Chapter 9 - C-18The next twenty minutes were chaos.
Doctors moved around me.
Nurses prepared medication.
Machines rolled into the room.
But the thing that terrified me most wasn't the possibility of premature labor.
It was the code.
C-18.
Someone had already assigned my unborn child a research number.
Before she was born.
“How do they know?” I asked.
“No one is telling us anything,” Ethan said.
Detective Morgan stood near the door.
“We're evacuating the maternity floor.”
“Why?”
“Because we don't know who has access.”
Then the doctor looked at the monitor.
“Contractions are slowing.”
“What?”
“Her body is responding to the medication.”
I exhaled.
My daughter was stable.
For now.
Then Detective Morgan's phone rang.
She listened.
Her expression changed.
“What happened?”
“The hospital administrator is gone.”
“Dr. Vale?”
“Yes.”
“He escaped?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“He was murdered.”
Silence.
“What?”
“He died in police custody.”
“How?”
“Poison.”
My stomach turned.
“Someone killed him to keep him quiet.”
“Yes.”
Then another officer entered.
“Detective, we found your mother's car.”
“Where?”
“Underground parking.”
“Was she inside?”
“No.”
“What was in it?”
The officer swallowed.
“Three boxes.”
He handed her photographs.
Each box contained medical records.
Dozens of them.
Pregnant women.
All from twenty years ago.
All connected to Bellhaven.
I stared at the photographs.
“How many?”
“Forty-three.”
“And the babies?”
“No records.”
My blood went cold.
“What do you mean no records?”
“They disappear after birth.”
A chilling silence filled the room.
Detective Morgan looked at Ethan.
“These women were test subjects.”
Then she looked at me.
“Your grandmother may have been running the project.”
“But she tried to stop it.”
“Maybe.”
I felt a sharp pain.
Then another.
The baby's heart rate jumped.
The doctor rushed closer.
“She's moving.”
I began crying.
“She's fighting.”
The doctor nodded.
“She is.”
Then the door opened.
My mother stood there.
Blood stained the sleeve of her blouse.
Everyone froze.
“Mom?”
She raised her hands.
“I came to tell you the truth.”
Detective Morgan reached for her weapon.
“Don't move.”
“I didn't hurt anyone.”
“Where did the blood come from?”
My mother looked at me.
“Your father.”
My heart stopped.
“What happened to him?”
“He knows I told you everything.”
“Where is he?”
“He's coming here.”
Detective Morgan stepped toward her.
“When?”
My mother looked at the hallway.
“Now.”
The lights went out.
Again.
Screaming erupted outside.
Then the hospital doors slammed shut.
Locked.
My mother whispered:
“He's already inside.”
A shadow appeared beyond the glass.
My father's silhouette.
May you like
He slowly raised one hand.
And in it was a gun.
