By the time Honeywell was brought in, he had already been searched more thoroughly and given a quick cleaning.
He had changed into a clean set of old clothes, with plastic restraints on his hands and feet. They allowed limited movement, but prevented him from making any sudden, wide-ranging attack.
Honeywell sat on one side of the table. Under the light, his face looked even paler, but the frantic, unfocused madness from earlier was gone from his eyes. He seemed somewhat lucid now.
Calista sat across from him, with Carver standing half a step behind her and to the side.
His gaze never left Honeywell for even a moment.
Several items were spread out on the table: a plastic work badge with worn edges and dark brown stains, a notebook, and a black USB drive.
The badge read "Singularity Polymers, Inc. - Block D - Senior Security Advisor," with Honeywell's photo, name, and employee number printed beneath it.
The man in the photo looked serious and professional, almost like a corporate executive. He was worlds apart from the person sitting there now.
Calista did not ask any questions right away.
She first picked up the badge, brushed her fingertips over the raised lettering, examined it carefully for a long while, then opened the notebook.
Inside were handwritten records, pasted-in printed data, simple hand-drawn flowcharts, and structural sketches. The handwriting shifted between neat and messy, and the ink colors varied, clearly written over a long span of time.
Most of the earlier pages were normal safety inspection records, equipment maintenance reminders, and summaries of chemical storage regulations.
But around two-thirds of the way through the notebook, the contents began to change.
"...January 14.
"The Technical Department brought another group of outside collaborators into the D-7 facility today.
"They did not notify the Security Department in advance with a complete visitor list or reason for entry. They only said it was an 'observation visit for a joint R&D project with Oak Ridge National Laboratory.'
"When I followed procedure and requested to check their safety permits and project filings, the Technical Department blocked me outright. Non-compliant.
"The ventilation and emergency protocols in the D-7 zone are different from the main plant. The silver sealed containers they brought inside had not undergone preliminary radiation or biohazard screening..."
"...January 28.
"Four more contract workers from the 'raw material processing' position were sent away, supposedly due to 'acute industrial poisoning.' They showed aggressive tendencies and severe hallucinations. The medical transfer records are vague.
"I reviewed the initial draft of the accident report. It mentioned exposure to a 'new organic pesticide,' but the specific molecular formula and toxicological data had all been removed, replaced with the vague term 'trade secret.'
"I signed the report and filed a formal objection in the remarks section. The copy may already have been destroyed."
"...February 11.
"At two in the morning, the alarm in the D-7 zone rang for seventeen seconds before being manually forced off.
"I was on duty. By the time I arrived, people from the Technical Department and two men in military service uniforms were already on site.
"They refused to let me enter the core experimental zone, claiming it involved national security.
"I heard sounds from inside... like animals slamming into iron bars inside narrow cages, and low whimpering. When I left, one of the soldiers looked at me..."
Calista turned through the pages one by one, her face showing no emotion. Yet somehow, the pressure in the room seemed to sink even lower.
Carver's gaze occasionally shifted from Honeywell to Calista's profile, then quickly returned to Honeywell.
The later entries in the notebook became more and more fragmented. The handwriting grew messier, filled with professional abbreviations and personal symbols that clearly only the writer could understand.
"...They've started calling them 'substrates.' Transport frequency increasing. At night. Refrigerated trucks."
"...I copied some fragments of the original surveillance data they deleted. It's blurry, but something can be seen moving deep inside the D-7 zone. The posture is strange. I backed it up."
The final pages were almost nothing but frantic scribbles and repeated words.
"Smoke! Yellow smoke! It's leaking!!"
"The door is sealed! They're still inside! The control room!!"
"They're hitting the door! Looking at me! Looking at me! They remember me!"
"It isn't a new pesticide... it isn't..."
"Run. Have to run. Never go back!"
Calista closed the notebook with a soft click.
She raised her eyes and looked at Honeywell.
Under her gaze, he instinctively curled in on himself and avoided her eyes.
"Mr. Honeywell," Calista said, tapping the table to draw his attention, "your notebook records stop on the day the virus fully broke out and the world collapsed.
"What happened after that? You escaped and survived until now. Fear alone couldn't have done that. What else do you know? This USB drive."
Her fingertip tapped the small black object.
"What's on it?"
Honeywell's throat moved. He spoke with difficulty.
"...Data. Before I escaped, I forcibly removed the hard drive from my backup security terminal. I encrypted it...
"It contains some raw files from the D-7 zone's experimental logs, some deleted surveillance code, and, and an early project overview memo from Oak Ridge that I secretly scanned...
"I only had time to read the title and the first few lines. The codename they used..."
"What was the codename?" Calista pressed.
Honeywell's eyes began flickering violently again. His breathing grew rapid, as if merely recalling that word caused him immense pain.
"Black... Black Fire..."
"Who are they?" Carver suddenly asked. "The changed walkers in Block D? Or the people from the Technical Department and Oak Ridge?"
Honeywell shuddered all over and snapped his gaze toward Carver, his eyes packed with bloodshot veins.
"All of them. They're all monsters! Monsters made from people! Monsters created by monsters!"
He gasped violently, the veins in his wrists bulging beneath the restraints.
"They're all screaming. I hear them in my dreams..."
Calista and Carver exchanged a look.
Although Honeywell's mental state was extremely unstable, his fear was real, and it was very likely directly connected to the contents of the USB drive.
"Mr. Honeywell," Calista said, her voice softening slightly, "you brought these here and told us all this not just to warn us, correct?
"You want someone to know the truth. You want someone to... deal with that place. And the truth is inside this USB drive. We need to open it."
Honeywell stared fixedly at the USB drive for a long time. Then he gave the faintest nod, his voice barely audible.
"The password... is my employee number in reverse..."
He did not continue. He closed his eyes, and two cloudy tears slid from the corners.
Calista did not press him further.
She picked up the USB drive, stood, and walked to a heavy, military-grade laptop in the room.
There was no internet after the apocalypse, but local use still worked fine.
Calista booted up the computer, inserted the USB drive, and a password prompt appeared.
Following what Honeywell had said, she entered the string of numbers. After a brief loading bar, a folder window popped open.
There were not many files inside, and the categories were a mess. They had clearly been copied in extreme haste.
There were a few video fragments, several .log text files, and a handful of scanned .pdf documents.
Calista opened the document with the most formal and conspicuous file name: "[Confidential] Joint Development Phase Objective Summary_v2.3.pdf."
The document opened. The first thing that appeared was the joint header of Oak Ridge National Laboratory and a blurred military department.
The title was written clearly:
"Project 'Black Fire'. Feasibility Study on the Development of Biocontrol Guidance Technology Based on the Phenomena of Neural Erosion and Preserved Bodily Function Observed in 'Wildfire.'"
Calista's pupils contracted sharply.
Although she had expected something like this, seeing the title with her own eyes, seeing the Wildfire virus directly connected to words like "controllable," "biological substrate," still sent a chill crawling up her spine.
It was connected to Wildfire again.
From the original laboratory in France, to Silas Norton's Spark Biotech company and the experimental vaccine they had secretly injected into her,
to Sentinel Station, which should have been researching a cure for the virus like the CDCs of other countries but had instead been secretly conducting research on mutated walkers, and now there was involvement from the U.S. military and Oak Ridge National Laboratory too.
It was as if an invisible hand had been controlling all of it from behind the scenes.
...
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