CHAPTER 4 — The Black Helicopters
The roar of the helicopters swallowed every other sound.
Dust spiraled across the ranch as three matte-black aircraft descended over the valley, their blades slicing through the morning sky with terrifying precision.
The armed men who had followed Don Esteban instinctively raised their rifles.
"Hold your fire!" Don Esteban shouted.
His voice trembled.
Carmen noticed it immediately.
Only minutes earlier, he had looked like a man who feared nothing.
Now he looked like someone who had spent years praying this day would never come.
The helicopters landed one after another in the open pasture below the house.
Their engines continued to roar.
The doors slid open.
Six figures stepped onto the ground.
They wore dark tactical uniforms without military insignias.
No names.
No flags.
Only a silver emblem stitched onto each shoulder—a black circle surrounding a white insect with spread wings.
Carmen's stomach tightened.
The same symbol appeared in Professor Navarro's notebook.
Project Black Hive.
One of the newcomers walked toward the ranch.
He was in his early sixties, with silver hair and sharp gray eyes that seemed to miss nothing.
Unlike the others, he carried no rifle.
Only a leather briefcase.
He stopped a few yards from Mateo.
His expression softened.
"Mateo..."
The farmer froze.
Recognition flashed across his face.
The older man slowly removed a photograph from his pocket.
It showed a much younger Mateo standing beside Professor Esteban Navarro in front of a research facility.
A third man stood with them.
The man now standing before him.
He spoke quietly.
"My name is Dr. Ignacio Salazar."
"I worked with Professor Navarro."
Carmen's breath caught.
Another scientist.
Another piece of the mystery.
Don Esteban Vargas stepped forward, forcing confidence back into his voice.
"You have no authority here."
Dr. Salazar didn't even look at him.
Instead, he addressed Mateo.
"I promised Esteban I would find you before they did."
His gaze shifted toward Don Esteban.
"It appears I was almost too late."
The landowner's face darkened.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"No?"
Dr. Salazar opened his briefcase.
Inside were dozens of aged documents sealed in plastic.
He removed one.
Even from several meters away, Carmen could see a familiar signature.
Esteban Vargas.
The date beneath it was twenty years old.
Dr. Salazar held the document high enough for everyone to see.
"This is the authorization approving illegal human testing."
Silence crashed over the ranch.
Ramiro frowned.
"What testing?"
Dr. Salazar's eyes never left Don Esteban.
"The testing that created the parasite living inside Mateo Silva."
Carmen felt the ground disappear beneath her feet.
"It... was put inside him?"
Dr. Salazar nodded.
"When Mateo was twenty-two."
"He volunteered for what he believed was a hearing restoration program after an explosion damaged his right ear."
Mateo slowly lowered his head.
Pain flickered across his face—not physical pain this time, but memory.
"They lied to him," Dr. Salazar continued.
"The operation was never intended to restore hearing."
"It was designed to study whether a genetically modified organism could survive inside a living human nervous system."
Carmen covered her mouth.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The headaches.
The bleeding.
The strange movements beneath his skin.
The years everyone called him cursed.
He had never been cursed.
He had been betrayed.
Don Esteban laughed.
A forced, desperate laugh.
"Ridiculous."
"There is no proof."
Dr. Salazar calmly removed a second folder.
"Professor Navarro collected proof before he disappeared."
"He copied every experiment."
"Every payment."
"Every patient."
"And every death."
The final word echoed across the valley.
Deaths.
Plural.
Carmen turned toward Mateo.
"Others?"
Dr. Salazar answered quietly.
"Thirty-eight volunteers."
"Thirty-seven died."
Only one survived.
Mateo.
A long silence settled over the ranch.
Even the wind seemed to stop.
Then Mateo slowly reached into his pocket.
He removed the worn notebook Carmen had seen so many times.
Instead of writing...
He handed it to Dr. Salazar.
Inside were hundreds of carefully dated entries.
Descriptions of every attack.
Every headache.
Every strange sensation.
Every nightmare.
For twenty years...
He had documented everything.
Dr. Salazar smiled sadly.
"Esteban was right."
"You never stopped searching for the truth."
Suddenly—
A sharp cry came from one of the tactical officers near the helicopters.
"Movement!"
Everyone turned.
A ranch hand had opened the back gate.
Two pickup trucks sped away down a dirt trail.
Don Esteban's men were escaping.
But they weren't fleeing empty-handed.
One of them held a weathered metal lockbox stolen from inside Mateo's study.
Dr. Salazar's expression changed instantly.
"No..."
He started running.
"Stop them!"
Carmen looked at him in confusion.
"What's inside the box?"
His answer chilled everyone.
"The original specimen."
"The one that created every parasite."
"If they open it..."
He paused, his voice barely above a whisper.
"...this nightmare won't end with Mateo."
The trucks disappeared into the winding mountain road.
Above them, the helicopters lifted off once more in pursuit.
As the sound of the rotors faded into the distance, Carmen noticed Mateo suddenly stagger.
He pressed both hands against the side of his head again.
His eyes widened.
Not with pain.
With recognition.
He grabbed his notebook and wrote just four shaking words before collapsing to one knee.
May you like
"It knows they're awake."
End of Chapter 4
