Prologue

1990

Silas

​

I brushed my hand through my brown hair, the hair that my father always said looked exactly like my mothers. He used to cry over it as he would brush my hair when I was a child. It used to confuse and upset me, seeing my father so distraught. My mother went missing after I was born, he always told me. He dedicated his life to looking for her, to no avail. When I was 6 years old, he had lost all hope and ended up re-marrying. My stepmother was nice, yet I always wished my mother would someday return and take her place in raising me. I had a box of photos of my mother that my father had given me, which I looked at every day, always keeping them close by.

"Silas" My friend Carl interrupted my thoughts as he called out to me. He jogged over to join me as I wandered down the path to my next class. 

I smiled in his direction "Hey man," I replied, giving him a friendly nudge on the shoulder."You are the only person I know that wears a backpack to college." He laughed

"I have a lot to carry," I replied, securing it on my shoulder as the strap began to slip.

"What did you get up to last night?" He inquired

"Not much, just homework, you know?"

"Wow. You are the only person I know that actually does the homework the teachers give us." He shook his head in disapproval. "I can't believe I'm friends with such a nerd." He laughed

I was always a good student, a good son, a good person in general. I guess I took after my father in that way. He was chairman of the board at his company, and as well as that, he was a kind-hearted man, a good father and husband. Always fair in every aspect of his life. I shrugged at my friend and took a seat as we had approached our class- criminology. I had always had an interest since my mother had gone missing.

The teacher started up the screen, "Good morning class." She said as she attempted to work out the technology in front of her. "Today, we are looking at a very interesting case... Do you all remember how we looked at the case of 'Santa'?. A little recap for those of you that have forgotten... he was an ex nazi leader turned scientist, who used to experiment on children and then adopt them out into society for families to raise. These children were no ordinary children... they were altered to be weapons of war. To kill."

I looked at Carl, raising my eyebrows, "remember this one?" it was so nasty, the things that guy used to do to people."

"I remember! That guy was sick." He whispered as the teacher went on.

"Well, a strange turn of events has happened. He was still alive until about 19 years ago, so when most of you were being born, when some of his "children"," she held up her hands making quotation marks in the air, "came back for revenge." She continued. "They killed him brutally, using the tools he gave them and took over his castle... It was pretty radical." She grinned, excited over the story.

"Agh, here we go." She pulled up a news clipping, adjusting it on the screen. The title read, "19 years after Nazi scientist is brutally murdered, his 'children' live happily in his mansion.' A picture is displayed under it. The image shows three red-headed males and two women. One with blonde hair and the other with brown. The brown-headed woman held a baby on her lap, grinning widely. Something didn’t seem right about this image, as I inspect it closer. The woman with brown hair... It is my mother...

The teacher talks in the background but all I hear is ringing in my ears, my stomach begins to ache, followed by my head. I try to stand up but my vision begins to go blurry. I try to walk but I fall. I hear Carl call out my name as I try to focus on grabbing the railing by my seat, a bustle of the class begins as people fuss over me, but all that continues to circle around in my head is that... that is my mother...

 

Chapter 1

Silas

 

I pulled up the folder I had made on my computer. It held all the leads I had found on my mother’s disappearance; which wasn’t many. If there was anything that my mother was defined by, it was her ability to stay hidden. That was until the article was leaked on her and her new family… My family. 

 

Riffling through my collection, I flick through the multitudes of documents I had collated. I had papers, scrapbooks and index cards. Many leads on my mother had appeared, yet none came to fruition. How had I missed the blatantly obvious article that was shown in my criminology class? Never had I imagined that the case of my missing mother could take such a sinister turn. Was she evil? Had my father painted her as a saint, when in fact she was the opposite? Did evil run in the gene pool or had she somehow picked it up along the way? Perhaps the trauma of leaving her new baby and her family behind had messed with her head. The thoughts kept running through my mind as I clicked through article after article on this ‘Santa’ that had so-called created my mother - We had known he was adopted, but that was the extent of it. My father had always said she hadn’t wanted to talk about it further - The tales of his victims getting more gruesome by the page… Unfortunately, there was not anything else to be found on my mother’s disappearance, besides that one article. It appeared she had done a good job of keeping herself hidden, or atleast hiding any trace of her journey.

 

Though, being a criminology and forensics major, I had my connections when it came to forensics; for example, my lecturer. I had sent the article, as well as some possessions of my mothers that my father had saved for me in a keepsake box - one of her shirts, which upon inspection, I noticed, had a few strands of hair on it. Hair that did not resemble my own or my fathers… it had to be my mothers. Beyond excited at the possibility, I carefully removed the hair and placed it into a zip-lock bag. It was a long shot, but worth a try. 

 

I pulled up my university website, looking for my teacher’s contact. I found an email and a phone number listed under his name. I checked the time. Eight pm. Most people would still be up - I dialled the number and listened as the phone rang three times before connecting.

 

“Hi, this is Silas Walker... I’m in your forensics class,” I uttered into the phone, suddenly nervous about the information I was going to request. What if I found my mother? What would I do then? 

“Hey mate, How are you feeling? What can I help you with?” He replied in an Australian accent, which echoed through the poor line.

“Uh, A bit better, thanks. I was hoping you could give me the number of the guest lecturer we had last class? You know, the forensics guy? I was hoping to, uh, track down my mother.” I almost pleaded.

He paused. “I can’t just give out people’s numbers. You know, privacy and all that?” He sounded as though he were contemplating the idea of handing over the number, regardless.”

“And I respect that, I do. But I have some evidence that I really think could lead to finding my mother.” I bit my lip, hoping to appeal to his inner investigator and convince him. If I could help them get more on the story, it could be beneficial for both parties.

“Let me ask him if he’s okay with that. I will call you back in the morning, okay?” he hung up the phone.

 

That was good enough for me. I finished compiling all the evidence, picking up each piece so carefully as to not miss any. The sound of my phone made me jump, dropping a strand of hair. “Hello?” I put the phone between my shoulder and ear, shrugging to keep it in place.

 

“Hey, Silas.” Sloane, my girlfriend of two months, answered. “Just wondering when you’re getting to Mike’s?” I have ordered some fries for us both. 

Shit. I had been so distracted with the life-altering information that had been thrust upon me; I had forgotten I was meeting her at our local cafe for a date. She probably hadn’t even heard what had gone down in class - she had been away today for personal reasons that she was going to fill me in on, tonight. 

 

“I’m so sorry, I forgot…” I said into the phone absentmindedly as I continued to scroll through the pages on my computer. I was so excited to have a computer at all, seeing as mostly, only businesses owned them. I had saved up and bought it at a pawn shop not too long ago.

“Okay… so are you coming?” She said slowly. She sounded disappointed. I closed the browser on my computer. I was lucky to have gotten a girlfriend in the first place, I should make an effort to keep her. 

“Yes, I’m on my way. I’m sorry.” I stood, pulling my jacket off the back of my computer chair and shrugging it on. Carl had strongly encouraged our relationship and scolded me every time I didn’t put in enough effort to sustain it. “Silas, please try to make this work. You could never get a girl like this on your own.” I could hear him saying, accompanied by a firm pat on the back. 

 

I skipped down the stairs of the modernised Seventies home in which I resided with my father and stepmother. My father had purchased it with my mother, just before she went missing. “I will see you soon,” I spoke into the phone before snapping it shut. I wasn’t one for ‘new’ technology, so stuck with my dad’s old Nokia flip phone.

 

My dad and stepmom, Karen, sat at our dining room table. “Will you be joining us, son?” My father sounded glad to see me. 

 

“No, sorry dad. I’m going to meet Sloane. It’s important.” I felt bad. We used to spend every night together, eating at the table, conversing, but lately, I had been so focused on my studies, and with Carl on my back about Sloane, I didn’t want to disappoint him, which meant, lots of dates. Don’t get me wrong. Sloane was lovely and way too good for me… I could see that and so could everyone else. I saw the way other guys looked at her as we walked together through college and the small town in which we lived, but I just couldn’t get myself to feel that much for her, you know, romantically. “I will have dinner with you tomorrow night, I promise.” I gave them both a convincing smile, but they didn’t seem to believe it.

“Okay.” My dad replied. Karen placed her hand over his on the tabletop and gave him a smile of sympathy. 

 

Stepping outside, I walked along our brick driveway and unlocked the door of my nineteen-seventy seven Holden Kingswood - a gift my father had given me from his teen years, when I got my licence, one year ago. Usually the hot Texan weather hung in the air, just like the judgemental people. But today was eerily cool.

I pulled up to the diner only ten minutes later, to a pissed off Sloane. “Finally.” she agonised, pounding her hand on the table and getting up to greet me with a kiss on the cheek and a small hug. Our interactions were always pretty tame. Never a kiss on the lips or anything more. 

“Sorry.” I slid into the booth opposite to where she was standing. She did the same. “So, what happened with your dad?” I asked, though I wasn’t that interested. I couldn’t get my own father off my mind. What would he say when I told him I was going to find my mother? The woman that had left him for dead. Literally. I had to pick up the pieces my entire life, until my stepmother came into the picture. 

“Well…” she sighed, “My father wants to meet me.”

“That's great!” I expressed enthusiastically, pretending to be interested. The truth was, all I could think about was my mother. 

“No it’s not. Haven't you been listening to anything I've been saying about him for the last month?”

“Oh, sorry. Remind me?” I was still thinking about my mother.

She sighed, “I don’t even know if I want to meet him, after how he treated my mother and me.” Was all I heard before I was lost in thoughts once again. I needed to make a plan. I needed to find her. To find the life that I had missed out on. A life without a mother. She had a baby on her lap in the picture I saw. I needed to find out who that was. Maybe I could start by finding the journalist that wrote the article, that took that famous picture. That would be a good place to start.

“Hello… are you listening to me?” An irritated Sloane made her way into my thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” I dissipated my planning with a shake of my head. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“What could be more important in this moment than me meeting my father for the first time since I was a baby?”

“Me meeting my mother for the first time since I was a baby.” I met her eyes.

“Agh.” She sighed, “Mother wins. Go on. Tell me about her.” She gave into defeat and rested her chin on her palm which was propped up by her elbow on the table. She was ready to hear the story. A story that I didn’t even know if I was ready to tell. I had only found another piece of the puzzle on my mothers disappearance today. 

I sigh. “It's a long story.” 

“I've got approximately… two hours.” She says, pulling her watch up to look at the time before going back to her original stance.

“Ok. Well… My mother disappeared when I was a baby. She ran away from the hospital as soon as I was born.” 

“Jesus.” She breathed. “So Karen isn’t your real mum?”

“Ha. No. She’s only been with my dad for about two years.” I manage a small laugh at the idea that she could replace my mom. She's great for my dad, don’t get me wrong, but she couldn’t measure up to the stories of my mom that my dad had told me all my life. 

“Okay, so your mother left you at the hospital the day you were born… What then? Was she a mental patient? Did she have postpartum depression? What? Where is she now?” Her questions were loaded. Questions that I had asked my father many times before. Questions that he didn’t have the answers to.

“I don’t know. That’s the thing. My father has no idea, to this day, why she left. All we have is photos and he has his memories - which were all good, from his point of view. He has no idea why she left. As for where she is, neither of us knew. She went missing and after about two years of looking, the local sheriff's department gave up. The case went cold. Until today…”

Sloane’s eyes widened. “Today? What happened? Did she show up? Did they reopen the case?”

“Not quite.” I chewed on my lip nervously. “Today in my criminology class, we discussed a case. A strange case. A journalist found a very odd family living in a formally abandoned castle in Antarctica. There was a lot of strange information, but the thing that stood out to me was the photo that went along with it. Because of that photo, I didn;t even hear most of the information…”

“What was the photo of?” she asked eagerly, her eyes wide, her imagination wider.

“The family. Although, it wasn’t an ordinary family. There was a group of them. An older woman, looking around fifty, a red-headed male looking to be about twenty-five, and a woman. On the woman's lap was a baby. The woman was my mother.”

“Holy shit…” She breathed.

“Yeah. Although the name didn’t match up. She must have changed it.”

“So she didn’t want to be found...”

“It appears that way.” I was biting my lip again. 

“So what are you going to do?” She anticipated.

“Well, I have been talking to the professor that found the case, and have gotten a connection from him that can test DNA.”

“DNA?” Sloane looked confused.

“I have a lock of my mothers hair and an old T-shirt.”

“And what are you going to do with that? How could they possibly find her DNA to match it to?”

“Well, they mentioned in the case that there was something strange about this family. They were some kind of experiment. So all I can hope is that what items I have, match up with something in a database somewhere. The man that supposedly experimented on them was a scientist. Maybe he shared his results somewhere. It’s a long shot but I may as well try.” It sounded stupid as I said it. “Or, maybe they have a criminal history. They look like a dark family.”

“So if anything does come back, what will you do with the results?”

“Use them to find her.”

But she doesn't want to be found…” 

“Yeah.” I breathed.

“So what are you hoping for if you did find her? For her to welcome you with open arms?” She scoffed. She thought it was a dumb idea.

“What were you hoping for when you met your father?” I mirrored her judgement.

She crossed her arms. “All I'm saying is, that you shouldn’t expect anything more than some questions to be answered.” 

I didn’t say anything back. Instead, I sunk back into the leather and looked at my hands, lacing them together.

 

“If you're going to go looking for your mother, that means you will be gone for a while, doesn't it?” 

I smiled, letting a simple nod answer her question. 

“So, what does that mean for us?” She didn’t look upset, just curious.

“Were we ever really going anywhere?” I met her eyes with the same curiosity.

“I suppose not.” She let an awkward smile spread across her face. 

“Well…” I stood, ready to leave. If this relationship wasn’t going anywhere, then neither was this dinner. “I should get going.”

She stood to face me, “Carl will be so disappointed. He really wanted us to get together.” She chuckled, extending her arm to pull me in for an awkward goodbye hug.

“I know. Ha. Oh well.” I put my arm around her lightly. I wasn't used to hugging girls. 

After a few seconds I let go. I didn’t want to seem like I enjoyed it too much. 

“Well, see you around I guess.” She offered a small smile and walked toward the door - hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans.