Chapter 92: Resuscitation

The flatline wasn't a sound. It was a physical sensation, a vibration in the air that rattled my teeth. The baby in my arms was limp, his skin turning a terrifying shade of blue.

"Do it," I said, my voice cracking. "Save him."

Clara didn't move. She just stared at me, her hand resting on the golden crib.

"The trade, Sarah. I need to hear you say it."

"I'll save her," I said, looking at the baby with Martha's eyes. "I'll take her. I'll raise her. Just fix him."

Clara smiled. It was a small, victorious thing.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small glass vial.

"This is the last of the stabilizer," she said. "The pure strain."

She walked over to me. She didn't take the baby. She just injected the liquid directly into his thigh.

"It works fast," she said.

I watched, holding my breath.

For a moment, nothing happened. The flatline continued to whine, a monotonous scream of death.

Then, a gasp.

The baby arched his back, sucking in air.

*Beep.*

Another gasp.

*Beep. Beep.*

The monitor picked up the rhythm. Erratic at first, then steadying. Strong.

"He's back," I whispered, tears streaming down my face.

"He's stable," Clara corrected. "For now. But he needs the marrow. The real marrow."

She looked at the golden crib.

"And so does she."

I walked over to the crib. The baby inside was awake now, staring up at me with those uncanny green eyes. She didn't cry. She didn't fuss. She just watched.

"She's sick too?" I asked.

"She's incomplete," Clara said. "Martha tried to rush the process. She skipped the incubation period. The child's immune system is non-existent. A common cold would kill her."

"So she needs marrow from...?"

"From Leo," Clara said. "Leo is the key. His blood has adapted. It has the antibodies she lacks."

"You want me to use my son to save... her?"

"I want you to complete the circle," Clara said. "Leo needs the baby. The baby needs Leo. It's a symbiosis, Sarah. A perfect loop."

She touched the baby's hand.

"They are the future. Both of them."

I looked at the two babies. One saved by science, one damned by it.

"We have to go," Lucia said from the doorway. "The police will be here any minute. Mark gave them the address."

"Mark," I said, the name tasting like ash.

"Mark is doing what he has to do," Clara said. "Just like you."

She walked to the fireplace. She pushed a brick.

The back of the hearth slid open.

"A tunnel?" I asked.

"An escape route," Clara said. "It leads to the beach. There's a boat waiting."

"You're coming with us," I said.

Clara shook her head.

"My work is done," she said. "I'm tired, Sarah. And the police... they have questions I don't want to answer."

She sat down in the rocking chair. The one with the bluebells.

"Go," she said. "Take the children. Raise them. Make them better than us."

"Clara..."

"Go!" she shouted.

I grabbed the baby from the golden crib. I handed the other baby to Lucia.

"Let's go," I said.

We ran into the tunnel. It was dark, smelling of salt and damp earth. We ran until we saw the moonlight reflecting off the water.

A small motorboat was bobbing in the surf.

We climbed in. Lucia started the engine.

As we pulled away from the shore, I looked back at the cottage.

Flames were licking at the windows.

Clara had set the fire. She was burning the evidence. Burning herself.

"She's gone," I whispered.

"She made her choice," Lucia said, steering the boat into the open ocean.

We rode in silence for a long time. The babies were sleeping, nestled together in the bottom of the boat.

"Where are we going?" Lucia asked.

"Not back to the city," I said. "Not to a hospital."

I looked at the babies.

"We need a place where no one can find us. A place where we can fix this."

"The island," Lucia said. "St. Lucia."

"No," I said. "Edith's island is burned. The accounts are frozen."

I pulled the hard drive from my pocket.

"But we have this."

"The files?"

"The blackmail," I said. "The list of buyers. The people who paid for this."

I looked at the lights of the distant coast.

"We're going to make a withdrawal," I said.

I picked up the phone I had stolen from Mark. It had one bar of service.

I dialed a number from the contact list.

*Senator Reeves.*

A sleepy voice answered. "Hello?"

"Senator," I said. "This is Sarah Sterling. I have something of yours."

"Ms. Sterling?" The voice lost its sleepiness instantly. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I have the hard drive," I said. "And I have the prototype."

Silence.

"What do you want?"

"I want a doctor," I said. "A team. A facility. Off the books. Fully funded."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then tomorrow morning, the *New York Times* gets your file. Along with the photos of what you did in the nursery."

A long pause.

"Where are you?"

"I'll send coordinates," I said. "You have two hours."

I hung up.

"You're making a deal with the devil," Lucia said.

"I'm using the devil's money to do God's work," I said.

I looked at the babies. At the green eyes and the blue eyes.

"We're going to save them," I said. "All of them."

But then, the baby with the green eyes opened them.

She looked at me.

And she smiled.

It wasn't a baby's smile.

It was Martha's smile.