Page 33 of Lost Echoes

Luke types for us:

What do you want from us?

Then Phoenix:

Not want. Offer. Evidence. Files, testimonies, blueprints. Years of collecting. Too much for one person to carry. I’ll share if you’ll work with me. We coordinate. Watch each other’s backs. Because right now, every one of us is a target. And they’re already hunting.

The cursor blinks.

Luke looks at me, brows furrowed. “If this is real, it’s bigger than anything we imagined.”

I don’t take my eyes off the screen. “If it’s real, we just stepped into their crosshairs.”

Phoenix’s next message appears:

Decide fast. You have little time.

Luke hesitates at the keyboard, glancing at me. “If we say the wrong thing…”

“They’ll shut us out,” I finish for him. “Or worse.”

The cursor blinks once, twice, before another message from Phoenix arrives:

Before we go further, I need to know you’re not plants. I’ve seen too many sleeper agents. They don’t even know what they are until someone says the right word. Then they activate. Prove you’re not one of them.

Luke types:

What do you need?

Phoenix again:

Tell me something you couldn’t fake. Not dates, not names. Sensations, images, things that only someone who’s been there—or been close to it—would know.

My palms sweat. I think of Kenzi, of her cracked memories, of the things we found in the theater. Luke rests a steadying hand over mine, nodding. Echoes, not truths.

I type:

The lights burned too brightly. The curtain smelled of mold. They made us smile even when our teeth ached. The bear’s eye never stayed in.

Another pause.

Then Phoenix replies:

That’s good enough. You’re either real, or you’ve spoken to someone who is. Both mean you’re valuable.

My heart skips. He believes us.

Phoenix continues:

I’ll give you one file to start. A fragment of what I’ve kept hidden. It’s a copy of part of Radley’s original script. Coded instructions for “performances.” Conditioning cycles. They tried to destroy it after the trial, but they missed this piece. Read it. Then tell me if you still want in.

A file icon appears. Luke hovers over it, eyes widening.

“Encrypted zip,” he mutters. “If it’s legit, this is gold. If it’s a trap…”

I swallow. My reflection shivers in the black glass of the laptop, caught between fear and determination. I see myself as both a child and barely an adult at the same time. “Open it. We have no other choice.”

Luke clicks. The file begins to download.