"Veil of the Forsaken" is a captivating story centered around an agency known as the Infected Defense Division (I.D.D.). Set against a backdrop of an apocalyptic world, the narrative explores the complexities of life within the agency's facilities a...
The soft, steady hum of the base's fluorescent lights filled the quiet room, casting a pale glow over the scene. Papers were strewn across the small cot, a chaotic sprawl of meticulously written notes, intricate diagrams, and color-coded charts. The pages bore the telltale marks of relentless study—edges creased from being flipped through repeatedly, some corners smudged with faint stains from late-night snacks or tea. In the middle of this mess lay Lady, her petite frame curled up amidst the clutter, fast asleep. Her cherry-red hair fanned out like a vivid halo, streaked with faint golden highlights that glimmered faintly under the light. A thick medical textbook rested partially beneath her, propping her up awkwardly. Despite the uncomfortable position, her face was serene, her breathing soft and even.
A pencil dangled loosely from her fingers, threatening to slip to the floor with the slightest movement. She had clearly fallen asleep mid-thought, mid-sentence, mid-strategy—a testament to her tireless drive.
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In the doorway, Matthew paused, his broad shoulders filling the frame. His usually stern expression faltered as his gaze fell upon her. For a man who had faced countless battles and navigated impossible choices, this simple sight—a child, his child, working herself to exhaustion—struck him deeply. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the frame with a quiet sigh.
"Still a kid, isn't she?"
The voice came from behind him, low but laced with admiration. Art stepped up beside Matthew, his sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on the scattered pages. The older man was the head of C.T.R.L., a figure of authority who rarely allowed himself moments of softness. Yet here, his tone carried an unusual gentleness. "These charts," he murmured, picking up a nearby sheet, "are advanced. Anatomy, emergency response protocols, pharmacology... Looks like she's preparing for the medics' exam."
Matthew didn't reply immediately. His gaze was fixed on Lady, watching the way her chest rose and fell in the rhythm of sleep. There was something grounding about seeing her like this, even amidst the chaos she'd created on her small bed. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost gruff. "She works too hard."
Art raised an eyebrow and chuckled softly. "She works hard because she wants to, Matthew. Not because anyone's making her." He held up another sheet, covered in neatly drawn diagrams of human organs and annotated with concise notes. "Look at this. These aren't just good—they're remarkable. She's got talent. Real talent. You should be proud."
Matthew stepped into the room, his boots barely making a sound against the worn floor. He reached for a precariously balanced mug of tea on the bedside table, the liquid inside long gone cold. With deliberate care, he moved it to the desk, away from the edge where it might spill. "Proud," he echoed, the word heavy on his tongue. He bent down, gathering the loose sheets of paper into a neat stack. "I didn't want her to be talented at this. Not yet. She's thirteen, Art. She should be out there playing games, getting into trouble, doing normal kid stuff—not buried in medical texts."
Art's expression softened, though his tone remained steady. "She's doing this because she wants to help, Matthew. Because she knows what's at stake. You gave her that sense of purpose. You gave her a chance to grow into someone who can make a difference."
Matthew shook his head as he carefully sorted the papers, his rough hands moving with a gentleness that belied his frustration. "I didn't give her anything. All I wanted was for her to be safe. To have a childhood. To have a chance to be a kid before the world took that away from her, like it does with everyone else."
Art leaned against the desk, watching Matthew with a mixture of understanding and quiet amusement. "You don't see it, do you?" he asked after a moment. "You've done more for her than you realize. She's not just brilliant—she's determined. And that's because of you."
Matthew didn't respond immediately. He knelt by the bed, carefully sliding the pencil out of Lady's fingers. She stirred slightly, her lips parting in a soft sigh before settling once more. He tucked the pencil into the pocket of her open notebook and reached for the blanket folded at the foot of the bed. With the same care he'd shown her as an infant, he draped the blanket over her small frame, tucking the edges around her shoulders.
"She's still a kid," he said softly, almost to himself. His hand lingered for a moment, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. "And she's my kid, Art. I don't care how smart she is or how much potential she has. She shouldn't have to work herself into the ground just to prove she belongs here."
Art crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as he studied Matthew. "She's got your stubbornness," he remarked with a faint smile. "That drive to keep going, no matter what. You should see that as a compliment."
Matthew let out a quiet, humorless laugh as he rose to his feet. "It's not a compliment. It's a warning. I know what that kind of stubbornness can cost, and I'm not going to let her pay the price for it."
Art pushed off the desk, his expression softening. "She's got Sam in her too, you know. That heart, that resilience. It's who she is. And whether you like it or not, she's going to do great things. Because she wants to. Because she can."
Matthew lingered by the bed for a moment longer, his gaze fixed on Lady's peaceful face. Then, with a final sigh, he turned and followed Art out of the room. Before leaving, he reached for the light switch, dimming the fluorescent glow to let her sleep undisturbed.
As the two men walked down the dimly lit hallway, their boots echoing softly against the floor, Art glanced sideways at Matthew. "You're going to be proud of her one day, you know. Not just for what she does, but for who she becomes."
Matthew didn't respond right away, his thoughts heavy with unspoken worries and hopes. But after a moment, the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips. "I already am."
Their footsteps faded into the distance, leaving the base quiet once more. In her room, Lady stirred slightly in her sleep, a small, contented smile playing on her lips as the blanket wrapped her in warmth and comfort.
