PART 17
A door opened inside Daniel’s mind.
Not metaphorically.
Not like a memory.
A real door.
Daniel could see it.
He was standing in darkness, and in front of him was a narrow wooden door.
It looked old.
Older than the House.
Older than his childhood.
Older than everything.
There was no handle.
Only a small inscription carved into the wood.
DO NOT REMEMBER.
Daniel stared at it.
Then he heard Silas.
“Dad?”
Daniel turned.
Silas was standing several feet behind him.
But something was different.
He looked older.
Not seven.
Not even seventeen.
He looked about thirty.
Daniel stared.
“Silas?”
The man smiled.
“It’s me.”
“What happened to you?”
Silas looked down at his hands.
“I don’t know.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“You were a child.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you…”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel looked around.
“Where are we?”
Silas pointed toward the door.
“Inside you.”
Daniel’s heart sank.
Again.
That phrase.
Inside you.
He had heard it from Evelyn.
From his mother.
From the House.
But now Silas was saying it.
“What does that mean?”
Silas looked at him.
“It means you never left.”
Daniel frowned.
“Left what?”
“The House.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I destroyed it.”
Silas smiled sadly.
“You destroyed the building.”
Daniel remembered Evelyn’s words.
“But the House was inside me.”
“Yes.”
“How do I get it out?”
Silas didn’t answer.
“Silas?”
The man looked toward the door.
“You can’t.”
Daniel stepped toward him.
“Why?”
“Because it’s not a thing anymore.”
“What is it?”
Silas whispered:
“A rule.”
Daniel froze.
“A rule?”
“The House became a rule inside your mind.”
Daniel looked at the door.
“What rule?”
Silas pointed at the inscription.
DO NOT REMEMBER.
Daniel suddenly understood.
“The House isn’t controlling my memories.”
“No.”
“It’s controlling what I’m allowed to remember.”
“Yes.”
Daniel stared at the door.
“So what’s behind it?”
Silas shook his head.
“You don’t want to know.”
Daniel laughed.
“Everyone says that.”
“This time they’re right.”
Daniel reached toward the door.
Silas grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because I remember what happened last time.”
“When?”
Silas stared into Daniel’s eyes.
“Before you were Daniel.”
Daniel’s blood ran cold.
“What was I?”
Silas hesitated.
“Samuel.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I’ve heard that before.”
“No.”
Silas stepped closer.
“You’ve heard the name.”
Daniel frowned.
“What’s the difference?”
“I remember the person.”
Silence.
Silas continued:
“Samuel wasn’t you.”
Daniel stared.
“Then who was he?”
Silas whispered:
“My father.”
Daniel froze.
“What?”
“Samuel was my father.”
Daniel stepped backward.
“But you’re my son.”
Silas smiled.
“That is what the House wants you to believe.”
Daniel felt the room spinning.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Why would I believe that?”
“Because you needed someone to love.”
Daniel looked at him.
“And you?”
“I needed someone to save.”
Daniel’s chest tightened.
“Then what are we?”
Silas answered:
“Father and son.”
Daniel shook his head.
“That makes no sense.”
Silas smiled.
“It never did.”
The wooden door creaked.
Daniel looked at it.
The inscription began changing.
DO NOT REMEMBER.
The words disappeared.
New words appeared.
REMEMBER WHO YOU KILLED.
Daniel stepped backward.
Silas whispered:
“It’s starting.”
“What?”
“The House knows we’re here.”
A deep sound echoed through the darkness.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Like a heartbeat.
Daniel touched his chest.
The rhythm matched his own.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Then another heartbeat joined it.
Silas’s.
Two hearts.
One rhythm.
Daniel stared at him.
“Do you hear that?”
Silas nodded.
“It’s not our hearts.”
Daniel looked around.
“Then what is it?”
Silas whispered:
“Something waking up.”
The door opened.
A wave of freezing air rushed past them.
Behind the door was a hallway.
Daniel recognized it.
The original Blackwood facility.
But there was something impossible about it.
The hallway stretched forever.
Doors lined both sides.
Every door had a date.
Daniel stopped.
“Those are years.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Every reset.”
Daniel looked at the first door.
“What’s behind 1974?”
“Your first life.”
“And 2026?”
Silas looked at him.
“This one.”
Daniel stared.
“Then there are forty-seven doors.”
Silas shook his head.
“Forty-eight.”
Daniel counted.
There was one final door.
No year.
No number.
No name.
Only a black circle.
“What is that?”
Silas stepped backward.
“That one doesn’t belong to the House.”
Daniel stared.
“Then who does it belong to?”
Silas whispered:
“You.”
Daniel walked toward it.
Silas grabbed him again.
“Dad.”
Daniel turned.
“What?”
“If you open that door…”
Silas hesitated.
“…I won’t be able to follow you.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not part of you.”
Daniel frowned.
“I thought you were.”
Silas smiled.
“No.”
“Then what are you?”
Silas answered:
“The person you chose.”
Daniel’s eyes filled with tears.
“Silas…”
“Go.”
Daniel stared at the door.
Then back at him.
“You’ll be here?”
Silas smiled.
“I’ll wait.”
Daniel opened the door.
Darkness.
He stepped through.
The door slammed shut.
Silas disappeared.
Daniel was alone.
A light turned on.
A chair stood in the center of a small room.
Someone was sitting in it.
Daniel approached.
The person was facing away.
Daniel whispered:
“Who are you?”
The chair slowly turned.
Daniel froze.
It was his father.
Not the old man.
Not Walter.
His real father.
The man from the few childhood photographs Daniel remembered.
The man he had been told died when Daniel was young.
Daniel’s voice broke.
“Dad?”
The man smiled.
“Hello, Samuel.”
Daniel stepped backward.
“You’re alive.”
The man nodded.
“I never died.”
“Where have you been?”
“Here.”
Daniel looked around.
“In the House?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
The man pointed toward Daniel.
“Inside you.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Not again.”
His father laughed.
“You’ve always hated that answer.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Tell me the truth.”
“I will.”
“Everything.”
His father nodded.
“Then sit down.”
Daniel sat.
His father leaned forward.
“Your mother didn’t create the House.”
Daniel frowned.
“I know.”
“She didn’t create the consciousness either.”
Daniel stared.
“What?”
“She discovered it.”
“Where?”
“Inside you.”
Daniel’s heart stopped.
His father continued:
“You were born with it.”
“But I wasn’t born.”
The man smiled.
“You were.”
Daniel stared.
“When?”
“1959.”
Daniel’s mouth went dry.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“I was born in 1974.”
“No.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I have records.”
“Fake.”
“My childhood.”
“Manufactured.”
“My birth certificate.”
“Manufactured.”
“My mother.”
“Real.”
“My father.”
“Real.”
Daniel whispered:
“Then why don’t I remember 1959?”
His father leaned closer.
“Because you died in 1961.”
Daniel stared.
“What?”
“You were two years old.”
“How?”
“Your mother discovered the consciousness.”
Daniel’s hands began shaking.
“She put it inside you.”
“Yes.”
“And I died.”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
“Your mother refused to let you go.”
Daniel stared.
“She rebuilt you.”
His father pointed toward the wall.
“Not once.”
“Not twice.”
“Forty-seven times.”
Daniel’s breath caught.
“Every Daniel…”
“Was you.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“The resets.”
“Yes.”
“The copies.”
“Yes.”
“The House.”
“Yes.”
“My memories.”
“Yes.”
His father leaned back.
“You were never being cloned.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What was happening?”
“You were being resurrected.”
Silence.
Daniel whispered:
“Why?”
His father looked sad.
“Because your mother couldn’t accept your death.”
Daniel’s eyes filled with tears.
“And Silas?”
His father smiled.
“Silas was born from the memory you left behind.”
Daniel froze.
“Born?”
“Yes.”
“From me?”
“Yes.”
“Then why is he human?”
His father smiled.
“Because unlike you…”
He paused.
“…he was never rebuilt.”
Daniel stared.
Silas was real.
Not a copy.
Not a memory.
Not a House construct.
Real.
Daniel suddenly understood why Silas had always felt different.
He wasn’t part of the system.
He was the one thing the system could never reproduce.
Daniel whispered:
“My son.”
His father nodded.
“Your son.”
Daniel looked down.
“Then why did the House say he was my father?”
“Because the House lies.”
“Why?”
“To make you question him.”
“Why?”
“To separate you.”
Daniel looked up.
“From what?”
His father smiled.
“From the only person who can wake you.”
Daniel’s heart pounded.
“Wake me from what?”
His father pointed behind Daniel.
Daniel turned.
A mirror had appeared.
He looked into it.
His reflection was smiling.
Daniel wasn’t.
His reflection raised its hand.
Daniel didn’t.
The reflection touched the glass.
Daniel stepped backward.
“What is that?”
His father whispered:
“Your original self.”
Daniel stared.
The reflection smiled.
Then spoke.
“Hello, Samuel.”
Daniel’s blood ran cold.
The reflection continued:
“You finally found me.”
Daniel approached the mirror.
“Who are you?”
“I told you.”
“Your original self?”
“Yes.”
“But I’m Samuel.”
“No.”
“Then who am I?”
The reflection smiled.
“That’s the wrong question.”
Daniel clenched his fists.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because you’re still asking questions about names.”
“What should I ask?”
The reflection leaned closer.
“Who is dreaming?”
Daniel froze.
“What?”
“Who is dreaming this?”
Daniel looked around.
The room.
His father.
The mirror.
Everything.
“What do you mean?”
The reflection smiled.
“You think you’re inside the House.”
Daniel stared.
“You think you’re inside your mind.”
Daniel swallowed.
“But you’re actually inside someone else’s memory.”
Daniel’s blood turned cold.
“Whose?”
The reflection answered:
“Silas’s.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“You chose him.”
“What does that mean?”
“You entered his memory.”
Daniel stared.
“Why?”
“Because he died.”
Daniel’s heart stopped.
“What?”
The reflection nodded.
“You’re not talking to Silas.”
Daniel stepped backward.
“You’re talking to his memory.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Then where is he?”
The reflection’s smile disappeared.
“Gone.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“He died when you opened the machine.”
“No.”
“You chose nothing.”
Daniel remembered.
The machine.
The white light.
Silas’s hand.
Then darkness.
Daniel whispered:
“I saved him.”
The reflection shook its head.
“You saved his memory.”
Daniel’s face went pale.
“Where is his body?”
The reflection pointed toward the mirror.
Daniel looked.
Behind his reflection—
stood Silas.
Seven years old.
He was crying.
Daniel spun around.
Nobody.
He looked back.
Silas was still there.
He placed his hand against the mirror.
“Dad.”
Daniel rushed forward.
“Silas!”
His hand hit the glass.
Silas smiled.
“I’m here.”
Daniel began crying.
“I thought you were gone.”
Silas shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“What does that mean?”
Silas looked behind him.
Something was approaching.
A shadow.
Huge.
Tall.
It moved slowly through the darkness.
Daniel pressed his hand against the mirror.
“Silas, get away from it.”
Silas shook his head.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s holding me.”
Daniel looked at the shadow.
“What is it?”
Silas whispered:
“The real House.”
Daniel stared.
“But the House was inside me.”
Silas nodded.
“It was.”
“Then what is that?”
Silas looked terrified.
“The part your mother never discovered.”
Daniel’s father stood behind him.
Daniel turned.
“What is he talking about?”
His father was crying.
“The House wasn’t created to preserve memories.”
“Then why?”
His father whispered:
“To contain something.”
Daniel stared.
“What?”
His father looked toward Silas.
“Death.”
Daniel froze.
The word echoed.
Death.
Death.
Death.
The shadow behind Silas grew larger.
Daniel stared through the mirror.
“Why would death need to be contained?”
His father answered:
“Because death learned how to remember.”
Daniel’s blood went cold.
“What happens if it remembers everything?”
His father looked at him.
“It becomes alive.”
The shadow touched Silas.
The boy screamed.
Daniel slammed both hands against the mirror.
“LET HIM GO!”
The glass cracked.
His father shouted:
“Daniel, stop!”
Daniel hit it again.
The mirror shattered.
Thousands of fragments flew through the room.
Daniel fell forward.
He reached for Silas.
His fingers touched the boy’s hand.
For one second—
they were together.
Then the shadow grabbed Daniel.
It pulled him backward.
Silas screamed:
“DAD!”
Daniel held on.
“DON’T LET GO!”
Silas cried.
“I won’t!”
The shadow pulled harder.
The room began collapsing.
Daniel looked at his father.
“Help me!”
His father shook his head.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m already dead.”
Daniel froze.
His father smiled.
“I’ve been dead since 1961.”
Daniel stared.
“Then who have I been talking to?”
His father’s face changed.
The skin began cracking.
The eyes turned black.
The voice became deeper.
“I am what your father remembered.”
Daniel’s heart stopped.
The thing smiled.
“And now…”
It looked toward Silas.
“…I remember you.”
Daniel screamed.
The room exploded.
Daniel woke up on a street.
Rain fell around him.
Cars passed.
People walked by.
Nobody noticed him.
Daniel looked around.
Everything seemed normal.
A city.
Modern.
Alive.
He touched his chest.
No black mark.
No pain.
No House.
He looked down.
He was wearing different clothes.
He checked his pockets.
A wallet.
Inside—
a driver’s license.
DANIEL BLACKWOOD
Date of birth:
September 17, 1959.
Daniel stared.
“No.”
A woman walked past.
She stopped.
She looked at him.
Her face went pale.
“Samuel?”
Daniel turned.
“Do I know you?”
The woman began crying.
“You came back.”
Daniel stared.
“Who are you?”
She whispered:
“Your daughter.”
Daniel froze.
“My what?”
The woman covered her mouth.
“You don’t remember.”
Daniel stepped toward her.
“Who are you?”
She looked at him.
“My name is Leah.”
Daniel’s heart stopped.
Leah.
The woman who had disappeared inside the House.
But this Leah was older.
Much older.
She smiled through her tears.
“You finally escaped.”
Daniel stared.
“Escaped from what?”
Leah looked behind him.
Her smile disappeared.
“The House.”
Daniel turned.
Nothing.
Only a normal street.
Leah grabbed his arm.
“Don’t say that word.”
“Why?”
“Because it can hear you.”
Daniel’s blood went cold.
“What can hear me?”
Leah whispered:
“The thing that came back with you.”
Daniel looked at the people around them.
Everyone had stopped walking.
Every person on the street was staring at him.
Then, one by one—
they smiled.
Leah stepped backward.
“Oh no.”
Daniel looked at her.
“What?”
She whispered:
“It found you.”
Daniel looked toward the crowd.
Hundreds of people.
Thousands.
All staring.
All smiling.
Then they spoke together.
One voice.
“WELCOME HOME, SAMUEL.”
Daniel turned to Leah.
“Run.”
Leah grabbed his hand.
They ran.
Behind them, every person on the street began following.
Daniel looked over his shoulder.
The crowd wasn’t running.
They were walking.
Slowly.
Calmly.
But they were everywhere.
At every intersection.
Every window.
Every rooftop.
Every doorway.
Daniel and Leah reached a car.
Leah opened the door.
“Get in!”
Daniel jumped inside.
She started the engine.
They sped away.
Daniel looked at her.
“What is happening?”
Leah’s hands shook on the steering wheel.
“You don’t understand.”
“I know.”
“You shouldn’t be alive.”
“I know.”
“You shouldn’t remember.”
“I know.”
Leah looked at him.
“Then why do you?”
Daniel stared through the windshield.
A black car was following them.
Then another.
Then another.
Leah whispered:
“They’re not following us.”
Daniel frowned.
“Then what?”
“They’re surrounding us.”
Daniel looked behind them.
Cars were appearing from every direction.
Leah stepped on the accelerator.
“We have to get to the old facility.”
Daniel stared.
“The House?”
“No.”
“The laboratory?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
Leah looked at him.
“To the place where you were actually born.”
Daniel’s heart stopped.
“Where?”
Leah pointed ahead.
A sign appeared through the rain.
Daniel stared.
The words were barely visible.
BLACKWOOD CHILDREN’S HOSPITAL
Daniel’s breathing stopped.
Leah whispered:
“1959.”
Daniel stared at the building.
“But it was demolished.”
“Yes.”
“Then why is it here?”
Leah smiled sadly.
“Because you never destroyed it.”
Daniel looked at the hospital.
The doors opened by themselves.
Leah stopped the car.
“Go.”
Daniel stared.
“You’re not coming?”
Leah shook her head.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
She looked at him.
“Because I’m not real.”
Daniel froze.
“What?”
Leah smiled.
“I’m one of your memories.”
Daniel’s face went pale.
“Then who is driving the car?”
Leah slowly turned toward him.
Her eyes were black.
Daniel couldn’t move.
She whispered:
“Ask the right question.”
Daniel stared.
The car doors locked.
The engine stopped.
Every light outside went dark.
Then the hospital speakers turned on.
A child’s voice echoed through the empty building.
Daniel’s own voice.
Five years old.
“Dad?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“No.”
The voice continued.
“I found the beginning.”
Daniel opened his eyes.
A monitor inside the hospital lit up.
One message appeared.
SUBJECT 000 HAS AWAKENED.
Then another.
SUBJECT 001 HAS ESCAPED.
Then another.
SUBJECT 002 IS DEAD.
Then another.
SUBJECT 003 IS MISSING.
Daniel stared.
“I’m 003.”
Leah smiled.
“No.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You’re 000.”
Daniel froze.
“What?”
She leaned closer.
“You were never Subject 003.”
The hospital doors opened wider.
A figure stood inside.
A woman.
Daniel’s mother.
But this time—
she was holding a newborn.
Daniel stared.
The newborn opened its eyes.
Black eyes.
The woman smiled.
“Meet your first son.”
Daniel couldn’t breathe.
The baby looked directly at him.
And spoke.
In Daniel’s voice:
“Dad.”
Daniel stepped backward.
The hospital lights turned on.
Every hallway filled with people.
Every person looked like Daniel.
Hundreds of Daniels.
Thousands.
All staring at him.
All waiting.
His mother whispered:
“Now you understand.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
She smiled.
“You weren’t the experiment.”
Daniel stared at the army of identical faces.
“You were the experimenter.”
Silence.
Daniel’s mother continued:
“And you have been running the experiment…”
She looked at the newborn.
“…on yourself.”
Daniel stared at the baby.
The baby smiled.
Then the hospital doors slammed shut.
And every Daniel in the hallway said the same thing:
“Let’s begin again.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
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