I paused, looking at Kimmy. “Do you think—”
“I’ll come with you,” she interjected. “We’d be happyto.”
Scott drove Kimmy and I back to his family’s strange house in his truck. I followed him the same way as before, down winding halls, until we reached the computer lab. He led me to one of the machines, where the screen was open on what indeed appeared to be a letter.
I took a deep breath and sat in the chair, Kimmy at my side. Both she and Scott hovered around me, and suddenly I couldn’t read my dead husband’s words with an audience. I had no idea what he’d needed to tell me, but whatever it was, it felt like it deserved privacy.
“Sorry, but…do you two mind waiting outside the door?” I asked meekly. “I just…I want to read his last words…in private.”
They exchanged an awkward glance but then nodded.
“Of course,” Kimmy said, squeezing my shoulder. “I’ll be right out there if you need me.”
She and Scott went to stand outside the open doorway, and with another breath, I began to read Neil’s last letter.
Dear Claire,
If you’re reading this, it means my work here has been discovered. I’m sorry.
For some time, I’ve been researching the circumstances of your father’s death. I know how important he was to you, and I haven’t been able to get your suspicions out of my mind.
As a physician, I gained access to his medical records, which provided me with two key findings: 1) his death certificate records his death as undetermined, not homicide, and is marked with an unusual, stylized ‘X’ symbol, and 2) you are his only biological child.
I tracked down dozens more death certificates marked with this ‘X’ symbol, with no explanation. All these deaths were marked undetermined, or in some cases, ‘disappeared’, with no further detail.Unfortunately, I haven’t uncovered the symbol’s meaning. Given the little I know about our compound’s leadership, I can only speculate that they stepped out of line in some way and perhaps paid the ultimate price.
There are few clues to Holly’s true paternity. Your father’s name is on her birth certificate. He may not have known she wasn’t his. I hope you may remember something that can help solve the mystery. I don’t know if this is connected to your father’s death, but I thought you deserved to know.
Alongside this, there are rumours of an insurgent movement within our compound. I hear whispers from patients and colleagues. Be wary and trust no one, including your sister.
No matter what happens, I wish you well. We may not have chosen one another, but you’ve been a friend to me in our short time together. You, and everyone else, deserve the truth.
Yours,
Neil Lockhart, M.D.
February 28, 2097
Whatever I might have expected from Neil’s last letter, it wasn’t this. It was dated the day before the attack on the compound. I knew he’d had his suspicions about something dangerous happening at the Cave, but he’d clearly known far more than he’d ever had the chance to tell me. My heart ached for him. He may not have been the great love of my life, but he deserved so much better than what he got.
I took a moment to silently remember Neil and thank him for his efforts. Then I scanned the words over and over, as though that would make it easier to understand the incomprehensible. I examined Neil’s first finding; I couldn’t even wrap my mind around the second one.
He confirmed what I’d always feared and suspected: my father was not killed by Wastelanders while on patrol. But that answer, as much as I’d craved it, only opened up new and harder questions, especially knowing that his records were marked in the same strange way as other mysterious deaths in the compound.
How did he really die? Did they kill him because of his failed rebellion, like my mother claimed? Who were the real leaders of our compound, and what did they have to hide?
The worst part was that I had no way to find out now. I couldn’t return to the Cave, and it seemed unlikely that there’d ever be an opportunity to interrogate the leadership, given that they may have perished in the attack…and I didn’t even know who they were.
I couldn’t have prepared myself for the revelation about Holly. I’d never had a hint from either of my parents that she wasn’t my father’s.
But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. My parents’ collapsing marriage. My mother’s posthumous hatred of my father, and her animosity towards me: his only child. The way my mother had always favoured Holly…the daughter of her lover, who she really wanted. How she’d inducted Holly into her cult first, without giving me a second thought. My mother would’ve happily allowed me to die in the slaughter at the Cave because my very existence had become offensive to her. I was a constant reminder of a person she deeply resented, and of a past she’d rather forget.
As painful as it was to acknowledge, I also knew that as much as my mother favoured Holly, my father had also favoured me. I was the one he told stories to, taught music to, shared his passions with. Because, from my red hair to my love of painting, I was like him. Because I was his daughter.
I had no proof, but that led me to believe that he knew. The leaders of our compound didn’t tolerate unsanctioned pregnancies between unapproved parties. My mother must’ve applied to have a child with my father and gotten pregnant with another man instead. My father was the sort of man who’d have given Holly his name to protect her. He wouldn’t have wanted her to suffer whatever consequences may have come. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have resented my mother forever for it. Stuck in a compound that didn’t allow divorce, their unhappiness had many years to fester.
I turned over more memories, of the months prior to the attack. Holly had pulled away from me suddenly, and frozen me out, despite our once-close relationship. I’d never known her to be so cold and distant before.
She knew.That was the only conclusion that made sense. She must’ve found out, or else my mother had told her the truth. I couldonly imagine the inner turmoil that would’ve caused her, to have her sense of self and place in the world suddenly stripped away from her. Vulnerable, hurt, and seeking something to replace that sense of identity, she’d have been an ideal target for a cult.
