opened the first door she came to. It was a narrow closet, filled with chemicals, linens, and old microscopes. So, it’s a lab after all.
The next room held four octagonal consoles set in the middle of the floor, with round gray towers rising out of them, as tall as she was. She walked around them curiously, unable to make sense of the numbers and letters stenciled on the gray exteriors. When she spotted a small lever on the side of one, she flipped it, and jumped back when the sides of the tower slid downward into the consoles, exposing an inner blue light and cold fog that rolled out and onto the floor. Inside was a series of glass shelves filled with small holes, and in the holes, tiny, apparently empty glass vials were suspended. An automatic arm lifted out of the console, a magnifying glass held in its grasp, and it lined up with one of the vials. Sophie leaned forward and peered through it to see an almost imperceptibly tiny sliver of metal floating in the vial in some sort of viscous substance. For some reason, it left her with a chill in her spine, and she hurriedly flipped the lever; the console closed itself, hiding the shelves and the fog and the little vials.
As she shut the door to the strange room, she heard voices. Her heart leaped into her throat and Nicholas’s voice haunted her mind: Do you want to get yourself shot?
She ducked back into supply closet and kept the door cracked just a hair—and she barely made it in time. A woman and a man strode past, voices low in conversation, clipboards cradled in their arms. The man was dressed in slacks and a white collared shirt; the woman wore a long white lab coat.
“Well, in my opinion, it’s too soon,” the woman was saying, her voice heavily accented with French. “We need another four years at least.”
“You know how it is, Laurent. We don’t get opinions, we get orders.”
“If it goes sour, it’s not my fault.”
“If it goes sour, it won’t matter. This place has been balancing between success and failure for years. All it’ll take is one mistake.”
Sophie held her breath until they’d gone past, and waited another moment for their voices to fade out of hearing before she crept out of the closet and tiptoed down the hall. Her senses were on high alert, listening and watching in case anyone else appeared.
She pressed her ear to the next door and heard no sound inside except the humming of a computer. Taking extra precaution after nearly being seen by the doctors, she peeked under the door to be certain the light was off. She was just about to turn the handle when she heard footsteps approaching from the atrium. Heart stalling, Sophie whipped open the door and slipped into the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Her muscles ached both from the crash landing and from the nerve-wracking business of sneaking around.
The room was lit with a soft blue glow, which came from the screen of the computer, which was set against the far wall. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, and gradually made out a hospital gurney that stood in the center of the room. Several others were pushed against the wall to her right, but unlike them, the one in the middle held an occupant. She pressed a hand to her mouth and went stone still; if the person was awake, there was no way they wouldn’t see her.
But the person didn’t speak or even move. Sophie slowly crept across the room; if the person coming down the hallway opened the door, she’d be spotted immediately. She looked around frantically, but there weren’t many places to hide except—But it’s so obvious. Still, she was running out of time and options. The footsteps were getting closer. They were slowing down. She knew that in moments, the handle of the door would turn and she’d be caught.
Sophie ran to the gurney, intending to hide beneath it. As she did, she caught a glimpse of the sleeping figure’s face in the pale blue light from the computer.
A cold chill ran down Sophie’s
The next room held four octagonal consoles set in the middle of the floor, with round gray towers rising out of them, as tall as she was. She walked around them curiously, unable to make sense of the numbers and letters stenciled on the gray exteriors. When she spotted a small lever on the side of one, she flipped it, and jumped back when the sides of the tower slid downward into the consoles, exposing an inner blue light and cold fog that rolled out and onto the floor. Inside was a series of glass shelves filled with small holes, and in the holes, tiny, apparently empty glass vials were suspended. An automatic arm lifted out of the console, a magnifying glass held in its grasp, and it lined up with one of the vials. Sophie leaned forward and peered through it to see an almost imperceptibly tiny sliver of metal floating in the vial in some sort of viscous substance. For some reason, it left her with a chill in her spine, and she hurriedly flipped the lever; the console closed itself, hiding the shelves and the fog and the little vials.
As she shut the door to the strange room, she heard voices. Her heart leaped into her throat and Nicholas’s voice haunted her mind: Do you want to get yourself shot?
She ducked back into supply closet and kept the door cracked just a hair—and she barely made it in time. A woman and a man strode past, voices low in conversation, clipboards cradled in their arms. The man was dressed in slacks and a white collared shirt; the woman wore a long white lab coat.
“Well, in my opinion, it’s too soon,” the woman was saying, her voice heavily accented with French. “We need another four years at least.”
“You know how it is, Laurent. We don’t get opinions, we get orders.”
“If it goes sour, it’s not my fault.”
“If it goes sour, it won’t matter. This place has been balancing between success and failure for years. All it’ll take is one mistake.”
Sophie held her breath until they’d gone past, and waited another moment for their voices to fade out of hearing before she crept out of the closet and tiptoed down the hall. Her senses were on high alert, listening and watching in case anyone else appeared.
She pressed her ear to the next door and heard no sound inside except the humming of a computer. Taking extra precaution after nearly being seen by the doctors, she peeked under the door to be certain the light was off. She was just about to turn the handle when she heard footsteps approaching from the atrium. Heart stalling, Sophie whipped open the door and slipped into the room, shutting the door softly behind her. Her muscles ached both from the crash landing and from the nerve-wracking business of sneaking around.
The room was lit with a soft blue glow, which came from the screen of the computer, which was set against the far wall. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, and gradually made out a hospital gurney that stood in the center of the room. Several others were pushed against the wall to her right, but unlike them, the one in the middle held an occupant. She pressed a hand to her mouth and went stone still; if the person was awake, there was no way they wouldn’t see her.
But the person didn’t speak or even move. Sophie slowly crept across the room; if the person coming down the hallway opened the door, she’d be spotted immediately. She looked around frantically, but there weren’t many places to hide except—But it’s so obvious. Still, she was running out of time and options. The footsteps were getting closer. They were slowing down. She knew that in moments, the handle of the door would turn and she’d be caught.
Sophie ran to the gurney, intending to hide beneath it. As she did, she caught a glimpse of the sleeping figure’s face in the pale blue light from the computer.
A cold chill ran down Sophie’s
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