The Miracle Doctor

Chapter 9

The night deepened over Braxton Tower. Lightning danced across the skyline, its pale glow spilling through the lab’s fractured glass ceiling as Ethan stood motionless beside the central console, his gaze fixed on Elara. He could barely process what she’d said. My wife. The word echoed in his head, louder than the thunder above.

Leanna’s voice cut through the silence. “Ethan, you need to sit. You’ve lost a lot of blood and you’re still recovering from the procedure.”

He raised a hand, stopping her. “No. We need answers.”

Elara’s breathing was shallow. She leaned weakly against the pod, the faint glow beneath her skin fading as the serum’s effect began to wane.

“Answers won’t save us,” she whispered. “Voss has every reason to erase you again.”

Ethan turned to the console and connected the biometric interface. The system came alive, scanning his retina before flooding the glass display with data, encrypted files, patient records, and the label: Project Lazarus – Phase II.

Leanna frowned. “Phase II? How many phases were there?”

Ethan’s eyes moved rapidly across the screen. “At least five. Phase I was regenerative medicine. Phase II… neural imprinting.”

Elara’s voice trembled. “That’s what he used on me. He mapped consciousness like it was a design file. Memory, emotion, personality—copied, then transplanted into a new vessel.”

Leanna’s tone hardened. “You mean he tried to manufacture people?”

Ethan nodded grimly. “Bodies that don’t age. Minds that don’t forget. Immortality disguised as progress.”

He tapped a file labeled Lazarus Prototype Origin. The system demanded a password. Without hesitation, he typed one word: Elara. The file opened.

Lines of old journal entries appeared—his own handwriting, his own voice before the accident.

March 2nd — The human brain can be mapped through quantum resonance. Stabilization is near. Elara says it’s too dangerous, but she doesn’t see what I see.

March 6th — The first test failed. Neural rejection. Subject lost. Elara begged me to stop.

March 9th — Voss offered funding for shared control. I refused. He said he’d take everything from me.

March 12th — Elara is missing. Voss claims she’s in recovery, but I can’t reach her. I’m beginning to fear he—

The last line was cut off.

Ethan’s knuckles whitened against the console. His own words stared back at him like a confession from another lifetime. Guilt settled like lead in his chest.

Leanna’s voice softened. “He took her from you. Used your own work against you.”

Ethan’s reply was cold and steady. “Then he’ll die with it.”

Elara’s hand trembled as she reached for a secondary drive beside the terminal. “There’s more. He didn’t stop with me.”

She slotted it in. A holographic projection filled the room—surgeons in masks surrounding a restrained young man on an operating table, convulsing. Ethan froze as the camera panned. “That’s… me.”

Then another figure stepped into frame—a perfect copy. Two Ethans. One conscious, one barely alive. Voss’s voice narrated from the background.

“Replication achieved. Subject Alpha exhibits 87% neural similarity to Dr. Braxton. True success is close.”

Leanna’s eyes widened. “He cloned you?”

Ethan’s voice fell to a whisper. “Or tried to.”

Elara nodded weakly. “He wanted a version of you that would obey. The one who survived… was the one who refused.”

Ethan sank into a chair, running a shaking hand through his hair. “So the accident wasn’t an accident. It was cleanup.”

Before Leanna could answer, the lights flickered.

The main terminal beeped: INCOMING CONNECTION — INTERNAL SOURCE.

Leanna frowned. “Impossible. We’re on a closed system.”

Ethan opened the logs. The signal was coming from inside Braxton Pharmaceuticals. Someone was feeding Voss live data. “He’s got eyes in the building,” Ethan muttered.

The console beeped again, switching to a security feed—a figure in a lab coat moving across the upper levels, holding a tablet.

Leanna zoomed in. Her breath caught. “That’s Dr. Keane.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Head of Diagnostics. My father’s protégé.”

Elara’s voice shook. “Voss must have gotten to him.”

The feed showed Dr. Keane entering an elevator—followed by two men in black suits. On one of their lapels gleamed the Voss Corporation insignia. Then static.

“Seal the exits,” Ethan ordered.

Leanna’s fingers flew across the board. “Already on it.”

Elara’s voice trembled. “Ethan, if Voss knows we’re here—”

“He does,” Ethan cut in, his tone steady. “And he’s coming.”

Another file appeared on-screen, triggered manually. Its title read: For Ethan. If you’re reading this, you found her.

He opened it. A pre-recorded hologram flickered to life—his past self, confident, composed, staring directly into the camera.

“If you’re watching this, Voss got to you. He’s going to erase you again, Ethan. Everything you’ve lost—he still holds. There’s a second key, hidden in the Northern Archive. Find it. And if she’s with you…” He smiled faintly. “…then it means I kept my promise.”

The hologram blinked out. Silence filled the lab except for the hum of machines.

Leanna turned toward him. “Northern Archive?”

Ethan nodded, jaw set. “A hidden data facility outside the city. If it’s still intact, it holds the last piece of Lazarus.”

Elara’s hand rested on his arm. “If we go there, you’ll see everything you tried to forget.”

He met her eyes, calm and resolute. “Then it’s time I remembered.”

Thunder rolled above the tower. Far across the city, a convoy of black vehicles sped toward Braxton Tower, their lights cutting through the rain.