CHAPTER 7: THE TWENTY-THREE CRIBS
The crying wouldn't stop.
One baby.
Then another.
Then another.
The sounds bounced through the underground tunnel until I couldn't tell where one cry ended and another began.
Claire clung to my dress.
“Mommy, why are there so many babies?”
I couldn't answer.
I looked at Daniel.
“Twenty-three?”
He nodded.
His face had gone pale.
“What happened down here?”
“I don't know.”
“You said you did.”
“I knew about the facility. I didn't know how far it went.”
My father stepped toward the darkness.
“We have to leave.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Emma.”
“No.”
I tightened my arms around Emily.
“I am not walking away from twenty-three crying babies.”
My mother looked at me.
“You don't understand what this place is.”
“Then explain it.”
She hesitated.
Daniel answered.
“It was called the Whitmore Genetic Research Center.”
I stared at him.
“That sounds like a hospital.”
“It wasn't.”
“What was it?”
“A laboratory.”
My stomach twisted.
“For what?”
Daniel looked at the babies.
“For creating heirs.”
The words made my blood run cold.
Claire whispered,
“Like Emily?”
Daniel nodded.
“Like Emily.”
I looked down at my newborn.
She had finally stopped crying.
Her tiny fingers were wrapped around mine.
I couldn't understand how anyone could look at a baby and see money.
Daniel continued.
“The Whitmores had been experimenting for decades.”
“With babies?”
“With bloodlines.”
My father interrupted.
“Daniel, we don't have time.”
“We have more time than those children do.”
My father looked at him.
Daniel stepped toward the tunnel.
“If the security team finds this place, they'll destroy the evidence.”
I understood.
“That means they'll kill the babies.”
Nobody answered.
I started walking.
My mother grabbed my arm.
“Where are you going?”
“To find them.”
“Emma!”
I kept moving.
The tunnel became colder.
The walls changed from old stone to concrete.
Small red lights flickered overhead.
Then we reached a steel door.
A keypad was mounted beside it.
Daniel entered a code.
The door opened.
The smell hit me first.
Antiseptic.
Metal.
Something faintly sour.
Then I saw them.
Rows of glass bassinets.
Twenty-three.
Each one containing a baby.
Some were sleeping.
Some were crying.
Some were connected to monitors.
My heart broke.
Claire covered her mouth.
“Mommy…”
I couldn't speak.
I walked to the first crib.
A little boy.
Then the second.
A girl.
Then the third.
Another girl.
Each child had a small bracelet.
Numbers.
Not names.
I looked at Daniel.
“They don't have names.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because names mean identity.”
He looked away.
“They were never supposed to have one.”
I felt sick.
I picked up one bracelet.
NUMBER 07.
“Who are these children?”
Daniel walked to a terminal.
“They're failed candidates.”
“Candidates for what?”
“The trust.”
I stared at him.
“You created twenty-three babies for an inheritance?”
“Not all were created by the Whitmores.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some were taken.”
I froze.
“Taken from where?”
“Hospitals.”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Some were stolen from poor families.”
I looked at the babies.
“So the Whitmores could find the right bloodline.”
“Yes.”
Claire began crying.
“Mommy, they're all alone.”
I pulled her close.
“We're going to help them.”
Daniel looked at me.
“You can't take twenty-three babies out of here.”
“Watch me.”
Suddenly a monitor beeped.
One of the babies began screaming.
Daniel rushed over.
“What's wrong?”
The screen showed a rapidly dropping heart rate.
I stepped closer.
“What's happening?”
“The oxygen line.”
He adjusted it.
The monitor stabilized.
I stared at him.
“You know how to do this.”
“I learned.”
“From where?”
He didn't answer.
My father did.
“He was one of their subjects.”
I looked at Daniel.
“What?”
He pulled up his sleeve.
A scar ran from his wrist to his elbow.
Then another.
And another.
“They experimented on me when I was sixteen.”
My stomach turned.
“Why?”
“Because I carried the marker.”
“The same one?”
“Yes.”
“So that's why they took you.”
“Yes.”
I looked at my father.
“You knew?”
“I tried to stop them.”
“But you let me believe Daniel was dead.”
“I thought it would keep you safe.”
“It didn't.”
He looked away.
A loud alarm suddenly sounded.
Everyone froze.
Daniel stared at the terminal.
“They've breached the upper floor.”
“How long?”
“Maybe four minutes.”
My mother looked at the babies.
“We need to move.”
I pointed toward the rows.
“All of them?”
Daniel nodded.
“If we leave them, they're dead.”
My father looked at me.
“Emma, there are too many.”
I shook my head.
“Then we'll carry them.”
He stared at me.
Then something changed in his expression.
He nodded.
“Fine.”
We began moving.
My mother took two babies.
My father took three.
Daniel started disconnecting monitors.
I carried Emily and Claire stayed beside me, holding another baby's blanket.
Then she stopped.
“Mommy.”
“What?”
She pointed toward the far end of the room.
“There.”
I followed her finger.
A single glass bassinet stood behind a curtain.
It wasn't connected to the other equipment.
It had a handwritten label.
I walked toward it.
The label said:
SUBJECT 00.
I looked inside.
An infant was sleeping peacefully.
A tiny girl.
Dark hair.
A small crescent-shaped mark beneath her left ear.
The exact same mark as Emily.
I stared.
“No.”
Daniel came running.
“What?”
I pointed.
His face drained of color.
“That's impossible.”
“What?”
“Subject 00 was destroyed.”
“Destroyed?”
He didn't answer.
I lifted the baby.
She opened her eyes.
They were the same dark brown as mine.
Claire stepped closer.
“Mommy…”
“What?”
She stared at the baby.
“That's my sister.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
Claire pointed at Emily.
Then the new baby.
“They look the same.”
Daniel took a DNA scanner from the equipment table.
“Give me her hand.”
I did.
The machine scanned the baby's blood.
A percentage appeared.
99.99%.
I stared.
“She's mine.”
Daniel looked at the result.
Then at Emily.
He scanned Emily.
Same result.
Then Claire.
Same.
Three children.
All mine.
But that wasn't the shocking part.
The screen flashed red.
GENETIC MATCH: 100%
SECONDARY MATCH DETECTED.
I frowned.
“What does secondary match mean?”
Daniel stared at the screen.
“It means…”
He stopped.
“What?”
He whispered,
“They're identical.”
I looked at the three babies.
“No.”
Daniel nodded.
“Not triplets.”
“Then what?”
He swallowed.
“Clones.”
The room went silent.
I looked at Claire.
At Emily.
At the newborn in my arms.
Three daughters.
Same DNA.
Same genetic marker.
But born six years apart.
My mind couldn't comprehend it.
“Claire wasn't born six years ago.”
Daniel shook his head.
“She was.”
“Then how can Emily be genetically identical?”
“Because they used Claire's DNA.”
My heart pounded.
“From what?”
“From the original embryo.”
I stared at him.
“Then who is the original?”
He pointed toward the bassinet.
“Subject 00.”
I looked at the baby.
“She?”
Daniel nodded.
“She's the original.”
My father suddenly grabbed my shoulder.
“Emma.”
“What?”
“Put the baby down.”
“Why?”
“Because Subject 00 isn't a child.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He pointed toward the monitor.
The screen had begun displaying medical data.
Heart rate.
Blood oxygen.
Then something else.
AGE.
I blinked.
The screen read:
AGE: 18 YEARS, 4 MONTHS.
I stared at the newborn.
“That can't be.”
Daniel shook his head.
“It isn't her biological age.”
“Then what is it?”
He looked terrified.
“That's the age of the genetic template.”
I didn't understand.
Then the lights went out.
All of them.
The babies started crying.
Claire screamed.
Someone slammed the steel door.
Daniel ran toward it.
“It's locked!”
My father pulled his weapon.
“Everyone stay together.”
A voice came over the intercom.
Calm.
Male.
Familiar.
“Emma.”
I froze.
My father's face went pale.
Daniel whispered,
“That's him.”
The voice continued.
“You shouldn't have found this room.”
I held Emily tighter.
The speaker crackled.
“You have three minutes to return my property.”
My mother shouted,
“Go to hell!”
The voice laughed.
Then every monitor in the room turned on simultaneously.
One by one, images appeared.
Claire.
Emily.
The newborn.
Their medical records.
Their DNA.
Their birth dates.
Then another file appeared.
MY NAME.
I stared.
The title was:
PROJECT MOTHER.
Below it was a photograph of me.
Taken before I was born.
I felt sick.
My father whispered,
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You knew about this.”
He didn't answer.
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
“I didn't know you were the mother.”
“What does that mean?”
The screen changed.
A sentence appeared.
SUBJECT MOTHER SELECTED AT AGE 3.
I stared.
My entire body went numb.
Then another sentence appeared.
PRIMARY OBJECTIVE:
PRODUCE A COMPATIBLE HEIR.
I couldn't breathe.
I turned toward my father.
“You're saying my entire life…”
He closed his eyes.
“…was planned.”
The speaker crackled again.
“Not your entire life.”
A pause.
“Only the important parts.”
Then the steel door began opening.
Slowly.
My father raised his weapon.
Daniel stepped in front of the babies.
I held Claire's hand.
The door opened.
A man stood outside.
Black suit.
Gray hair.
Scar across his eyebrow.
My father stepped backward.
I recognized him immediately.
Not because I had seen him six years ago.
Not because I had seen him in photographs.
Because I had seen him in my dreams.
My grandfather.
The man who had supposedly died before I was born.
He smiled.
“Hello, Emma.”
I couldn't speak.
He looked at the three girls.
Then at me.
“You've finally brought all my heirs together.”
He raised a small remote control.
“One button.”
He smiled.
“And every door in this facility locks permanently.”
I stared at him.
“What do you want?”
His smile disappeared.
“You.”
He pointed the remote at me.
“Not the children.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He stepped closer.
“Because without you…”
He glanced at the three babies.
“…none of them can inherit anything.”
Then he pressed the button.
Every steel door in the facility slammed shut.
May you like
And somewhere deep beneath the mansion...
a countdown began.
