Lewy Body Dementia. Otherwise also referred as Parkinson's Disease Dementia. That's the diagnosis given to me by my doctor, a nut-job in person maybe, but I would assume he had some assertion to his diagnosis. Plus, there's even a symptoms list:

Oh lucky me, lucky me.

-Chance for fluctuating cognition with pronounced variations in attention and alertness.

-Recurrent complex visual hallucinations, typically well formed and detailed.

-Low dopamine transporter uptake in the brain's basal ganglia as seen on SPECT and PET imaging scans.

-Repeated falls and syncope (fainting)

I mean, on my own I haven't really fainted as of late…unless...

“Woah, hold on there, you almost fell,”

“What? No, I didn't. Let go of me,”

“Okay, okay. Chill, just helping you out,”

I so was not falling, I'd know.

I'd know.

Maybe...I didn't know, because I was so focused on one of my other tracks? I mean, why would Tom lie about something so stupid as that? I turn the piece of paper over and it reads “PROGNOSIS.” Oh goodie, I get to hear the inner details of the rest of my life. I look at the paper and it's loaded full of acronyms, numbers, and abbreviations. I can't make heads or tails of it.

I need to know now. And the only person who can help me do that is Tom. So, I have two missions, find Tom, and then find that girl. And escape, but that's obvious.

I roll the papers up and set them in the front pocket of my backpack and I walk up to the keypad and find that it has the same numbered keypad as before. I type in the same code as before, “0399,” and the keypad's screen glows green. I hear the tumblers of the door shifting just like the last time, and it actually rises up, opening the way for me. I walk through to find a hallway that branches off to my right and left, they both turn, so I assume that I'm in some other sort of symmetrical hallway. Just then I hear a loud burst of sound. Gunshot.

There is a loud scream that follows and I'm taking off running. I head down the right path and follow the way down and see a door to my left. I see an entrance to a stairwell at the end of the path, but before going down I decide to check the door out. Wherever that shot came from it has to be close.

“What? No, it's my gun! You're the one who fucking allowed it to come up here, I'm not rewarding you with shit.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I see her pale face as her life drains all at once from it. In one action, one decision a life had been taken. Maybe more if I don't make it out of here alive.

Inside the room is completely empty. The room is an eternal white, it is completely void of anything besides a single sheet of paper sitting in the middle of the room. Conscience tells me to leave and find the source of the gunshot, curiosity tells me to pick the paper. Curiosity wins. I grab the sheet of paper in my hands and glance it over, it definitely is another one of the notes from Jack.

YEAR ZERO

04/17/2007

-Mason, shortest, dark brown hair kept short. His voice has a rough Texan drawl to it. He's got a kid, Kate with him here that is easy to pick out. Short, long dark brown hair and the highest pitch voice here, save for my own Megan.

-Jay, taller than Mason, hair with patches of gray. Voice is a high pitched almost-New-Yorkan accent.

-Gregory, taller than Jay and Mason, shorter than David. Dirty blonde hair, reaches his shoulders. Voice is average pitch, Home accent. Apparently his wife Lorraine works for us as well, but she's actually been stationed over in New York

-David, tallest of the group, jet black hair, deepest voice. Almost sounds like from Europe.

I know their names and their builds. it's been so tough, but I think I finally got it. Thank God.

Signed,

Jack Adata

So, this is it then. It makes some sense at least. My parents, they were involved with whatever is going on here. Gregory and Lorraine, no chance in hell that it's coincidence that those were my parent's names. I mean, I guess I know what this is being done for. Freelance work for NASA, it seems. Something they don't want any official connection to, so that's why they hired people like this Jack and my parents. Keep a paper trail as thin as possible, but still be able to document progress.

I never really knew specifically what my parents did for NASA prior. I mean, I really wasn't interested if they were allowed to tell anyhow. But now something here shows that they were testing something they found on Mars, that Lantrate and Dicoberene stuff. Maybe if I can find more of these papers I can find out why my dad had to go find my mom.

Find Tom. Find the girl. Find who shot the gun. Find what happened to these scientists. These are my objectives, and I guess I need to start with the most time sensitive of the bunch.

I throw the door open behind me and am taking off towards the stairwell. I'm taking the steps two and then three at a time down and I reach another diverging path, there is a door, but the stairs also continue downward. I contemplate going further down, but ultimately decide in going through the door. I walk into a sort of parking garage. On the ground a few feet in I see a fallen Grace, she lies in a small pool of what seems to be her own blood. She is breathing slow and heavy, holding her hands to her side.

Thank god it was her that was shot instead of Tom or the girl. Best case scenario.

“Oh my god, Gavin!” Grace said, pained and with obvious difficulty.

“Quick, what happened and where's Tom?” I ask, jogging up.

“That woman from before snuck up on us and had a g-gun. She was spouting some crazy...oh god, some crazy nonsense and sh-shot me. Tom took off a-after her down the ramp.”

“Okay, thank you!” I said, standing back up and running off.

“Hey, where the hell are you going?” She calls.

“You two ditched me back there,” I said. “I can only return the favor.” I'm running now without a second thought, without giving my conscience a second to catch up with me and keep me from getting the answers I need.