Gen Four- Chapter Five

I waited, frozen. It could very well be that this abrupt tense situation had nothing to do with what I'd done. My panicking mind couldn't think of anything other than that grandpa had been hurt somehow, which wasn't any better, but maybe there was something I missed.

Or there wasn't.

     "I will give you one opportunity," dad bent forward, linking his fingers together seriously and studying to me, "to tell me why you think we're here like this."

My hands shook, so I clasped them upon on another as well. The innocent, unknowing expression I tried to hold fell impossibly fast while my stomach vigorously churned. I'd been caught. Someone figured out I'd altered DV2. Still, a stupid and naive part of me kept me silent. What if that wasn't it? Could I have accidentally done another troublesome thing without realizing it? What if they only thought I'd taken Mr. Plantain's keycard?

     "Nutmeg," dad prodded.

My gut burned with fire.

     "I..." My voice barely made any noise. "I took Mr. Plantain's keycard and used it to sneak into the robot room to mess with DV2's code."

Dad's expression hardly changed. If anything, it got better. Make no mistake that he felt proud or relieved, but the disappointment ready to take over what already dominated his face if I lied dissipated. There the answer was then. Everything was known.

     "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

     "I-I'm sorry..."

     "This cannot be fixed with an apology."

     "I know. But I...just..." I could barely control my lips. "Dad, I didn't mean to do anything really bad. All I wanted was a bit more time with Mr. Mint, for him to stay until summer break."

     "You think that's justification for stealing, going where you're not allowed, and deliberately working against The Company's goals for your own personal gain?" Dad raised a brow.

     "...No."

My head dipped lower and lower. I couldn't stand to look at dad's expression. I had known how what I'd done was a big deal, and the tears swelling to sting my eyes weren't earned.

     "You're upset, and that's clear. However, Nutmeg, I have no idea what to feel myself. Do you know how hard I wanted to disbelieve when I took a look at the code I made myself to find mistakes I know I hadn't made? When we pulled up the camera footage to see you in it? Should I be sad? Furious? Betrayed? You made me a promise to behave, and I did my best to meet you where I could, like getting you Tektite."

Dad straightened up in the chair. It seemed as if he doubled in size while I shrunk just as much.

     "Nutmeg, look at me," he commanded. His tone grew rougher when I couldn't obey at first. "Nutmeg Mountain, I said look at me."

Timidly and full to the bursting with a waterfall a breath away from unleashing, I returned my gaze to his face. I still couldn't look dad directly in the eyes though, so his nose and cheeks were what I focused on.

     "There are going to be harsh repercussions for this, I hope you know. The supervisors are talking with Holiday right now to let him know what you've done. I hope you didn't include him in any way."
     "He had nothing to do with it. I did it impulsively without planning anything," I whispered.
     "That's good, for his sake at least. The supervisors are going to send him home as soon as they're done talking, and he'll be working at his new office by tomorrow."
     "W-Wait, can't I at least say goodbye?" I questioned, aghast.
     "No, Nutmeg. No. I just told you the consequences are harsh. Holiday is leaving as he should have left last week, DV2 is going to be your teacher now that we undid your handiwork, and I really shouldn't have to say the obvious, but you've been banned from going on the diving expedition."
     "What!? Daddy, you─!"
     "I am the one who fought tooth and nail for that to be all there was for punishments!" dad growled, the angriest I'd seen him. "Don't you talk to me with that voice as if I'm the one being mean! You brought this on yourself!"
     "But I wouldn't have been so upset about Mr. Mint leaving if you weren't─!"

My throat choked up. The waterfall gushed, I sniffled furiously to keep my nose from doing the same, and breath spasmed out of my lungs.

     "If I wasn't what?" dad pushed ahead. His anger softened somewhat.
     "It's nothing," I gasped, shaking my head.
     "Nutmeg."
     "It's really nothing. Just an excuse. Me being childish."

Dad studied me hard before sighing and closing his eyes.

     "Of course I never want to see you cry, but I hope you do come to appreciate how lucky you got. If anyone else had done what you did...it's only because you're a child and I promised to keep a tighter leash on you that this isn't way worse."

I couldn't say anything to it, for I naturally wasn't grateful. I forced a nod as I madly rubbed at my face attempting to save some dignity. Unfortunately, the sobbing wouldn't stop.

     "DV2 won't be ready to teach until tomorrow. There's no point keeping you here the rest of the day, and I'm not going to be able to get any work done. I already asked someone to give dad a ride back, so let's just go home now, okay?" Dad reached forward to rub my shoulder.

I nodded once more.

The tears persisted far past any crying I could remember doing. They lasted the whole way home, and they still poured when dad let me run to my room and leap onto my bed. The lights remained off, I couldn't even wiggle out of my shoes, and the fabric of my pillow wet my cheek uncomfortably when my tears drenched it. I hated everything about those moments. Before these robots started coming in and taking away the people in my life, when had been the last time I cried at all? I'd shed some tears during the finale of last season's Merge Monsters, but that was the only vaguely recent incident I could recall. Nothing else had hurt me like this. Not knowing how to deal with the feelings, my mind blamed everyone in a cycle. I blamed myself, I blamed dad, I blamed the robots, I blamed the bosses, and so on. Again and again I found reasons to dub each innocent until I came back around with more judgment.

Crying myself dry and to exhaustion, my sobs and mumbled words called out for the one person who had no part in this.

     "Mommy...mommy, I miss you. Please come help. I feel so alone..."

There was no expectation that I would receive any help. Mom had been dead as long as I had been alive. She'd given her entire existence so that I could be here now, and that was the greatest love she could show me. What more could I expect? My heart found solace in the idea she might be listening. It gave me enough comfort though to close my aching eyes and drift off. The severe, unfamiliar, and sad emotions snapping in my chest to bludgeon the sides like poppers must have been why that weird dream state returned.

I gave into the bizarre sensations this time. My eyes didn't fight to see, and the kind touch that brushed my shoulder and pulled me to sitting met no resistance. No baby started crying, no loud bangs jolted me, and the fright stinging me last time had been replaced with an ease and security unlike any I'd known. This was a good dream. A figure soft and dear tenderly wrapped me in an embrace as if I was more precious than anything else in the world. A cheek nestled itself on the top of my head while with every tiny sniffle I continued to sniff I buried myself deeper and deeper against its chest.

     "I'm here." A voice, faint like a whisper stolen by a storm, floated throughout my consciousness. It pulsed in and out to lose words here and there. "Always...right here. I won't...until safe and happy...you should be. I'll protect...from his lies."

A kiss was placed on my forehead.

     "...never alone."

The figure and voice suddenly vanished. Tektite was barking up a storm, and I must have jolted up for I slumped forward from a sitting position in my half-asleep slump. Tektite seriously barked ferociously. She jumped on the bed and spun around like a top as if chasing something off.

     "What are you doing, you crazy dog? There's nothing there. I was having a good dream too, and you woke me up."

She allowed me to place her back on the floor where a rumbling growl shook her body.

     "Were you dreaming too? You bolted off into the dresser once after thinking you were chasing something."

Petting Tektite slowly calmed her. I surveyed the bed for anything that could cause her strange behavior, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. The only surprising thing was the time. My clock showed it was already noon. I'd been sleeping longer than I thought.

Washing my face sprung some energy back into my sluggish body. Not that it made me feel any less miserable. What was I even supposed to do now? I walked into the living area saddened more by the realization of all the free time I had. Why spend hours in the pool, working out, or stretching if I couldn't go on the diving expedition? The effort I'd put in for months on end was wasted. I eventually went back into my room after a minute to change before returning to blast music as loud as dad would let me. If my work was useless, might as well do something useless. I wanted to dance. You certainly wouldn't find me caring then on whether or not it was something The Company needed. The wish I'd had since I was young was that grandpa and dad would one day be proven innocent. I could be whatever I wanted without having to limit myself if that happened.

However, there was something luring about the exertion of my body. I kept dancing and moving until I was just below that point where I'd begin to overdo it. To glance in the mirror at the smooth lines I could make and the taut pull of my muscles swelled pride to combat the hurt.

     "You should show off some more. I didn't realize you'd gotten so good on your own."

I jumped, panicking at hearing another random voice. This time it was thankfully just dad though. He stood several feet in the room, and I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed him. Well, given how loud he had to speak to make himself known over the music, I guess a subtle approach on his part wasn't difficult. My mood slowly shuffled me to turn off the speakers. Dad hadn't done anything wrong, yet there remained some anger stewing away inside me whispering I should be mad. Maybe if he'd simply been more honest about his relationship with Ms. Cranberry knowing they were sleeping together wouldn't sting so much. A solid answer on what was going on was better than my mind cycling through too many options I didn't want to consider.

     "Sorry. I suppose I should be doing some sort of work or my chores instead of dancing. I forgot you'd want to ground me too." I ground the heel of my shoe into the floor.
     "No, not at all," dad relayed to my surprise. "That's a bit much. I know how badly you'll miss Holiday, and being banned from the expedition is punishment enough, I feel. You've more than learned your lesson without me making it a tougher time."
     "Oh. Thanks, I guess? That does make me feel better. You have to have at least come down here to lecture me though."
     "I want to talk, but not in that manner."
     "How then?" I wondered curiously.
     "Want to come on a picnic with me?"

That, naturally, surprised me even more. Dad's request wasn't a request though. He'd used the time I spent sleeping to prepare a wicker basket full of freshly grilled hamburgers and hot dogs, juicy watermelon slices, fluffy potato salad, and grandpa's classic homemade potato chips. He carried the basket, I carried the blanket, and Tektite yipped excitedly as we wandered until we reached my play spot at the river.

     "Are you sure you're not going to lecture me?" I asked, biting into my cheeseburger.
     "No," dad chuckled. "I was merely doing a lot of thinking when we got home. I keep asking you to trust that the decisions I make are done with intentions for what's best for you, but...what happened made me see I was taking that trust too far. We haven't had a good, deep talk for a while, and I need to be more aware of your feelings. You're a mature child, but still a child. That's why I thought I'd bring you here to tell you some more about your mother."
     "About mom?" I perked up. "But you said you'd all but run out of stories."
     "A little bit of a lie. There are more, yet the situations in which they happened made it seem as if I should wait until you were older to describe them."
     "Like what?"
     "Like the main one I want to tell you now...it was the night we found out Dia was pregnant with you, so for celebration we...slept together again. What I want to tell is the conversation that happened afterwards."
     "Oh," I laughed. "You could just omit that part out, you know."
     "I realized that as soon as I said it, but the damage is done. In any case, as we laid there, your mother started crying. She said she was so happy. Her family, save her sisters and Merlot, had been awful. Having you, she was ecstatic at the thought of building something good from the bad that she couldn't keep that happiness in."

My chewing slowed. Dad meant to continue but saw my pensive stare.

     "What is it?"
     "You tell me how mean most of mom's family is..."
     "They wanted her to marry that nasty Arbor and hated me because I was freeing her from their suppressive control, yeah," dad said, nibbling bitterly at his hot dog.
     "You say they wouldn't like me either, but...maybe they might? We've never met each other. If mom hoped to build something good from me, I could show them how to be good. It would be nice to have more family."
     "I wish that could be the case. More than anything. All I can say, Nutmeg, is that you should take the advice dad gave me that I ignored. You know the story. I hoped the same hope that when Dia and I snuck around to try and meet my mom at the lake that seeing me could bring everything onto a positive path. Instead, I got my heart crushed and Dia nearly died after falling into the lake. I won't stop you from meeting your mother's family if we can be free, but I also don't want to see them break your heart. They truly are so cruel. Just from the fact that you're my daughter, they'll loathe you on sight."

Staring straight ahead, I nodded miserably after some thought. Dad had said this before. I didn't want to believe people could be like that, yet Ms. Cranberry did show it was possible.

     "Let me get back to the story. I think it will cheer you up," dad continued, pulling a drink box from the basket. "Orange juice?"

I accepted, and dad pressed on with his tale that I'd side-tracked. He went on to describe how he got little sleep that night. Mom couldn't get tired she was that excited. She simply kept on talking about names or what she wanted to buy for the nursery. He lost track of how many times she got up to weigh herself on the scale thinking she would find some weight gain. Honestly, a lot of the negativity in my chest lifted at the story. Some part of me did fear my parents had regretted me what with the pregnancy resulting in mom's death. Dad saying how mom absolutely refused to consider abortion once signs of trouble popped up reassured me, even if I wish such a sobering choice hadn't been necessary.

Grandpa returned home later that afternoon where dad did make me be the one to admit what I had done. He gave me the best present I could get in this situation though. Mr. Mint had written a small letter for me that he gave to grandpa. In it, he rebuked me for what I did telling me never to try anything like it again, but most of his words were kind and grateful for the chance to have been my teacher. Mr. Mint liked to believe it was possible we could meet once more in the future as the Scarlet Dawn office and the new one would likely collaborate from time to time. A colored pencil drawing of him and me together ended the letter.

I tucked the letter away somewhere safe and otherwise enjoyed a surprisingly calm and peaceful afternoon with grandpa and dad. However, the next morning was even more surprising. My alarm clock went off late. So late, in fact, only fifteen minutes remained before we three were due to leave.

     "I snuck in and turned off your alarm," dad revealed with a big smile when I ran into him and grandpa upstairs. "I figured you and I could use a bit more time to let the incident pass over, and I haven't taken any vacation in a while. We will end up doing a little work though. You'll be helping me with some testing."
     Grandpa, who'd been preparing to leave, halted instantly. His head turned slowly, suspiciously towards dad. "What was that?"
     "I got permission for Nutmeg to help me with something," dad replied as if nothing was different.
     "What kind of testing?" grandpa demanded.

I frowned, glancing between them. Why was he upset?

     "C'mon now. Don't make me ruin the surprise." Dad started pushing him towards the door. "Everything is fine."
     "Timber."
     "Dad."

I shifted sheepishly. A seriously weird tension popped up between them so quickly, and it shivered goosebumps on my arms. Silence passed until grandpa relented.

     "Fine," he answered stiffly before softening and smiling at me. "I'll see you later, little bean."
     "Bye, grandpa." I waved timidly.

Dad didn't address what happened. He simply waved grandpa off with a big grin before leading me to the table where a large stack of cinnamon pancakes with strawberries and maple syrup waited. We talked nonsense while we ate, and I got away with feeding Tektite the remaining half of the pancake I couldn't finish due to my stomach being stuffed full.

     "What kind of testing am I to help you with? And why was grandpa not happy about it?" I eventually wondered as we loaded the dishes into the dishwasher.
     "I think he's worried I'm taking advantage of the bosses's patience. Here you just broke some of the biggest rules, and now I'm bartering to let you in on more confidential information. He's overthinking it though. What I want you to help me with is something you already know about."

My face lit up and I bounced on my toes when dad led me to his room to boot up the laser dance toy.

     "You said you were checking its durability over long periods of inactivity," I reminded.
     "I did. Then the group got back to me saying the length of that inactivity was too impractical for the current stage their development is at. Now they want me to see how it handles a day of heavy use," dad laughed.
     "I'll definitely help!" I cheered.
     "I figured you'd want to."

Our morning became a dance party. The room seriously glowed and pulsed with life as the music blared and the lights ricocheted off the mirrors to strike every corner of the room. Dad and I switched off every song so as to not bother our full bellies too much. Not that it helped much. Dad made the funniest expressions during his turns that dug stitches into my sides. I even got the hang of the feet positions, bouncing those pancakes all around.

I thought at first that was why I began to feel a little dizzy. Here I was going too hard at it, and my body just wanting to rest was protesting by quivering my arms and tightening my throat. Probably to give a warning sign to calm down lest vomit come up. Thus, I didn't rush to push dad out of the way like normal when his song finished. A break wouldn't hurt.

     "Nutmeg?" Dad tilted his head with a frown.

He said that as all of a sudden I began to cough. The one or two little clearings of the pulling stretch were fine, but as I let them out I found I couldn't stop. The little coughs rapidly morphed to hacking heaves before quieting to panicked wheezing.

     "Da─!"

I couldn't even call out to him. I clutched my throat as the thin, straw sized hole my body left to gather air showed no mercy by closing completely.

     "Nutmeg, here. Here, honey, sit down." Dad lowered me to the floor. He spoke stalwartly calm, and then frowned deeper upon checking his watch. Why he did that, I didn't know, but dad wasn't pleased. "I'll be right back. Everything will be fine."

My shaking fingers slipped from him easily even as I panicked further from fright from him dashing out of the room. Everything began to spasm from shock and terror of nothing coming into my lungs no matter how desperately I willed myself to breathe. Reminding myself I'd held my breath for way longer during my diving training did no good. That had been intended and practiced. This...what in the world was happening? Dangerous black spots punctured my vision while my brain went fuzzy. Only then did dad return. He yanked my arm out straight, quickly found a vein, and jabbed the needle he'd brought with him in hard.

The burning ache of the injection coursed enough of a different sensation to make me realize tears once more poured down my cheeks. Dad pushed down on the needle until every last drop emptied before tossing it on the floor and rubbing my back. I leaned against him, closed my eyes, and blessedly sucked in a half-breath some twenty seconds later. Unfortunately, that only made me shake harder. My body too desperate for air hyperventilated, a state made worse by the vomit that did indeed come up. Dad carried me to the bathroom, quickly cleaned up what mess he could off my clothes, and helped my breathing return to normal by cupping his hands over my mouth and nose and coaching me to slow my intake. He then had me alternate breathing in through each nostril while he got me another nightdress. A sore, tightness pained my neck, but thankfully at that point the danger had passed.

Exhausted and frightened, dad assisted me downstairs where he settled me on the couch. He had no explanation for what happened, but of course he stayed with me as I dully watched television to take my mind off the event. I fell asleep at some point. While I likely would have slept a lot later, a loud voice jolted me awake. Dad left the bookcase and safety door open to allow me to rush upstairs with ease if something happened. That meant I heard grandpa yelling. He was berating dad in a way I never expected to hear, and certainly with a ferocity I didn't understand, but I was too far away to clearly hear the words. My weak legs wouldn't let me get off the couch.

Then grandpa quieted. I caught enough to hear the anger in his voice, but something calmed him enough where his burst of emotion came under control. I expected him or dad to come down shortly after the sound stopped completely, but neither did. Dad left the remote close enough where one lazy reach put it in my hand. A re-run of some fantasy adventuring show numbed my mind until I passed out from weariness again. This next time I woke, dad gently shook my shoulder, offering a glass of water and a light meal of toast with butter and a lightly salted chicken noodle soup. I ate pleased by the fact everything stayed down without protest.

     "Grandpa?"

Finally, after another hour, my legs supported movement. Grandpa's door was closed, but I knocked before slipping inside. He stood hunched over his desk too antsy to sit, eyes madly reading a series of papers spread on his desk. My voice caused him to jolt and shove the papers into his drawer.

     "Sorry," I apologized.
     "No, it's fine. Come on in. You should sit."

He motioned me to his bed, which I sat on for a whole ten seconds. Grandpa proceeded to pace with a concerning fervor that I had to slip off and catch the back of his shirt.

     "What's wrong? Why were you yelling at dad?" I asked, my voice still weak.
     "That's..." he hesitated greatly. Grandpa eventually settled with kneeling to embrace me tightly. "How are you feeling, little bean? Are you alright? You had to have been scared."
     "I was. I still am a little. I don't understand what happened."
     "You'll be fine. You will. I promise I won't let it happen again."

What should I say to that? It didn't feel like grandpa and I were talking about the same thing at all. Then his eyes misted over.

     "Grandpa?" I questioned once more.
     "Sorry," he smiled weakly, holding me tighter. "Hey, Nutmeg? You know I love you, right? More than anything else?"
     "Y-Yeah?" I responded uncertainly. What about dad though? Shouldn't a dad favor his child slightly more than his grandchild?
     "I do," grandpa continued as if reading my mind. "I love you so, so much. There's...a lot of regrets I hold. I thought I would forever be burdened by them, so I resigned myself to not trying. But you were born. Having your love, it was if a light was shined on me from above. I wanted to be better. I wanted to try. I thought, I thought maybe I could find some redemption."
     "Grandpa, I don't understand..."
     "It's okay. You don't have to," he pulled back and smiled wider, wiping away the few tears that trickled out with his thumbs. "Just know you're going to be a lot happier soon. Her wish that she pleaded me for will come true. When you find out what I mean, well, the most I can ask of you is to remember this moment. I love you, and that's never been a lie."

If I had been lost for words before, at that point I forgot what language was. A crucial piece of information wasn't being shared, but I understood there was no chance of getting an answer if I prodded for more. I just let grandpa hug me until he felt satisfied. I ended up spending the rest of the day with him too. He remained furious with dad over whatever had gone wrong, so the two of us ate dinner separately and had fun in my room until bed. Dad didn't protest in the slightest. The few times I saw him he simply shrugged his shoulders as if grandpa overreacted.

Dad insisted I return to the office the next morning despite my worry of the strange breathlessness fresh on my mind. Until we walked through the front doors to greet DV1, I actually forgot Mr. Mint wouldn't be there. My heart twinged, and I reluctantly shuffled into the group's office to see DV2 standing there awaiting me.

     "Good morning, Nutmeg," it welcomed.
     "Good morning, DV2," I replied with cheeks slightly puffed in a pout. My lips then forced out the words dad demanded I say, which were pointless from my view as the robots obviously couldn't feel. "I'm sorry I changed your code to make you act how you shouldn't. That was wrong."
     "Your confession of guilt is accepted. Shall we begin lessons?"
     "Any chance we can have class outside?" I tried.
     "That is not possible. The outside environment provides inefficient tools for learning, and due to there being a chance of rain I must remain inside. My body is not entirely waterproof."
     "Oh."

If I had known that, I would have 'accidentally' spilled a drink on it instead of manipulating the code.

Trailing my gaze up and down DV2, I realized for the first time how creepy it was. I liked the design I gave DV1 way better. It was more boxy. The bendy tubing connecting DV2's top and bottom halves reminded me of a spine, and when I imagined a person standing in its place with only their spine there twisting and turning it made my stomach lurch.

     "What are we starting with?" I asked. Best to get working so I had a distraction. Even Literature would be fine.
     "I was told you like math. We will be starting with fractions as well as learning how to add and subtract them."
     "Umm...did the supervisors take a look at what Mr. Mint was teaching me when they made your curriculum?"
     "They did."
     "Then they should know Mr. Mint already taught me that stuff...at the beginning of last year. I'm far past basic fractions. For Literature, I'm even reading at a high school level."
     "My function is to teach the information directed to me by the superiors. They said that, due to your immaturity, you should be taught topics immature for you."
     "Wha─? Did they tell you to say that?"
     "No. I heard them say that as I was standing in the room they were in."
     "They were badmouthing me then. DV2, when people talk badly about another person when that person isn't around, the first group doesn't mean for the subject to find out about the conversation."
     "So I should not tell you how they also said you were spoiled and entitled?" DV2 cocked its head to the side.
     "No..." I said dryly. "No, you shouldn't."

DV2 beeped and whirred and accepted my correction. Math class began where it diligently taught me stuff I already knew. At the very least, going backwards meant I didn't have to do any actual work. I'd have to study seriously on my own though to maintain the level I was at. Complaining to dad later that afternoon got me his guess that this was a bit more punishment from the bosses. They'd adjust DV2's curriculum sooner rather than later to what I should be at. I figured as much as well. Mr. Mint had taken a look at the original curriculum after all, so if it'd been so simple when he saw it surely he would have mentioned it that day.

But, in any case, I kept my complaints to myself after that. I listened to dad, listened to DV2, and even forced myself to listen to Ms. Cranberry. I kept my nose down and caused no problems. Nothing would clearly change by my actions, which meant accepting reality and going along for the ride was my best choice. Dad did do better in checking in on how I was feeling though despite still not giving me any hints he would come clean about his relationship with Ms. Cranberry. They continued at it given the number of times dad shooed me away from the house when grandpa was also out. However, I never dared risk sneaking up on the house again.

It was a Friday morning some weeks later. Summer was in full swing of its final stages, and I enjoyed my first week of vacation. Tektite and I ran ourselves ragged each day playing at the river and running in the woods. She slept upstairs at the moment while I tended to the plants in the downstairs living area.

     "Hmm, dad must have put the wrong level of sun bulb in," I mumbled to myself, glancing up to the special lights above. "The leaves keep getting damaged by over-exposure."

I gently tugged off the ones too burnt to keep only to have a loud slamming sound from upstairs flutter them from my palms.

I'd kept the security door open so I could hear if dad called. It was him who nearly barreled into me when I went to open the bookcase to see what had happened. Dad didn't make an apology but spun around to lock the bookcase with its emergency protocols once another man dashed through. He was Mr. Flaxen, one of the people who came from time to time to work with dad in the surveillance room.

     "This is great!" dad exclaimed angrily and sarcastically.
     "You'd better have a solution to this, Mountain. I'm not part of Spreading Roots. If I get taken down and my employer gets exposed..." Mr. Flaxen stared at dad with an icy chill.
     I made note of that information but said nothing on it. I'd had no idea Mr. Flaxen didn't work with The Company. Instead, I reached for dad's arm. "Daddy, what's going on? What's wrong?"

I went ignored. My chest then sank hollow as the unmistakable sound of the security door opening as dad had closed it behind them turned him and me stiff. He rushed to turn on a viewing screen of the room on the other side of the bookshelf. It was stuffed full of men dressed in dark blue S.W.A.T. uniforms.

My eyes went wide as my muscles tensed rigid.

     "They're hacking through the security quickly," Mr. Flaxen noted with bitter, anxious dread.
     "They're not hacking their way through. They could never do it so fast. They know the override codes," dad revealed.

He flew to an open stretch of wall to turn those wide eyes of mine into dinner plates. Dad slammed his forearm against the wood where a panel cracked open where there'd been smooth paint. A few buttons pressed 'whooshed' the wall away to reveal a long corridor of stone being lit by flickering lights turning on one at a time. How long had that been there?!

     "They hacked the codes?" Mr. Flaxen hurriedly moved to the escape route.
     "No. They're not written down anywhere. They only exist in the brains of two people. Me, who obviously didn't give them out, and dad."
     "Grandpa gave us up?" I asked, aghast and shocked quiet.

Dad once again said nothing to me. He wrenched my arm to toss me into the hallway following Mr. Flaxen.

     "You two start heading down first. There's a car at the end. I need to enter in─"

That plan never came to the fruition. A 'clunk' signified the bookshelf was about to open. Dad pushed me in more, hit a button on the panel, and stepped away as the wall began rapidly closing. The last glimpse I got was dad crying out in pain. A loud blast of gunshot echoed out and grazed the soft muscle of his calf.

     "Dad!" I cried.

The ensuing chaos from the other side of heavy footsteps running in drowned out my shout. Mr. Flaxen, who assumed I'd follow in running behind him, madly dashed back to pin me and cover my mouth.

     "Shh! Shh!" he whispered dangerously. "Shut up!"

My covered mouth wasn't enough to keep me from calling out for dad. I wanted to stay with him! If this situation would separate us, it was better for us to be close until the end. Maybe I could have helped me too. Those people wouldn't shoot him if there was a child around, would they? Unfortunately, Mr. Flaxen struggled against my struggle to return to where we'd entered before hooking his arm around my neck. While it wasn't done hard enough to force me under, it definitely worked wonders in silencing me.

And I quieted right as we heard the sound of several punches and a body being slammed into the floor.

     "WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER!?"

The unknown man cried with a booming fury. Its intensity flinched my shoulders while tears wet my cheeks at the sound of the body, having to be dad, being slammed into the floor again.

     "Nice to see you again too, Mr. Vivid," dad spoke calmly, coughing.
     "WHERE IS DIA?!"

My insides shriveled. A Mr. Vivid asking about his daughter? His daughter, Dia? My mom? Then he was...

     "I'm afraid," dad coughed more, "I can't reunite you in the way you wish."

It was then I lost most sensation in my body. I couldn't feel, my vision went blurry, and I'm sure I stopped breathing. All I could do was hear. Hear as dad's voice changed. It remained so much the same of the composed and gentle way he spoke, but something cold and cruel warped it. A taunt blackened the already horrible words.

     "You'll find Dianthus upstairs, beneath her namesake flowers. She made an excellent fertilizer. Do tell me how her bones held up. We embalmed her with something unique that should have slowed down their decomposition."

A fist hit skin some more. My whole body quivered furiously. What had I just heard? That was a lie, right? Dad was making something up to distract the intruders away from our position. It had to be that.

A different struggle ensued. Someone was holding the first man back.

     "Coal, you need to calm down. Don't let him rile you up," this new voice said.
     "LIAR!" the first shouted. His voice was breaking up as if he was about to cry.
     "Did you really think you could come here ten years too late and find her alive?" dad asked incredulously. "Dianthus was dead by that very first spring. She was that stubbornly uncontrollable. It wasn't even worth it to keep her around for the fucking."
     "She─ she would never! Not with you!"
     "Of course she didn't want to, but what choice did she have?" dad laughed.

The second man must have had to put all his effort into keeping the first from pummeling dad into a puddle of pudding, for the first man ranted and shouted spewing all manner of obscenities and threats while telling the second to let him go. My mind coursed in two directions at once. A good father would react like that hearing of his daughter being hurt as such. Then there was the other path. This man wasn't a good father though. He'd treated mom terribly. Dad was still just lying to distract him and the others from this secret tunnel.

But...why did it sound as if the man's world was truly coming down?

     "The room is clear," a third voice of the many footsteps still hurriedly wandering around somehow came through over the shouting.
     "Clear? It can't be clear." My heart skipped even more than it was already doing. That was grandpa, worried beyond belief. Just coming down the stairs if I judged his position right. "Flaxen was with Timber, and Nutmeg was here downstairs. They have to be around somewhere."
     "Would you move already?!" Mr. Flaxen whispered angrily into my ear.

I couldn't move on my own, but my legs loosing their strength and his arm still around my neck halted my protests. Mr. Flaxen noticed this, reluctantly grabbed me up, and scrambled us down the hallway as grandpa's voice grew more panicked.

     "Little bean, where are you?!" he called with all his might. "Nutmeg! Nutmeg!?"

A sharp right turn bent the hallway at the end. Mr. Flaxen sped onwards down this path and more turns as all the commotion in the basement eventually became silent.