Chapter 6 - Beneath the Sub-Basement Floor
The sound of the heavy brass deadbolt sliding into place echoed like a gunshot in the sterile confines of the laboratory. Leo stared at Dr. Vance, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow bursts. The heat from the curing plaster had finally subsided, leaving behind a dead, aching numbness that spread all the way up to his elbows.
"You can't keep me here," Leo said, his voice laced with a desperate, nervous defiance as he tried to shift his weight on the metal table. "People know I came to the science building tonight. My roommate saw my coat on my chair; he knows I was looking for you."
Dr. Vance walked over to the stainless steel sink, turned on the cold tap, and calmly washed his hands with anti-bacterial soap. The rhythmic splashing of water filled the tense vacuum of the room. He dried his hands thoroughly on a paper towel before turning back to face them, his expression as impassive as a block of granite.
"Nobody looks for students who choose to disappear, Leo," Dr. Vance said evenly, tossing the crumpled paper towel into a metal step-can. "Every semester, kids drop out because the pressure becomes too much. Tuition debts, academic probation, personal burnout. The administration doesn't ask difficult questions when a file is marked with a voluntary withdrawal."
Maya looked away, staring down at the white-tiled floor where the red wax ear still sat. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her shoulders curling inward as if trying to shrink away from her father’s words. "Dad, we don't have to do this. We can just make him sign an NDA. We can threaten him, scare him into silence like we did with the others, but we don't need to—"
"Silence isn't a permanent condition, Maya," Dr. Vance interrupted sharply, his voice cutting through her plea like a scalpel. "You let curiosity get the better of you both. You left the sub-basement latch unbolted after your last inspection. Leo didn't just stumble in; he read the transfer manifests. He knows where the clinical trials were actually being conducted."
Leo’s mind raced back to the open ledger he had found on the mahogany desk earlier that evening. Columns of names, dates, and strange alphanumeric codes, followed by financial payouts routed through shell corporations in the Cayman Islands. It hadn't been research grants. It was hush money.
"The patients from the county hospital," Leo whispered, the realization hitting him like a physical blow. "They didn't transfer to out-of-state facilities. You brought them down here. You’ve been using the anatomy department as a testing ground for unauthorized neural integration."
Dr. Vance walked slowly toward the examination table, stopping just inches from Leo’s feet. He didn't deny it. Instead, a slow, grim smile touched the corners of his mouth.
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"Science requires sacrifice, son," Dr. Vance murmured softly. "And right now, your hands are permanently affixed to the primary evidence. Which means you are going to help us finish what we started."
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