The Lawsuit

The woods behind the estate were dense, a tangle of old-growth pine and briars that tore at Sarah's clothes as they ran. She could hear the shouts of the tactical team fading, but the drone of the helicopter was still overhead, a mechanical insect hunting for movement.

"We need a car," Robert panted, shifting the duffel bag of C4 to his other shoulder. "We can't outrun a chopper on foot."

"The service road," Sarah said, pointing to a break in the trees. "It leads to the old mill. Maintenance vehicles park there."

They burst onto the gravel track. A single white van was parked under a streetlight, the logo of *Hawthorne Landscaping* faded on the door.

"Get in," Robert said, hotwiring the ignition with a pocket knife.

Sarah shoved Maya and Caleb into the back, then climbed into the passenger seat. The engine sputtered, then caught. They peeled out onto the main road just as a black SUV screeched around the corner behind them.

"They're not giving up," Maya said, looking out the back window.

"Neither are we," Sarah said. She pulled the satellite phone from her pocket. The call to 911 had been a distraction, a way to get the chaos on the record. But now she needed a lawyer. A real one.

She dialed a number she hadn't used in ten years.

"Hello?" A woman's voice, groggy with sleep.

"Helen," Sarah said. "It's Sarah Jenkins. Don't hang up."

"Sarah? My god, the news said you were... unstable."

"The news is lying. I need you to file an emergency injunction. Right now. Against Elena Vance and the Hawthorne Preservation Trust."

"Sarah, it's three in the morning. And on what grounds?"

"Fraud," Sarah said. "Embezzlement. And conspiracy to commit murder."

"You need evidence for that kind of claim, Sarah. Hard evidence."

"I have the hard drive," Sarah said. "I have the video confession. I have the body of the real Julian Vance."

Silence on the line. Then, the sound of movement. A lamp clicking on.

"Where are you?" Helen asked, her voice sharp, professional.

"I'm heading to the federal courthouse in New Haven," Sarah said. "Meet me there. And bring a judge."

"I'll bring two," Helen said. "But Sarah... if you're lying about this..."

"I'm not," Sarah said. "And Helen? Bring security. Private security. Not the police."

She hung up.

"New Haven?" Robert asked, glancing at her. "That's an hour away. We won't make it."

"We'll make it," Sarah said. "Because they can't kill us on the highway. Too many witnesses."

But as they merged onto I-95, a police cruiser pulled out from the median. Then another. And another.

They weren't stopping traffic. They were clearing it.

"They're boxing us in," Robert said.

"It's a rolling roadblock," Sarah realized. "They're going to force us off the road."

Blue lights flashed ahead. A barricade of cruisers spanned all three lanes.

Robert slammed on the brakes. The van skidded to a halt fifty yards from the line of cars.

"Out," Robert said. "Into the trees."

They scrambled out of the van. The highway was elevated here, a steep embankment leading down into a dark ravine.

"We can't go down there," Maya said, looking at the drop.

"We have to," Sarah said.

But before they could move, a voice boomed from a loudspeaker.

"Sarah Jenkins. This is the Connecticut State Police. Drop any weapons and surrender immediately."

Sarah raised her hands. "We're unarmed!"

"Step away from the vehicle!"

Sarah took a step back. Robert stood his ground, the duffel bag at his feet.

"Robert," Sarah hissed. "Don't."

"Go," Robert said, his voice low. "I'll buy you time."

"No!"

"Go!"

Robert kicked the duffel bag. It slid under the van.

He pulled a detonator from his pocket.

"Run!" he roared.

Sarah grabbed Maya and Caleb and threw them over the guardrail. They tumbled down the embankment, sliding through the mud and wet leaves.

Behind them, the world turned white.

The explosion shook the ground, a massive ball of fire consuming the van and the police barricade. The shockwave knocked Sarah flat.

She lay in the dirt, ears ringing, staring up at the burning wreck of the van.

"Robert," she whispered.

There was no answer.

"Mom," Maya choked out. "Look."

Sarah looked up. At the top of the embankment, silhouetted against the flames, was a figure.

It wasn't a cop.

It was a man in a suit. He walked calmly to the edge of the guardrail, ignoring the fire, ignoring the screaming officers.

He looked down into the ravine.

And then he threw something.

It fluttered down, landing in the mud next to Sarah's hand.

A legal summons.

*State of Connecticut vs. Sarah Jenkins.*
*Plaintiff: Julian Vance.*
*Charges: Murder. Arson. Grand Larceny.*

Sarah looked up at the man. It wasn't the Senator. It wasn't the fixer.

It was the clone. Subject 4.

He had survived the implant. He had survived the explosion.

And now, he was suing her.