“You listen to me, Ed, not her!” Moira snapped.
“Dr. Michalski listens to the one who writes his checks, not his former colleague, Moira. I said you’re relieved—”
“Shut up, Victoria. Ed, turn it off. They’re dying in there!”
The door behind Strauss was shut, and the small window in it hazy with fog. Sophie’s blood turned to ice when she realized the fog must have been poisonous fumes, choking all the newborn Vitros to death. She glanced at the wall, where the exposed panel displayed numbers and lines she didn’t understand. A small light blinked red above a metal lever marked with numbered increments.
She didn’t wait for permission. Before Strauss could react, she darted past her and grabbed the lever, slamming it downward. She heard a loud hissing from within the walls around them, then silence where the panel had been humming earlier.
“It’s too late,” Strauss said. “I’m cleaning up your mess, Moira. It had to be done.”
“Don’t open it!” Dr. Michalski warned. “It has to be properly ventilated and cleaned before—”
Moira and Sophie wrenched the door open3 together. Sophie yelped as three bodies fell forward with the door: all Vitros. Gas poured out of the room and spread through the hall; doctors began yelling and scrambling away to escape the noxious fumes. Strauss fled with them, crowding into the elevator and sending the slower runners on to the stairs when it was full. Following her mother’s example, Sophie held her shirt over her mouth to avoid breathing in too much of the stuff, though already she could feel her eyes and throat burning.
Dr. Hashimoto appeared at her side, and Andreyev, which surprised her a little. Together they hauled the Vitros out. Their bodies were limp, their lips blue. Sophie’s heart pounded so hard she felt her pulse in her temples and wrists, surging with adrenaline and horror. After a moment, Andreyev’s bodyguards wordlessly pitched in.
Despite their makeshift masks, they had to wait a few moments before they could enter the room. Moira worked the controls on the panel in the wall, then froze.
“What?” Sophie asked. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s broken,” she whispered.
“What’s broken?” Andreyev asked.
“The vents to leech the gas from the chamber.” She turned a dial. “And the valve to shut off the gas.” She looked up, her face white. “There’s no way to turn it off.”
“How is that even possible?” Sophie asked.
“Someone would have had to manually cut the line.”
“Sabotage?”
Moira slammed her hand against the panel, her shoulders heaving as she breathed in and out. “This whole building is filling up with hydrogen cyanide. We have to get everyone out now. Hana, go tell the others to bring stretchers!” Moira yelled. “And the kids will need oxygen, fast! We have to get them out of there now.”
Andreyev turned to his bodyguards “Find those cowardly doctors and drag them back by their hair if you must.”
His men looked sour at leaving him alone, but they went. Sophie had to give the Russian credit; he didn’t need a computer chip to inspire obedience. He had an air of authority that made Strauss look like a fourth grade bully.
Moira pointed at a door down the hall. “Sophie, open that supply closet. There should be towels inside. Take them out and tie one around your face.”
She obeyed with alacrity, tossing a towel to Moira and Dr. Hashimoto. With the cloths secured over their mouths and noses, they plunged in and began carrying out the rest of the bodies. Sophie hoped they weren’t carrying corpses, but it was difficult to tell. Andreyev tied an apron he’d found over his face and worked alongside them, carrying Vitros out of the poisonous room and into the relatively clearer hallway, though Sophie could see the gas escaping to fill the basement. She worked feverishly; she was too small to carry anyone, so she took them by the arms and dragged them instead. Nearly all the Vitros had been evacuated when Sophie reached the last two figures slumped against the wall.
Her mind turned inside out. Her lungs went flat as her breath rushed from her lips.
Jim.
THIRTY FOUR SOPHIE
She sucked in a breath, which only sent her head spinning, then knelt and reached out to gently pry Jim’s arms from Lux’s limp form. He was sitting with his back propped against the wall, his head fallen forward onto Lux’s. She was curled against his chest like a child, her hands knotted in his shirt. Neither moved when Sophie touched them. She felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. Her mind reeled at finding him there; he should have been ashes in the sky. She’d seen the plane explode with her own eyes—but she wasn’t about to question whatever miracles were dropped in her lap, not when she needed one so desperately. She could feel herself unraveling from the inside out, and willed herself to hold it together long enough to get them to safety.
“Jim . . . Jim, wake up. It’s me. It’s Sophie.”
Moira crouched beside her and covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes pinched with sorrow. “Oh no. Oh, Sophie . . .”
“He’s okay!” Sophie said fiercely. “Both of them. They’ll be fine. Won’t they?”
“Let’s get them out of here.”
With Andreyev’s and Dr. Hashimoto’s help, they carried Jim and Lux out of the room and laid them in the hallway with the Vitros.
Sophie dropped to her knees beside Jim, and finally let loose the tension that had been exploding in her chest since the moment she’d seen him slumped in the chamber. She couldn’t help it; she burst into sobs, tears of relief mingling with tears of fear, that she had found him only to lose him again. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, leaning over him and pressing her forehead to his, whispering into his hair. “I’m sorry for the things I said. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t mean it at all. Jim, Jim, please wake up. Please.”
All the horror she’d felt when she’d seen his plane burst into flames rushed back to her now at double strength, a tidal wave that overpowered her and sucked her into a maelstrom of terror and savage desperation. She cradled his face in her hands and willed him back to life, willed her own life into him, had to stop herself from digging her nails into his skin.
“JIM!” She screamed his name, feeling herself lose all control. It was too much too fast too soon without a moment to breathe and she was drowning in panic. Someone was pulling at her, trying to release her grip on Jim, saying words she did not understand.
“Sophie. Sophie!”
It was her mother, her not-mother, her lie of a mother. “No!” she said, and she pressed her hands to his chest and began pumping. “He’s not dead—he’s not! I won’t let it happen! You hear me, Jim Julien? I won’t let you!”
“Come on,” Sophie said, over and over with each press of Jim’s sternum. “C’mon, c’mon.”
“Sophie.” Moira’s eyes were deep wells of pain. “Sophie, stop. He’s gone.”
“No. No, he isn’t. If I just—”
“Sophie, stop. We have to go. It’s getting too dangerous down here.” She coughed. The air was getting thicker with hydrogen cyanide. Before long, the entire basement level would be a gas chamber.
But Sophie couldn’t leave him. Losing him twice in one day would kill her. Her heart felt like it would burst into pieces it was pounding so hard, her pulse a hammer against her skull.
“He’s Jim,” Sophie sobbed. “My Jim!”
“I know. I know, baby.”
“I’m not your baby.” Sophie pulled away and shoved Moira backward. “You’re not my mom and I’m not your baby!”
“You’re right!” Moira held up her hands. “I’m not. I didn’t give birth to you. My genes are not your genes. But Sophie. I do love you.”
It was Andreyev who finally wrestled her away and put her in Moira’s arms. Her mother held her tight while the Russian felt for a pulse. The grim set of his lips brought a dry heave to Sophie’s chest. She doubled over, gasping for breath. Maybe the gas had gotten to her. Maybe she was dying. Maybe she would wake up and all of this would be a nightmare she could forget.