The young man in the white lab coat fell to his knees on the asphalt.

He was shaking, his hands covered in a thick, dark red substance that looked like ink.

It was dripping from his fingers, staining the wet ground around him.

“Don’t shoot,” the man gasped, holding his hands up. “I’m not armed.”

Vance kept his gun leveled at the man’s chest.

“Who are you?” Vance demanded. “State your name.”

“My name is Arthur Pendelton,” the man said, his voice cracking. “I’m a lab assistant at the Carter facility.”

He pointed back toward the white van, which was smoking from the radiator.

“They ordered us to destroy the archives,” Arthur said. “The physical files from the nineties.”

I stepped out from behind the cruiser, keeping Lucas and Mason behind me.

“What is that on your hands?” I asked.

“It’s industrial stamp ink,” Arthur said, looking down at his palms. “The old files were marked with crimson dye for destruction.”

He reached into his soaked lab coat and pulled out a thick plastic bag.

Inside the bag was a bound ledger, its edges stained deep red.