THE PARALLAX PROTOCOL

The Ringless Wife

James stared at the screen, unable to look away.

Evelyn stood in the shadows of Mercy Hospital's lobby, her arms crossed over her chest, her face half-hidden by the dim light. She wore black pants and a dark jacket—not her usual work clothes. And her left hand, clearly visible in the video feed, was bare.

No wedding ring.

She had worn that ring every day for nine years. Even when she slept. Even when she showered. James had asked her about it once, early in their marriage, and she had smiled and said, "I never want to forget that I'm yours."

Now the ring was gone.

"What is she doing there?" James asked.

Harper zoomed in on the video feed. "Watching. Waiting. She knows you're not coming back. She's preparing for the next phase."

"The next phase?"

"Erasure. If you won't cooperate voluntarily, they'll do it by force. Evelyn is probably there to make sure Michael doesn't warn you."

James stood up from the cot. His head spun for a moment, but he steadied himself against the wall.

"I'm going to the hospital."

"James, no."

"It's Michael. He's my best friend. He's been there for me through everything. I'm not leaving him alone with Ellsworth and Evelyn."

Harper grabbed his arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong.

"If you walk into Mercy Hospital right now, you won't walk out. They'll sedate you, take you to the basement, and finish the protocol. You'll wake up tomorrow with no memory of Chloe, no memory of me, no memory of David. You'll be exactly the man Evelyn wants you to be."

"Then what do you suggest?"

Harper released his arm. "We wait. We watch. Michael isn't in immediate danger. He admitted himself voluntarily. That means he's there for a reason."

"What reason?"

"I don't know yet. But we're going to find out."

---

Harper led James back to the main room, where Steven was typing furiously on one of the computers. David stood by the monitors, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

"Pull up Michael's file," Harper said.

Steven nodded. A few keystrokes later, Michael Harrison's face appeared on the main screen.

Subject 31. Enrolled in the Parallax Protocol three years ago. Primary trauma: marital infidelity (wife Sophia Turner, extramarital affair with unknown male, duration six months). Secondary trauma: childhood abuse (father, alcohol-related).

The file was extensive. Medical records. Psychological evaluations. Notes from dozens of sessions with Dr. Ellsworth.

"He's been on the medication for three years," Steven said. "Standard dosage. No major glitches reported. But there's something interesting in his file."

"What?"

"Two months ago, Michael started missing appointments. He stopped refilling his prescription. His last recorded dosage was thirty-eight days ago."

James did the math. Thirty-eight days. That meant Michael had been off the medication for over a month.

"He's been having glitches," James said. "Just like me."

"Exactly. But unlike you, Michael didn't have a support system. He didn't have David or Harper or anyone to explain what was happening. He probably thought he was going crazy."

"So he went back to the one person who promised to help him. Dr. Ellsworth."

Harper nodded. "It's a common pattern. Subjects who experience glitches almost always return to Mercy Hospital. They don't remember the protocol, but they remember Ellsworth. They trust him. He's the only constant in their fractured memories."

James watched the video feed. Michael was leaning forward in his chair, talking animatedly. Ellsworth sat across from him, nodding, his expression calm and reassuring.

Evelyn remained in the shadows, watching.

"What are they saying?" James asked.

Steven shook his head. "The camera doesn't have audio. But I can see their lips. I'm decent at lip reading."

"Then read."

Steven squinted at the screen. "Ellsworth is saying something like... 'You did the right thing by coming here.' Michael says, 'I don't remember what happened. The memories are gone, but I feel like something is wrong.' Ellsworth says, 'That's normal. The treatment takes time. You just need to trust the process.'"

James's fists clenched.

"Now Evelyn is moving closer," Steven continued. "She's standing behind Ellsworth. Michael sees her. He looks confused. He says, 'Evelyn? What are you doing here?' She says, 'I'm here to help, Michael. Just like always.'"

"She's lying," James said.

"Of course she's lying. But Michael doesn't know that. He's been conditioned to trust her. She's probably been his therapist for years, just like she's been yours."

Harper pulled up another file. "Evelyn's role in the program is more complex than we thought. She's not just a participant. She's a recruiter. She identifies potential Subjects and refers them to Ellsworth. Michael was one of her referrals. So were you."

James felt sick. "She recruited her own husband?"

"She recruited you after the accident. You were already a patient at Mercy Hospital. She was assigned to your case as a psychological consultant. Within six months, she had moved into your apartment. Within a year, she had married you."

"It was all fake?"

Harper's expression softened. "Not entirely. Evelyn genuinely cares about you. But her care is conditional. It depends on you remaining compliant, on you accepting the new identity they created for you."

James turned back to the screen.

Michael was standing now. He looked agitated. His hands were moving, gesturing toward the door, toward the windows, toward Evelyn.

"He wants to leave," Steven said. "He's saying, 'I shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake.' Ellsworth is trying to calm him down. He's saying, 'Michael, please. Just sit down. Let's talk about this.'"

"Now Evelyn is stepping forward," Steven continued. "She's reaching into her jacket. She's pulling out something small. A syringe."

James's blood ran cold.

"She's saying, 'Michael, this will help. It's just a mild sedative. You'll feel better in a few minutes.' Michael is backing away. He's shaking his head. He's saying, 'No. No. I don't want that.'"

"Ellsworth is standing up now. Two security guards are entering the frame. They're behind Michael. He doesn't see them."

"Michael turns around. He sees the guards. He tries to run."

The video feed showed Michael sprinting toward the exit. The guards grabbed him before he reached the doors. One of them wrapped an arm around his throat. The other pinned his arms behind his back.

Evelyn walked toward him, the syringe held low at her side.

Michael was screaming now. Steven didn't need to read his lips. The soundless image was clear enough.

"Let me go! Let me go! James! James, help me!"

Evelyn reached him. She raised the syringe.

And then the video feed cut out.

---

"Steven," Harper said sharply. "What happened?"

"The feed is dead. They must have detected the breach. We've lost access to the hospital's camera system."

"Can you get it back?"

"Not quickly. They'll have changed the encryption by now. It could take hours to crack."

David slammed his fist on the desk. "We don't have hours. They have Michael. They're going to sedate him, increase his dosage, and erase any memories that might have resurfaced."

"We don't know that for sure," Harper said.

"Yes, we do. Because that's what they've done to every Subject who tried to leave. That's what they'll do to James if they catch him."

James stood in the center of the room, staring at the blank screen.

Michael had called his name. In the video, just before the feed cut, Michael had screamed for help. He had called out to James.

And James had done nothing.

"I should have gone," he said quietly.

"No," David replied. "You should have stayed. And you should stay now. Michael is lost. At least for the moment. But you're still free. You're still thinking clearly. You're still fighting."

"What good is fighting if I can't save anyone?"

Harper walked over to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You can save yourself. That's the first step. Once you're stable, once the protocol is reversed, you can save others. But you can't save anyone if you're sedated in Mercy Hospital's basement."

James looked at her. At her purple hair, her tired eyes, her small frame that carried so much weight.

"How do you do it?" he asked. "How do you keep fighting when you've lost so much?"

Harper smiled. It was a sad smile.

"Because the alternative is worse. Giving up means letting them win. It means accepting that my memories don't matter, that my research doesn't matter, that I don't matter. And I refuse to accept that."

She stepped back.

"Now. We need to regroup. Michael is gone, but we still have his file. We still have the data. And we still have each other."

---

They spent the next hour analyzing Michael's file, looking for any clue that might help them predict what Ellsworth would do next.

Steven found something interesting.

"Michael's wife, Sophia, has been communicating with someone at Mercy Hospital. Regular phone calls. About once a week for the past two months."

"Sophia is the one who had the affair," Harper said. "Why would she be calling Mercy Hospital?"

"I don't know. But the calls are logged in Michael's file. The hospital keeps records of every communication between Subjects and staff."

"Can you trace the calls?"

Steven typed for a few minutes. "The calls are routed through a private server. But I can access the metadata. The caller ID shows a name: Sophia Turner. But the number isn't hers. It's a burner."

"Sophia is using a burner phone to call Mercy Hospital," David said. "That's not normal behavior for a woman whose husband is being treated for trauma."

"Unless she's not calling about Michael," James said.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?" Harper asked.

"Sophia had an affair. Michael was treated to forget the affair. But what if the affair wasn't just an affair? What if Sophia was involved with someone from the program?"

Steven's eyes widened. "You think Sophia's lover was connected to Mercy Hospital?"

"It would explain why she's calling them. Not to check on Michael's treatment. To check on her lover."

David nodded slowly. "It's possible. The program has dozens of employees. Doctors, nurses, security guards, administrative staff. Anyone could be having an affair with a Subject's spouse."

"Then we need to find out who Sophia was sleeping with," James said. "That person might be our way into the hospital. A weak link. Someone who could be turned."

Harper considered this. "It's risky. Sophia doesn't know we exist. If we approach her, she might tell the hospital."

"Then we approach her carefully. We don't mention Michael. We don't mention the protocol. We just ask questions."

"And if she refuses to answer?"

James thought about it. "Then we offer her something she can't refuse. The truth about what happened to her affair. The truth about what the program did to her husband."

Harper looked at David. David looked at Steven. Steven shrugged.

"It's better than sitting here watching blank screens," Steven said.

"Then it's settled," Harper said. "We find Sophia Turner. And we find out what she knows."

---

But first, James needed to sleep.

His body was failing him. The adrenaline that had kept him going for the past eighteen hours was gone, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion that made his limbs feel like lead.

Harper led him back to the small room with the cot.

"Two hours," she said. "No more. Then we go."

James lay down. The pillow was still flat. The blanket still smelled like laundry detergent.

"Harper," he said.

"Yes?"

"Do you think Michael will remember me? After they increase his dosage?"

Harper paused at the door. She didn't turn around.

"I don't know, James. I hope so. But I can't promise anything."

She left the room.

James closed his eyes.

---

The dream came again.

He was in the kitchen again. The yellow cabinets. The window above the sink. The garden outside.

Rebecca was there, but she wasn't cooking. She was sitting at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. She looked tired. Sad.

"You're leaving," she said.

James sat across from her. "I'm not leaving."

"You are. Every day, you leave a little more. Your job takes you away. Your grief takes you away. And one day, you won't come back at all."

"That's not true."

"It is true. Emma sees it. She asked me yesterday if you still loved us."

James felt something break inside him. "Of course I love you. I love both of you."

"Then stay. Stay here. Stay with us."

"I can't. The job—"

"The job doesn't matter. The money doesn't matter. What matters is us. Your family. The people who love you."

Rebecca reached across the table and took his hand.

"Don't let grief steal you from us, James. Don't let the past destroy the future."

He wanted to answer. He wanted to promise her that he would stay, that he would be present, that he would be the husband and father she deserved.

But the dream was already fading.

Rebecca's face blurred. The kitchen blurred. The yellow cabinets melted into gray.

And James woke up alone in the dark, tears streaming down his face.

---

Harper was standing in the doorway. Her expression was unreadable.

"It's been two hours," she said. "We have a location on Sophia Turner. She's at her sister's house in Naperville. David is getting the car."

James wiped his face with the back of his hand.

"I'm ready."

Harper studied him for a moment. Then she nodded.

"One more thing before we go."

She handed him a small device—a voice recorder, black, no bigger than a key fob.

"If Sophia says anything important, record it. We'll need evidence. The more we have, the harder it will be for them to deny the truth."

James took the recorder. Slipped it into his pocket.

"Let's go."

They walked through the basement, up the stairs, through the abandoned laundromat, and out into the alley.

David was already in the car, the engine running.

James climbed into the back seat. Harper sat next to him.

As they pulled away from the curb, James's phone—still in the Faraday cage—buzzed with a text message.

Steven, who had stayed behind, forwarded it to the car's display.

Come home, James. We can still fix this. — Evelyn

Attached to the message was a photograph.

A photograph of Michael Harrison, lying on a hospital bed, an IV drip in his arm, his eyes closed.

And standing beside him, holding his hand, was Sophia Turner.

She was smiling.