Chapter 7 - Flight Through the Basement
Julian’s blood ran cold. He braced his shoulder against the door, the wood groaning as another heavy thud slammed into the exterior.
"Clara, the emergency fire exit by the service elevator," Julian hissed over his shoulder. "Move! Now!"
Clara didn't hesitate. Ignoring the tearing ache in her core, she scooped Maya into the thick swaddling blanket, grabbed the torn remnants of the DNA envelope from the table, and shoved her feet into her slip-on shoes. She threw on a long woolen cardigan over her hospital gown.
Julian grabbed the heavy iron IV pole from beside the bed, jamming it beneath the door handle as a makeshift barricade. Another violent kick rattled the lock, the wood around the frame beginning to splinter.
"Through the bathroom," Clara whispered, pointing toward the connecting door that led to Room 316.
Julian pulled open the shared access door, letting Clara slip through first. The adjacent room was empty, its bed stripped bare. They darted into the secondary corridor just as the sound of splintering oak echoed from the room they had just abandoned.
They didn't head for the main elevators. Instead, Julian pushed through a heavy fire door labeled STAIRWELL C - SERVICE ACCESS ONLY. The concrete stairs were illuminated only by low-voltage red emergency lamps, casting deep shadows across every landing.
Clara moved down the steps as fast as her battered body allowed, keeping one hand clamped over Maya’s tiny mouth to muffle any cries. They bypassed the ground floor—where lobby security was likely monitored—and descended straight into the subterranean basement.
The basement air was thick with the smell of industrial detergent, damp concrete, and boiler exhaust. Steam hissed from overhead pipes as they navigated the maze of yellow laundry bins and maintenance carts.
At the far end of the service corridor, a metal door marked MORGUE & DISPOSAL stood slightly ajar. Standing beside an idling grey delivery van in the loading bay was a man in a rumpled brown trench coat, checking a mechanical pocket watch.
May you like
He looked up as Julian and Clara emerged into the damp air.
"You took too long, nephew," the man said, revealing a face identical to Julian's, aged by thirty years of exile.
