Chapter 7 - Confrontation in the Vault
“Take the drive!” Dr. Thorne yelled, pulling a thumb drive out of the terminal and shoving it into my hands. “Go! Vault 4 is at the end of the hall on the left!”
“Come with us!” I shouted above the blaring sirens.
“I’ll hold the security override from this console as long as I can!” Thorne said, his hands flying across the keyboard. “Destroy that sample!”
Grant, Marissa, and I ran down the white hallway as heavy blast doors began to slowly descend from the ceiling at each sector junction. We ducked under a descending security door, sliding across the slick floor just before it slammed shut behind us.
We reached the heavy reinforced door of Vault 4. Marissa swiped Dr. Thorne’s master card. The thick steel lock turned with a heavy mechanical roar, and the door swung open, releasing a cloud of freezing condensation into the corridor.
Inside, the vault was filled with rows of cylindrical metal tanks wrapped in frost.
Grant ran to the central unit labeled PROTOCOL 7-B: SAMPLE C-8.
Inside a glass cylinder suspended in liquid nitrogen sat a small, illuminated vial containing a clear, iridescent fluid—the harvested stem cell tissue extracted from our daughter.
“Grab the fire extinguisher!” Grant shouted to Marissa.
Marissa ripped a heavy carbon-dioxide extinguisher from the wall and handed it to Grant. Grant swung the heavy metal cylinder with all his strength, smashing it directly into the outer glass casing of the cryogenic storage unit.
The glass shattered into a thousand pieces.
Liquid nitrogen spilled across the floor, instant vapor clouds exploding into the room. Grant reached in with heavy thermal gloves, grabbed the primary sample vial, thrown it onto the concrete floor, and stomped on it with his heavy boot.
The glass vial crushed into dust, destroying the delicate biological material instantly.
“It’s gone,” Grant breathed, his chest heaving. “It’s over.”
“Not quite, Mr. Vance.”
We turned around slowly.
Standing in the doorway of Vault 4 was Dr. Preston Hale. Beside him stood an older, immaculate man with sharp blue eyes, silver hair, and a walking cane topped with an ornate silver handle—Senator Thomas Sterling. Behind them stood two broad-shouldered security guards holding non-lethal stun weapons.
Senator Sterling looked at the shattered glass on the floor, his face twisting into a mask of pure, unadulterated venom.
“Do you have any idea what you have just done?” Sterling said, his voice raspy yet vibrating with terrifying power. “That sample contained the key to reversing my neurological decay. It was worth hundreds of millions of dollars.”
“It was stolen from my daughter’s body!” I screamed, stepping between Sterling and Grant, holding the thumb drive tightly in my jacket pocket. “She is a human being, not your personal medical farm!”
“She is my grandchild!” Sterling roared, slamming his cane against the metal floor. “Her genetic material exists because my family’s blood runs through her veins! Marissa carries my legacy, and everything she produces belongs to me!”
Marissa stepped out from behind Grant, standing tall, looking her father straight in the eyes without a single trace of fear left in her soul.
“I am not your property, Father,” Marissa said, her voice ringing clear and strong above the roaring alarm. “And Lily isn't your savior. You are a sick, selfish old man who thinks he can buy immortality with other people’s blood. But it ends tonight.”
Dr. Hale pulled a small remote from his pocket. “Senator, we don't have time for this. The police are already outside, and Vance & Sterling Legal just broadcasted a public press release with the medical battery charges to every major news outlet in Michigan.”
Sterling’s eyes narrowed. He looked at the security guards. “Take the drive from them. Throw them in the secondary storage room. We are leaving for the private airfield.”
The two security guards stepped forward, reaching for Grant.
Suddenly, the heavy metal blast door behind Sterling slammed downward with incredible speed, cutting off the security guards' retreat route.
Through the clear reinforced glass of the corridor, we saw Marcus Vance standing beside Dr. Thorne at the sector console, holding a security override control. Behind them stood six armed officers from the Michigan State Police and two federal agents from the Department of Justice.
“Drop your weapons!” a voice boomed over the corridor loudspeaker. “This is the FBI! Dr. Hale, Senator Sterling, step away from the individuals and put your hands on your heads!”
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Dr. Hale dropped his remote, his knees buckling as he realized the nightmare was over.
Senator Sterling stood frozen, staring through the glass at the federal agents who were cutting through the lock. He looked down at his trembling hand—the hand that was slowly losing its strength to disease—and realized that no amount of money, power, or stolen blood could save him now.
