Chapter 8 - The People Behind the CamerasSarah had spent the first half of her life believing cameras were meant to protect people.
Now she understood.
They were meant to watch them.
The timer continued counting down.
25:42.
Her father led them through a service corridor.
“Stay close.”
Sarah carried the laptop.
Her mother followed.
They reached a small elevator.
Her father entered a code.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Then the speaker above them crackled.
Richard.
“You always did prefer the back door.”
Sarah's father looked up.
“Richard.”
“Where are you going?”
“Anywhere away from you.”
Richard laughed.
“You still think this is about me.”
Sarah looked at the camera.
“Then who is it about?”
Silence.
Then:
“Your family.”
The elevator doors suddenly opened.
Inside stood a man in a gray suit.
Sarah recognized him.
The man from the monitor.
He smiled.
“Mr. Harrington.”
Sarah's father froze.
The man stepped out.
“It's been a long time.”
Her father moved Sarah behind him.
“Don't touch my daughter.”
The man smiled.
“She stopped being your daughter years ago.”
Sarah's mother screamed:
“Run!”
Everyone moved at once.
Sarah pulled her mother down a hallway.
Behind them, footsteps followed.
They entered a wine cellar.
Her father shut the door.
The cellar was enormous.
Rows of bottles stretched into darkness.
Sarah heard someone outside.
“Search every room.”
Her father whispered:
“They'll find us.”
Sarah pointed at a stone wall.
“What about that?”
A strange symbol had been carved into it.
Three vertical lines.
The same symbol from the library.
Her father looked at it.
His face changed.
“That's not a symbol.”
“What is it?”
“A key.”
He pressed the center line.
The wall opened.
Behind it was a tunnel.
Sarah stared.
“How many hidden rooms does this house have?”
Her father answered:
“Enough to bury a lifetime of secrets.”
They entered.
The door closed behind them.
The timer continued.
17:03.
They moved deeper underground.
Then Sarah saw dozens of photographs.
Children.
Hundreds of them.
Each with a number.
Some had red marks across their faces.
Sarah touched one photograph.
“What happened to them?”
Her father wouldn't answer.
“Dad.”
He finally spoke.
“They were candidates.”
“For what?”
“Replacement.”
Sarah frowned.
“Replacement for who?”
He pointed toward the end of the tunnel.
A glass chamber stood there.
Inside was a hospital bed.
And on that bed was a woman.
Sarah stepped closer.
Her own face stared back from behind the glass.
Same eyes.
Same hair.
Same scar.
But the woman was unconscious.
Sarah whispered:
“Who is she?”
Her father looked devastated.
“You.”
Sarah shook her head.
“No.”
He nodded.
“The original Sarah.”
The timer on the laptop hit:
10:00.
Then a new message appeared.
ONE OF THE TWO MUST DIE.
May you like
Sarah looked at her sleeping double.
Behind the glass, the woman suddenly opened her eyes.
