Chapter 6 - The Betrayal in the ShadowsLily sprinted through the lower loading bay, holding the blue glass vial against her chest like a newborn child.
The van burst through the alley doors, Marcus hitting the brakes hard enough to leave rubber on the concrete. Robert threw open the side door, reaching out to pull Lily inside.
"Get in! Quickly!" Robert yelled.
Lily leaped into the van, panting heavily, and handed the bottle to Grace. "It’s all there. Pure concentrate."
Grace’s eyes filled with tears as she examined the glowing blue liquid under her penlight. "It’s stable. We can synthesize the final dosage for Ethan immediately."
They drove rapidly back to the abandoned mill. The rain had turned into a downpour, flashing lightning illuminating the decrepit brick walls as they rushed inside with the equipment.
Ethan was shivering violently, his pulse faint. Grace quickly drew the blue liquid into a syringe, mixing it with a saline carrier.
"This is it," Grace said, holding the needle over Ethan’s IV line. "Once this enters his system, it will cross the blood-brain barrier within ninety seconds. If it works, the neural regeneration will begin immediately."
"Do it," Robert said, holding his son’s limp hand.
Grace inserted the needle. The blue solution flowed into the clear tube, slowly disappearing into Ethan’s vein.
For thirty seconds, nothing happened.
Then, Ethan’s heart monitor began to beep steadily. His skin temperature dropped from 104 degrees down to a normal 98.6. His breathing grew deep, rhythmic, and peaceful. The blue veins on his neck vanished as his skin regained a healthy, warm color.
"It worked," Grace sobbed, collapsing into a chair. "He’s cured."
Robert fell to his knees beside the bed, tears streaming down his face as he kissed his son’s forehead. "Thank you, Grace. Thank you, Lily."
Click.
The sound of a gun cocking shattered the quiet room.
Robert slowly turned around.
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Marcus was standing near the door, his heavy military pistol pointed directly at Grace’s head.
"I’m sorry, Mr. Blackwood," Marcus said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. "Julian Vance pays my offshore account three million dollars a year. Did you really think I worked for you?"
