"So Morrison wasn't just covering up general corruption. He was protecting specific operations."
"And whoever authorized those operations wanted the witnesses gone as much as Morrison did." Khalid highlights connections between victims and operations. "Find out which operations these people threatened to expose. That tells you who Morrison was protecting. That tells you who's behind Morrison and now Webb."
"Will you help me? Map these connections?"
Khalid hesitates. Glances toward the hallway where Dylan is probably monitoring this entire conversation.
"Dylan says I should focus on school. Not on hunting the people who killed my village."
"This isn't hunting. It's building a case. Legal, documented, admissible in federal court." I pull up the evidence structure Dylan showed me. "Everything we find goes toward prosecuting Morrison's crimes and everyone still connected to Protocol Seven. That includes the people who authorized what happened to your village."
"You want me to testify."
Khalid knows exactly what I'm asking.
"Only if you're willing. Only if it won't hurt you more than it helps. But yes. Your testimony about what happened in your village would be powerful. You're the only surviving witness. The only person who can describe what Morrison did from direct experience."
"Dylan doesn't want me involved. He thinks I should move on. Forget. Live a normal life." Frustration edges into Khalid's voice. "But I can't forget. Every time I close my eyes I see my mother burning from the inside. My sister choking on her own blood. My father trying to shield us and dying anyway."
"You don't have to forget. You just have to decide whether remembering serves justice or revenge."
"Dylan says there's no difference. Justice is just revenge with paperwork."
"Dylan's wrong." The words come out more forceful than intended. "Revenge is personal. It ends when the person who hurt you is dead. Justice is systematic. It ends when the system that enabled the hurt is destroyed. Morrison's dead, but the Committee continues. Webb took his place. The system falls, nobody can authorize operations like Protocol Seven ever again."
Khalid considers this. His posture relaxes slightly. Less defensive. More interested.
"What do you need from me?"
"Your testimony. On record. Everything you remember about the day Morrison's team came to your village. The chemicals they used. The way people died. What you saw, what you heard, what you survived." I pull up a digital recorder. "Only if you're willing. Only if you understand this will be public. People will read your testimony. Committee lawyers will challenge it. You'll have to relive the worst day of your life in front of strangers."
"How is that different from reliving it every night in my sleep?"
I sit back. Fifteen years old and he's already thought this through.
"It's not different. It's just witnessed. You're not alone with it anymore."
Khalid nods. Sits back in his chair. Folds his hands in his lap like he's preparing for something difficult.
"What do you want to know?"
For the next hour, Khalid talks. His voice never wavers. The details he provides are devastating. The chemicals came in the morning. Released through aerosol dispersal systems mounted on trucks that looked like water delivery vehicles. People thought they were getting clean water. Instead they gotnerve agents mixed with corrosive compounds designed to test symptom progression under field conditions.
Khalid describes his mother's skin blistering and peeling. His father's respiratory failure. His two sisters and younger brother’s convulsions. Three hundred forty-seven people dying in systematic waves as Morrison's team documented results and adjusted dispersal patterns.
"I hid in the well. Dylan found me because I was still breathing. Everyone else was dead or dying." Khalid's hands don't shake. "He was supposed to wait until I died. Supposed to document my death. Instead he pulled me out and ran."
"Why?"
"You should ask him. I think seeing dead children reminded him of something. Or someone."
His daughter. Maya. Eight years old when she died.
"Dylan saved you because you mattered. Not because you reminded him of anyone."
"Maybe. But I think people usually save the things they couldn't save before. That's why he checks on me at night. Why he reads to me in Arabic even though his pronunciation is terrible. Why he watches me like I might disappear if he looks away." Khalid's expression softens. "He's trying very hard to be someone worth trusting. Most days he succeeds."
"He is worth trusting."
