“Take this.”

“Are you okay?” Peter asked Michael.

Only then did Michael realize he was shaking. He nodded.

“Come on.”

They heard more gunfire over the ridge. They ran.

It wasn’t fair, Lacey knew, what she had done. Allowing Peter and Amy to think that she would be going with them. Setting the bomb’s timer and leading them to the door to the tunnel, then directing them to stand on the far side. Pulling the door closed as they watched, then dropping the bolts in place.

She could hear them banging on the other side. Could hear Amy’s voice, a final time, ringing in her mind.

Lacey, Lacey, don’t go!

Run now. He will be here any minute.

Lacey, please!

You must help them. They’ll be afraid. They won’t know what is happening. Help them, Amy.

All that had happened here, in this place, needed to be wiped away. As God had wiped the earth away in the days of Noah, so that the great ship could sail and make the world again.

She would be His waters.

Such a terrible thing, the bomb. It was small, Jonas had explained, just half a kiloton—large enough to destroy the Chalet itself, all its underground floors, to hide the evidence of what they had done—but not so large as to register on any satellites. A fail-safe, in case the virals had ever broken out. But then the power had failed on the upper levels, and Sykes was gone, or dead; and though Jonas could have detonated it himself, he could not bring himself to do this, not with Amy there.

With Peter and Amy watching, Lacey had knelt before it: a small, suitcase-shaped object, with the dull finish of all military things. Jonas had shown her the steps. She pressed a small indent on the side, and a panel dropped down, revealing a keyboard with a small screen, large enough for a single line of text. She typed:

ELIZABETH

The screen flickered to life.

ARM?   Y N

She pressed Y.

TIME?

For a moment she paused. Then she typed 5.

5:00 CONFIRM?   Y N

She pressed Y once more. On the screen, a clock began to run.

4:59

4:58

4:57

She sealed the panel and rose.

“Quickly,” she had said to the two of them, leading them briskly down the hall. “We must get out of here now.”

Then she’d locked them out.

Lacey, please! I don’t know what to do! Tell me what to do!

You will, Amy, when the moment comes. You will know what is inside you then. You will know how to set them free, to make their final passage.

Now she was alone. Her work was nearly done. When she was certain Peter and Amy were gone, she freed the bolts and opened the door wide.

Come to me, she thought. Standing in the doorway, she breathed deeply, composing herself, sending out her mind. Come to the place where you were made.