CHAPTER 3 — THE GRAVEYARD OF THE LIVING
Emily didn't think.
She ran.
Every instinct inside her screamed louder than the pain tearing through her body.
"My baby!"
The maintenance worker panicked as Emily charged toward him. Instead of dropping the bundle, he stumbled backward, clutching the blue blanket tighter.
Margaret's voice cut through the rain like a knife.
"Stop her!"
Two security guards emerged from the shadows near the loading dock.
They weren't hospital security.
Their black jackets carried no logos.
No badges.
Just earpieces and cold expressions.
They moved with military precision.
Quincy grabbed Emily's hand.
"This way!"
The little boy darted between parked ambulances, pulling her toward the old maintenance tunnels beneath the hospital.
A guard lunged for Emily.
She slipped on the rain-slick pavement and crashed onto her knees. Agony exploded through her abdomen. Fresh blood stained her hospital gown.
For one terrifying second, she thought she was going to lose consciousness.
Then she heard it.
A tiny cry.
Weak.
Fragile.
Alive.
Faith.
The sound gave her strength she didn't know existed.
She shoved herself back to her feet and sprinted after Quincy.
Behind them, Margaret remained strangely calm.
"Don't chase them."
The guards stopped.
One frowned.
"But—"
"They have nowhere to go."
Margaret smiled.
"She'll come back."
Emily didn't hear those words.
She and Quincy disappeared into the dark service tunnel beneath Saint Gabriel Hospital.
The tunnel smelled of bleach, rust, and old concrete.
Water dripped from broken pipes overhead.
Emergency lights flickered every few seconds, casting long shadows across the narrow corridor.
Emily leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.
"Quincy..."
"How do you know all this?"
The boy stared at the floor.
"I wasn't supposed to."
"My grandma made me promise."
Emily's heartbeat slowed.
"What promise?"
Quincy swallowed hard.
"When I was little... I used to wake up at night."
"I heard babies crying."
Emily frowned.
"What babies?"
"I thought they were dreams."
He looked at her with frightened eyes.
"But Grandma always took me to the hospital basement."
Emily felt cold all over.
"Why?"
"She said we were helping angels."
His voice trembled.
"There was a room with lots of little beds."
Emily's breathing stopped.
"What?"
"I counted once."
"There were six."
"Six babies."
"They all had little bracelets."
One name echoed inside Emily's head.
Faith.
Quincy continued.
"Sometimes they'd disappear."
"I asked where they went."
"What did your grandmother say?"
He looked ready to cry again.
"She said God chose better families."
Emily's stomach twisted.
Better families?
Those weren't deaths.
Those were disappearances.
Far above them...
Margaret entered the hospital chapel.
She knelt before the altar.
Not to pray.
To unlock a hidden compartment beneath the pew.
Inside rested an old leather journal.
Its pages were yellow with age.
The first page read:
THE COVENANT OF MERCY
Established — 1958
Margaret slowly turned the pages.
Photographs.
Hospital bracelets.
Birth certificates.
Death certificates.
All for the same children.
Every "dead" infant had another identity attached.
Another family.
Another name.
Another life.
Margaret whispered,
"The Carter women have always protected the bloodline."
An elderly voice answered from behind her.
"And now Emily has ruined everything."
The silver-haired woman from the SUV stepped into the chapel.
Her name was Evelyn Carter.
Daniel's grandmother.
Ninety-two years old.
The true head of the family.
Margaret bowed her head.
"We underestimated Quincy."
Evelyn nodded.
"The boy is becoming like his mother."
Margaret stiffened.
"We buried that chapter."
"No," Evelyn replied quietly.
"We buried her."
Meanwhile...
Emily and Quincy reached the end of the tunnel.
A rusted metal door opened into an abandoned storage building connected to the hospital.
Old incubators.
Broken wheelchairs.
Dust-covered filing cabinets.
Everything scheduled for disposal.
Emily collapsed onto an old chair.
Quincy wandered toward one cabinet.
"I've been here before."
He pulled open a drawer.
Thousands of patient files spilled across the floor.
One folder caught Emily's attention.
It was marked:
MATERNITY LOSSES
She opened it.
Inside...
Every page was blank.
Except one.
Her own.
Emily Carter
Infant: Female
Status:
TRANSFERRED
Not deceased.
Transferred.
Emily stared at the word.
Then she noticed something even stranger.
There was another file directly underneath.
Patient:
Sarah Collins
Seven years earlier.
Infant:
Male.
Status:
Transferred.
Emily looked slowly toward Quincy.
His birthday...
Seven years ago.
Her hands began to shake.
"Quincy..."
"Who is your mother?"
The little boy answered without looking up.
"Dad says she died."
Emily's blood froze.
"What was her name?"
May you like
He smiled sadly.
"Sarah."
