Chapter 75: Going Rogue

The first bullet hit the dirt six inches from my foot, kicking up a plume of frozen earth.

"Run!" Ben yelled, shoving me back toward the tree line.

We scrambled up the ridge, the undergrowth tearing at our clothes. Another shot rang out, then another. Automatic fire. She wasn't using a pistol anymore.

"She has an assault rifle?" Lucia gasped, ducking behind a pine tree.

"She has everything," I said, my chest heaving. "She prepared for this."

We huddled in a shallow ravine, the moonlight barely penetrating the canopy. Below us, the cabin was a fortress of light and noise. The floodlight swept the woods, hunting us.

"We can't get close," Ben whispered. "Not with that light. She'll pick us off before we even reach the clearing."

"We don't need to get close," I said. "We just need to get her out."

I looked at Mark. He was pale, sweating, but his eyes were focused.

"You said this place was off the grid," he said. "How is she powering that light?"

"Generator," I said. "Around the back. Near the woodshed."

"If we kill the generator," Ben said, "we kill the light. And the heat."

"And the freezer," I added.

The samples.

If the power died, the temperature would rise. The eggs, the sperm, the genetic future of the Sterling line—it would all thaw. It would all die.

"She won't let that happen," Lucia said. "She'll come out to fix it."

"Exactly," I said.

"I'll go," Ben said, already moving.

"No," I said, grabbing his arm. "She knows you. She knows how you move. She'll be expecting a flank."

I looked at Lucia.

"She won't be expecting a ghost."

Lucia frowned. "Me?"

"You look just like me," I said. "In the dark, in the chaos... she won't know the difference. If she sees you running for the car..."

"She'll chase me," Lucia said. "She wants Sarah Sterling. She wants the one who humiliated her."

"And while she's chasing you," I said, "I go for the generator."

"And me?" Mark asked.

"You're the sniper," I said, handing him the gun. "You cover us."

Mark took the weapon. His hands were steady now.

"Okay," Lucia said, taking a deep breath. "Let's do this."

She moved to the edge of the ravine. She waited for the floodlight to sweep past, then she broke cover.

She ran toward the road, screaming my name.

"Sarah! Wait! Don't leave me!"

It was a performance worthy of a Sterling.

Below, the shooting stopped.

"There she is!" Edith's voice boomed. "Get her!"

A figure emerged from the cabin. It wasn't a guard. It was Edith. She was limping, favoring her left leg, but she was moving fast, rifle raised.

She fired a burst at Lucia. The bullets tore through the trees, missing her by feet.

Lucia dove into the ditch by the road.

Edith followed, moving away from the cabin. Away from the generator.

"Now," I whispered.

I slid down the ridge, keeping low. The snow was cold against my stomach, numbing the pain in my ribs. I reached the back of the cabin. The generator was humming, a loud, rhythmic chugging that covered the sound of my approach.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the tire iron Ben had given me.

I jammed it into the engine block.

The machine screamed. Sparks flew. Smoke billowed.

Then, silence.

The floodlight died. The clearing plunged into darkness.

"No!" Edith shrieked from the woods.

She turned back, abandoning the chase. She knew. She knew what the silence meant.

"The samples!" she screamed.

She ran for the cabin. She wasn't limping anymore. Adrenaline had burned away the pain.

I was closer. I reached the door first.

I slammed it shut and threw the deadbolt.

"Open it!" Edith yelled, pounding on the wood. "Open it or I'll kill you!"

"You'll have to burn it down," I shouted back. "Just like the estate."

I turned to the room. The fire in the hearth was dying, casting long, dancing shadows.

In the corner, next to a large chest freezer, was a crib.

I walked over to it.

The baby—Subject 12's son—was gone.

The crib was empty.

But the freezer... the freezer was humming. It had a backup battery.

I opened the lid.

Inside, nestled in dry ice, were the vials. Hundreds of them.

And next to them, wrapped in a blanket, was a bundle.

I reached in. The cold burned my fingers.

I pulled the bundle out.

It wasn't a baby.

It was a doll. An old, porcelain doll with a cracked face.

Attached to its dress was a note.

*Did you really think I'd leave him here?*

*The boy is with the others.*

*In the mine.*

I stared at the note.

The mine.

Archibald's first investment. The silver mine in Nevada. The one that had been closed for fifty years.

The one that was supposed to be flooded.

"Sarah!" Ben shouted from outside. "She's coming in through the window!"

Glass shattered.

A boot crunched on the floorboards.

I spun around.

Edith was climbing through the broken window. The rifle was gone. She was holding a flare.

She struck it.

Red light flooded the room, illuminating her face. She looked like a demon.

"You want to play with fire?" she whispered.

She threw the flare.

It landed on the rug. The dry, old rug.

The flames licked up instantly, hungry and fast.

"Burn," she said.

And then she laughed.

It wasn't a laugh of victory. It was a laugh of madness.

Because she wasn't leaving.

She sat down in the rocking chair, next to the empty crib.

"I'm tired, Sarah," she said. "I'm so tired."

The fire spread to the curtains. The heat was intense.

"Edith," I said, coughing in the smoke. "The mine. Where is the entrance?"

She looked at me. Her eyes were clear, lucid.

"If I tell you," she said, "will you save them?"

"Yes," I said.

"Even the ones that aren't perfect?"

" especially them," I said.

Edith smiled. A genuine, sad smile.

"The entrance isn't in Nevada," she whispered.

She pointed to the floor.

"It's here."