Chapter 7: The Twelve Children
The door opened three inches.
Then stopped.
I could hear Noah crying on the other side.
"Daddy!"
I reached for the handle.
Claire's voice came through the darkness.
"Don't."
My hand froze.
"Where is my son?"
"He's safe."
"Then open the door."
"You still don't understand."
"I don't care about your games."
I pulled the handle harder.
"It ends now."
The door moved another inch.
Ava suddenly grabbed my arm.
"Daddy, wait."
I looked down.
She was staring at the gap beneath the door.
Her face had gone completely white.
"What is it?"
She whispered:
"I know that room."
I stared at her.
"You've been here?"
She nodded.
"When I was little."
Serena immediately stepped forward.
"Ava, no."
Ava turned toward her.
"You told me I imagined it."
Serena's eyes filled with tears.
"I was trying to protect you."
"You always say that."
Ava's voice trembled.
"But you never tell me what you're protecting me from."
Nobody spoke.
Then Claire's voice came from behind the door.
"Because she knows what happened."
Serena whispered:
"Claire..."
Claire laughed bitterly.
"You still say my name like you have the right."
"I saved Ava."
"You stole her."
"I kept her alive."
"You lied to her."
"I had no choice."
I looked between them.
"Enough."
I kicked the door open.
The room beyond was enormous.
Much larger than the basement above.
There were shelves along every wall.
Medical equipment.
Old monitors.
Boxes.
Files.
And twelve metal chairs arranged in a row.
Each chair had a number.
All the way to 12.
I felt sick.
At the end of the room was a single table.
Noah was sitting on it.
His hands were tied.
A woman stood behind him.
Claire.
She looked nothing like the monster I had imagined.
She looked exhausted.
Her hair was messy.
Her face was thin.
There were dark circles beneath her eyes.
But her eyes were sharp.
She looked at me.
"Daniel."
"Let my son go."
She cut the rope around Noah's wrists.
He immediately ran toward me.
I dropped to my knees and grabbed him.
"Are you hurt?"
He shook his head.
I held him tightly.
"I'm sorry."
He buried his face against me.
"I was scared."
"I know."
I looked at Claire.
"What do you want?"
She pointed toward the chairs.
"Answers."
"What answers?"
"Everything they never told you."
I stood.
"Noah stays with me."
"Of course."
Claire looked at Ava.
"Bring her."
Ava stepped behind me.
"No."
Claire's expression softened.
"She deserves to know."
Serena stepped between them.
"She doesn't."
Claire looked at Serena.
"After everything you've done, you don't get to decide that."
I turned toward Serena.
"What does she mean?"
Serena shook her head.
"Daniel..."
"What happened in this room?"
She didn't answer.
Claire did.
"Your father built it."
I looked at the twelve chairs.
"What were they for?"
"Children."
My stomach tightened.
"You said there were twelve."
"There were."
"What happened to them?"
Claire walked toward the first chair.
"This one was a boy named Lucas."
She pointed to the second.
"Emily."
Third.
"James."
She continued.
Names.
Faces.
Ages.
Dates.
Every child had a file.
Some were six.
Some were seven.
Some were younger.
My hands curled into fists.
"What did they do to them?"
"Your father called it research."
Claire's voice was cold.
"He believed certain genetic traits could be used to treat neurological diseases."
"That sounds like medical research."
"It wasn't."
She opened a file.
"They didn't ask the children."
She turned the page.
"They didn't tell their parents."
"Then where did they get them?"
Claire looked at Serena.
"Serena's organization found them."
I turned.
"What organization?"
Serena looked down.
"I worked for a private intelligence company."
"What did they do?"
"We located people."
"People?"
"Families."
She swallowed.
"Children who had certain genetic markers."
I looked at the chairs.
"You brought them here."
Serena closed her eyes.
"Sometimes."
"And Ava?"
Claire interrupted.
"Ava was different."
She walked toward the last chair.
Number twelve.
There was a photograph attached to it.
A little girl.
Ava.
I stared.
"What makes her different?"
Claire looked at Serena.
Then at me.
"She was born with a genetic mutation your father believed could change everything."
"What mutation?"
Claire shook her head.
"I don't know."
"Then who does?"
"Your father."
I laughed bitterly.
"He's dead."
Claire looked at me.
"Are you sure?"
My smile disappeared.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because everyone is afraid of him."
I looked at the file.
There was a medical report.
Ava's bloodwork.
But beneath it was something else.
A handwritten note.
I picked it up.
The handwriting was familiar.
My father's.
Subject 12 must never be allowed to leave.
I stared at the sentence.
Ava walked closer.
"What's that?"
I immediately folded the paper.
"Nothing."
Claire saw it.
"Don't hide it from her."
"She's seven."
"She has the right to know."
"She's a child."
"So were the other eleven."
The room fell silent.
Then Ava asked:
"What did Grandpa do to me?"
I didn't know what to say.
Claire answered.
"He didn't hurt you."
Ava looked confused.
"Then why was I here?"
"Because he wanted to study you."
Ava looked at Serena.
"Did Mommy bring me?"
Serena began crying.
"Yes."
Ava stepped backward.
"Why?"
"I thought I was saving you."
"But you brought me here."
"I didn't know what they would do."
"You knew enough."
Serena covered her face.
Claire said:
"Your mother found out what was happening."
Ava looked at me.
"Is Serena my real mother?"
The question destroyed me.
I didn't know.
I looked at Serena.
She whispered:
"No."
Ava's eyes widened.
"I've been lying to you."
Ava started crying.
I pulled her close.
She resisted at first.
Then collapsed against me.
"Who is my mother?"
Claire stepped forward.
"Her name is..."
Suddenly, the lights went out.
Every monitor shut down.
A loud alarm began screaming.
Marcus shouted:
"Someone's coming!"
Claire looked toward the entrance.
"No."
"What?"
"They found the room."
The metal door slammed shut.
Then we heard footsteps.
Many footsteps.
Marcus pulled his gun.
Serena grabbed Ava.
I grabbed Noah.
Claire moved toward a hidden panel in the wall.
"There's another exit."
"Where?"
"Behind the chairs."
We ran.
Then a voice came through the speakers.
A man's voice.
Calm.
Familiar.
My father's voice.
"Daniel."
I stopped.
Everyone froze.
The voice continued.
"I know you're there."
My heart hammered.
"You're making this much harder than it needs to be."
I stared at the speaker.
"Who is this?"
A pause.
Then:
"You know who I am."
Claire looked at me.
Her face was terrified.
"Richard."
My father's name.
The voice laughed.
"Hello, Claire."
She stepped backward.
"No."
"Still protecting the boy?"
"What boy?"
I looked at Claire.
She looked at me.
Then the voice said:
"Daniel."
The speaker crackled.
"I've waited a very long time to meet you again."
I couldn't breathe.
"Again?"
Claire closed her eyes.
And suddenly I remembered something.
A childhood memory.
One I had always thought was a dream.
I was five years old.
Standing in a hospital hallway.
A man was holding my hand.
He had my father's voice.
He leaned down and whispered:
"Don't tell your mother I'm still alive."
I had forgotten.
Until now.
My father hadn't disappeared when I was twelve.
He had been disappearing from my life long before that.
The speaker came alive again.
"Daniel, bring me Ava."
I tightened my arms around her.
"No."
The voice became colder.
"Then I'll take her myself."
A heavy metal door began opening somewhere behind us.
Claire whispered:
"He's coming."
May you like
And this time...
she wasn't talking about Thomas.
