The Officer Handed Me My Late Father's File, But the Date Was from Yesterday

The Living Dead

Elena’s breath hitched in her throat. The world around her seemed to lose its color as she stared at the crisp blue ink. The signature was unmistakable—the unique, looping 'M' that she had seen on old birthday cards and letters kept in her mother's cedar chest. But the date printed beside it was barely twenty-four hours old.

"Colonel, this is a mistake,"

Elena whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain professional.

"My father died in the Hindu Kush fifteen years ago. I attended his memorial. I held the folded flag."

Colonel Vance sighed, the rigid posture of a commanding officer softening into that of a tired, burdened man. He looked around the darkening shooting range to ensure they were truly alone before speaking in a low, hushed tone.

"The crash was a cover story, Elena,"

Vance admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of a decade-old secret.

"Your father didn't die. He was recruited for a deep-cover operation to dismantle a highly dangerous, corrupt military supply syndicate operating within our own ranks. To keep you and your mother safe, he had to die to the world. Even to you."

Tears stung Elena’s eyes, a volatile mix of intense anger and overwhelming relief flooding her chest. Her father was alive. The hero she had mourned her entire life was out there, breathing. But the joy was instantly cut short by the grim look on Vance's face.

"Why are you telling me this now, sir?"

she demanded, clutching the paper so tightly it wrinkled in her hand.

"Because his cover was blown three days ago,"

Vance revealed.

"The syndicate has located his safehouse just twelve miles from this academy. They have sent a termination squad to silence him before he can hand over the evidence. I cannot trust the local garrison; the corruption runs too deep. I need the best marksman in this sector. I need you, Elena. We are going to bring your father home tonight."