Chapter 8 - The Woman in the BasementWe returned to St. Mary’s.
But not through the front entrance.
The hospital had been abandoned for years.
The windows were boarded.
The halls smelled like dust and bleach.
Dad led us through a side entrance.
“How do you know where to go?”
“I've been here before.”
Evan stopped.
“I have too.”
Dad looked at him.
“You shouldn't remember this.”
Evan touched the wall.
“I don't remember with my head.”
He stared ahead.
“I remember with my body.”
We reached the basement.
Rows of rusted filing cabinets lined the corridor.
Dad unlocked a steel door.
Inside was an old laboratory.
My stomach turned.
Tables.
Medical equipment.
Chains.
Cabinets filled with documents.
And one large glass chamber.
Evan stared at it.
“They kept me here.”
Dad looked at him.
“No.”
Evan pointed.
“Then why do I remember this room?”
Nobody answered.
I walked to the chamber.
There were initials carved into the glass.
C.H.
Below them:
PRIMARY SUBJECT
My hands shook.
A monitor suddenly flickered.
The old computer turned on.
One file appeared.
PROJECT MIRROR
I clicked it.
A video loaded.
The image showed a young woman.
My mother.
She was sitting in this exact room.
She was holding a baby.
Me.
Or someone who looked like me.
A doctor entered.
Dr. Voss.
“You promised,” my mother said.
Voss smiled.
“I did.”
“You said he'd be protected.”
“He will be.”
“Then why are you taking him?”
“Because his condition is progressing.”
“What condition?”
“Cellular adaptation.”
Mom looked horrified.
“You don't know what you're creating.”
Voss leaned toward the camera.
“We know exactly what we're creating.”
The video ended.
Another file appeared automatically.
MARCH 14, 2007
Dad whispered:
“No.”
I opened it.
The screen showed my mother screaming.
Doctors rushed around a bed.
One baby lay motionless.
Another was being carried away.
Then a nurse looked toward the camera.
Her face was terrified.
“Sir,” she whispered.
“What?”
“The second baby is alive.”
Voss entered the room.
“Where is he?”
She pointed.
“In the incubator.”
Voss walked over.
He touched the baby's chest.
The baby suddenly opened his eyes.
The recording glitched.
The screen flashed red.
Then one final image appeared.
A medical chart.
PRIMARY SUBJECT: CONNOR HAYES
STATUS: DECEASED
Below it:
SECONDARY SUBJECT: UNKNOWN
STATUS: ACTIVE
Evan stared.
“Secondary subject.”
I looked at him.
“That's you.”
“No.”
He pointed at the screen.
“That was you.”
I stared.
“No.”
Evan's voice shook.
“I'm not the copy.”
“What?”
He looked at me.
“You are.”
Before I could respond, the basement lights turned on.
Someone stood behind us.
Dr. Voss.
He was older now.
Gray hair.
Calm eyes.
And a smile that made my skin crawl.
He looked at Evan.
Then me.
“Excellent.”
He smiled.
“Both of you survived.”
Dad raised his gun.
Voss didn't flinch.
“You've misunderstood everything, Connor.”
“What am I?”
Voss's smile disappeared.
“You are the original.”
He pointed at Evan.
“And he is the experiment.”
Then he looked at me.
“And now that you're both together…”
He pressed a button.
May you like
Steel doors slammed shut.
“…we can finally begin Phase Two.”
