Rayburn swipes his badge and the door swings open. The hallway outside is dark and quiet. Little nightlights throw triangles of light on the tile floor. Rayburn scuttles out and motions for us to follow. I take Ethan’s hand, my heart in my throat.

We skulk down the hallway. Rayburn takes a quick left, then right. He stops at a set of double doors, takes out his swipe card. The automatic doors slide open with a smooth hiss. The room before us is pitch black.

Rayburn disappears into the inky darkness. My heart thuds as I will myself forward. I know what horrors await me, but there’s no time for fear. I tug Ethan along. Betsy shuffles so close behind, heavy breathing pulses at my ear. Together we walk into the darkness.

The door clicks shut behind us. A thick nothingness descends. The only thing anchoring me is Ethan’s hand in mine and Betsy’s breath at my back.

“Rayburn, the lights,” I whisper.

They snap on with blinding brightness. We wince and blink into the light. When I look up, I take a step back. “Rayburn, what the hell—”

We’re not in plan B. This room is smaller, about the size of a classroom, with echoing tile floors and low ceilings, and there are no beds, no unconscious pregnant girls. Most of the room is empty except one occupied bed in the corner.

Ethan stiffens. “Riley!” He points to the bed ten feet away. “Is it—” He starts to tremble.

It’s our mother. I run over and put my hand on her skeletal arm. I mark every blue vein in her semi-transparent skin. She looks worse than when I last saw her. Her belly bulges round and grotesque. She looks far too along to be only impregnated a few weeks ago. But she’s alive. The wires run from under her gown to the computer monitor above. The jagged green lines show her breathing, pulse and heart rate all steady.

Why is she here alone?

“Rayburn, what’s going on?” I ask, turning on him.

He freezes, giving me a sheepish half smile. He’s backing quietly to the door. “You, uh, you wanted, uh your mother. There she is.” Beads of sweat have popped up on his hairline. His flabby chin trembles. Warning bells clang in my head.

“Rayburn, what’ve you done?”

The door opens with a hiss. We’ve been found.

The Sheriff strides in. My mouth drops open. I tuck Ethan behind me. Betsy’s hands tighten around my arm.

“What is this?” I ask Rayburn again. He says nothing.

The Sheriff gives me his dangerous grin and then steps aside. A woman strides in and the door slides shut behind her.

“Oh no,” Betsy whispers, sliding close until her gown swishes against my arm.