Chapter 2 The Address
The road was nearly empty.
Streetlights swept across the windshield in slow intervals, flashing over Eric’s face before slipping away behind him. The radio murmured low, some late-night host talking about traffic that didn’t exist.
Short. Short. Long.
Short. Long. Long.
Pause.
His grip tightened on the steering wheel.
He let out a breath through his nose. It was nothing. Just noise. Just a dying creature’s reflex.
But the rhythm came again, tapping against his skull like someone knocking from the inside.
Short. Short. Long.
Eric swore under his breath and signaled off the road. The car rolled into an empty parking lot beside a closed convenience store. The engine idled. Headlights washed over a brick wall.
He grabbed an old receipt and a pen from the console.
K
7
E
2
L
M
A
P
5
S
T
R
He stared at it.
“Okay… think.”
His eyes moved over the letters again. Not as code. As pieces, trying to form a reasonable word.
M. A. P—
His head lifted slightly.
M.A.P.L.E
He circled the letters fast. M A P L E.
The numbers fell into place instantly; 7-2-5.
Seven twenty-five.
S T R—street.
His pulse kicked.
He snatched up his phone, fingers moving quicker now. Search. Maple Street. Riverside.
725 Maple St.
Fifteen minutes away.
Eric looked at the address glowing on the screen, then at the crumpled paper in his hand.
The rhythm echoed again in his head.
Short. Short. Long.
He shifted the car into drive.
The house at 725 Maple Street was modest; pale blue siding, white trim, and a small garden. A child's bike lay on the front lawn. Eric sat in his car for five minutes, trying to figure out what to say.
Finally, he got out and walked to the door, a smile stretched across his face.
The woman who answered was thirty years old, brown hair pulled into a messy ponytail, dark circles under her eyes. Two young children clung to her legs, a girl around five and a boy barely old enough to walk.
"Hi," Eric said warmly. "Um, sorry to bother you. I just…I'm new to this area, but a friend gave me this address to come visit whenever I moved back town. I don't know if I, um, have the right address.”
The woman’s hand went to the door frame, wary. “Daniel..?”
Eric's face brightened, feigning recognition. "Yeah, Daniel. We went to high school together.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It's been a while, you know.”
The woman's eyes narrowed slightly. “You went to school together?"
"That's right. High school." Eric chuckled nervously. "Man, it's been years. I was in town for work and thought I'd surprise him. Is he… by any chance around?
She studied him for a long moment, her expression guarded. Then, almost reluctantly, she sighed. "I’m Sarah. Sarah Marcus. You want to… come in?"
Eric nodded quickly, grateful, but careful not to oversell it. "Thanks. I promise I won’t intrude. Just… wanted to see if he was okay.”
Sarah led him into a small living room. Family photos lined the walls and mantle.
"So you and Daniel were friends? I don't remember seeing you in the year book picture." She gestured for him to take a seat, settling onto the couch opposite him, with her daughter in her lap.
"Yeah, called in sick at the time.” The lie just seemed to roll of so easily now that he was invited in. “I can't say I wasn't surprised when I heard he'd settled down."
Sarah chuckled. “If I may ask, why?”
Eric shrugged casually. “Daniel was always the wild one. Never serious about anything. Who would've thought he'd end up with such a lovely family?"
She smiled sadly. "He changed a lot after high school. Found his purpose."
Eric's gaze drifted to a photo on the mantle, Daniel Marcus in a military uniform.
"Wow," Eric said, standing to get a closer look. "So he actually went ahead and joined the military. That's amazing."
"He joined right after graduation," Sarah said softly. "Said he wanted to serve his country."
Eric picked up the photo, studying the face. Handsome, young, vibrant. His chest prickled. "He looks good in the uniform. What branch?"
"Army Rangers. He was so proud." Sarah's voice cracked. "Is. He is proud."
Eric noted her present tense.
"Is he deployed now?" he asked, keeping his tone light, as if curious rather than prying.
Sarah’s composure broke. She looked down at her daughter, stroking the girl’s hair. "He’s been missing for four months. Sent on a classified assignment. Then I got a visit from two officers. They said he was gone. There’d been an accident during a training operation. His body… was never found."
Eric’s fingers tightened around the photo. "I’m so sorry."
"They wouldn’t tell me anything else. Just that it’s classified. That I should move on." Sarah wiped her eyes. "Move on… with nothing."
The little girl looked up. "Is Daddy coming home?"
Sarah’s face crumbled as she pulled her daughter close. "I don’t know, baby."
Eric hesitated, then asked lightly, “Did he ever… I don’t know, leave you any little messages? Something only you two would understand?”
Sarah blinked, a small, sad smile forming. "He always found ways. Morse code, actually. We’d tap out notes to each other on little scraps of paper, just for fun. Secret messages." Her voice cracked a little. "Made it our own little language. But no, not this time.”
Eric set the photo down. Daniel Marcus. Army Ranger. Missing for four months. The timeline matched. The Morse code. The desperate clicks—a man trying to send one last message home.
"I should go," Eric said. "I didn’t mean to intrude.”
"No, please." Sarah stood. "It's nice to have his friends come by once in a while. It shows he hasn't been forgotten." She scribbled on a notepad. "If you hear anything, if anyone has any information… anything at all.." She laughed bitterly, a hollow sound that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Eric took the paper with her number. "If I hear anything, I'll let you know."
"Thank you.” She held the door open for him. “Thank you for stopping by. It means a lot."
He nodded and walked back to his car, his chest tight, his mind a bigger mess. He had killed someone today and lied to the wife who trusted him. Was this what he’d signed up for?
That visit haunted him through the night, leaving him sleepless. He’d arranged a breakfast date with Tessa at their usual spot, but now he couldn’t touch his food, picking at his sandwich without really eating for the past ten minutes.
"You're doing it again.”
Eric looked up. "What?"
"Zoning out. Distracted." She studied him. "Are you still thinking about the mission?"
"I figured out what the code meant," Eric said quietly. "The scrambled letters and numbers."
Tessa leaned forward. "What?"
"It was an address. 725 Maple Street." Eric set down his fork. "I went there."
"Eric..."
"A woman answered. Sarah Marcus. Two kids." His voice threatened to break. "Her husband's name is Daniel Marcus. He's been missing for four months. Army Ranger. Disappeared during a classified operation."
Tessa's face paled. "The mutant..."
"It knew Morse code. Daniel knew Morse code. Sarah said they used to send each other secret messages with it." Eric met her eyes. "That thing in the alley was trying to send his family one last message. And I killed him before he could finish."
"Oh God," Tessa breathed.
"She invited me in. And showed me the family photos." Eric's hands clenched. "She's still waiting for him to come home. And I...."
"You didn't know," Tessa said firmly.
"That doesn't change what I did." Eric ran his hand through his hair. "If that mutant was human once, if it was Daniel Marcus... then what about all the others? Every mission we've run?"
Tessa sat back. "You think they're all human? That something's turning people into those things?"
"I don't know. But I need to find out." Eric leaned forward. "I need to know if we've been executing victims instead of monsters."
Tessa was quiet for a long moment.
"What are you going to do?" she asked finally.
"I don't know yet.” He tried to keep his voice measured, though the tightness inside him was growing. “But I can't pretend I didn't see what I saw, Tessa. That woman deserves to know what happened to her husband. Those kids deserve to know their father didn't just abandon them."
"Eric," Tessa said quietly. "If that's true, if the mutants aren't animals..."
"Then we're not soldiers," Eric completed. "We're executioners.”
