Morgan used the flashlight on his phone to look around the room without turning on the lights where he saw bookshelves full of theology, philosophy, and psychology books on all three walls. They didn't seem like something a small-town pastor would have. The desk in the middle was Murphy's.
It was a big, heavy piece of wood with neat stacks of paper and a laptop that was closed on top of it. Morgan knew right away that he couldn't get to it without passwords he didn't have.
He started with the desk drawers, going through each one carefully and taking pictures of anything that looked important. He started with the financial records that showed donations to the church, most of which were small but regular.
He also saw letters to other religious leaders and talks about religious issues that seemed harmless at first, but when he looked closer. He noticed that Murphy was subtly leading every conversation toward thoughts of change and God's purpose.
Sermon notes and outlines that showed how to slowly change how people thought about faith and following the rules. Morgan's heart sank when he saw that the bottom drawer was locked. Locks meant that there were secrets that were worth keeping. He picked this one too, and even though his heart was racing, he was able to open it and see a lot of papers that shouldn't be there.
The papers inside were doctor's reports. Research papers with institutional headers that he didn't know about. Morgan wrote to people whose names he didn't know but whose credentials made it clear they were scientists, doctors, or people who studied diseases and how they spread.
There was one folder underneath all of that that was so old that its edges were soft from being handled. It looked like it was the most valuable thing in the collection. Morgan took it out with shaking hands and opened it to find pages that looked like they had been burned.
The paper was fragile and had dark stains on it that could have been blood or something worse. Some parts of the text were hard to read because they were damaged, but the header at the top of the first page was still easy to read after all these years and whatever damage the document had gone through.
"Patient Zero..." He reads it.
Morgan's mind tried to make sense of what he was reading, and the edges of his vision got blurry. The report was from fifteen years ago, before the Syndrome was officially recognized.
It was about a patient who had symptoms that were very similar to what people today call transformation. The patient underwent cellular reorganization, alterations in the nervous system, and the emergence of abilities that contradicted established physical laws. The patient passed away during the study.
Their bodies fell apart because they couldn't keep up with the changes fast enough. But the researchers already knew a lot about what was going on at the molecular level.
Morgan would need some time to figure out the thick block of technical language at the bottom of the last page. But he saw a signature that he recognized from church papers, permission slips, and birthday cards he got when he was a kid.
Murphy Paxton.
His dad hadn't just been waiting for the Syndrome to show up. He had been studying it, getting ready for it, and maybe even helping to make it happen for more than ten years before the first case was made public. Morgan felt like he was falling because the news changed everything he thought he knew about the timeline and what his father did.
When Morgan heard a car pull into the driveway, she felt a chill run through her body. He had lost track of time because he was so into what he was reading that he didn't notice how long it had been. Morgan had only about sixty seconds to get out of the room before his father came home and found him because Murphy got home early.
Morgan put the papers back in the folder, put it back in the drawer the same way he found it, and locked everything back up with fingers that wanted to shake but couldn't afford to. He was halfway to the study door when he heard Murphy's footsteps in the hallway and the door to the house open. He knew he couldn't go back to his room without making people notice him.
He did the only thing he could think of: he walked calmly into the hallway, as if he had just come down to get a drink of water. When he met his father's surprised gaze, he hoped his face looked innocent.
"Morgan? Why are you still awake?"
Morgan said, "I couldn't sleep," and that was at least partly true. "I thought some water might help."
"Anyway, how did the meeting go?"
Murphy stared at him for a long time, and Morgan could see that his father was thinking about whether this meeting was just a coincidence or something more. Murphy finally smiled, but it was a cold smile that told him he would remember this moment later.
"People are scared, but with the right help, that fear can be changed into something better." Murphy said, "I hope you're being careful with your investigations, son," and then he walked past him to the kitchen.
Morgan had to stop himself from reacting. Some knowledge can be dangerous if you don't have the right context.
That wasn't a general observation; it was a warning, and Morgan's blood ran cold. Murphy had seen something and knew something. He was telling Morgan that people were paying more attention to him than he thought.
"I'm just trying to figure out what's going on, like everyone else," Morgan said carefully.
"Of course." Murphy turned his back to Morgan and poured himself a glass of water. He could see himself in the dark window. "Just remember that wisdom and understanding are not the same thing."
"One is about getting information, and the other is about knowing what to do with it. Make sure you're going after the second one and not just the first."
He turned around with a glass in his hand, and his face was completely blank and very nice. "Go to sleep, son."
"Tomorrow is going to be a long day, so we both need to be at our best."
Morgan nodded and went back upstairs, but Murphy's eyes were on him the whole time. He didn't look back because that would have shown weakness and that he knew something was wrong with the whole thing.
He was finally able to relax when he got to his room and closed the door. His hands were shaking because he had been holding back the adrenaline rush.
The first person to see a doctor, and it was fifteen years ago. Murphy signed papers saying he had known about the Syndrome long before the outbreak happened.
Morgan thought he knew everything there was to know about the timeline, but he didn't. The consequences of that mistake were scarier than any change he'd ever seen.