Chapter 12 - The Blood That Wasn’t Carter
Laura met us in an underground parking garage.
Seventy.
Gray hair.
Scar along her jaw.
Marcus saw her and forgot how to speak.
She touched his face.
“You got old.”
He laughed through tears.
“So did you.”
Then they held each other.
Chloe watched.
She whispered to me:
“Everybody in this family is alive.”
I almost laughed.
“Apparently.”
Laura had spent decades dismantling Vincent’s network quietly.
She knew Project Lazarus better than anyone.
Then she told us Chloe’s rare antigen profile wasn't originally Carter.
“What?”
“It came from Natasha’s family.”
I froze.
“My family?”
Laura nodded.
Vincent hadn't arranged David and me because I was random compatible blood.
He chose me because of my maternal grandmother.
Helen Simmons.
A research nurse in the 1970s.
She carried the rare marker.
So did I.
Chloe inherited both my marker and David's.
That combination made her unique.
“How did Vincent know?”
Helen once worked with him.
Not romantically.
Scientifically.
She helped design the first compatibility models used in Lazarus.
Then she quit when she discovered Vincent wanted human experimentation.
My grandmother never told us.
She moved to Wisconsin.
Changed hospitals.
Burned records.
But Vincent never forgot.
He spent decades searching her descendants.
Me.
I felt sick.
My entire relationship with David had been engineered from two sides of blood.
But Laura corrected:
“Vincent could put you in the same room.”
She looked at David.
“He couldn't make you love each other.”
That mattered.
A little.
Then Laura told us the crucial truth.
Chloe couldn't stabilize Vincent.
Her combination would likely trigger rejection.
Rebecca discovered that.
Vincent refused to believe her.
He was prepared to risk Chloe anyway.
We needed to stop him.
The facility had three entrances.
Laura knew one.
Old service tunnels.
David insisted on going.
So did Marcus.
Amelia.
Elena.
I refused to stay behind.
Chloe did stay.
With Margaret and federal agents at a safe location.
Before leaving, she grabbed David's hand.
“You're coming back?”
He looked at her.
“For purple horses?”
“Yes.”
“Then yes.”
It was probably the first promise in his life that scared him.
We entered the facility before midnight.
No gun battle.
Not yet.
Empty corridors.
Medical rooms.
Old Carter family photographs on walls like this was a hospital built inside a dynasty.
Then we found Rebecca.
Alive.
Locked inside a lab.
Elena opened the door.
Twin sisters stared.
Rebecca whispered:
“You look like me.”
Elena answered:
“You look tired.”
Then hugged her.
Amelia joined them.
Three women robbed of decades.
No time to grieve.
Rebecca showed us Vincent’s current lab.
“He moved.”
“Where?”
“Sublevel four.”
Laura went pale.
“There is no sublevel four.”
Rebecca nodded.
“There is now.”
Vincent had built a sealed medical chamber after his supposed death.
Access required genetic authentication.
David.
Amelia.
Marcus.
Or—
Chloe.
We had none of Chloe’s biometrics.
Good.
Then Rebecca said:
“He has stored samples.”
Of course.
David’s.
Amelia’s.
And apparently mine from eight years ago.
Could open partial access.
But not the final chamber.
So why wait?
Then the building speakers activated.
Vincent's voice:
“Thank you for bringing everyone.”
Laura froze.
The doors locked.
Lights turned red.
Vincent continued:
“I never needed Chloe to enter.”
My stomach dropped.
“I needed Natasha.”
Everyone looked at me.
The final chamber wasn't keyed to Carter blood.
It was keyed to Simmons blood.
My grandmother's.
Vincent had designed the deepest Lazarus archive around the scientist who helped build it.
Helen Simmons.
My grandmother.
And suddenly the floor beneath me unlocked with a metallic click.
A hidden elevator opened.
May you like
Vincent’s voice whispered:
“Welcome home, Natasha.”
