Page 44 of Echos and Empires
“We have to get off this island,” Emma finally said, the words a map, a plan, a challenge.
Chris shook his head, his voice hoarse but resolved. “We make sure he never sees Phase Two.”
“Or phase anything else,” Bash added, the threat a heavy line etched deep into his expression.
Liam watched the flicker of the cursor on the monitor, reducing it to a metronome ticking off the seconds until they would explode into action. “We need to go back, or go lower in the document. What all went into the bombs. What genetics did he target, what’s the trigger?”
As the drive finished, they stared at the files with something close to reverence and fear, as if the tiny icons contained a god, or a bomb, or both.
“Fucking Victor Warrington,” Chris muttered, each syllable a round fired from the depths of his fury.
Disbelief stretched thin across the room, its fibers catching on every breath, every heartbeat.
“I’m going to keep reading,” Liam scrolled through the PDF, each line of Victor’s report a brutal wire cutting into their hope. “Prototype community,” he read aloud, the words leaving lacerations in their understanding. The island was never a sanctuary. The toxin was never an accident. Emma spoke first, her voice a needle stitching urgency into the open wound of the silence. “We have to warn everyone. We have to stop him.”
“We’ve been playing his game,” Chris said, the bitterness of the realization scalding his voice. “Since day one.”
“He knew exactly where we’d end up,” Bash added, the anger in his tone biting and sharp. “Used us to see if his little science project would work.”
Liam kept reading, his voice like a scalpel, steady and incisive. “The toxin provided the anticipated reduction in population. Over ninety-five percent fatality rate among females. All remaining women accounted for in prototype environments.”
The room was a tightrope of tension, every word, every thought threatening to throw them into the abyss.
“No wonder his men were there when we got off the plane all those years ago,” Alex said, his disbelief cracking like thin ice. “He was rounding us up like fucking cattle.”
Liam nodded, his expression a knot of emotions. “He thinks he can control everyone. Just like he did with the women he took. Just like he tried to do with us.”
The island had been meant to contain them, to break them, to test them. But the men, the woman, the love, the bond—they were more than the sum of their parts. They were a unit. They were a family. They were a rebellion waiting to happen.
Liam looked around, met each set of eyes with an intensity that fused them into something unbreakable. “We stop him,” he said, the words a binding contract, a vow sealed in the fragile hope that had kept them alive. “But I still need to know more about phase one.”
“Well, keep scrolling.”
Liam was in such a haze, he wasn’t even certain who spoke.
SIXTEEN
“Sorry I’m late,”William called as he opened the front door, more than a little surprised no one was on the couch. Someone was always on the couch.
Stepping inside, William was nearly suffocated by the unusual and heavy silence settling over him like a weighted blanket. It was a tangible presence, thick and oppressive, that seemed to muffle even the soft scuff of his boots against the floor. He paused, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light, and scanned the space for the source of the tension that hung heavy in the air.
Voices drifted from upstairs, leaving him with frantic and clipped conversations. Taking the stairs two at a time, he called out again. “Everything okay?”
The door to the computer room was open, the voices loudly filtering out, drawing him closer.
William found them huddled around the computer, Liam’s reflection in the computer screen etched with fear. They were clustered together, shoulders hunched and expressions tight, as if bracing themselves against an unseen force. The sight senta prickle of unease crawling up William’s spine, and he found himself moving closer, drawn by a morbid curiosity.
As he approached he opened his mouth to speak, to ask what had everyone so on edge, but the words died on his tongue as he drew near enough to see the rest of their faces. Shock, disbelief, and a growing horror were etched into every line and curve, their eyes wide and unblinking as they stared at the screen.
William’s confusion mounted, mingling with a growing sense of dread. He tried again to get their attention, clearing his throat and reaching out to tap the nearest shoulder. But before his fingers could make contact, Chris’s hand shot out, gesturing for him to be quiet. The movement was sharp, almost frantic, and it spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation.
Swallowing his questions, William edged closer, craning his neck to see what had the group so transfixed. He found himself standing behind Liam, the other man’s broad shoulders blocking most of the screen from view. But even from this angle, William could see the tension in Liam’s posture, the white-knuckled grip he had on the edge of the desk.
The room seemed to hold its breath, the silence broken only by the soft hum of the computer and the ragged edge of Liam’s breathing. William’s heart began to race, pounding against his ribs in a staccato rhythm of anticipation and dread. He leaned forward, straining to catch a glimpse of the words on the screen.
“What are we doing?”
Chris caught his gaze and returned a glacial stare. “Hush.”
