Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

I yanked the disk from the laptop, and with a soft click, it remained in my palm, warm and deadly dangerous. You snapped the laptop shut and hugged it to your chest.

Alex was already beside Ted. He didn't shake him, but carefully and quickly took him by the shoulders. "Ted! Ted, damn it, wake up! We need to go."

Ted moaned, his eyelids fluttering. The sedative still held him in a cottony half-sleep. He tried to focus on Alex, but his eyes rolled back. "Mmm... My head hurts..."

"Help him!" - I hissed at Alex, already moving toward the basement door.

Without a word, Alex put Ted's arm over his shoulders and practically dragged him off the couch. Ted stumbled over the edge of the blanket, his legs giving way. "Please, Nivison! We have to go..." - Alex whispered, catching Ted by the arms. "Just take a step... Another step."

Mom was already at the front door. She turned for a second, and her gaze - full of bottomless anxiety and iron will - met mine. "Hide... Don't make a sound, no matter what happens to me out there. Don't come out until I call you myself." - she exhaled, and her face suddenly changed. The tension seemed to drain from her features, replaced by the tired irritation of an ordinary woman whose peace had been disturbed. She straightened her robe, ran a hand through her hair, and unlocked the deadbolt. "Go." - she threw the last whisper over her shoulder.

The four of us squeezed into the narrow basement door. I let you go ahead with the laptop, then helped Alex drag the stumbling, nearly unconscious Ted inside. The basement was dark, of course. I felt for the switch; a dim bulb illuminated the stairs and the familiar, junk-filled basement.

"Where to?" - you asked.

"There, behind the dryer. Quick!"

The massive old clothes dryer, like a folding metal rack, stood against the far wall. Together with Alex, we shoved it aside with a clatter that sounded like an avalanche in the silence of the basement. Behind it was a bare concrete wall painted green.

"Here?" - Alex looked doubtfully.

I found the heavy board that hid the "secret" passage, hooked my fingers around it, and pulled it open, revealing a dark square opening a little over a meter high. Dad had accidentally made this hole when doing renovations 4 years ago, but he never bricked it up.

"Get in!" - I pushed Ted toward the opening. He resisted, sleepily mumbling something incoherent. Alex, without ceremony, shoved him in headfirst. You handed me the laptop and slid in after him, Alex followed you.

I looked back at the lit basement, at the half-open door upstairs, from where muffled voices were already coming - a low, emotionless one, and my mother's high, irritated voice. My heart pounded, demanding I run to help her, but her order was clear. I pulled myself into the black opening and from inside pulled the board back into place, sealing the passage. The last sliver of light vanished. We all froze, listening through the thickness of the wall.

Upstairs, in the hallway, my mother stood with the door cracked open on the chain. Beyond the threshold, two figures in black, perfectly pressed suits were visible. Their faces, as Alex had said, were unremarkable – they were just... faces.

"Yes?" - my mother asked, deliberately sighing loudly. "What do you want, gentlemen?"

"Mrs. Margaret? Hello, we're looking for your son and his friends. It's urgent; we're from the police. Is he home?" - one of them asked. His voice was flat, like an audiobook, without inflection.

"Jonathan?" - my mother laughed falsely, rubbing her temples. "I haven't seen him all day! He ran off this morning with those friends of his. Said something about a picnic at the lake, out of town. What happened?"

"We need to find him." - the second man continued. His dark eyes slowly scanned the hallway behind my mother's back. "It's a matter of safety."

"Whose safety, may I ask?" - my mother deliberately frowned, playing the strict mother. "Who are you anyway? Are you really from the police? Show me your badge."

The first "faceless" man made an almost imperceptible movement of his hand toward his inner pocket, but never pulled anything out. "Our authority actually goes beyond that of the police. We ask you to contact your son and tell him to come back, and to tell us where he is."

"I'd like to know where he is myself!" - my mother shook her head. "But the thing is, he left his phone at home, the irresponsible boy... Leave your number, and if anything comes up, I'll call. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a migraine, and I was trying to get some sleep while the house was quiet."

She made a move to close the door. The hand of one of the men in black gently pressed against the door. "Ma'am, we need to search the house."

Steel appeared in her voice, veiled by a layer of indignation: "And why is that!? Do you have a warrant?! No? Then I ask you to leave my doorstep, or I'm calling the real police. My husband worked in law enforcement; I know my rights!" - she lied skillfully.

Saying this, she looked them straight in the eyes. There was a hidden threat in her words, a hint that she was not so simple. Perhaps that's what worked. The two in black exchanged a fleeting, almost imperceptible glance. Before them stood just a tired woman who was clearly hiding nothing.

The hand moved away from the door. "We'll be back." - the first one said without emotion. "Or our colleagues will. Convince your son that cooperation is in his best interest."

"Yeah, sure..." - my mother muttered and slammed the door in their faces. We heard the lock click, the bolt slide. Then her footsteps, quick and firm, retreated into the house.

From our hiding place, we couldn't hear exactly what she was doing. Only Ted's heavy, intermittent snoring, as he had settled into a corner and fallen back asleep.

Alex sat staring into the darkness.

You held the laptop to your chest, as if it could offer some warmth.

I sat, clutching the disk in my sweaty palm. "Gold," the mafia. They wouldn't stop, and my mother had just bought us a few precious minutes, playing her role flawlessly.

The four of us sat, holding our breath, listening to every sound from above, but all the sounds in the house had faded. Only the creak of floorboards and the distant hum of the refrigerator remained. It felt like someone was about to burst in and grab us all.

"Do you think they left?" - Alex finally whispered, his voice sounding deafeningly loud in the silence.

"We need to check..." - I answered just as quietly. "But carefully."

I felt for the board from the inside and pushed; it slid back with a soft creak, letting in the dim light from the basement. I peeked out first; everything was empty. One by one, we crawled out of the hiding place – you, Alex, and then me with Ted, who we practically had to drag out.

He stood swaying, his gaze cloudy. "I... I don't remember anything." - he muttered hoarsely.

"Good." - Alex said curtly, still supporting him under the arm.

We went up the stairs. My mother was standing in the kitchen, her back against the counter. When we came in, she turned around. Her face bore traces of exhaustion I had never seen before.

"They left." - she said without preamble. "But not for long. They'll be back, and next time they'll have a warrant, or they'll just come in without asking." She looked at us – at your pale face with dark circles under your eyes, at Alex, his jaw clenched, at Ted, barely standing, and at me, the disk in my hand.

"Pack your things... Quickly! Only the essentials. Jonathan, give me the disk. Leave all phones here. All of them, no exceptions." - my mother suddenly began hurrying us.

"Where are we going?" - I asked, handing her the disk.

"To a motel on the outskirts, away from the city center. There we can rest, get ourselves together, and... figure this out." - she nodded toward the disk in her hand.

We moved on autopilot. Everyone moved like sleepwalkers; adrenaline had given way to complete exhaustion.

Alex helped Ted wash up and change clothes; I gave them my things, and to my surprise, the sizes fit.

You packed the laptop and charger into a backpack.

I packed a bag with food, water, and the first-aid kit from my mother's supplies.

Twenty minutes later, we were ready. My mother started the car parked in the garage. We squeezed inside – me in the front passenger seat, you, Alex, and Ted in the back. Ted immediately leaned against the window and closed his eyes. But we had forgotten someone at home... My poor cat Jumbo sat on the windowsill, watching his owners drive away, leaving him all alone...

My mother pulled out of the garage and slowly, without drawing attention, drove along the quiet streets, weaving and frequently checking the rearview mirror. Ordinary people went about their business, unaware that just a few blocks away, a real drama was unfolding.

"We're like fugitives..." - Alex said quietly, staring out the window.

"We are fugitives." - my mother answered just as quietly, not taking her eyes off the road. "And we'll stay that way until we figure out how to fight Them, or until They find us."

She turned onto the highway leading out of New York. Ahead, the neon signs of motels and roadside cafes began to flash.

We drove for over seven hours, farther and farther from home. We passed by what must have been the umpteenth motel. My mother turned onto a dirt road, about a hundred meters from the motel, away from the streetlight that had just flickered on as dusk began to fall – autumn doing its work... Almost at the edge of the forest, my mother killed the engine.

"We'll leave the car here." - she said, pulling out the keys. "We'll go on foot. Less chance of the car being noticed."

We got out in silence. The air was cold and fresh, smelling of pine needles and damp earth. Ted took a deep breath and exhaled, and it seemed to help him a little. He was still pale and unsteady, but no longer seemed as helpless as he had been at the house.

"Feeling better?" - I asked him carefully, walking over and placing my hand on his shoulder.

"A little." - he nodded, rubbing his temples. "My head is still pounding, but not as bad."

We walked along the dark roadside toward the dimly lit "MOTEL" sign. It was a typical cheap motel: a single-story, dirty-white building with two dozen doors facing directly onto the parking lot. A neon sign flickered and crackled at the entrance.

My mother left us in the shadows by the end unit. "Don't go anywhere and don't make a sound." - she said, and headed to the reception desk.

We pressed against the wall, trying to stay inconspicuous. I watched her talk to a bearded man behind the counter. She spoke calmly, smiled, even made a joke, judging by the man's laughter. A few minutes later, she came out, holding three key cards.

"Let's go." - she said, and we all followed her along the building to the far rooms – 18, 19, 20.

She opened one door, then the other. Inside, both rooms were identical: cheap carpet, two twin beds, an old-model TV, a shower and toilet behind a thin door that seemed made of cardboard.

My mother looked at all of us, standing in the doorway between the two rooms.
"Listen carefully. Alex and Ted – in this room." - she nodded toward room 18. "Ted, you go straight to bed. Alex, keep an eye on him. Don't open the door for anyone but me." Alex nodded silently; he was as tired as the rest of us, and he still avoided looking at me. "And we'll be in the adjacent rooms." - my mother turned to you and me.

I had already taken a step forward, but she raised her hand. "Stop right there, you two! I'm definitely not leaving the two of you in the same room." - there was that same steel in her voice I'd heard when she spoke to the "faceless ones." But now there was also parental concern in it.

I felt the heat spread across my face. "Mom, what? Why?"

You were also shuffling your feet awkwardly, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Because I've had enough of finding out that my underage son is already... ahem... actively getting acquainted with adult life." - she said with such sarcasm that I wanted to sink through the floor. "And while we're all on the run and in mortal danger, I don't need any additional... distractions. Or possible consequences..."

Alex, already guiding Ted into their room, spun around sharply. He rolled his eyes as if this were the last straw. "Oh my God, seriously? Now? The mafia is on our heels, and you're talking about..."

"Alexis!" - my mother cut him off sharply, using his full name. "This is not up for discussion. This is about safety and common sense."

Alex snorted, pushed the room door open, and disappeared inside, slamming it loudly behind him.

Ted remained standing in the doorway, looking at my mother with a confused expression. "But why... why can't they be together?" - he asked quietly. "They're best friends. Shouldn't friends be together when they're scared?" His simple question hung in the air.

My mother sighed, her voice softening a little. "Ted, sweetheart, sometimes being together isn't the safest idea. Especially when we need to keep clear heads. And we all need Jonathan to keep his head clear. So he'll be with me. And she..." - my mother nodded at you. "She'll be in the room next door. That way we can all keep an eye on each other, but without... temptations. And you, Theodore, missed a lot while you were unconscious at my house."

Ted doesn't know that you and I are together now... I thought, but didn't voice it.

Ted slowly nodded, though confusion still lingered in his eyes. "Okay... I guess I'll go to sleep. Goodnight, everyone." After wishing us goodnight, Ted went into the room with Alex.

My mother turned to me. "You're with me, and no arguments." Then she looked at you. "Go to room 20. If anything happens, shout immediately. Tomorrow we'll figure out what to do next." She went into room 19, leaving me standing in the doorway.

I met your gaze. You tiredly smiled and shrugged, as if to say: "What can you do?"

I sighed and followed my mother. The escape continued, and even here, in this shabby motel room, my mother was calling the shots.

I followed my mother into the room and sat on the bed across from hers. My gaze fell on my knees, or rather on my jeans, which were covered in cat hair... I realized we had left someone behind, and suddenly shouted: "Mom! We forgot him!" - my voice cracked into a shout from sudden panic.

My mother, who had already lain down on the bed, sat up at my shout. Her face first showed confusion, then understanding, and instant relief. "Jonathan, calm down. Sit down..."

"Sit down?! Jumbo is alone! He's hungry! He's probably meowing, looking for us, and those... those people might come back!" - the words came out in a machine-gun burst. I imagined Jumbo sitting on the cold floor of the empty kitchen, next to an empty bowl.

"Jonathan!" - my mother came over and gripped my shoulders firmly. "Look at me." Her voice was calm and steady. "I didn't forget about Jumbo. While you were helping Alex with Ted, I filled his bowl to the very top with food, and I filled a large bowl with water."

I stared at her, still not believing, trying to process the information. "To... to the very top?"

"To the very top." - she confirmed, letting go of my shoulders and sitting on the edge of the bed. "And I put out a new portion of his favorite pâtés. He'll have enough for at least three days. He won't die of thirst or hunger, I promise..."

A wave of relief washed over me, so strong that my legs gave way, and I sank onto my bed, covering my face with my hands. "Oh... Thank you. I... I completely forgot about him with all this shit going on."

"You have plenty of other things on your mind right now, son. It's normal..." - her voice became soft and tired again. "I love him too... He's part of the family; I wouldn't have left him without food and water."

I took a deep breath, wiping away the unexpected tears. It was a stupid reaction given the scale of the nightmare, but it was like the last straw. Caring for a small, helpless creature that depended on us felt like something simple and right. "What... what if They break into the house? Hurt him?"

My mother was quiet for a moment. "They're looking for people, Jonathan. Data, evidence. They have no interest in a cat. And even if something happens to the house..." - she said with difficulty. "Jumbo is a smart cat; he'll hide. Right now, we can only take care of making sure we survive. Understood?"

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. She was right, but the thought of our fluffy friend, probably sleeping in his little house or warming himself on the radiator, unaware that his family had fled, was infinitely sad.

"Now we need to rest." - my mother said, standing up and pulling a bottle of water from her bag. "Drink this, then go take a shower and get some sleep. Tomorrow morning, with a clear head, we'll look at what's on that disk. And decide what to do next."

I obediently took the bottle. Jumbo was safe, as safe as he could be... I needed to take a shower, wash off the basement dust, the smell of sweat, and try to lose myself in sleep for at least a few hours...

I stepped into the bathroom. The hot water washed away the dust and sweat, but couldn't wash away the anxiety that was lodged deep inside me like a splinter.

After my shower, I changed into a clean t-shirt and shorts, lay down on my bed, closed my eyes, and... nothing. Sleep wouldn't come... My thoughts spun like frantic hamsters on a wheel: my father's face on the laptop screen, the voices of the "faceless ones," Ted's lost expression, Alex's tears, and most of all, my thoughts kept circling back to you.

I lay there, just staring at the ceiling. After a while, I heard my mother's breathing become deep and even, meaning she had fallen asleep. The iron lady who had kept everything under control had managed to sleep, but I couldn't.

I was bursting with restlessness. The disk was in the pocket of my mother's jacket, hanging on the back of the chair. The laptop was on the nightstand next to her. The thought of what might be in those files – answers, or new questions – wouldn't leave me alone. And there was another thought, quiet but persistent: I didn't want to be alone.

Very slowly, trying not to make the mattress springs squeak, I got up from the bed. I walked over to the chair, paused, and listened to my mother's breathing. It hadn't changed. I carefully reached my hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out the disk, then picked up the laptop. On tiptoe, I crept to the door, slowly, millimeter by millimeter, turned the handle, and slipped out into the cool night air. The door closed behind me almost silently.

I stood in front of your door, room 20. I hesitated for a second, then knocked twice. The door opened almost instantly, as if you had been waiting right behind it. You stood there in my t-shirt and my sweatpants – because I had given each of us some of my clothes when we were packing for the motel – your hair was still slightly damp from the shower. There was no surprise or fear on your face. Just a tired, understanding smile.

"Can't sleep?" - you whispered, stepping back from the door to let me in.

"Not a wink..." - I answered just as quietly, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. "What about you?"

"I tried. But my brain refuses to shut down." - you sat down on your bed.

I set the laptop on the small table and sat down next to you. "I took the disk and the laptop. I can't wait until morning... It feels like if I don't look at it now, if I don't try to understand something, I'll put a bullet in my head – even though we don't even have a gun."

You nodded, your gaze falling on the shiny surface of the disk in my hand. "I was thinking about it too... About what might be on it."

"Mom said to sleep. But I... I can't just sleep while everything hangs by a thread." - I sighed heavily. "I'm afraid that if we don't start acting now, by morning it'll be too late. That They'll find us here..."

You placed your hand over mine, the one gripping the disk. Your touch was warm. "Then let's see what's on it."

Our eyes met in the dim light of the room. There was no judgment in your eyes for disobeying my mother. Only the same determination I felt, mixed with exhaustion. We were a team. And now, while the world slept and our small group was scattered across the rooms, the two of us could take the first step toward taking back control. Or at least try...

I inserted the disk into the laptop, and the screen illuminated our faces with a bluish light. Once again, we were facing the folder "Gold." There weren't many files inside, but each one seemed important. First, we opened a text document titled "Structure."

It turned out that "Gold" wasn't just a mafia in the usual sense. It was a hybrid structure: one part a criminal syndicate involved in money laundering through a network of underground casinos and transport; the other part a semi-legal research company – "Mayak." According to the documents, they were conducting some experiments at the intersection of neurobiology and psychology. In his notes, my father suggested it was "brainwashing" or the creation of perfectly controllable people. Their goal was control over key figures in the city: politicians, police officers, businessmen. And those who resisted – disappeared, like Ted's parents...

We found a list of "assets." It included names, positions, and notations: "Recruited," "Under surveillance," "Target," "Eliminated." We recognized a few surnames from local news, and among them – Ted's parents' surname, marked as "Target – Eliminated."

"Fuck..." - you swore quietly, pressing closer to me to see the screen better. "They're everywhere... In the police, in the city hall..."

"And my father found out all of this." - I said grimly, opening the next folder – "Evidence." Inside were scanned bank statements, printouts of intercepted messages, photos of meetings. My father had compiled an entire dossier, and all this time, he had been right under their noses, risking his life.

We sat there, hunched over the laptop, and with each new file, the world around us seemed more fragile and dangerous. Fear turned to anger, anger to despair, but we kept reading. Because this was our only hope.

Thirty minutes later, we reached the most interesting part – the file "Access Points." It contained addresses: a warehouse disguised as an industrial facility, the "Mayak" office in a business center, and... a private club called "Lmanburg" in the city center, which apparently only the chosen few had access to. My father had marked it as "Possible core location. High risk."

I leaned back, rubbing my tired eyes. There was too much information, and it was too heavy. My head was buzzing from the massive flow of data.

"What are we going to do with all this?" - you asked quietly.

"I don't know..." - I admitted honestly. "Give it to the police? But according to the list, half of them are their people. Go there ourselves? That's suicide."

You were silent for a moment, then your hand gently touched my cheek, turning my face toward you. In the bluish light of the screen, your face looked like a Smurf or an Avatar.

"We'll figure something out... We'll definitely come up with something. Just... let's take a break from all this for a bit?" - your fingers softly traced my cheek. And at that moment, something turned over in my chest. Not fear, not rage – something else... warm and aching.

"I missed you so much... Not just as my girlfriend, but as my person. The one I can be silent with in the pitch darkness and feel like I'm not alone." - after this vanilla speech, like something out of a drama, I wrapped my arms around your shoulders, and without hesitation, you pressed against me, burying your face in my shoulder. I could feel you breathing in my scent, your body relaxing. We sat like that, holding each other, and for a few moments, the world stopped being hostile.

I leaned down and kissed the top of your head. You looked up, and our eyes met. In your eyes, there was everything: exhaustion, fear, and fleeting relief because I was there.

Very slowly, giving you time to pull away, I leaned toward your lips. You didn't move back; you met my kiss. At first, it was just a soft, almost hesitant touch after a long day. Then the kiss deepened. I had missed the feeling of your lips, their warmth and softness. The way you responded to the kiss, the way your fingers dug into my t-shirt, pulling me closer.

We kissed for a long time, as if trying to find some answer in that kiss to what we were all supposed to do next. The kiss was salty from tears we hadn't even noticed, bitter from fear, and sweet because we were still together. My hands slid under your t-shirt (my t-shirt), touching the warm skin of your back. You shuddered and pressed even closer. For a few minutes, we forgot about the disk, about "Gold," about the chase.

I began to kiss your neck, softly, murmuring between kisses: "You're so strong... I'm so afraid of losing something... especially you..." - my hands slowly moved along your back, caressing each vertebra, trying to release the remaining tension.

You let out a soft moan, your fingers tangling in my hair. "I'm here... I'm not going anywhere..." - you whispered back, your voice hoarse with emotion.

We slowly lay down on the bed, not breaking our embrace. I lay there, holding you close, feeling your heart beat in sync with mine. Just lying there, just breathing together – it was the greatest comfort in these endless two days. My lips found yours again, and this time, the kiss was slow, deep, filled with quiet gratitude and a promise.

Our kiss gradually slowed. We pulled apart, pressing our foreheads together, breathing heavily. Your cheeks were flushed, tears standing in your eyes.

"We… we need to stop." - I whispered, but my hands were still holding your waist under the t-shirt. "Otherwise, it'll lead to…"

"To what your mom separated us into different rooms for." - you finished with a smile, rolling your eyes for a second, pulling back a few centimeters. Your fingers were still playing with the fabric on my chest.

I nodded, struggling to look away from your lips. "She's going to kill me for being here. And if she catches us at it…"

We sat side by side, arms around each other, kissing a little more. The laptop screen was still glowing, when suddenly, from behind the wall, came a sharp, muffled scream. We froze, our lips still touching. The scream came again, quiet, stifled, full of horror, coming from Alex and Ted's room... Everything collapsed instantly – the intimacy, the warmth. We pulled apart as if burned.

I was the first to jump off the bed. "Ted…" - I exhaled. "That's Ted screaming."

You were already straightening your t-shirt, your face pale. "Go to his room. Quick!"

I rushed to the door, not even thinking about my mother or that she might wake up. I threw open the door to our room and in two leaps, I was at Alex and Ted's door.

It was unlocked, and I burst in. The scene was surreal: Alex was leaning over Ted's bed, shaking him by the shoulders, as Ted thrashed in convulsions. But these weren't just spasms. From his half-open mouth came those same muffled screams, more like hoarse sobs of terror. Tears streamed down his pale face.

"Ted! Ted, wake up!" - Alex shook him, desperation in his voice.

"What's wrong with him?!" - I shouted, running over.

"A nightmare! Or… I don't know, he won't wake up!" - Alex looked at me desperately. "He's been screaming like this for a minute! I'm trying to wake him up!"

You appeared in the doorway, followed by my mother, sleepy but instantly alert. She assessed the situation with one glance. "Move aside." - she said calmly, sitting on the bed next to Ted, firmly holding his face in her hands, and leaning close.

"Theodore... Ted, you're safe. You're in a motel. Wake up..." - her voice was like a whip – clear, sharp, brooking no defiance.

Ted's whole body shuddered; his eyes briefly focused on her face. The convulsions stopped, but he continued to sob convulsively, as if he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. "Can't... breathe..." - he rasped.

"Breathe with me. Slowly. In and out..." - my mother began breathing deeply and rhythmically, not letting go of his face.

After a few breathing cycles, his breathing began to even out. The panic in his eyes turned to confusion, then shame. He pulled away from her hands, curling into a ball on the bed, covering his face. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry everyone... I... I saw them. They were here... In the room. Watching me." - his voice trembled.

"Who did you see, Ted?" - I asked quietly.

"Th-those men in black, but... without faces. And also... Charlie. He was... he was in some kind of cage. And he was looking at me. I knew it was my fault."

The name "Charlie" hit us all like a blow. We exchanged glances, and my mother sighed heavily.

"It's not your fault, Ted. It's post-traumatic shock, mixed with the effects of the medication and extreme exhaustion. Your brain is trying to process what happened." - she placed her hand on his forehead. "No one blames you. And Charlie... we'll find Charlie. I promise."

But her promise sounded hollow. Ted had seen what no one else could see.

**POV Charlie**

Yesterday.

Keeping my head straight and my back straight – it gave the illusion of control. The car swayed softly on the turns, carrying me into the unknown. I sat between two "faceless" men. They didn't speak, just sat silently, smelling of expensive cologne.

I tried to analyze them. Probability they had undergone basic psychological training: 92%.
Probability they were even interested in what I was thinking: 4%.

They were mostly interested in where my laptop was... And the laptop, with its shattered screen, had been left on the asphalt by my parents' car. The irony was that the most important information wasn't on it. It was in my head, and they couldn't just crack my head open – well, physically, they could... But I was counting on their logic, because a dead witness would be useless to them.

We didn't go to a warehouse or a basement, as one might expect from stereotypical gangsters. We went to the harbor of the New York Bay of the Atlantic Ocean. And there stood a lighthouse. Very amusing... A lighthouse that shines not to save ships, but to make them crash against the rocks...

I was led through an empty white hall, into an elevator, up to the third floor. Into a windowless room with a mirror on one wall and a table with two chairs. I was seated on one chair, theatrically handcuffed to a metal ring on the table.

I waited: seven minutes and thirty-four seconds. Pulse steady, breathing deep. Emotional release wasn't working, but physiological control held.

Two men entered the room – not the ones who had brought me here. One was a man about fifty, in an impeccable but dull suit, with the face of a tired accountant. The other was younger, stocky, with the hands of a laborer and a gaze that scanned me like merchandise on a conveyor belt.

"Accountant" sat down opposite. "Laborer" remained standing by the door, arms crossed.

"Charles." - "Accountant" called me by my full name. His voice was surprisingly pleasant, velvety. "May I call you that? Charles?"

"Statistically, 78% of my acquaintances prefer 'Charlie.' But you, as I understand, are not one of them." - I replied. "So do as you please."

"Accountant" gave a faint smile, like an adult's condescending smile at a child's antics. "We know you're a smart boy, and we know about your... analytical abilities. 'Mayak' is always in need of bright minds."

"For what? To calculate optimal money-laundering schemes or dosage levels for brainwashing?" - I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Sorry, I haven't yet reviewed the full list of job openings. Could you send them to me by email?"

"Laborer" at the door tensed at my jab, but "Accountant" didn't even blink.

"For the advancement of Project 'Gold.'" - he continued, ignoring my jab. "You and your friends stumbled onto something you weren't supposed to see. This has created... operational complications. But any problem can be turned into an opportunity. Your father, for example, was initially a problem... Then he became an opportunity. He agreed to work for us and gather information."

Something in my chest stung sharply.
Probability of a lie: 45%.
Probability of a bitter truth: 55%.
I didn't let it show on my face.

"And how did he do? Before you presumably killed or eliminated him when he became a problem again?"

"He fulfilled his part of the work. Just as you will fulfill yours, Charlie."

"And what is my part?" - I inquired. "Do you want me to hand over all the data we collected? I don't have it."

"Accountant" leaned back in his chair. "Data... they're like a virus. The more you try to delete them, the more systems they infect. We won't delete them; we'll... redirect them. And you need to do something else. You know your friends, you know how they think, and you know where they might hide. You will help us gently convince them that cooperation is the best way out for all of you. Especially for your parents." - he paused, letting the words hang in the air. The threat was so obvious it didn't even need deciphering.

My brain immediately generated a forecast: probability of harm to my parents in case of my refusal: 100%.

"You're trying to play on my emotions." - I stated. "A classic low-pressure technique. Effectiveness against subjects with high intelligence and low social empathy is about 30%. You either haven't studied my file properly, or you're banking on that 30%. That's a gamble..."

For the first time, the "Accountant" looked slightly irritated. His velvety voice took on a metallic edge. "This isn't a game, boy. This is reality. Your reality from now on... You can fiddle with your percentages and spout clever phrases while your mother sits in a room just like this one, crying. And your choice will determine whether she ever stops crying." - he stood up from his chair after his threat, straightened his jacket. "Think about our proposal. You have until tomorrow." He nodded to the "Laborer" and headed for the door. At the door, he turned back. "Do you really believe your friends will find you? Calculate that probability." He asked with a smirk, and something like genuine curiosity flickered in his eyes.

The door closed, and I was left alone. The handcuffs bit coldly into my wrist. I closed my eyes, shutting off all senses to focus better.

Probability that my friends would try to find me: 89%. They wouldn't abandon me...
Probability that they would succeed, given "Gold's" resources: 22%. And that was an optimistic forecast.
Probability that I could do anything myself, chained to a table: 0%.

Opening my eyes and looking at my reflection in the mirror, I saw a pale face, disheveled hair, large blue eyes. I looked like a frightened child, and in part, I was one. But another part of me – the one that worked with numbers and logic – was already frantically searching for a way out. A weak point in their equation... An error in their "flawless" system. They wanted me to think about my parents, to let fear paralyze me. I would think about my parents later. Right now, I needed to think about how to leave a message. Shouting and banging was useless; I needed something else... Something that didn't require voice or movement.

I looked at the smooth surface of the table and slowly, with the tip of my finger, began to trace not letters, but numbers, on the dusty surface. The estimated coordinates of this place. Why? I didn't know myself, but I needed to do at least something to keep from going insane. I erased the numbers, traced them again, erased them again. And if they kept me here longer... maybe I'd find a way to scratch them somewhere else, on the wall or the floor.

Probability that it would work: negligibly small.
Probability that, without trying, I would go mad from helplessness: 100%.

I didn't know how much time had passed. I looked around the room again and saw, of course, an artificial rose lying on the floor under the cabinet. "These flowers, they must be some kind of sign for them..." - but immediately after my thoughts, through the wall, I heard a familiar voice. "Ted..."

**POV Schlatt**

Our time.

Ted sat huddled on the bed, hiding his face in his knees, quietly sobbing. My mother sat beside him, rubbing his back. The room was quiet, but the silence was broken by Ted's ragged breaths.

Alex stood by the window, his back to everyone, staring out at the night street. He was tension personified. I could see his shoulder trembling. I could feel the goosebumps running down my own spine. Ted had seen Charlie... In a cage... It was a nightmare, but what if it wasn't just a nightmare? What if there was some connection between them? I remembered how Ted had reacted when we found him; something in his psyche had clearly been damaged.

While everyone was focused on Ted, I quickly retrieved the laptop from your room and came back to the group. When I returned, I looked at you. You stood in the doorway, hugging yourself. Your eyes were full of sympathy for Ted, but I could also read the same horror in them that I felt.

While my mother was calming Ted, I quickly summarized to Alex what I hadn't been able to resist and had looked at all the files on the disk. My mother heard my summary too, but I omitted the part about having looked at the files with you in your room... I briefly outlined what we had learned: about the warehouse, about "Mayak," about the club "Lmanburg." About the list of "assets" with names from the police and city hall.

Alex whistled. "So going to the police is basically calling them ourselves?"

"Apparently, yes." - I confirmed. "My father noted in the files: 'Every system is compromised.'" Then I fell silent, but after a minute, I turned to my mother. "Mom... What was that?" - I asked quietly about Ted.

My mother didn't answer right away; she continued stroking Ted's back until his trembling began to subside. Then she sighed and replied: "I don't know for sure, Jonathan. But in my practice, I've seen similar things in people with severe trauma. Sometimes the brain, trying to cope, starts producing... unusual reactions. Hypersensitivity, for example."

Ted lifted his head. His face was wet with tears, but his gaze was clearer. "I... I could feel his fear. It was like... like cold metal in my mouth. And I knew that I... that it was because of me." - his voice trembled again as he spoke about Charlie.

"No, Ted." - my mother said firmly. "It's not because of you. You're a victim, just like him. They targeted your families, and now they want to make sure no one has any strength left to resist."

Alex turned sharply. "So Ted's like a telepath now, feeling Charlie's pain? That's insane!"

"I didn't say telepathy, Alexis." - my mother countered calmly. "I'm talking about empathy, pushed to the limit by stress. About a subconscious connection between people who have experienced the same grief. Or..." She paused, choosing her words. "...about the possibility that 'Mayak' did something to his perception. According to the files, they experiment with consciousness. Maybe Ted isn't just a random target. Maybe they... activated or damaged something in him, making him a receiver."

That thought was unsettling. Ted wasn't just a random witness; he was part of their plan, or a side effect that was now working against us... or, like this nightmare, could work for us.

Ted wiped his face with his sleeve. "I don't want to sleep anymore." - he whispered.

"You need to rest, sweetheart. But you don't have to sleep; just lie down." - my mother covered him with a blanket and stood up. She looked at all of us. "We can't stay here another night. We leave in the morning. But we need a decision and finally a plan."

"We have addresses." - I said, looking at the laptop. "The 'Lmanburg' club. My father considered it the 'core'."

"One club?" - Alex scoffed skeptically. "We're going to break in there with the five of us? With what we've got? We don't even have a proper weapon!"

"We have information." - I countered. "And the element of surprise. They don't expect us to attack. They expect us to hide."

"Jonathan's right." - you unexpectedly supported me, and everyone looked at you. "Sitting and waiting means giving them time to find us and... hurt Charlie." You looked at Ted. "If Ted can feel something... maybe it's not just a dream. Maybe it's a cry for help. So we need to act, and fast."

My mother thought for a moment. Her gaze swept over our exhausted faces. "This is pure insanity, but..." - she sighed. "I don't see any other option than running for the rest of our lives. And we can't run forever. I did promise to help you find Charlie and his parents." She walked over to the window where Alex was standing and looked out at the street. "So, tomorrow morning, we go on a reconnaissance mission. Just to look. No heroics! We'll scope out the place, find weak spots, and escape routes." She looked at the wall clock. "It's three in the morning now. We all need to try to sleep for at least a couple of hours. We wake up at six, have a quick breakfast, and then head to the club."

We all went back to our rooms. This time, my mother didn't object when I took the laptop and followed you into your room: "Just to sit." She was too tired, and besides, she seemed to understand that we needed each other right now.

Back in your room, we sat on the bed, leaning against the wall. I put my arm around your shoulders, and you leaned into me. "Scared?" - I asked quietly.

"To death..." - you answered just as quietly. "But I'm more afraid of doing nothing and losing all of you."

I pulled you closer and kissed your temple. "We'll figure something out. Like always."

We sat there in silence, listening to my mother's soothing voice talking to Alex through the wall, and Ted finally being able to fall asleep.

The remaining couple of hours before dawn flew by too quickly. I didn't sleep, just dozed off sitting next to you, alert to every rustle from behind the wall and from the street outside. Fragments of thoughts swirled in my head, disconnected from any coherent picture: the school bell that would ring today without us, the empty desks... The teachers would probably think I'd decided to skip class. And Alex's parents and yours would get a call from some teacher when they noticed our absence and couldn't reach us... Because all our phones were left on the kitchen table at home. Mom had told us to leave them on purpose, so we couldn't be tracked – that was all she was thinking about at the time. She didn't think about the calls from school. It would cause panic, the police... And the police, according to the list, had "their" people in it, who would quickly trace us to the house. But that wasn't the main problem right now. The main problem was making sure we didn't become the next on the list – "Eliminated."

At six in the morning, my mother was already knocking on our door. "Wake up! Time for breakfast!"

You and I looked like zombies: puffy eyes and pale faces.

Ted, it seemed, had finally dozed off for an hour, but he looked the worst of all – haggard, with dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in a week.

Alex was wound up like a spring, his gaze darting around the room, searching for non-existent threats.

Breakfast was quick and tasteless: some had an apple, some a banana from our stash, and water. No one wanted to eat, but Mom made us all swallow something, saying: "We'll need the energy."

We all silently packed our things – it took ten minutes. We left the motel at dawn, when the gray sky was just beginning to turn pink at the edges. The car was still there by the forest.

"We stick to the plan." - my mother reminded us quickly, pointing to a map she had drawn in her notebook. "We don't drive close to the club. If anything goes wrong, we disperse and head back to the car, then drive back to the motel. Any questions?"

There were no questions. Only an icy premonition.

We all got into the car. I sat in the passenger seat next to my mother. You, Ted, and Alex in the back. My mother started the engine, and we slowly drove onto the empty road. The sun hadn't risen yet; the city was waking up, unaware that in its center lay a cancerous tumor called "Lmanburg."

We drove in silence. I stared out the window at the passing houses, thinking that maybe I was seeing them for the last time. The thought was so alien and unreal that it didn't even cause fear, just a strange emptiness.

"Jonathan..." - my mother called out quietly, not taking her eyes off the road. "Are you ready for the possibility that we might find nothing? Or find something we don't want to find?"

"I'm not ready." - I answered honestly. "But I'm ready to try. Otherwise, we'll just keep running. And Charlie..." I didn't finish.

My mother nodded. "He's a strong guy, and very smart. He'll hold on..."

I wanted to believe that... We all wanted to...

We drove into the center of New York; it was busier here. Cars, people hurrying to work. Ordinary life, into which we no longer fit. My mother turned into a quiet alley, two blocks from the address in the files, and parked behind a garbage truck.

We all got out of the car. It was cool. Ted huddled in his jacket; you took his hand, as if trying to pass on some warmth and reassurance. Alex walked up to us, his face like stone.

"Let's go." - my mother said, leading our small gang.

We walked along the sidewalk, trying not to draw attention, like an ordinary group of exhausted teenagers with an adult woman. With each step, the distance to "Lmanburg" grew shorter. We turned onto a wide, cobblestone street in an old district, and I saw it.

"Lmanburg" was housed in an old three-story mansion of black brick, with tall, narrow windows half-hidden by dark curtains. There was no sign, only a small, barely noticeable gold plaque on the massive oak door: "Lmanburg." Everything looked solid, expensive, and utterly impenetrable. No one was at the entrance, but across the street stood a dark SUV with tinted windows. And next to it, smoking and chatting, stood two men in dark suits. They weren't "faceless" in the literal sense – they had faces. But those faces were so emotionless they seemed like stretched masks.

We stopped by the window of a pastry shop across the street, pretending to look at the various sweets, but all our eyes were fixed on the club.

"See the SUV?" - Alex whispered. "It's the same kind as the ones that came to Schlatt's house yesterday."

"So we're at the right place." - my mother noted without any satisfaction. "Now we need to figure out if there are any other entrances besides the main one."

We stood there for about twenty minutes, freezing and nervous. During that time, one person approached the door – an adult man, blonde, in an expensive dark green suit, carrying a black briefcase. He said something into the panel by the door, the door opened silently, and he disappeared inside. No one else entered or exited. The security by the SUV didn't change.

"Looks like a club for the elite, entry only by invitation or secret code." - I muttered.

"Or retinal scanning." - Alex speculated darkly. "Given their level of technology..."

Suddenly, Ted flinched and grabbed his head. "Aah..."

"What's wrong, Ted?" - you asked anxiously.

"My head... it's buzzing again. Like before, before... before I dreamed about Charlie." - he looked at the club.

We exchanged glances. If his "radar" had gone off again, it could only mean one thing: behind those walls, something very, very bad was happening, and Charlie might be somewhere inside.

My mother pursed her lips. "We've seen enough. Let's go... Before they notice us."

We began to slowly back away, as if reluctant to leave the window display. And at that moment, the door of "Lmanburg" opened again. A man stepped out onto the threshold – not a guard, not the older man, but a young man in an immaculate white suit, with a sharp, intelligent face. And what was a bit strange, he had pink hair tied in a bun. He said something to the security by the SUV, and they immediately dropped their cigarettes and straightened up. The man looked around, and his gaze swept over our group. For a second, no more, but it was enough to make us all stop breathing.

I froze. Not because he looked dangerous, but because I recognized that face. From the "Assets" folder. Under the label "Keeper." Responsible for "eliminating" problems. And he seemed to have just fucking noticed us...

Time seemed to stand still. The "Keeper's" gaze wasn't studying us; it was quick and scanning. He didn't linger on us for long, but that fraction of a second felt like an eternity. Then he nodded to the security guards, got into the passenger seat of the SUV, and the car smoothly pulled away.

"Now, calmly walk to the car, no sudden movements, no running..." - my mother commanded in a quiet but iron voice. She took Ted by the arm, supporting him, and led him toward the alley. We obediently followed, trying to walk naturally, chatting about some nonsense we couldn't even hear. Our backs burned with the anticipation of a shout or the sound of footsteps behind us.

We turned the corner, and I dared to glance back. The SUV was no longer visible. It had gone in the other direction, but there was no relief.

"He saw us..." - Alex exhaled as we disappeared into the alley. "He definitely saw us."

"Not necessarily." - my mother said, but there was no confidence in her voice. "We looked like random passersby, but we can't take risks. Get in the car. Quick!"

We practically ran to our car, squeezed inside – this time, Ted sat in the front, and I sat with you and Alex in the back. My mother started the engine abruptly and pulled out onto the street, checking all the mirrors.

"Is anyone following us?" - you asked, squeezing my hand.

"I don't see anyone yet. But that doesn't mean they're not there." - my mother replied, making an unexpected turn, then another, weaving through the streets. She drove like in a spy movie, constantly checking for a tail. For about ten minutes, we were silent, listening to the pounding of our own hearts.

Finally, my mother seemed satisfied that we weren't being directly followed. She exhaled and eased off the gas a little. But instead of turning toward the motel or another hiding place, she unexpectedly pointed the car in a familiar direction.

"Where are we going?" - I asked, looking at the familiar houses.

"To the school." - my mother answered calmly.

A stunned silence filled the car, broken only by Alex's indignant exclamation. "School?! You mean school?! After all this?! They'll find us there as easily as pissing on a finger!"

My mother didn't raise her voice. "Precisely because they're looking for us, we need to act as normal as possible. Classes are just starting right now. If the three of you don't show up today, it'll raise questions from the teachers, and questions will lead to calls to the parents. And Alex's parents and hers..." - she nodded at you in the mirror. "...they're already on edge. If the school calls and says you're not there and your phones aren't answering, they'll call the police to make sure nothing happened to you – those are your school's rules... And they'll call what they think is the 'real' police. But as we know, there could be 'their' people there. And then the search will become official, loud, and very fast. We don't need that."

Her logic was ironclad and terrifyingly crazy. Go to school, pretend everything is fine, while the world is falling apart? It seemed impossible.

"And Ted?" - I asked, looking at our silent friend, pressed against the window.

"I'm taking Ted home. He can't be seen in public right now. The three of you need to go and get through this day, as if nothing happened. Say you were all feeling sick yesterday, ate too much fast food, so you didn't come to school. The main thing is to be seen."

"¡Es una locura!" - Alex muttered under his breath in Spanish. He understood that my mother was right.

We pulled up to the school. Classes had already started; the yard was almost empty. "Go. We'll meet here after the last class. If anything goes wrong, if you feel the slightest danger – leave. Not together, but split up in different directions. The rendezvous point is our house. Okay?"

Alex, you, and I nodded. It was the strangest and most terrifying order of our lives: to go and live a normal life.

And Ted stayed in the car, obediently remaining seated. He looked at us, longing in his eyes. "Be careful." - he whispered.

"You too..." - you wished him, squeezing his hand in farewell.

My mother's car pulled away and disappeared around the corner. The three of us stood in the empty schoolyard. We were wearing the same clothes as yesterday, we hadn't slept properly, and we probably smelled of cheap motel soap.

"Well then..." - Alex said with a bitter smirk. "Time to get an education?"

We walked. Every step down the familiar hallway felt surreal. The sound of the bell, the voices of teachers behind doors, the laughter of classmates from the cafeteria – all of it was from another, parallel universe where there was no "Gold," no "Keepers," no missing Charlie, no murdered parents of Ted.

We were late for the first class. Mrs. Evelyn, the history teacher, raised an eyebrow when she saw the three of us in the doorway. "So, our missing persons have finally arrived. What's your explanation?"

"Sorry..." - I forced out. "We had a sleepover at my place yesterday and ate too much fast food... The three of us got sick this morning."

Mrs. Evelyn shook her head but let us in. We took our seats; familiar faces looked at us. Someone yawned, someone whispered. Everything was as usual, and that normalcy was deeply unsettling.

I tried to listen to the lesson, but the teacher's words flew past me. The image of the "Lmanburg" club and the cold gaze of the pink-haired man who had stepped out of it lingered in my mind. He had seen us... I was almost certain of it. So now They knew we were somewhere in the city. That we hadn't fled far. And the school... the school was one of the most obvious places to look for us.

I caught myself scanning the face of every latecomer who entered the classroom or every assistant principal who peeked in. Every sound of footsteps in the hallway made me flinch. You sat next to me at the desk, and I could see your hand trembling as you tried to take notes. Alex sat staring into space, his fists clenched under the desk.

The school, which had always been a place of boredom and sometimes mild anxiety, had now become a huge, noisy trap.

The bell for recess rang, and I flinched at the sound, and so did you. Alex stood up abruptly, his chair scraping unpleasantly against the floor.

"We're leaving. Now..." - he threw at us and headed for the door, pushing through the crowd of classmates without looking around. You and I followed. The hallway was noisy, bright, ordinary. Laughter, shouts, the banging of lockers. It all grated on the nerves like a cacophony.

And then, as if on cue, Carson appeared in our path. Today he was clearly in a good mood, seeing us disheveled and tense. But for some reason, he was without his gang.

"So, Jonathan, gathering your little band of losers?" - Carson strode forward, blocking our way. "Where's your local genius, Charlie? And the one who's always laughing like a horse at stupid jokes, Theodore?"

Usually, Alex ignored him. Usually, we all ignored him... But suddenly Alex stopped, turning slowly to face Carson. There was no anger or irritation in his eyes, only an abysmal emptiness that made even the dim-witted Carson freeze for a moment.

"Fuck off." - Alex said quietly. His voice was flat, without intonation.

Carson recovered. His pride was wounded. "What-what? What did you say to me, you piece of shit?"

The next moment, everything happened too fast. Alex didn't say another word. With one sharp movement, he shoved Carson in the chest. Carson, not expecting such force and suddenness, stumbled back, slamming into a row of metal lockers. A deafening crash echoed. Carson gasped in surprise and pain.

Alex didn't stop. He stepped right up to him, while Carson was still reeling, and, looking him straight in the face, clearly and distinctly, for the whole silent hallway to hear, he said: "Go fuck yourself, Carson!"

The silence in the hallway became absolute; everyone stared at Alex with wide eyes. Carson, red with rage and humiliation, opened his mouth but couldn't say a word. Alex didn't even wait for a response. He spun around, grabbed my arm above the elbow, then yours, and literally dragged us along, pushing through the stunned crowd.

We went up the stairs to the second floor, into the far, usually empty hallway near the chemistry room. Only there did Alex let go of our arms. He was breathing heavily, but not from the physical exertion.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" - I burst out, catching my breath. "Have you lost your mind? Now we have problems with Carson too! Everyone's watching us!"

Alex braced his hands against the wall, head down. His shoulders tensed. "He... he was just in the way. I couldn't stand to hear his stupid voice, see his stupid face... when Charlie is... when Charlie is in there..." - his voice cracked. He punched the wall, not hard. "They're torturing Charlie somewhere, and we're supposed to pretend everything's fine here? Listen to these idiots? Smile? I can't, Jon. I just can't..."

I looked at him and suddenly understood. All night and morning, Alex had been running on pure anger and adrenaline. And now, in this grotesque parody of normalcy, it had all burst out. Carson had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I softened, feeling my own anger fade. "I understand, Alex. I can't either... But we need to hold it together. At least for today."

You carefully approached and patted Alex on the shoulder. "You're right. This is unbearable. But your outburst at Carson drew attention. A lot of unwanted attention... Now everyone will be talking about us, and that... that could be dangerous."

Alex pulled away from the wall, wiping his face with his hand. He looked exhausted. "Sorry for losing it. I'll try to keep it together." - he looked at us. "But if They come here... if one of 'them' shows up at school... I'm not going to pretend. Got it?"

You and I silently nodded. Alex had crossed a line inside himself, and there was no going back.

The bell rang for class. The third period was starting. We had to walk back into the noisy, watchful hallway, where now everyone would certainly be staring at us and whispering about the incident with Carson.

The third period happened to be chemistry, and it was a strange kind of salvation. Lab work, the smell of reagents, the teacher's focused muttering – it all required at least some concentration. We had to watch the test tubes, record observations. It was a kind of anesthesia. Even Alex, sitting next to me at the same table, seemed to calm down, mechanically following the teacher's instructions.

When the bell rang again, I even had the thought: "That fast?" But then reality, as usual, hit me with renewed force. We walked out into the hallway, which now seemed even more hostile after the morning incident. People threw quick, curious glances at us, looked away, whispered.

Out of habit, we settled on the wide windowsill at the far end of the second-floor hallway, from where we could see the schoolyard. It was relatively quiet there. The three of us just sat, not talking, each lost in our own thoughts, waiting for the fourth period – math.

And then I noticed them. A group of younger students, about thirteen years old, standing off to the side by the lockers. They weren't running or shouting like kids their age usually did. They stood almost motionless, staring directly at us. Their gazes were… not childish, not curious, not mischievous. They were assessing, too aware for their age.

There were three of them.

The first – a blond with very light, almost white hair and blue eyes the color of the sky.

The second – a slightly curly brown-haired boy with unusually bright green eyes that seemed piercing even from a distance.

And the third… the third was also brown-haired like the second, with blue eyes, but his hair was cut short, almost shaved, as if he had been… shaved bald, and it was just starting to grow back.

Goosebumps ran down my spine. I had never seen these kids at school before, and I knew almost everyone by face, even the younger grades – the school wasn't that big. Or maybe I just hadn't noticed them before? But now they had my full attention.

"Hey..." - I said quietly, nudging you with my elbow. "Do you see those three boys by the lockers? They've been staring at us weirdly for a long time."

You lazily looked up, then froze. Alex also turned his head, his body instantly tensing.

"Who are they?" - I asked, looking at you. "I've never seen them before. Are they from the younger grades?"

You shook your head, not taking your eyes off them. Your face became serious. "I don't know... I don't remember any of them, especially that one… with the short hair. It looks…"

"Like in the military. Or a hospital." - Alex finished for you.

The three boys, noticing us watching them, didn't look away. The one with the green eyes said something quietly to the other two. Then, all at once, as if on command, they turned and walked away, unhurriedly, in perfect sync. Their departure was as strange as their presence. The hallway seemed lighter and freer, but my anxiety only grew.

"They're… just some strange kids, right?" - I muttered uncertainly, more to convince myself. "Maybe new students?"

"Maybe..." - you said, but your voice sounded doubtful. "But their eyes were empty, Jon. Like those… adults in black."

Alex stood up from the windowsill. "We can't sit here in plain sight. Let's go to the library until the bell. It's quieter there, and we'll be able to see if anyone comes in."

You and I obediently followed Alex. But the image of those three – the blond, the green-eyed brown-haired boy, and the one with the almost-shaved head – stuck in my mind. In a school where every face was nauseatingly familiar, they were alien elements. A coincidence? Or new eyes of "Gold," this time so young as not to arouse suspicion? The thought was paranoid, but over the last two days, paranoia had become our new normal.

The library greeted us with silence and the smell of old paper. Memories of Mr. Anthony surfaced as the three of us walked in, but those memories seemed insignificant compared to what was happening to us now. We retreated to the farthest corner, behind shelves of ancient reference books. But even here, among the books, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. And now that feeling had three pairs of eyes that were too adult for children.

"It's not a coincidence, one hundred percent." - Alex said, breaking the heavy silence first. He spoke quietly, almost in a whisper. "They were watching us deliberately."

"But they're just kids..." - I objected, though there was no confidence in my voice. "Younger students. Maybe they just heard about the incident with Carson and... got curious?"

"Kids don't look like that." - Alex said firmly. "I saw their eyes even from a distance. There was no fear, no curiosity, no... nothing alive in them at all! They were the eyes not of children, but of adults who have seen a lot of shit in their lives."

I shuddered. Alex was right... "So they're messengers?" - I asked. "Sent to track us at school? But how did they know we were here? And why use kids?"

"Kids don't raise suspicion." - you answered, joining the conversation, your gaze focused. "Who would pay attention to three younger students hanging around the hallway? Teachers? Security? No one! They're perfect spies."

The logic was ironclad. If "Gold" was everywhere, why wouldn't they be in the school too? And if they were looking for us, using inconspicuous agents, especially children, was both genius and horrifying.

"We need to find out who they are..." - I said, looking at the two of you. "Otherwise, we'll be walking around like on a minefield, not knowing where the explosion will come from. But asking anyone directly... would draw even more attention."

"So we need to be careful." - Alex said. "After math, we have a long break. We can try to find their classroom. Just walk through the younger grades' hallways, look through open doors. Find out what class they're in, if they even go to this school... And then we can figure out what to do next. Maybe ask their homeroom teacher about them under some pretext? Say they lost something and we found it."

"That's risky." - you cautioned. "If those kids really are 'Gold' people, their teacher could be in on it too. Or they'll report that we were asking about them."

"And do we have a choice?" - Alex asked bitterly. "We're sitting here like targets. At least we'll know who we're dealing with."

I understood him. Not knowing was eating away at me worse than any fear; we needed to act. Even if it was dangerous. "Okay." - I agreed. "We'll follow the plan. After math, we go on reconnaissance, but just the two of us. You..." - I looked at you. "...you should stay away. If something happens, you have an alibi – you could have been in the bathroom or the cafeteria."

You wanted to object, but Alex nodded: "Jon's right. He and I will go together. You'll stay somewhere visible, like in the cafeteria. If someone stops us, at least you'll be able to get away."

You reluctantly nodded, understanding the logic but not liking it.

At that moment, the bell rang. Time to go to math class. We left our hiding place among the books and merged into the flow of students heading to their classrooms. But now we had a goal, and it made us more alert than ever.

In class, I pretended to listen, but my mind was occupied with planning. How to move through the younger grades unnoticed? What to say if we were stopped?

When the bell finally released us from class, the three of us exchanged quick nods.

Alex and I headed toward the stairs leading to the elementary and middle school wing. You, catching my gaze, slowly made your way toward the cafeteria.

The hallways in the younger grades' wing were similar, but brighter. More drawings on the walls, the sounds of children's voices. The usual school bustle reigned here. Alex and I tried to look as natural as possible: walking slowly, pretending we were just on our way somewhere.

"Look around..." - Alex said quietly. "Peek into every classroom."

We passed several open-door classrooms with kids around ten or thirteen years old. No familiar faces. No blonds, no green-eyed brown-haired boys, no boys with short hair.

"Maybe we're in the wrong wing?" - I whispered.

"Maybe... Or they went somewhere. Maybe they're not even students at our school?" - Alex replied, disappointment and anxiety in his voice.

We turned the corner and froze. At the far end of the next hallway, by the water fountain, stood them! The same three! They weren't looking our way; they stood with their backs to us, shoulder to shoulder, completely motionless, like three soldiers on guard. And a man in a strict suit was talking to them quietly and seriously. Not a teacher... Teachers don't dress like that, and his face was turned toward the boys, but the profile... I thought I recognized it... From a photo in the "Assets" folder on my father's disk.

Alex grabbed my arm and pulled me back behind the wall, into a niche with a fire extinguisher. "Did you see him?" - he breathed.

"I saw him..." - I whispered, my heart pounding like crazy. "That's… that's one of 'them,' and he's here, talking to those kids."

Everything was clear... It wasn't paranoia. They were using the most unexpected people for surveillance, and therefore the most terrifying agents. We needed to get out of here, right now! But first, we needed to find you and warn you.

I pressed myself against the cold wall, trying to stop the shaking. The profile of the man in the suit spun before my eyes. Dark hair to his shoulders, tied in a careless ponytail, sunglasses hanging from his open collar... And tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves. I had seen this man in a photo; my father had labeled him: "Ash Kabosu – dangerous, unpredictable. Connection to 'Mayak'." The name surfaced from my memory as fast as a bullet. This was the one who managed operations on the ground. And he was standing twenty meters away from us, in the school hallway, talking to three strange boys.

"Ash Kabosu." - I breathed, looking at Alex's wide eyes. "He's on my father's lists. He was labeled as – very dangerous."

Alex swallowed. "So we're trapped. They know we're here... And they're already inside."

"We need to warn her." - I whispered, nodding toward where the cafeteria should be. "And we need to get the hell out of here!"

We carefully peered out from our hiding spot. Kabosu was still talking to the boys, but now he was gesturing down the hallway. The boys nodded almost in unison and dispersed in different directions, melting into the crowd of students. Kabosu himself put on his glasses and walked unhurriedly in the opposite direction, toward the stairwell.

"He's leaving..." - Alex whispered. "But those three... they're somewhere in here."

"It doesn't matter! Let's hurry to the cafeteria!"

We slipped out from behind the wall and practically ran, trying not to draw attention, back to the main wing of the school. Every passing student, every teacher peeking out of a classroom, seemed like a potential threat. The school, which just an hour ago had been merely an inconvenient hiding place, had now become a living nightmare.

Alex and I burst into the cafeteria. Noise, chatter, the smell of food. I frantically scanned the crowd, looking for you. My heart sank when I didn't see you at the usual tables.

"Where is she?!" - Alex whispered in panic.

"I don't know! In the bathroom? The library?"

We were about to rush off to search when you came out from behind a pillar yourself. You walked slowly, holding a glass of water, your face focused.

"Hey!" - I ran up to you and grabbed your elbow. "Are you okay?"

You flinched, but upon seeing us, relaxed for a split second, then tensed again, reading the panic in our eyes. "What happened? Did you find them?"

"Worse..." - Alex said through gritted teeth, looking around. "There was an adult with them. One of "Gold." Named Ash Kabosu. He left, but those three boys are still somewhere in the school."

Your eyes widened. "Kabosu... I remember that name from the files. He's... he's responsible for eliminating unwanted witnesses..."

"Exactly!" - I nodded. "We can't stay here. We need to leave... Mom said if something happens – we split up and go home."

"But classes aren't over yet, we'll be noticed!" - you whispered.

"We don't care anymore!" - Alex said sharply. "Or do you want those kids to lead that 'Eliminator' right to us in the cafeteria?"

You pursed your lips and nodded. The decision was made.

We moved toward the nearest emergency exit, which led to the back courtyard of the school where the older students usually smoked, and where I used to as well... Our plan was simple: leave one by one with a couple of minutes between us, meet by the old oak tree behind the sports field, and from there, run through the park to my house.

I went out first; the courtyard was empty. I quickly crossed it and disappeared around the corner of the building, leaning against the wall and watching the door.

A minute later, Alex came out. He walked quickly, without looking back. A couple of minutes later, you appeared. You looked calm, even walking slowly, but I could see the tension in your shoulders.

We gathered by the oak tree. No one seemed to have noticed our escape. At least, no security guards ran out after us, and no teachers shouted.

"Run." - Alex commanded, and we all broke into a sprint through the empty park.

We ran in silence, crouching low, weaving between the trees. The thought that school was now lost to us was bitter, but not the worst part. What was worse was this: "Gold" wasn't just looking for us. It had already extended its tentacles into what seemed like the safest place, and it was using children to do it. What had they done to them? Hypnotized them? Intimidated them? And most importantly – how many more of them, with their empty eyes, were scattered around the city, watching, listening, reporting?

When we finally reached my house, we were out of breath, our hearts pounding. Every bush along the way seemed like an ambush, every sound – the footsteps of pursuers. I lunged for the door, but it was locked. I didn't have a key – everything had been left at home. I was about to start pounding on the door when it unexpectedly opened from the inside.

Ted stood in the doorway. He looked a little better than in the morning, but still pale and gaunt. When he saw us, relief flooded his face. "I thought classes weren't..."

"No time to explain!" - I interrupted, pushing everyone inside and slamming the door shut. "Where's Mom?"

Ted blinked, stunned by our nervousness. "She went to the store. To buy food and… some medicine to help me feel better. She said she'd be back in an hour."

Alex swore under his breath. "Great timing for a grocery run! So we're alone..."

We went into the kitchen. I immediately rushed to the window, shielding myself with the curtain, and scanned the street. For now, everything was quiet and empty – too empty...

"What happened?" - Ted asked quietly, sitting down on a chair. "You three look so scared."

Alex and I exchanged glances. Should we scare him even more? But he was part of this nightmare. He had a right to know...

We sat down at the table, and I began to tell him. About the three boys in the hallway, about their strange, empty gazes, about the surveillance. Alex added details, his voice strained with fear. You sat silently, holding my hand under the table, your fingers ice cold.

Then in the story, I got to the worst part – the man by the water fountain. "And there was an adult there, Ted. Not a teacher... His name is Ash Kabosu. He's from 'Gold.' Very dangerous, and he was talking to those boys as if he were giving them orders."

I watched Ted's face slowly change. At first, it was just frightened bewilderment, then concentration, and then... then came something like understanding, mixed with horror.

"Ash... Kabosu..." - he repeated slowly. "Dark hair to his shoulders? Sunglasses? Tattoos?"

I froze. "Yes. How do you know him?"

Ted didn't answer right away. He closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. When he looked at us again, there were tears in his eyes. "I… I saw him. Not in person, but in my dream. That same… nightmare. He was standing behind Charlie, whispering something to him… and Charlie couldn't move." - Ted swallowed.

We sat in deathly silence. His words confirmed the worst. His "radar," his connection to Charlie – it was all real. And it meant Charlie really was in the hands of "Gold." And that those three boys were somehow connected to it all. Perhaps they were "receivers" like Ted, but already processed and controlled.

"So they're using kids as spies." - you said quietly. "Or as... as sensors."

"And Kabosu came to the school in person to check the information or give those boys new orders." - Alex added. "Because we're a priority target. And they know we might show up at school."

"We can't stay here." - I whispered. "Mom will be back, and we all need to leave again."

"Leave again?!" - Alex shouted, losing control. "I'm tired of running back and forth! And my parents are probably going crazy! And hers too!" - Alex pointed at you as he shouted.

At that moment, a quiet but distinct click sounded in the kitchen. The click of the lock on the door leading to the backyard. We all flinched and froze. I looked at the clock; an hour hadn't passed yet. It couldn't be Mom. She would have called or come through the front door.

Alex slowly stood up, his eyes narrowing to slits. He signaled us to be quiet. Then, silently, on tiptoe, he moved toward the hallway door. I stood up after him, quietly taking a knife from the cutlery drawer. Ted pulled you close.

The hallway was dark. We heard a faint creak of floorboards. Someone was already inside. Alex froze by the doorway, holding his breath.

And then from the darkness came a calm, familiar voice: "Relax, it's me."

"W-William?" - I asked in utter shock. "What... What are you doing here?! How did you find my address?"

The light from the kitchen fell on a figure in the doorway. It was indeed William Gold. He looked the same as he had at the café back then: an unassuming beige coat, round glasses with gold frames, messy curls, attentive, intelligent eyes. A slight, apologetic smile was on his face. He raised his hands, palms forward, showing he wasn't dangerous.

"Sorry for... breaking in like this. Your mother gave me a spare key in case something happened when she wasn't around. She was very worried about all of you." - his voice was soothing.

I stood there, feeling the ground give way beneath my feet. William Gold... The same one we had met with to discuss Mr. Anthony. He had been so understanding, so... on our side back then.

"How do you... how do you know my mother?" - I forced out, not lowering the knife. Alex stood beside me, ready to lunge forward at any second.

William sighed, stepping into the light. "Jonathan, I knew your father. We... collaborated. He trusted me. And when he disappeared, I promised to look after you and your mother. She didn't tell you so as not to scare you. But now... now the situation is out of control. She called me when she was leaving. She said you might come back from school early and asked me to stop by and make sure Ted was okay. I saw you running through the park, and you looked... alarmed."

His words sounded logical, almost too logical. My mother could have called one of my father's old colleagues and given him a key.

"You knew my father?" - I asked, my voice wavering.

"Yes. He was a brave man." - William shook his head, and a seemingly genuine sadness flickered in his eyes. "He was the one who started digging into those gangsters you told me about at the café. And he shared his suspicions with me. I tried to talk him out of it, to warn him… but he was stubborn. Like you, apparently." He looked at me, and there was something like paternal concern in his gaze.

Alex was still watching him suspiciously. "What were you doing in the park this morning? You said you saw us running."

William frowned. "I had a business meeting in the center, not far from the park. Why do you ask?"

"Because we saw one of the main 'Gold' members at school." - Alex blurted out. "Ash Kabosu. He was talking to some strange little kids."

William's face became serious; he slowly nodded. "Kabosu… yes, I know that name. It confirms our worst fears. They're already here... The school… that was risky on your part."

"Mom forced us to go to school!" - I burst out.

"I understand. But right now, it's not safe for you here. Kabosu, if he was really at the school, could have tracked you. Or his young... helpers." - William paused, as if weighing something. "Your mother wanted to take you to a safe place as soon as she got back. But given the circumstances, waiting for her is a luxury we can't afford. I have a car; it's parked a little further down the street. I can take you to where she was planning to go. A country house belonging to… a friend of hers. No one will find you there."

He spoke so convincingly... and knew so many details. He spoke about my father with warmth. He offered a solution when we were at a dead end. And yet... Ted sat pressed against you, staring at William without blinking. There was no trust on his face.

"I... I think we should wait for Mrs. Margaret." - you said uncertainly, looking at me.

"We don't know how much longer she'll be." - William countered gently. "And every minute the risk increases. I promised your mother to ensure your safety. And I intend to keep that promise."

A war raged inside me. One part screamed that this was a trap, that we couldn't trust anyone, especially someone who appeared so perfectly on cue. The other part, exhausted and frightened, clung to any help, to any adult who knew what to do. Who offered a way out.

Alex clenched his fists. "How do we know you're taking us to that specific house?"

William looked him straight in the eye. "You can't know for sure. You have to make a decision based on trust. Trust in Jonathan's father, who trusted me. And in your mother, who trusted me with the key to the house. All I can say is – I'm here to help. The rest is your choice, kids." He stepped back, giving us space. "Decide, but decide quickly..."

We all stood in the silence of the kitchen. From outside came the ordinary sounds of the street, deceptively peaceful. We had no way to reach my mother. We had no plan. Only fear and this man, offering a helping hand.

I looked at you. I saw the same agonizing hesitation in your eyes. At Alex – anger and suspicion. At Ted – silent horror.

And then William added, and in his voice was a note I hadn't heard before. Not patience, but... a slight, barely perceptible irritation. "Guys, time is running out. 'Gold' isn't going to wait for you to make a choice."

His tone, that phrase… something in the depths of my mind wouldn't let me rest. William was speaking too smoothly... But exhaustion and fear were stronger. We were cornered...

And when William turned and took a step toward the door, saying: "My car – a black Bugatti – is parked around the corner to the right of this house. You have a few minutes to grab the essentials."

The four of us, after a second's pause, obediently began to move, following him. And he, walking ahead, allowed himself a thin smile that we couldn't see. The smile of a man who had just trapped his prey. And the hatred in his soul towards us, the "problem children" who had dared to stand in the way of his "Gold," was absolute and silent.