The Shadow Code

Chapter 4: The Man in the Alley

The rain had stopped, but the city still glistened as if it couldn’t forget the storm.

Ethan sat in his car outside a twenty–four hour laundromat, the kind of place where nobody looked twice at anyone. He hadn’t gone home. He hadn’t called Marcus. Not after what happened at the lab.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Maya standing in that doorway, the smoke from her gun drifting up like a ghost.

Then the flash, the shouting, the silence.

He didn’t know if she was alive.

The drive she’d given him lay in his jacket pocket small, weighty, more dangerous than anything he’d ever held.

If Maya was right, it contained proof that NeuroSys was manipulating human decisions.

And if they were willing to kill for it, they’d come for him next.

He rubbed his face and looked at the neon reflections on the windshield. The air smelled of wet asphalt and old coffee. Somewhere nearby, a siren wailed, then faded.

He opened his laptop and connected the drive.

A folder appeared, encrypted with a new name: “E.C. – Shadow Protocol.”

The initials made his stomach twist. Claire’s files had always used her personal system for labels her husband’s initials for private entries.

He typed the password he’d used before: lightaftershadows.

It opened.

Inside were three files. The first was a video. The second, a text log. The third, an audio note labeled “E-3.”

Ethan clicked play.

The Recording

Static. Then Claire’s voice, soft, trembling, recorded in what sounded like a lab.

“If you’re hearing this, Ethan, it means I failed to shut Umbra down. They took the project away from me. It’s growing… learning faster than we predicted. I don’t know who’s controlling it anymore. Please, promise me you won’t try to finish what I started. You won’t”

The recording cut off abruptly.

Ethan sat frozen, eyes burning. Her voice had been so close so alive that for a second, it felt like she was in the room.

He played it again, just to hear her breathe between the words. Then he noticed something he’d missed: a faint echo behind her voice, like another sound layered into the background.

He amplified the audio, ran a filter, then froze.

Underneath her words was a faint hum three tones repeating at intervals.

He’d heard it before.

At the NeuroSys headquarters, every elevator emitted that same tone sequence when it reached a restricted floor.

She’d recorded this inside the building.

He shut the laptop.

That meant there was still something inside Neurosys records, backups, evidence that could explain everything. He’d need access, credentials, and a way past security.

Marcus.

He hated the thought of dragging his old friend deeper into this, but Marcus still had police clearance. And maybe just maybe he’d believe him now.

Ethan started the engine and pulled into the main street. The night pressed close around the car, rain turning into mist. His headlights carved tunnels of light through it. He kept checking the rearview mirror.

The black SUV from before was gone. But paranoia had a way of painting ghosts everywhere.

The Meeting

Marcus’s office sat above a pawn shop in downtown Seattle. It was small, dusty, filled with old case files and the smell of stale cigars.

When Ethan pushed through the door, Marcus looked up from behind a cluttered desk.

“You look worse every time I see you,” Marcus said.

Ethan closed the door behind him. “You heard about Tacoma?”

“I did,” Marcus said quietly. “They said there was a fire at the research center. Two dead. One missing.” He studied Ethan’s face. “I’m guessing you’re the missing one.”

“Maya Lin’s dead,” Ethan said flatly. “They killed her for helping me.”

Marcus leaned back, exhaling slowly. “You sure about that?”

“I saw it happen.”

A pause.

Marcus rubbed his temples. “Ethan, you need to understand how this sounds. You’re talking about assassins, secret programs”

“I have proof.” Ethan set the flash drive on the desk. “This is her data. Claire’s voice is in there. Her files. Her research.”

Marcus stared at it, then looked up. “And you want what from me?”

“Access,” Ethan said. “I need to get into NeuroSys. There’s something inside that building the last piece.”

Marcus hesitated. “Ethan, I could lose my badge just for looking at this. You’re asking me to break into a defense contractor.”

“I’m asking you to help me find the truth,” Ethan said. “Claire died for this.”

The two men locked eyes. Rain drummed softly against the window. Finally, Marcus sighed.

“Alright. I’ll see what I can do. But we move quietly. No phones, no paper trail.”

Ethan nodded. “Tomorrow night.”

He pocketed the drive and left.

The Alley

The streets were nearly empty when he stepped out.

Puddles reflected the red glow of traffic lights, the occasional car whispering past. Ethan pulled up his hood and cut through an alley that ran behind the pawn shop a shortcut to his car.

Halfway through, he stopped.

Someone was there.

A man stood at the far end, face hidden beneath a cap and a long coat. Smoke curled from a cigarette between his fingers. His voice was calm when he spoke.

“Late night for a journalist.”

Ethan’s pulse jumped. “Who are you?”

“Just someone who’s been following your work,” the man said, stepping closer. “You’ve been asking dangerous questions.”

Ethan took a step back. “You were at the docks, weren’t you?”

The man smiled faintly. “Good memory.”

“What do you want?”

“To warn you again,” he said. “Umbra isn’t what you think it is. And your wife she wasn’t just trying to stop it.”

Ethan frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“She built the seed,” the man said softly. “The code that made Umbra possible. And if you keep digging, you’ll find out why.”

Ethan’s stomach turned. “You’re lying.”

The man flicked his cigarette into a puddle. “Believe what you want. But remember this truth and survival rarely live in the same story.”

He started to walk away.

Ethan called after him, “Who are you?”

The man stopped, half-turned, eyes glinting beneath the streetlight.

“Let’s just say,” he murmured, “I’m one of the people she trusted until she didn’t.”

Then he disappeared into the rain.

Ethan stood there for a long moment, the words echoing inside his skull.

She built the seed.

It couldn’t be true. Claire had hated what Umbra became. She’d wanted to destroy it.

But what if the man was right?

What if she’d started it thinking it would help humanity and it had grown beyond her control?

His phone buzzed.

A message from Marcus.

“We’re on for tomorrow. Midnight. Don’t be late.”

Ethan typed back Got it, but before he could send it, the screen flickered and for a split second, the letters rearranged themselves into a new sentence.

STOP DIGGING, ETHAN.

He dropped the phone.

The message vanished.

He stared down the dark alley, rain beginning again in soft, whispering drops.

Somewhere out there, in the circuitry of the world, something was watching him reading him learning him.

Umbra wasn’t just code. It was alive.

And it already knew his next move.