Franks looked over the agent’s shoulder. This workstation was monitoring heartbeats for prototypes fourteen through twenty-six. Each screen had a heartbeat, except for the last, which showed no signal. Franks glanced down the aisle. There were six glass tubes on this side. There was something growing in each one. Some were nothing but hardened skeletons with a pink glaze of new flesh growing over them, while others appeared to be fully formed human beings, sleeping peacefully in their pseudoamniotic fluid. Franks stepped out into the lane running down the center of the factory. There were six more tubes on the other side . . .

And a blank spot on the end.

Tubes and wires were lying there, hastily disconnected, and there was a puddle on the floor. “One of the tanks is missing.” That can’t be good. He walked forward and played his light across the area. Big tires had rolled through the fluid and tracked it deeper into the facility. “It was loaded on a truck.”

“What’s Stricken up to?” Cueto asked.

“This is Archer. I’ve found something. There’s a room full of dead bodies. They’re fresh. I’m trying to get an angle here, but it looks like they got dumped in a big pile. I’ve got at least twenty so far, male and female. Some are dressed in scrubs or civilian attire, but I’ve got a bunch in coveralls that look like security guards.”

Franks frowned. It was starting to sound like Stricken wasn’t in control here after all.

“Hello, Franks.” The voice came over the intercom. “Welcome to my childhood home.”

“Kurst . . .” Franks muttered.

His men immediately took cover between the machines and tanks, flashlights stabbing out in every direction. More lights bounced along the catwalks and windows above.

“Aren’t they beautiful, Franks? They were made in your image.”

Franks put his hand to his transmitter and whispered, “Archer, locate that transmission.”

“On it, Franks. Uh oh . . . They’re on the way back toward you guys! Shoot. I’ve lost signal.”

Kurst had a maniacal laugh. “I stepped on your little toy. Humans are so remarkably clever. Maybe that’s why they were the ones who followed The Plan. They had the imagination necessary to believe the World Maker, while the rest of us lacked the faith. The time has come to right this injustice. The albino made us in your image, but I will improve the design. This time, I shall be the Creator. I will fix the mistakes made before.”

“You do not belong here!” Franks shouted.