Only calm. Almost impossible calm. The silver compass around her neck swung gently as she smiled at Mariana. “Are you ready to meet my mother?” No one answered. Brooks slowly lowered his weapon. “Who are you?” The little girl tilted her head. “I’ve had many names.” Benjamin frowned. “What does that mean?” She counted on her fingers. “Evelyn called me Hope.” “Amelia called me Subject Twelve.” “The Architects called me Asset Seven.” She smiled again. “But my mother calls me Grace.” Evelyn suddenly froze. The color drained from her face. “No…” The child looked at her. “You remember me.” Evelyn whispered, “That’s impossible.” “I watched them take you.” The little girl nodded. “They did.” “They couldn’t keep me.” Mariana carefully stepped closer. “Who is your mother?” The child looked directly into Mariana’s eyes.
Then toward Elias. Finally… She answered. “The only woman who ever defeated the Architects.” Silence. Complete silence. Even Elias seemed unable to speak. Thomas Greene slowly removed his glasses. “There was only one woman who ever escaped them.” The child nodded. “Yes.” Susan quietly whispered, “Amelia.” The child shook her head. “No.” Another pause. “My mother saved Amelia.” Everyone looked confused. Brooks frowned. “Who are you talking about?” The child smiled. “You’ve been reading her journals for weeks.” “But none of you noticed…” “…she stopped writing under her own name.” Linda rushed toward the library shelves. She began pulling journals from Generation Nine. Generation Ten. Generation Eleven.
Dozens of handwritten volumes covered the table. One notebook immediately caught her attention. Unlike the others… It had no author’s name. Only initials. A.M. Thomas opened it. His eyes widened instantly. “This handwriting…” Susan looked over his shoulder. “It isn’t Amelia’s.” “No.” Thomas whispered. “It belongs to…” He stopped. He couldn’t finish the sentence. The child did it for him. “Alice Morgan.” Benjamin’s head snapped upward. “My mother?” The little girl nodded. “No.” “Your sister.” Benjamin stumbled backward. “I never had a sister.” The child looked almost sad. “That’s what they wanted you to believe.” Elias closed his eyes. “So…” “They erased Alice too.” The child nodded. “They erased everyone who refused preservation.”
Mariana’s heartbeat quickened. “How many people have been erased?” The little girl quietly answered, “Thousands.” The library suddenly became much colder. One entire wall slowly illuminated. Hundreds of portraits appeared. Men. Women. Children. Each portrait slowly faded into another. Thousands. Perhaps tens of thousands. Every one labeled the same way. Removed From History Susan covered her mouth. “Oh my God…” Thomas whispered, “We’ve spent decades searching for missing records.” The child nodded. “You weren’t searching for records.” “You were searching for people.” Far above…
The hospital shook again.
A massive explosion echoed through the mountain.
Concrete rained from the ceiling.
The computer spoke.
Five minutes until structural collapse.
Brooks shouted,
“We have to move!”
Elias shook his head.
“Not yet.”
Brooks stared at him.
“Are you insane?”
“If we stay here, we die.”
Elias calmly answered,
“If we leave now…”
“…the truth dies with us.”
Richard Santos
Colorado Mountains
Richard suddenly lost Benjamin’s radio signal.
Static.
Nothing else.
He looked toward the Founder.
“They’ve lost contact.”
The Founder slowly stood.
Despite his age…
His movements suddenly became firm.
Determined.
He walked toward a steel cabinet hidden inside the cabin wall.
Benjamin had never noticed it before.
Inside…
Rested an old military uniform.
A silver compass.
And a revolver that looked more than a century old.
Richard stared.
“What is that?”
The Founder quietly answered,
“The last time I wore this…”
“…the Second World War had just ended.”
Benjamin’s eyes widened.
“You fought in the war?”
The Founder smiled faintly.
“I fought in many.”
He placed the revolver into its holster.
Buttoned the faded uniform.
Then looked toward Richard.
“It’s time.”
“For what?”
The old man answered,
“To tell you why the Architects fear one family…”
“…more than every Guardian combined.”
Back beneath St. Gabriel Hospital…
The little girl named Grace slowly walked toward the empty Generation Thirteen chamber.
She gently placed her tiny hand against the glass.
Then looked at Mariana.
“You think this chamber was built for you.”
“It wasn’t.”
Mariana frowned.
“Then whose is it?”
Grace smiled.
“My mother’s.”
Everyone turned toward Evelyn.
Grace shook her head.
“Not her.”
Toward Amelia?
Again she shook her head.
“No.”
Then…
Grace slowly raised one finger.
Not toward anyone in the room.
Toward the old cradle that had risen from beneath the floor.
The diary Elias had written in 1827 was still lying open.
Its pages suddenly began turning on their own.
Faster.
Faster.
Until they reached the very last page.
A page that had been completely blank.
Black ink slowly appeared.
One letter at a time.
Everyone watched in stunned silence.
THE CHILD HAS RETURNED.
OPEN THE FINAL CRADLE.
The floor beneath the ancient wooden cradle trembled.
Hidden gears began turning.
The cradle slowly split apart into two halves.
Inside…
There wasn’t another diary.
There wasn’t another key.
There wasn’t another photograph.
There was only…
A tiny gold ring.
Simple.
Worn smooth with age.
Engraved on the inside with four words.
FOR MY BELOVED ELIZABETH
Elias stared at the ring.
His hands began shaking uncontrollably.
For the first time in one hundred and ninety-nine years…
Tears rolled down his face.
He whispered a name no one had ever heard before.
“Elizabeth…”
Grace looked up at him.
Then quietly spoke the sentence that froze everyone in place.
“She never died, Elias…”
“…she’s been waiting for you.”
