Chapter 4 Echoes of the Inferno

The hospital corridor stretched out like a narrow, sterile artery, the walls a cold, clinical white that glared harshly under the bright fluorescent lights, stinging the eyes.
The echo of hurried footsteps, sharp and rapid, reverberated through the empty space, a rhythmic drumbeat that mingled with the distant, buzzing hum of the fluorescent lights.
The cold air in the corridor brushed against Luna’s skin, sending a shiver down her spine.
Luna’s heart raced as she pursued Marcus, her mind a whirlwind of deductions and possibilities.
She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, making her palms sweaty.
She turned a corner, her eyes scanning the area with a keen, focused gaze.
It was then she saw her, a figure hunched over a filing cabinet, frantically rifling through the documents.
The sound of papers being shuffled filled the air.
“Samantha?” Luna’s voice cut through the silence like a knife, sharp and accusatory.
Samantha, the timid archive clerk, froze.
Her wide eyes, full of fear, met Luna’s.
The air seemed to still around them.
Her hands trembled violently as she clutched a stack of papers, and Luna could hear the rustling of the paper edges.
A faded photograph peeked out from the stack; its colors dulled by time.
Luna’s eyes narrowed, and she could feel her detective instincts kicking in, a tingle at the back of her neck.
“What are you doing with those?” Luna demanded, closing the distance between them with determined steps.
The sound of her footsteps echoed louder in the quiet corridor.
Samantha’s face drained of color, and her breathing became shallow and rapid, like a frightened animal.
“I—I can’t tell you. You don’t understand.”
“Understand what, Samantha? The truth?” Luna’s voice was ice – cold, and the chill in her tone seemed to freeze the air around them.
Samantha’s gaze flickered to the photo, then back to Luna.
“You can’t change the past. It’s too late for redemption.”
Luna’s eyes sharpened, and she could feel a sense of urgency building inside her.
“What past are you talking about? Show me the photo.”
Samantha hesitated, then slowly unfolded the paper.
The sound of the paper unfolding was like a soft sigh.
The image revealed Ethan and Marcus, arms slung over each other’s shoulders, grinning into the camera.
The year was 2008, the edge of the photo scorched and stained with time, and the smell of old paper and faint smoke wafted up to Luna’s nose.
Luna’s heart skipped a beat.
She recognized the backdrop, the old police station where it all began.
The memory of that place brought a bitter taste to her mouth.
“Explain,” Luna said, her tone steel.
Samantha’s voice trembled, and it was like a leaf rustling in the wind.
“It’s the internal investigation report from 2008. The one that was supposed to be sealed. It’s all there, the truth about what happened to your sister.”
Luna’s pulse quickened, and she could feel her blood pounding in her ears.
“And what is that truth, Samantha?”
Before Samantha could answer, the sound of a door slamming echoed from the opposite end of the corridor, a loud, jarring noise that made Luna’s ears ring.
Luna turned, her eyes locking onto Marcus, who was just a few feet away.
He moved quickly, his eyes cold and calculating.
The air around him seemed to crackle with a dark energy.
“It’s time to end this, Luna,” Marcus said, his voice a low, menacing growl that sent a chill down Luna’s back.
Luna’s breath hitched, but she stood her ground.
The floor beneath her feet felt solid, giving her a sense of stability.
“Not yet, Marcus. Not until the truth is out.”
Marcus laughed, a bitter, hollow sound that filled the corridor with an eerie atmosphere.
“The truth? It died a long time ago, along with your sister.”
Luna’s muscles tensed, ready to defend herself.
She could feel the tightness in her body, like a coiled spring.
But before she could react, Marcus was gone, disappearing into the shadows.
The shadows seemed to swallow him up, and a sense of mystery and danger hung in the air.
Luna turned back to Samantha, her eyes blazing with determination.
“You need to show me everything, Samantha,” Luna said, her voice firm.
“Everything.”
Ethan awoke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum.
The dimly lit storeroom was suffocating, the air heavy with the musty scent of old metal and dust that filled his nostrils and made him cough.
He could feel the rough texture of the floor beneath him as he sat up, his head throbbing with a dull pain.
He tried to shake off the remnants of the dream.
Images flashed through his mind—fire, Marcus’s disfigured face, and a terrified expression that was shockingly familiar.
The heat from the dream still seemed to linger on his skin.
“Grace,” he whispered, the name a knife in his heart.
The pain in his chest was like a physical ache.
The dream was vivid, almost real.
He saw the flames, their bright orange and red colors dancing before his eyes, and felt the heat searing his skin, a sharp, stinging pain.
And then, the eyes.
Those scared, pleading eyes.
Ethan’s breath caught in his throat as he realized whose eyes they were.
His sister’s.
Ethan’s hands shook as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small, tarnished police badge.
The metal of the badge felt cold and rough in his hand.
He flipped it open, and to his horror, he saw a new engraving on the inside.
The words “Sorry, bro.” were etched into the metal, a cruel reminder of the past.
“What the hell is going on?” Ethan murmured, his voice a mix of confusion and dread.
The door to the storeroom creaked open, a slow, grating sound that made his nerves jangle.
He looked up to see Dr. Clara, her face grave.
“Ethan, we need to talk,” she said, her voice trembling.
Ethan’s heart sank.
“What is it? What’s wrong with Grace?”
Dr. Clara led him to a small, dimly lit room where a computer screen displayed a brain scan.
The blue – white glow of the screen cast an otherworldly light on their faces.
The image was stark, a clear anomaly in the frontal lobe.
A small, metallic chip was embedded in the brain tissue, its surface covered in intricate circuitry that glinted under the light.
“This chip,” Dr. Clara explained, her voice tight.
“It’s been secreting a hallucinogenic substance. That’s why Grace has been experiencing delusions and hallucinations. But that’s not all.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean, not all?”
Dr. Clara pointed to the serial number on the chip.
“This serial number matches a piece of evidence from your sister’s case. The one that was never opened.”
Ethan’s blood ran cold, and he could feel a chill spreading through his body.
“The unopened evidence box?”
Dr. Clara nodded.
“Exactly. And it’s not just a coincidence. This chip was planted, Ethan. Someone wanted Grace to experience these hallucinations, and they used your sister’s case to do it.”
Ethan’s mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place.
“Marcus. He’s behind this. But why? What does he hope to gain?”
The implications were staggering.
Ethan’s hands clenched into fists, and he could feel his nails digging into his palms.
His anger and fear mingled into a potent force.
He needed answers, and he needed them now.
Detective Riggs stormed into Luna’s office, his face a thunderous mask of determination.
The sound of his footsteps was heavy on the floor.
He brandished a search warrant in one hand, his eyes alight with righteous fury.
“Luna, we have a warrant to search your office,” Riggs announced, his voice booming through the small room, making the air vibrate.
Luna’s eyebrows raised in surprise, but she maintained her composure.
The air in the office seemed to still as she waited for an explanation.
“What’s this about, Riggs?”
Riggs’s expression darkened.
“We received a tip – off that you’re interfering with an ongoing police investigation. Specifically, the case of your missing sister.”
Luna’s eyes narrowed.
“A tip – off? From whom?”
Riggs hesitated, then produced a file from his jacket.
The sound of the file being pulled out was a soft rustle.
“From Samantha, the archive clerk. She claims that you’ve been digging into old, sealed files, and that you have information that could compromise the investigation.”
Luna’s heart rate accelerated, and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest.
Her mind raced.
“Samantha? That’s ridiculous. I’ve barely spoken to her.”
Riggs opened the file and laid it on Luna’s desk.
The sound of the file being opened was a crisp snap.
The contents were damning.
Reports, photos, and a series of altered documents, all pointing to Luna’s sister’s case.
The most disturbing of all was a forged report, dated just days after her sister’s disappearance, with Luna’s name falsely listed as a suspect.
“Explain this, Luna,” Riggs demanded, his voice hard.
Luna’s hands trembled as she picked up the report.
The paper felt smooth but cold in her hand.
The handwriting was off, the details manipulated.
“Someone’s trying to frame me, Riggs. And they’re using my sister’s case to do it.”
Riggs’s expression softened, but only slightly.
“I know you, Luna. I don’t believe for a second that you would do anything to harm an investigation. But we need to get to the bottom of this.”
Luna nodded, her resolve firm.
“Then let’s find out who’s behind this. Start with Samantha. She knows more than she’s letting on.”
Riggs hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
“Alright. But we need to move fast. Time’s running out.”
As Riggs left the office, Luna’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.
The pieces were falling into place, but the picture was far from clear.
She needed to find Samantha, and she needed to find her soon.
The truth was out there, and she was going to uncover it, no matter the cost.
Luna glanced out the window, her eyes fixed on the stormy sky.
The dark clouds churned like an angry sea, and the wind howled outside, making the windowpanes rattle.
A heavy rain was brewing, a prelude to the storm to come.
She knew what she had to do next.
She had to dive deep, into the darkest corners of the past, and bring the truth to light.
“Let the games begin,” she murmured, her voice a promise of vengeance and resolve.
The air in the archives hung thick with the scent of dust and decay, a fitting aroma for the skeletons about to be unearthed.
Samantha, a wisp of a girl with eyes that darted nervously around the room, fiddled with a lock of mousy brown hair.
The sound of her fidgeting was a soft rustle.
Luna, perched on the edge of a metal table, watched her with a predator’s calm.
The cold metal of the table against her legs sent a chill through her body.
She knew Samantha held the key, a tiny, rusted key to a decade – old Pandora’s Box.
“He… he said it was important,” Samantha stammered, her voice barely a whisper against the rhythmic tick – tock of a grandfather clock in the corner.
The tick – tock seemed to echo in the silence of the room.
She pushed a dusty file across the table towards Luna.
The sound of the file sliding on the table was a soft scrape.
“Said it would… explain everything.”
Explain everything?
Luna’s lips curved into a humorless smile.
Right.
Inside the file, a faded photograph of a teenage boy, his face obscured by bandages, stared back at her.
Burn scars, vicious and raw, snaked across the visible skin.
A wave of nausea, cold and sudden, washed over Luna.
She could feel the bile rising in her throat.
This… this was connected.
She could feel it in her bones, a chilling resonance with the phantom ache she carried for her missing sister.
Meanwhile, Ethan was having his own charming tête – à – tête with Detective Riggs in the bustling heart of the precinct.
Riggs, a bull of a man with a granite jaw and a perpetual scowl, regarded Ethan with the kind of disdain usually reserved for cockroaches and parking tickets.
The noise of the precinct, the chatter of officers and the clatter of typewriters filled the air.
“So, Marcus just happened to mention this conveniently forgotten file?
” Riggs’ voice dripped sarcasm. “Funny how these things work out, huh, McCormick?
Ethan, leaning against a wall with an almost studied nonchalance, shrugged.
The wall behind him was cold and rough.
“Hey, even a broken clock is right twice a day, Riggs.
Besides, you know me – I’m like a truffle pig for a good story.
Especially one involving burnt teenagers and mysterious disappearances.
” He winked, because why the hell not? He’d sooner charm a rattlesnake than get a straight answer out of this granite gargoyle.
Back in the archives, Luna’s fingers traced the outline of the boy’s bandaged face.
The paper of the photograph was brittle under her touch.
The report attached to the photo detailed a warehouse fire, ten years prior, that had left one young man critically injured.
No name.
No family.
Just a Jane Doe charred beyond recognition.
Something about the vagueness of it all screamed cover – up.
And cover – ups, in Luna’s experience, were like loose threads on a designer suit – pull one, and the whole damn thing unravels.
A sudden, intuitive leap, a spark of connection – the burn scars, Marcus’s cryptic words, the missing persons…
It clicked.
This wasn’t just about revenge.
It was about erasing the past, burying it under layers of lies and fear.
And Ethan… Ethan was right in the middle of it.
Ethan, meanwhile, was busy playing Riggs like a Stradivarius.
He knew the detective’s weak spot – his unwavering belief in procedure.
So, he fed him just enough information, just enough bait to make him bite.
He casually mentioned witnesses, hinted at evidence Riggs couldn’t ignore, all the while keeping his own cards close to his chest.
He needed to find out what she was digging up in those dusty archives.
He had a gut feeling, a sickening twist in his stomach, that the truth was far more dangerous than either of them had imagined.
As Luna pieced together the fragmented narrative – the fire, the missing boy, Marcus’s carefully constructed facade – a single, terrifying name surfaced in her mind.
A name that sent a shiver down her spine and tightened the knot of dread in her chest.
The name of her missing sister.
The game had indeed changed.
And the stakes had just gotten a whole lot higher.