The heavy sedan hit the cruiser’s front bumper with a sickening crunch of metal, sending a violent shockwave through the frame that threw me against the far door. Glass shattered, cascading across the back seat in a glittering shower as the cruiser skidded sideways across the scorched asphalt. Through the spiderwebbed side window, I saw Officer 1 thrown off balance, his sidearm slipping from his hand and clattering beneath the burning undercarriage of the red SUV.
«Get out of the car!» Officer 2 screamed, her weapon drawn as she sprinted across the pavement toward us.
The driver of the dark sedan didn’t hesitate. The front door swung open, and a figure draped in a dark hooded jacket leaped out, racking the slide of a heavy handgun. But they weren’t aiming at the officers. They pointed the barrel straight at the flashing red display inside the SUV’s trunk.
Crack! Crack!
Two rounds punched through the black tactical case. Sparks erupted from the wires, and the rapid countdown freeze-framed at two seconds. A sharp, high-pitched frequency whined from the vehicle’s speakers before the entire electrical system died with a heavy pop.
The shooter turned, the hood slipping back just enough to reveal a jagged scar across her jaw—and the exact same ice-blue eyes as the mother who had vanished into the metro.
«If you want to live, unlock the rear door!» she shouted at Officer 1, her voice cold and commanding.
Officer 1 scrambled back, reaching for his belt key while keeping his eyes locked on her weapon. «Drop the gun! Drop it now!»
«He’s the only one who knows the decryption key for the timer,» she hissed, pointing the barrel directly at Officer 1’s chest. «Unlock him, or the secondary charge in the ambulance goes off in thirty seconds.»
Officer 2 froze in her tracks twenty feet away, her breath hitching as her eyes darted toward the white-and-red rig where the paramedics still stood exposed.
The officer’s hands shook as he fumbled with the heavy brass key, thrusting it into the cruiser’s door lock. The mechanism clicked open. I kicked the door wide, scrambling out onto the pavement with my hands still bound behind my back, my heart pounding against my ribs like a trapped bird.
«Who are you?» I demanded, pushing myself up against the crumpled hood of the sedan. «Where is the baby?»
The woman with the scar didn’t answer. She tossed a small, heavy silver key onto the hood beside me. «Uncuff yourself. We have less than twenty seconds before the network resets.»
I grabbed the key, my fingers slick with sweat as I blindly worked the lock behind my lower back. The steel cuffs released with a sharp snap, dropping to the hot asphalt.
Across the lot, the paramedic who had been holding the yellow onesie suddenly dropped to his knees, clutching his head as a low-frequency hum began echoing from the underside of the ambulance. The blue light bar on top of the rig began to strobe rapidly in an erratic, unbroken pulse.
«Run!» Officer 2 yelled, lunging forward to tackle the paramedic away from the rig.
The woman grabbed my jacket collar, yanking me toward the open passenger door of the dark sedan. «In. Now!»
«Not until you tell me what was in that car!» I yelled, planting my feet on the curb.
She pulled a small digital drive from her pocket and shoved it into my hands. On its miniature LED screen, a live video feed was playing in real-time. It showed the interior of a sterile, windowless room. Sitting in the center of a steel table was the infant—awake, completely unharmed, and staring directly into a camera lens while holding a small, metallic cylinder in its tiny fist.
«That’s not a mother,» the woman whispered, her voice tight with grim intensity. «And that wasn’t a baby. Get in the car before the pulse detonates.»
A deafening pop echoed from the ambulance as its windshield instantly shattered into a million tiny granules. I scrambled into the sedan’s passenger seat, slamming the door just as she slammed her foot onto the accelerator, the tires screaming as we spun out of the lot.
A deafening pop echoed from the ambulance as its windshield instantly shattered into a million tiny granules. I scrambled into the sedan’s passenger seat, slamming the door just as she slammed her foot onto the accelerator, the tires screaming as we spun out of the lot.
In the rearview mirror, Officer 1 was on his radio, his face pale as he watched our car disappear onto the main avenue. Beside him, the trunk of the red SUV slowly creaked open further under its own weight, revealing that the black tactical case was completely empty—except for a small brass plaque bolted to the bottom.
Engraved on the metal were six digits: my date of birth.
«Look beneath your seat,» the woman said, her knuckles white as she navigated through the heavy mid-day traffic, weaving between delivery trucks and honking cabs.
I leaned down, my hand brushing against cold leather until my fingers wrapped around a heavy, leather-bound notebook tucked next to the floor mat. I pulled it out and flipped open the cover.
Written in faded black ink on the first page was my own handwriting—dated three years from today.
Before I could turn the page, the sedan’s dashboard screen flashed bright red, overriding the navigation system. A synthesized voice cut through the car’s speakers.
«Tracked unit acquired. Initiating remote kill switch in five… four…»
The woman’s head snapped toward me, her eyes wide with sudden terror. «The drive you’re holding—it wasn’t a transmitter. It’s a tracking beacon!»
She reached to grab the drive from my hand to throw it out the window, but before her fingers could touch it, the sedan’s power steering locked up completely, and the accelerator slammed to the floor on its own, sending us speeding at sixty miles per hour directly toward a closed highway barricade.