CHAPTER 17 — THE CHILDREN WITHOUT NAMES
Cole led them deeper beneath the hospital.
The corridor narrowed until exposed pipes hung inches above their heads. Water dripped onto the concrete floor. Faded arrows marked routes to the laundry room, the incinerator, and something called Development Ward C.
Claire stayed behind Cole.
His gun remained in his hand.
“Give me one reason not to leave you here.”
“You need the loading-dock code.”
“That is not a reason to trust you.”
“No,” Cole said. “It is a reason to keep me alive.”
Margaret struggled to walk between Claire and Elaine. Each step caused pain to tighten her face, but she refused to stop.
“You knew Sarah was alive,” Claire said to her.
“I suspected.”
“You told me she disappeared.”
“She did disappear.”
“She is standing upstairs with armed men.”
“The woman standing upstairs is not the woman I knew thirty years ago.”
Cole glanced back.
“What does that mean?”
Margaret did not answer.
They passed a steel door marked RECORDS—AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
A child’s voice came from behind it.
Claire stopped.
It was not Lily’s voice.
It sounded like a little boy crying.
“Please don’t turn off the light.”
Lily gripped Claire’s hand.
“Mommy, someone’s in there.”
Cole tested the handle.
Locked.
“We do not have time.”
Claire took the metal pipe from Elaine and struck the lock.
Once.
Twice.
On the third blow, the rusted housing broke.
The door opened.
No child waited inside.
Rows of metal shelves filled the room.
Old cassette tapes, medical charts, blood samples, and photographs had been organized by number.
A speaker in the corner played the voice repeatedly.
“Please don’t turn off the light.”
Dana unplugged it.
The silence felt worse.
Claire approached a filing cabinet labeled SUCCESSION CANDIDATES.
Inside were hundreds of folders.
Most had been stamped TERMINATED.
Some read FAILED INTEGRATION.
Others were marked UNTRACEABLE.
Claire found a folder labeled V-31.
Inside was Lily’s photograph.
It had been taken at school two months earlier.
Her medical history was listed beneath it.
Allergies.
Dental records.
Vaccinations.
Even the name of the stuffed rabbit she slept with.
Lily stared at the file.
“How do they know Mr. Buttons?”
Claire closed the folder.
“They were watching us.”
Margaret opened another drawer.
Her hands began shaking.
“What is it?” Elaine asked.
Margaret removed a file marked C-17.
Claire’s photograph was clipped to the front.
The first image showed her as an infant.
The second showed her at five years old.
The third had been taken on her wedding day.
Claire looked at the date typed above the first photograph.
The file had been created three days before her birth.
“That’s impossible.”
Cole took the folder.
A line on the first page read:
MATERNAL LINE: VERIFIED
PATERNAL LINE: DISPUTED
FUNCTION: CARRIER
STATUS: ACTIVE
Claire read the word again.
“Carrier?”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“I hoped they had never completed your file.”
“My mother knew about me before I was born?”
“Not your mother.”
Margaret looked toward the ceiling.
“Sarah.”
A monitor at the end of the room suddenly turned on.
The screen displayed live video from the operating theater.
Olivia sat tied to a chair.
Daniel stood behind her, pressing a cloth against a wound in his shoulder.
Rebecca lay on the floor several feet away.
Blood surrounded her hand.
Olivia lifted her face toward the camera.
“Claire,” she whispered.
Daniel looked directly into the lens.
“I know you’re watching.”
He held up the pendant’s memory card.
“You copied the files, but you left the encryption key.”
Claire reached toward the monitor.
Daniel smiled.
“Seven hours remain on your public release. Without this card, your server will upload nothing but corrupted data.”
Rebecca moved slightly on the floor.
She was alive.
Daniel placed a gun against Olivia’s head.
“Bring Lily to the surgical wing.”
Olivia began crying.
“Don’t do it, Claire.”
Daniel’s voice hardened.
“If you refuse, I will begin with Rebecca.”
The video feed changed.
A countdown appeared.
00:09:59.
Ten minutes.
Claire turned to Cole.
“Take us back.”
“That feed could be delayed.”
“What?”
Cole pointed at the corner of the screen.
“The timestamp is eleven minutes behind.”
Claire looked closer.
He was right.
Daniel’s ten-minute countdown had ended before they entered the room.
The monitor switched to another camera.
The operating theater was now empty.
Rebecca was gone.
Olivia was gone.
Only one sentence had been written across the wall in blood.
SHE CHOSE THE WRONG DAUGHTER.
May you like
Behind them, the record-room door locked itself.
Gas began pouring through the ventilation system.
