The remaining backroom of the bookstore became their makeshift war council. Lena walked between the ravaged shelves nursing the baby at her breast while Ryan scrubbed bloodstains from the antique architect's desk. He was getting clumsier; Phase Two's neural degradation had begun.
One hand working to hack the marina security feeds, the other pressing an ice pack to her head to ease the ache from the concussion, Sophie continued: "The Acheron manifest lists two hundred cryo-tanks. Each tank has enough serum in it to dose a mid-sized town." The screen flickered showing shipping routes. "They're hitting port cities first-Marseille, Shanghai, Baltimore-"
"Using the marina's tunnel scheme as the plan," Ryan grimly finished. He unfurled an old yellowing map that Lena's grandmother had stashed inside Wuthering Heights. "Dad knew. That's why he built the lighthouse as a countermeasure."
Lena traced the inked lines connecting coastal cities all around the world, each marked with a tiny lighthouse symbol. "These aren't just ports. They're nodes in a global distribution network."
The baby spat up milk bluish in color.
Sophie suddenly stood straighter. "Guys. I found Margaret's blackmail stash." The screen filled with scanned pages of a ledger-dates, locations, and next to each, a child's name.
Subject 22: Felix Moreau. Marseille.
Subject 56: Li Wei. Shanghai.
Subject 89: Daniel Carter. Baltimore.
Lena gasped. "Carter?"
There was a creaking on the floorboards above them.
Ryan had a knife in his hand before the lullaby had started, a child's voice singing Rock-a-Bye, Baby perfectly in sync with the recording they had heard from Matthew.
The attic access door swung open.
In a crouch, a twelve-year-old boy in the shadows with Calloway-blue eyes glimmering. In those hands was a syringe labeled Phase Three.
"Hi there sis," said Daniel Carter.