"Some truths stay buried for a reason. But once you start digging... something always digs back."
The rain had stopped, but the air outside still smelled like thunder.
Inside Parker's apartment, the tension from earlier hadn't left—it had only grown heavier, like the walls themselves were listening.
------------------------
Jay
The sky outside was gray and heavy, like it knew something bad was coming.
Rain tapped softly against the windows, steady and cold. Inside Parker's apartment, the air was still—and wrong. No one spoke.
Not since the evacuation op.
Complete silence.
But worse than the silence... was the fact that Parker was late.
He told us he'd found something—something important about the girl in the Dead Zone. So we waited, just like he asked. Now almost an hour had passed. No sign of him. The tension thickened by the minute.
The tick of the wall clock felt like a countdown.
Sage, our black Pakistani tech genius, paced near the window, arms crossed. Otto, the American weapons expert, sat on the floor, tapping a nervous rhythm on his knee. Gabby, our Asian field doctor—and Dave's supervisor—leaned against the wall, chewing his thumbnail.
Dave, the Afghan medic, stared blankly at the black TV screen, like it might turn itself on. Malcolm, the Russian sniper, stood beside Philip, our Canadian tracker. Both leaned on the counter, glued to their phones.
I stood near the hallway, trying not to let my nerves show.
Parker was never late.
And now, he was.
None of us said it out loud, but we were all thinking the same thing:
What if something happened to him?
Third, our Spanish team lead, sat at the edge of the couch, head low, jaw tight. Every few seconds, he'd glance toward the door like he was ready to run if it creaked.
Then—
Click.
The door opened.
Doctor Moe Parker stepped in, soaked from the rain. His hood was pushed back, his face pale. His hands trembled—not from the cold, but from something else.
Just like us, Parker had been obsessed with the "Miracle" since we first saw her.
But unlike us, Parker didn't chase ghosts. He hunted facts. He didn't guess—he verified. Triple-checked everything until the truth screamed at him.
That's why both Horizon and the Bureau kept him on double duty: Search and Rescue, and part-time Science Division consultant. Twenty-five years old and juggling both.
Me? I'd go insane.
Parker? He thrived under pressure.
I stepped forward. "Parker. What happened?"
He didn't answer.
He walked past us slowly, like he was moving through water, and set a thin, water-damaged folder on the coffee table.
"I found it," he said, voice hoarse. "But I don't think we were supposed to."
The room froze.
He stood over the folder like it might bite him. His fingers lingered on the edge.
Then he looked up.
"What's in here changes everything we thought we knew about her. Everything."
Gabby moved in closer. "So... what is it? Who is she?"
Parker opened the folder.
Inside were pages—some burned, others torn. One looked scorched around the edges. Most of the text was blacked out with thick redaction lines. Stamped labels ran across the margins in bold red ink.
One page stood out:
PROJECT HORIZON — LEVEL 9 CLEARANCE ONLY
Otto squinted. "What the hell is Project Horizon?"
Parker didn't answer. He pulled out another sheet, his hands shaking slightly.
"This is the only one with a full name."
His eyes scanned it, and then he spoke—slowly, like the words hurt.
"Subject Name: Mikka Hale."
No one moved.
No one breathed.
Especially not me.
That girl—the one we'd tracked in ghost footage for five years. The girl who saved lives and vanished without a trace. Who moved like smoke and struck like lightning.
She had a name?
I didn't know how to feel—relieved? Scared?
Because names... Names have power. And once you name a ghost... it becomes real.
Philip exhaled quietly. "That's... her?"
Parker nodded. "That's her real name."
Third leaned forward. "You're sure?"
"Yes," he paused before meeting Third's eyes. "For I cross-checked this data from the Old World System."
Everyone froze again.
The Old World System was gone.
The New World Database was clean. Sanitized. Safe. But the Old System? That was a digital graveyard—full of classified secrets, blackmail, raw military records, and horror stories. Deleted. Banned.
Until now.
"You got into that system?" Sage asked, stunned.
Parker nodded tightly. "It took work. It was fragmented and buried deep. But I found an old ID code... and got in. Just enough to confirm the truth."
Third gave him a quick clap on the back—a silent "well done."
Dave sat down hard on the couch, burying his face in his hands. Then he said it out loud.
"Mikka Hale..." He let the name hang in the air. "She has a name," he then added.
And for some reason, that made everything worse.
Parker pulled out another sheet—more damaged, brittle with age.
"I pieced this together. Not all of it is legible. But enough to see what she went through."
He looked around the room before reading:
Age 5:Found alone near Border Sector 6. Malnourished. Silent. No ID. No known relatives.
Age 6–14: Placed in foster care. Multiple placements shut down after reports of abuse and violence. Police records missing or destroyed.
Facility 08 Notes: "Extremely alert. Shows enhanced reflexes. Reacts violently when cornered."
Age 14: Two fatal incidents. Details blackened out. Transferred to secure custody.
Age 15:Entered Project Horizon. Monitored. Behavior unstable, but survival instincts classified as exceptional.
Final Report: "Subject deemed unstable... yet irreplaceable."
Parker placed the sheet on the table. It landed with a soft flutter, but the silence afterward was deafening.
Sage looked pale as he said, "She was just a kid..."
Gabby's voice trembled when he declared, "They used her."
"They built her," Otto murmured.
"No," I said quietly. "They broke her."
Third's expression hardened. "She's not what we thought."
"No," Parker said. "She's something else. And there's more."
He pulled out one last page. A few coordinates. A file number. No names. But scribbled in faded ink on the back were the words:
"The girl with the black eyes must never be followed."
That's when we heard boots—heavy, deliberate—on the stairs.
The door creaked open again.
And General Speed stepped into the room.
He didn't knock. Didn't say a word. Just looked around at all of us like we were kids who'd seen something we weren't meant to.
"Put the file down," he said.
No one moved.
He approached the table, glancing at the pages. His face didn't change—but his eyes did. They looked... tired. Like he'd seen this all before. And worse.
"You found her name," he said.
Parker didn't flinch. "You knew. All this time."
Speed nodded. "I did."
"Why didn't you tell us?" I asked. "She saved us. Half the population owes her their lives. And you left her behind—like she was just some weapon."
Speed's voice dropped low.
"She was a weapon. One we couldn't control."
The room went still.
He continued, eyes locked on the folder.
"Mikka Hale was part of a program we shut down for a reason. She wasn't just a child. She was... altered. Built into something we didn't fully understand. Project Horizon was a mistake. And she was the final result."
He paused.
"And now she's out there."
No one spoke.
The silence felt like the end of something.
And the beginning of something worse.
Then Speed added, almost to himself:
"She's not your enemy... not yet. But if we lose her again... God help us all."
*******
Chapter 5:
"She has a name now—and with it, a past no one was meant to uncover."