Chapter 11 - The Children BelowWe ran.
The underground facility became a maze.
Red emergency lights flashed.
Doors opened by themselves.
Alarms screamed.
Maya was in my arms.
Alessandro carried Luca.
Isabella followed.
The other Emma ran beside us.
“Left!”
Alessandro hesitated.
“How do you know?”
“I built this section.”
“You built it?”
She nodded.
“Before they erased me.”
We turned.
Behind us came footsteps.
Too many.
Men in black uniforms.
Not Victor's people.
They moved with military precision.
One raised a weapon.
Alessandro fired.
The sound echoed through the corridor.
We reached a steel door.
The other Emma entered a code.
Nothing happened.
“Again.”
She tried.
Still nothing.
“They changed it.”
Victor appeared behind us.
He grabbed the keypad.
“I know the old code.”
He entered six digits.
The door opened.
Inside were rows of incubators.
My blood turned cold.
Not empty.
Children.
Dozens of babies.
I stared.
“No…”
Maya buried her face in my shoulder.
Luca began crying.
The other Emma whispered:
“They've been here for years.”
Alessandro looked at Victor.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you allowed it?”
Victor looked shattered.
“I was trying to destroy the program.”
“You created parts of it.”
“Yes.”
Alessandro raised his gun.
I stopped him.
“Not now.”
We needed answers.
Then I saw something.
One incubator had a name.
MAYA C.
I stared.
The baby inside looked about three years old.
No.
Impossible.
It wasn't a baby.
It was a photograph.
A file image.
The real incubator contained medical documents.
Victor took one look.
“That's not Maya.”
I relaxed.
Then the other Emma whispered:
“Look at the date.”
Six years ago.
And the photograph showed a newborn Maya.
But there was another image beside it.
A newborn Luca.
They were placed side by side.
Then beneath them:
TRANSFER SUCCESSFUL.
I asked:
“Transferred where?”
Nobody answered.
A voice came through the intercom.
“Upstairs.”
Victor froze.
The voice was female.
Calm.
Cold.
“You've brought all the pieces back together.”
The other Emma looked terrified.
“Who is that?”
Victor whispered:
“Dr. Helena Vale.”
I recognized the name.
I had seen it in old hospital documents.
Chief director.
Neonatal research division.
The woman who supposedly died twelve years earlier.
She spoke again.
“Emma.”
My skin prickled.
“Yes?”
“You don't remember me.”
“No.”
“You should.”
“What did you do to me?”
Silence.
Then:
“I gave you your daughter.”
Maya suddenly lifted her head.
She looked toward the intercom.
And whispered:
“Mommy.”
I froze.
“My daughter?”
Maya stared at the speaker.
“No.”
She pointed.
“Other Mommy.”
The room went silent.
Dr. Vale laughed softly.
“Very good.”
I felt cold.
“What did she mean?”
May you like
The voice replied:
“She remembers.”
