavy wool pockets. "There's nothing in the left one... Wait." She pulled out a small, metallic cylinder with a glass window showing three doses of amber fluid. "This looks like an auto-injector. But there's no label. No prescription name."

Emma snatched the cylinder. There was a small safety cap on the base, marked with a small, stylized hawk.

She stared at the aluminum casing. No label and no instructions.

Ryan’s watch dropped to thirty. His jaw locked completely, a thin line of white foam forming at the corner of his lips. His fingers curled inward, the knuckles turning a stark, bloodless white as his forearms grew rigid.

Emma swore under her breath, slammed her thumb against the safety cap to break it off, and pressed the blunt end of the injector through the charcoal fabric of his trousers into his outer thigh.

A heavy mechanical *thud* clicked through the casing.

For three seconds, nothing happened. The watch hit twenty-one seconds.

Then, Ryan’s chest expanded with a violent, gasping breath. He arched off the floor, his eyes snapping wide open. The piercing blue color was gone, replaced by bloodshot whites as his pupils dilated into huge, black discs. He grabbed Emma’s wrist. His grip tightened hard enough that her fingers stopped responding , the red, chapped skin of her knuckles turning white under the pressure.

"Let go," Emma gasped, her left hand clawing at his fingers. "You're safe. Let go of my hand."

His gaze shifted to her face, but he wasn't seeing her. His focus kept slipping while his mouth worked silently.

The electronic wail from his wrist suddenly dropped an octave, switching to a low, rhythmic hum. The crimson screen cleared, replacing the warning with short, blinking text:

“STABILIZING. PRESSURE NORMALIZING.”

Ryan’s grip relaxed all at once. His hand fell away from her wrist, hitting the floor with a dull thud. His eyes remained open, staring fixedly at the water-stained plaster of the cellar ceiling. He was breathing heavily now, the gray color slowly receding from his jawline, leaving behind an exhausted, hollow pallor.

"Ryan?" a voice spoke into the small hallway.

Emma froze, her head snapping toward the front door, which was still half-open against the evening air.

The sound hadn't come from the porch. Beside Ryan’s shoulder, his phone had slid out of his overcoat pocket. The screen was lit up, showing a live audio feed with an encrypted baseline graphic undulating in thin blue lines.

"Ryan, report," the voice repeated. It was male, sharp, and laced with panic. "The biometric relay in my office just triggered a Tier-1 alert. Did you use the reserve dose?"

Emma reached out, picking up the phone from the floorboards. "He's on the floor," she said directly into the microphone. "He passed out on my landing."

Silence stretched over the line for a single beat.

"Who is this?" the man asked, his tone dropping into a hard, defensive legal register. "Where is his security detail? Who authorized you to access this device?"

"Nobody authorized anything," Emma said, standing up and leaning against the stair rail to take the pressure off her aching back. "He showed up at 412 Elm Street looking for a letter. Then he stopped making sense and hit the linoleum. If you're his doctor or his lawyer, you need to get a car down here before he cracks his head open again."

"Elm Street," the voice muttered. "Listen to me very carefully. Do not call emergency services. Do not let anyone into that apartment. If his biometric logs hit the city registry, we're done."

"He's bleeding from his lip," Emma countered, looking down at Ryan, who hadn't moved a muscle since his eyes cleared. "I'm not keeping a billionaire corporate liability in my hallway because your board has rules."

"If you call an ambulance, Victoria wins by midnight," the man said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "She's already tracking his car's transponder. She knows he’s in Sector B. If she gets the medical dispatch logs, she takes the chair. Do you understand me? Lock the door."

Emma’s breath hitched. Her eyes darted toward the kitchen counter, where the heavy linen envelope was still hidden under the stack of unread school flyers.

"Oliver," Ryan’s voice rasped from the floor. He didn't look at Emma, but his right hand moved, his fingers curling around the cuff of her sneaker. His speech was slow and uneven. "The letter... it’s here."

"Ryan?" Oliver called through the phone. "Are you functional?"

Ryan finally turned his head, his blue eyes locking onto Emma’s hazel gaze with a terrifying, absolute clarity.

"But she's here.”