Marcus's voice dropped.

"Where is he?"

Whitaker leaned closer.

"He's in this hospital."

A beat of silence.

"He's been here for six years."

Marcus stared at him.

Then, from somewhere behind the security personnel, a weak voice called out.

"Marcus?"

Everyone turned.

At the far end of the corridor, a hospital bed was being pushed slowly toward them.

A thin man lay beneath a white blanket.

His face was pale.

His hair was longer than Marcus remembered.

But his eyes—

Marcus knew those eyes.

The man lifted one trembling hand.

"Little brother..."

Marcus stopped breathing.

It was Christopher.

Alive.

And before Marcus could take another step, Colonel Whitaker raised his hand.

"Don't move."

Two security officers stepped forward.

Whitaker looked at Marcus.

"Because if you want your brother to survive another day, you're going to give me that recording."

Marcus looked at Christopher.

Then at Rex.

The dog began barking.

And for the first time that morning, Marcus realized the truth:

Rex hadn't brought him to the hospital to find a doctor.

He had brought him home.

End of Part 1.

THE DOCTOR FOUND THE HIDDEN TAG ON THE MILITARY DOG… THEN THE SOLDIER RAN

PART 2 — THE BROTHER WHO WAS ERASED

"Because if you want your brother to survive another day, you're going to give me that recording."

Colonel James Whitaker's voice echoed through the abandoned hospital corridor.

Nobody moved.

Two armed security officers stood between Marcus and the hospital bed. Dr. Lawson remained behind them, his face tense, his hands clasped together.

Marcus stared at the thin man lying beneath the white blanket.

Christopher.

His older brother.

The boy who had taught him how to ride a bicycle. The teenager who had secretly paid for his first pair of military boots. The soldier who had promised their mother that he would always bring Marcus home safely.

For six years, Marcus had believed that promise had ended in a foreign desert.

Now Christopher was less than twenty feet away.

Alive.

"Chris?"

Christopher tried to lift his head.

"Marcus..."

His voice was barely audible.

Marcus took one step forward.

One of the security officers immediately raised his arm.

"Stay where you are."

Marcus stopped.

"Move."

"Sir, step back."

"I said move."

Colonel Whitaker raised his hand.

"Sergeant Cole, don't make this difficult."

Marcus turned toward him.

"You told my family he was dead."

Whitaker remained expressionless.

"I told your family what they needed to know."

Marcus's jaw tightened.

"You sent us a flag. You sent us his identification. You let my mother bury an empty coffin."

"Your mother received the official notification."

"She cried over that coffin for six years."

Whitaker glanced at Christopher.

"Your brother's condition is extremely fragile. If you care about him, you'll cooperate."

Marcus looked at the hospital bed again.

Christopher's left hand was trembling.

His breathing was shallow.

But his eyes were focused.

And he was trying to communicate something.

He slowly moved his fingers.

Three short movements.

Then two.

Marcus recognized the signal immediately.

It was an old military code they had invented as children.

Three taps meant danger.

Two meant wait.

Marcus looked at the floor.

Rex was standing beside him, watching Christopher.

The dog was not growling anymore.

Instead, his ears were raised, and his entire body was tense.

Marcus slowly lowered his right hand.

"Colonel, I need to check my brother's condition."

Whitaker shook his head.

"Not until you give me the recording."

"He's my family."

"And he's a restricted patient."

Marcus stared at him.

"Restricted by whom?"

Whitaker didn't answer.

Marcus looked at Dr. Lawson.

"Doctor, is he receiving proper treatment?"

Lawson swallowed.

"His condition is stable."

Christopher suddenly coughed.

His body jerked beneath the blanket.

A monitor beside the bed began beeping rapidly.