Is That Mom

Part 1 of Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Confronting the Past

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Part 1:

The New Location

Ethan’s arrival at the next marked location on the map was anything but ordinary. He had spent hours trekking through the dense, decaying forest, his boots crunching over the fallen leaves and rotting wood. The trees around him, once majestic, now seemed lifeless, their twisted branches reaching toward the overcast sky like skeletal hands. A heavy mist clung to the forest floor, adding to the eerie atmosphere. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind through the dead foliage. It felt like the forest itself was watching, waiting for something to happen.

And then he saw it. Rising from the mist like a forgotten fortress was the research outpost—his next destination. The structure was partially hidden by the overgrowth, vines snaking up the high fences that surrounded it, but the building’s silhouette was unmistakable. It was built to last, designed to withstand whatever forces might have come for it in the past. Despite being abandoned for years, the security measures were still largely intact. Tall fences, topped with rusting barbed wire, loomed overhead, and the occasional glint of glass from an old security camera caught Ethan’s eye. The cameras were most likely nonfunctional, but their mere presence reminded him that this place had once been important—perhaps even crucial.

The sense of foreboding was palpable, and it settled deep in Ethan’s gut as he approached the fence. His hand, damp with sweat, gripped the edge of his map. The closer he got to the outpost, the more its presence unnerved him. It was an imposing structure, not just because of its size or the forgotten technology that still surrounded it, but because of what it represented. His mother had worked here. She had left her mark on this place, and it had been left abandoned for a reason. Whatever secrets were buried here, they were never meant to be uncovered.

Ethan stood just beyond the reach of the fence, staring up at the looming building. His heart raced, and for a moment, he found himself hesitating. Anxiety wrapped itself around his chest like a vice. This felt like a turning point. Every instinct told him that whatever lay inside that building was far beyond his control. Up until now, he had been following clues, searching for answers in old journals, maps, and the scattered remnants of his mother’s life. But this? This was something else entirely. This was the heart of the mystery, the epicenter of whatever it was his mother had been involved in. And that terrified him.

His breath came in short bursts as he weighed his options. He could turn back. No one would blame him. He could go home, pretend he had never found this place, and let the secrets of the past remain buried. After all, wasn’t that what his mother had wanted? To keep him safe, to shield him from the horrors of her work? But then, the familiar anger bubbled up inside him. His mother had lied to him, had hidden the truth about who she was and what she had done. The journal she left behind—the one that had led him here—was a breadcrumb trail, as if she wanted him to find this place but didn’t have the strength to tell him the full story.

Ethan clenched his fists, trying to steady his nerves. He had come too far to turn back now. Whatever was waiting for him inside the outpost, he needed to know. He needed to understand why his mother had kept this place a secret, why she had been involved in research that seemed so dangerous, and what role she had played in all of it.

Steeling himself, Ethan moved closer to the fence. He studied it carefully, noting the weak spots where time had worn away at the metal. The fence itself was old but still strong, its rusted bars a testament to the years it had stood guard over the facility. He glanced down at the map in his hand. According to the notes scrawled in the margins, there was an entrance around the back—an old maintenance gate that had likely been forgotten by whoever had built the outpost. His mother’s handwriting was clear, precise, and even now, it gave him a strange sense of comfort. She had been here, she had walked this path, and she had left this clue for him.

With a deep breath, Ethan started his way around the perimeter of the fence, careful to stay out of sight of the cameras. Even though they were likely inactive, the feeling of being watched never left him. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of the forest and the outpost itself were pressing down on him. His mind raced with thoughts of what he might find inside. More files? More secrets? The idea of discovering more about his mother was both thrilling and terrifying. She had always been a mystery to him, an enigma wrapped in scientific brilliance. But now, that brilliance had a dark edge, one that he wasn’t sure he was ready to face.

Finally, he reached the maintenance gate. It was covered in rust, the metal groaning softly as he pushed against it. For a moment, it refused to move, as if the outpost itself didn’t want him to enter. But with a grunt of effort, Ethan managed to force it open just enough for him to slip through. The gate creaked shut behind him, sealing him inside the perimeter of the outpost.

Standing on the other side of the fence, Ethan felt a wave of unease wash over him. The air inside the fence was different—heavier, almost suffocating. He could see the outline of the building more clearly now, its windows dark and empty. The ground beneath his feet was littered with debris, old equipment scattered and broken, like the remnants of a forgotten time.

As he moved closer to the main entrance, Ethan’s hand instinctively went to the small pack on his back, checking to make sure he had everything he needed. The tools, the map, the journal—they were all there. But would they be enough? The fear that had been gnawing at him since he first saw the outpost was growing stronger, more insistent. He had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t just walking into a forgotten research station; he was walking into something far more dangerous, something that had been waiting for him.

The question was: was he ready for it?