Springer and I stand motionless, ears pressed to the door as we listen to an inhuman sound echo through the stillness. It is like a low groan, almost a wail in its intensity until it tapers off into silence. Goosebumps cover my arms as I wonder what to do. We wait, breathing shallowly to remain undetected. Minutes pass with no sound, and still, we wait. I feel my neck ache with tension as I fight to keep my body still.
Springer breaks the silence. "I think it's gone, whatever it was." But I'm not so sure. I heard no footsteps, just silence after that dreadful noise.
Springer slowly turns the handle and pushes open the door. We see nothing as we enter the hall, closing off the room behind us. Tiptoeing through the dim light emitted by emergency lights fixed along the floorboards, we make our way toward our entry point. I am almost to the stairwell that leads to the utility room when the hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and my feet become rooted to the floor. Beyond the thin wall, I'm standing next to, I hear it again, that guttural moan, only now it is more distinct, and I realize the noise may be human.
I feel Springer nudge me forward, but I refuse to move, shaking my head to let him know I will go no farther. Not until I see it. I need to know. I turn to him and mouth the word, no, then point to the door beyond which the sound is emanating. He is shaking his head, tapping at his wrist to indicate that we are running out of time. He forcefully tries to turn me toward the stairwell, but I push against him, almost knocking him off balance.
"I have to see this," I hiss. "You have to let me go."
I can see him fight an inner battle and watch as he realizes that I won't be swayed.
"Then I'm going with you," he whispers in the dimness. I nod, and together we walk to the door and slowly enter.
It is like the infirmary at the training center. Only more machines are whirring and beeping softly. Among the machines, at precise intervals, are beds, each one occupied. It is from one of these beds that the sound radiates.
I find myself unable to keep from moving toward the bed, from looking down at the swollen figure strapped to the mattress. It is a woman, only not a woman, for what I see lying there is not a whole person, the eyes are sightless, the pupils and irises covered in a white film. There are no legs, only half-grown stumps, fidgeting restlessly under a thin sheet and blanket. Her arms are bound with her upper torso, anchored to the bed with black straps covered in a soft cloth.
But it is her distended abdomen that holds my eyes and will not release them. I stand in abject horror looking at a mother, who is not a mother; she is some awful aberration, a breeding machine, no longer human in the true sense. I want to tear my eyes away, but I can't seem to make them move as the bloated belly begins to undulate with the movement of whatever is growing inside.
"Oh my God," I utter in disbelief.
Springer forcefully grabs me and hauls me away from the bed, out the door, and into the stairwell. It feels surreal as I take hold of the equipment Springer shoves into my hands and robotically reactivate the systems I had disabled. Then, when he is sure that it is safe, he pulls me along and into the darkness.
The shock of what I saw has undone me. Once out of the building and safely in the tunnels, we collapse to the floor, each lost in mazes of confusion and disbelief. Images flash through my skull. Springer hadn't pulled me away before I could see the rows and rows of beds, all housing a similar mutation, and, for a moment, I imagine those horrible, cloudy eyes going clear and looking at me in accusation. I bite the inside of my cheek and rock slowly back and forth as I wrestle with the urge to scream.
Springer breaks the silence first, his voice jolting me from my appalling thoughts. "We need to leave this place, Enora. What we've done tonight, what we've found..." His voice drifts off.
"I know," I manage to croak, though I don't know how we can leave. Our work isn't finished, and if we were to leave abruptly, it would cause undue notice. But I know that I have endangered us with this act, and I'm at a loss as to how to fix it.
"What's going on in this place?" I ask him desperately.
"I don't know. They're breeding something, but I just can't figure out what. Those babies looked like some monstrous creation, though I can't imagine that outcome is what was intended. Something buried in their genes wasn't right. Something didn't turn out the way they had designed."
I nod. "Those poor women. They aren't even women, not really. They're just…just..." I cover my face, wishing I could cleanse my brain of their bloated bodies. "How many babies have they given birth to? Do you think they are even aware of anything?"
"For their sake, I hope not. Come on. We need to get back." Springer reaches down and pulls me to my feet. The warmth of his hand is calming, and I am reluctant to let him go as we make our way through the tunnel and out into Renascence. When we emerge, I see the landscape for what it is. The fountains and groomed grass are now just a grotesque veneer, no longer beautiful and opulent.
Somehow, I sleep fitfully for a couple of hours before the sounds of morning wake me. Springer and I eat little, speaking only briefly between mouthfuls of food that seem to stick in my throat, afraid to say too much. I am lost in a maze of horrifying memories and paranoia, fearful that a team of Sweepers will burst through the door and gun us down. But they don't come looking for us, and the fear just sits there in my mind.
We descend underground and head toward an offshoot far from the city center, a place where we feel some measure of safety, find a relatively comfortable outcropping of stone, and sit. Our time in the darkness is coming to an end, with only a small portion of the sewers left to map. I cross my legs, resting my elbows on my knees, and look at him.
"Have you had any ideas that explain what we found?" I ask, hoping his noticeably stronger science background would lend him greater insight.
He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "Obviously, it has something to do with a genetic trait, like maybe they are engineering some kind of super-human."
"Yeah, like a drone."
"Exactly. The physical characteristics are too common to be a coincidence, which means they are purposeful. While I can understand engineering an elite military force, I can't put together why they would want to create this civilian population."
I think over what he's said. Rows of files flash through my mind, so many attempts with so many casualties. If the Sentinels of Renascence were a successful mutation, why move onto these other modifications?
Close to an hour passes as we continue to toss around ideas, but in the end, nothing reveals the answer. I half-heartedly get up and follow Springer as he leads us to one of the last portions of the tunnels that I have yet to map. Then, it is back to work for me. At least it is safe, and the relative solitude enables me to continue to ponder the enigma of the women and the babies.
We finally find ourselves at the end of our assignment but no closer to understanding what we have discovered. Springer seems on edge each day, looking over his shoulder, coiled with nervous tension. But, to my surprise, I find that I don't feel the stress. It's like I know that if they had discovered our breach, they would have already eliminated us. They don't waste time getting a job done.
During our noon break, I plop down onto the floor of the tunnel next to Springer, so close that my arm brushes against his. I feel his muscles spasm at the contact and wonder about it before I break the silence. "They would have killed us by now if they knew, you know?"
Springer leans back against the cool cement wall. "Yeah. I know you're right. I just can't help this feeling like we're being watched. It's almost like maybe they know what we did and are just waiting to see if we do anything with it."
I nod, though in truth, I hadn't considered that they might want to see if we were in league with the rebels or something. But at the same time, I know in my gut that this secret is so big that it would be too risky for anyone outside of the inner circle of Renascence to know about it.
"I hear you, Springer, but do you really think they would let us set foot outside these tunnels with that kind of knowledge?"
I see him consider it before he turns to me. "I see your point. We could have already done a lot of damage with that information. I guess I'm just being paranoid. It's just that I can't stop thinking about it. Those babies. Those women. It's horrible."
I can only nod. It's horrible. "Have you figured out what it all means yet?"
I'm so hopeful that he will tell me he has and that he's just been keeping it from me to keep me safe, but then I see his brows furrow and watch him shake his head.
"I can't see it. They are making something, but I just don't understand what's behind it all."
He looks defeated as he tells me. I feel like we are close to understanding something momentous but cannot conceptualize it. In the end, we have no choice but to continue, but it's always there. I can't let it go.