CHAPTER 4 THE THING BENEATH THE HOSPITAL
The pounding beneath the floor came again.
BOOM.
BOOM.
BOOM.
Amelia screamed in my arms.
The number behind her ear changed.
14.
I stared at it.
“Luka…”
“I know.”
“What happens at zero?”
He didn't answer.
That frightened me more than anything else.
Daniel rushed toward us.
“We need to get out of this building.”
Luka shook his head.
“Every exit is sealed.”
“Then break through.”
“Those shutters are reinforced steel.”
“Then find another way!”
Luka looked at me.
“There is another way.”
He pointed toward the service corridor.
“The basement.”
I stared at him.
“My father told me to bring her there.”
“Exactly.”
“You want me to walk into a trap?”
“No.”
He looked toward the floor.
“I want to find out why your father is terrified of what's underneath us.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“You don't understand.”
Luka turned.
“Then explain.”
Daniel's face had gone pale.
“The basement doesn't exist.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“This hospital has six floors underground.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It wasn't built on the original plans.”
Luka's expression hardened.
“Who told you?”
Daniel hesitated.
“My father.”
I looked at him.
“Your father knew about this?”
“He was one of the investors.”
My stomach twisted.
“How many people knew?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Too many.”
Luka grabbed his collar.
“Where's the entrance?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear.”
The pounding came again.
BOOM.
This time, the entire floor shook.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
A nurse screamed.
The digital clock changed.
13.
Luka turned toward the service corridor.
“Move.”
We ran.
I held Amelia against my chest as tightly as I could.
Daniel followed.
Behind us, something crashed through the maternity ward doors.
Men shouted.
Gunfire erupted.
Luka pushed us around a corner.
“Down!”
Bullets tore through the wall.
Daniel covered his head.
I dropped to my knees.
Amelia cried.
Luka fired back.
Three shots.
Silence.
Then he looked at us.
“Keep moving.”
We reached a narrow metal door.
Luka tried the handle.
Locked.
Daniel shook his head.
“This isn't the basement.”
Luka looked at him.
“Then what is it?”
“Maintenance.”
Luka kicked the door.
Nothing.
He kicked again.
The hinges bent.
One final kick.
The door flew inward.
Beyond it was a staircase.
But there was something strange about it.
The stairs went down.
And down.
And down.
Far deeper than a hospital basement should have gone.
I looked at Daniel.
“How many floors?”
He whispered,
“I don't know.”
Luka pulled a flashlight from his jacket.
“We don't have time.”
The countdown changed.
12.
We descended.
One floor.
Two.
Three.
The air became colder.
Four.
Five.
My ears began ringing.
At the sixth landing, the walls changed.
The hospital tiles disappeared.
They were replaced by old concrete.
Then steel.
Then something that looked like glass.
I stopped.
“What is this?”
Luka shone the flashlight across the wall.
There were names engraved into the steel.
Dozens of them.
Children.
Dates.
Numbers.
I recognized one immediately.
M-17.
Then another.
M-18.
Then another.
M-19.
I stepped closer.
“These are children.”
Luka nodded.
“What happened to them?”
He didn't answer.
I looked at the dates.
Most were from twenty years ago.
Some from ten years ago.
One date was yesterday.
My stomach dropped.
“Yesterday?”
Daniel stared at the wall.
“That can't be possible.”
I pointed.
“Then explain it.”
He couldn't.
A sound came from behind the wall.
A faint scratching.
Like fingernails.
I froze.
“Did you hear that?”
Luka raised his weapon.
The scratching stopped.
Then came three knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
I looked at Luka.
“Someone is in there.”
He walked toward the wall.
There was a small glass window.
He wiped away the dust.
I looked through it.
My breath stopped.
There was a room on the other side.
And inside the room were six hospital beds.
Five were empty.
One was occupied.
A little girl sat on it.
She looked about six years old.
Her knees were pulled against her chest.
Her head was shaved.
And behind her ear was the number—
17.
I covered my mouth.
“She's alive.”
Luka stared at her.
His face became completely expressionless.
Daniel whispered,
“No…”
The little girl suddenly looked up.
Her eyes found mine through the glass.
Then she smiled.
Not like a child.
Like someone who recognized me.
She raised one finger to her lips.
“Shh.”
Then she pointed behind me.
I turned.
Nothing.
When I looked back, the girl was standing against the glass.
She placed her palm against it.
I instinctively placed mine against hers.
Her lips moved.
I couldn't hear her.
But I understood one word.
Mother.
I pulled my hand away.
“No.”
Luka grabbed my shoulder.
“Emma, step back.”
The little girl began crying.
Daniel stared at her.
“That's impossible.”
“What?”
“She died.”
I looked at him.
“What did you say?”
Daniel's face was white.
“That girl…”
He stepped closer.
“She was born eighteen years ago.”
Luka turned sharply.
“How do you know?”
Daniel whispered,
“Because I was there.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
Daniel looked at me.
“I was a medical intern.”
My heart sank.
“You worked here?”
“Only for three months.”
“What happened?”
“I saw the children.”
His voice trembled.
“I saw what they were doing.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
He looked at the little girl.
“And your father.”
I stepped backward.
“My father did this?”
Daniel nodded.
“They weren't studying memory.”
“Then what?”
“They were trying to transfer it.”
I frowned.
“Transfer what?”
“Consciousness.”
Silence.
Daniel continued.
“They believed certain genetic markers allowed memory to be copied between human brains.”
I stared at him.
“That isn't possible.”
“They thought it was.”
“And the children?”
“Test subjects.”
I looked at Amelia.
Her tiny fingers were curled around my shirt.
“What does that have to do with her?”
Daniel pointed toward the mark behind her ear.
“M-17 wasn't the project number.”
I felt cold.
“Then what was it?”
“The name of the first successful subject.”
My eyes widened.
“Who?”
Daniel looked through the glass.
At the little girl.
“She was.”
The little girl suddenly began screaming.
“GET AWAY!”
The lights flickered.
A red warning light appeared above the door.
Luka pulled me backward.
“What happened?”
Daniel looked terrified.
“She knows.”
“Knows what?”
“She knows we're here.”
The little girl screamed again.
“HE'S COMING!”
I looked around.
“Who?”
She pointed toward the dark corridor behind us.
“THE MAN WITH NO FACE!”
Then every light in the underground facility turned off.
Complete darkness.
I heard Luka cock his weapon.
Then footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
Coming toward us.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Daniel whispered,
“No…”
“What?”
He was trembling.
“That's him.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
A man's voice came from the darkness.
“You shouldn't have brought her here.”
Luka raised his weapon.
“Gabriel?”
The voice laughed.
“No.”
A figure stepped into the faint red emergency light.
He was tall.
Thin.
His face was covered by a smooth black mask.
No eyes.
No mouth.
Nothing.
He looked directly at me.
Then at Amelia.
And he said,
“Finally.”
The countdown on the wall changed.
10.
The masked man lifted his hand.
A door behind him opened.
Inside was a room filled with monitors.
Every monitor showed the same image.
My daughter.
Sleeping.
But the footage was dated—
TWO YEARS BEFORE SHE WAS BORN.
I couldn't breathe.
Luka stared at the screens.
Then he whispered,
“Emma…”
“What?”
He pointed at one monitor.
There was another image beside Amelia.
A woman.
My mother.
And beneath her photograph were four words:
ORIGINAL M-17 HOST.
My knees nearly gave out.
My mother had been dead for fifteen years.
But the monitor displayed a live heartbeat.
And then the screen changed.
A message appeared.
TRANSFER SEQUENCE READY.
NINE MINUTES.
The masked man stepped toward me.
“Bring me the baby.”
Luka raised his gun.
“Take one more step.”
The man laughed.
“You still don't understand, Moretti.”
He removed his mask.
I stared at his face.
It wasn't my father.
It wasn't a stranger.
It was the doctor who had delivered Amelia.
Dr. Marcus Vale.
He smiled.
“Your daughter isn't the experiment.”
He pointed at me.
“You are.”
And behind me, Amelia suddenly stopped crying.
Her eyes opened.
She looked directly at Marcus.
Then she spoke her first word.
May you like
A word no newborn should have known.
“Daddy.”
