Chapter 63 - Footsteps in the Archive
A faint echo interrupted the conversation.
Footsteps.
Not one pair.
Several.
Slow.
Measured.
Coming from somewhere deep beyond the endless rows of shelves.
Samuel immediately switched off his flashlight.
The archive fell into near darkness.
Everyone listened.
The footsteps stopped.
Then started again.
Closer.
Daniel whispered,
"We're not alone."
The caretaker's expression changed for the first time.
"They shouldn't be here."
"You expected someone?"
"No."
"I expected only you."
Another sound followed.
The quiet scrape of a wooden box being removed from a shelf.
Lily pointed toward the far end of the chamber.
"I saw a light."
A narrow beam disappeared between two towering rows of archive cases.
Samuel instinctively reached for his camera.
He captured three rapid photographs.
The flash illuminated the distant aisle for less than a second.
Then darkness returned.
Silence.
Daniel hurried toward the location.
The aisle stood empty.
No people.
No movement.
Only one Carter archive box resting open on the floor.
Inside lay a freshly written note.
The ink had not yet dried.
Daniel picked it up carefully.
The handwriting matched the invisible messages inside the leather notebook.
It read:
You're finally asking the right questions.
Now ask why your grandfather refused to open the final box.
Before Daniel could respond, Samuel checked the photographs he had just taken.
In the last image, reflected in the polished brass label of a nearby shelf, a blurred figure could be seen watching them from behind.
The face was indistinct.
May you like
But one detail stood out with unsettling clarity.
The figure was wearing Daniel's old overseas construction jacket—the one he had believed was lost fifteen years ago.
