Trent's gaze remained fixed on the paper, lost in a labyrinth of his thoughts. With a furrowed brow, Barbara leaned in, her eyes filled with deep concern. "What's troubling you, Trent?" she asked, her voice soft and caring. "What does it say?"
Trent's silence continued, his mind racing. As Barbara sensed his inner turmoil, she gently plucked the paper from his grasp. The room was cloaked in a dim, moody light, casting long shadows, and the distant, low hum of a passing car outside added to the overall atmosphere of suspense and intrigue. She read the words aloud, "Kilka Alexander Galkin."
Barbara gazed back at Trent, her brows furrowed in perplexity. "What does it mean? Isn't Galkin your last name? Who is this Alexander Galkin?'" She asked, a sense of urgency in her voice as she sought answers.
Trent, still lost in contemplation, finally broke his silence. "Uncle Joe remembers my father," he murmured, his words tinged with uncertainty. "My mother was wrong. Alexander Galkin is my dad." Barbara's curiosity deepened as she tried to make sense of the connection. "What does it have to do with Uncle Joe remembering him?" she inquired, her mind swirling with questions and intrigue.
Trent's eyes widened. "My mother shared all of this with me during her visit to our school on test day," he admitted, his voice carrying a weight of profound revelation. "Among the things she disclosed was the fact that Uncle Joe had experienced an accident on the very day my father passed away. This incident caused him to lose a portion of his memory, rendering him unable to recollect any memories he shared with my dad." The gravity of this revelation hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow of complexity over Trent's understanding of his family's history.
Barbara's gaze remained fixed on Trent, her expression a blend of inquisitiveness and puzzlement, as though she were diligently attempting to unravel the intricate puzzle of his words.
Breaking the brief silence, she spoke with a sense of uncertainty, "I'm not sure where all of this is leading." Her words hung in the air, casting a veil of uncertainty over their conversation.
Trent questioned, "Why would he pretend to have amnesia?"
Barbara contemplated the situation and replied, "Perhaps he regained his memory, or this note was written before your dad's passing."
Their conversation delved deeper into the mystery, with the possibility of regained memories and the timeline of the note's creation now in focus.
Trent's expression turned serious as he remarked, "That's a possibility, but I'm not certain. The note appears to be dated fifteen years ago, which would imply that Uncle Joe has been deceiving us all this time. It's hard to believe he would do that."
Curious, Barbara inquired, "How can you be certain it was written fifteen years ago?"
Before Trent could respond, Uncle Joe walked into the room with his shirt hanging askew around his neck, revealing his potbelly.
He was holding a soda can. He took one more sip and belched loudly. Trent and Barbara wrinkled their noses in irritation. He spotted his diary papers scattered all over the floor and noticed that Barbara had one with a red stamp on the side.
The red stamp was reserved for his most confidential secrets and successful missions.
Uncle Joe's eyes narrowed, and he stammered slightly as he asked, "What's going on here, and why are my pages scattered on the floor?"
Trent attempted to ask Uncle Joe about the note, but Barbara pinched him to stop him. She made sure that Uncle Joe didn't notice what she had done.
Trent understood what Barbara meant and just apologized to Uncle Joe for meddling with his diary. As he reached for the diary papers, Uncle Joe spoke up in a deep, commanding voice.
"Just leave," Uncle Joe said, his tone cold and dismissive. Trent and Barbara exchanged a glance, unsure of what to do. "We're sorry, Uncle Joe," Trent began, but Uncle Joe cut him off. "Just leave," he repeated.
Trent and Barbara left the room, Trent's mind racing. Something was off about Uncle Joe's behavior - he'd never been so insistent on doing a work alone before. And what did the word "Kilka" mean? It was clear that Uncle Joe was hiding something, and Trent was determined to find out what it was.
As Trent and Barbara walked into the living room. Trent was hoping for a slice of pizza as he was quite hungry, their eyes fell upon an empty pizza box and crumbs scattered across the table. They exchanged a knowing glance, a smile spreading across Barbara's face as she tried to suppress a chuckle. Trent looked like a pouting child, his disappointment clear as day.
"I guess we're a little too late for pizza," Barbara said, her tone light and teasing. Trent couldn't help but smile in spite of his disappointment. "I guess so," he said.
"Don't worry, I ordered another one," Barbara said, a warm smile spreading across her face. "I know Uncle Joe - he wouldn't have saved any for you, so I made sure to order an extra pizza before we left to park his things. You can thank me later."
Trent's face lit up at Barbara's kindness, and he felt like he could hug her, but he restrained himself. He knew he was out of money and wouldn't get another meal until Uncle Joe decided to eat again. For now, all he could do was enjoy Barbara's company.
The doorbell rang, and Trent, his hunger overriding all other thoughts, rushed to answer it. His heart soared as he saw the delivery man standing on the doorstep, a large pizza box in hand. He barely contained his excitement as he took the pizza from the delivery man, who looked rather bemused by the enthusiastic reception. Barbara signed the receipt with a wry smile, her amusement evident.
"I think that's the most excited I've ever seen anyone for a pizza," she said, her voice full of mirth. "I think you need to eat something else too - maybe a salad or something."
Trent, oblivious to Barbara's comment, simply gave her a thumbs-up while stuffing his mouth with pizza. The sight of him eating with such gusto made Barbara laugh, and she shook her head in amusement. She could tell that Trent hadn't eaten for a while.
A few minutes later, after having wolfed down most of the pizza, Trent turned to Barbara with a sheepish grin on his face. "Thanks for getting that pizza - I was starving," he said. "I'll have to pay you back for it."
Barbara waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it," she said. "I'm just glad you're not starving anymore. Take care, and I'll see you on Monday, Twigs." With a teasing grin, she turned and walked out the door.
As Trent watched Barbara depart, his thoughts shifted to the cryptic note he had discovered earlier. The word "Kilka" had etched itself in his mind, and an unsettling feeling gnawed at him. He was certain that he needed to uncover more about it, and he knew exactly where to begin – with his mother. However, he had to wait for her to fully recover from the hospital first. In the interim, he resolved to research the significance of the word "Kilka."
When Trent searched the term 'kilka' on the web, he found that it didn't yield any answers related to his situation. Most of the results were about a brackish- and freshwater fish called Clupeonella cultriventris, primarily found in the Black Sea and Caspian Sea, as well as in lakes in Turkey and Bulgaria. It was also known as the Black Sea sprat.
Trent attempted a different search query, "Kilka human," but his efforts yielded nothing more than evaluations of Kilka fish oil for human consumption. Frustration welled within him, and he began tapping his screen indiscriminately. Suddenly, an unexpected result appeared on the screen, displaying a logo associated with the ancient religion from the time of King Arthur and his legendary wizard, Merlin.
The logo of the cult from Merlin's story featured a symbol that looked like an eye inside of a triangle. The eye was stylized, with a black outline and a radiating sunburst around it. It was simple, yet oddly compelling. The triangle surrounding the eye was bright red, and the whole symbol seemed to pulsate with energy. Trent had the distinct feeling that the symbol was watching him, staring back at him from the screen.
Unexpectedly, a different prompt emerged on the screen, blocking Trent's view of the search results:
"WOULD YOU LIKE TO INTERACT?
Y/N"
Trent's heart began to race, he wasn't expecting anything like this. He nervously selected "N," but to his chagrin, it didn't respond. Realizing that it was likely an online advertisement, he tried to return to the home page or open a new tab, but his efforts proved fruitless. Inadvertently, his fingers pressed "Y," and he couldn't believe the astonishing content that appeared on the screen next.