Poe looks over the soldier standing between him and the rest of us. It seems as if one eye stays trained on the gun while the other surveys our little cadre of rebels. He steps forward, slides the .45 from its holster, and racks the slide. “Better if I have this for now.” Nodding to Petroski, he says, “You first. Then Dr. Rossi. Ladies, single file, just like in school. And don’t say a word.”

We line up, and Poe takes the rear, following us through the chimp room. At the doors, he instructs Petroski to open them, and we walk the short distance from the lab to the nearby service elevator.

It’s already open.

And inside is a face I recognize like a mother recognizes her own child.

Chapter Seventy-five

SEVENTY-FIVE

The elevator doors might as well be the very mouth of hell, complete with their ominous Abandon all hope warning inscribed where the lighted numbers should be. Still, I step inside, following the others. Hope be damned.

This is my son.

Steven slumps toward me, suddenly more boy than man. In two days, he’s grown leaner, and the rippled bones of his ribs rise and fall under my hands as I draw him close. Wherever Poe is taking us, we’re on this trip together.

Poe interrupts, gently breaking this mother-child embrace. “Time for that later, Dr. McClellan. When we get to the main floor, don’t look up and don’t speak.” He takes three black bands from his hip pocket and passes them to Lorenzo, Petroski, and me. “Put these on.”

“No way,” Lorenzo says. “No fucking way.”

Petroski blanches, shaking his head.

“They’re plastic,” Poe says. “Just do it. Sergeant Petroski can’t get you out of here. But I can. As long as you do what I tell you.”

I snap the band around my wrist as the elevator doors hiss closed. The men do the same.

I look a question at Poe.

“Go ahead.”

“What’s going on?” I say, bracing myself for the familiar jolt of pain.

Nothing happens.

“Trust me,” Poe says. “Keep your heads down and—I don’t know—try to look tired until we get past security.”

Not one of the people in the elevator—including me, I note, as I catch my reflection in the polished steel wall—needs to be told to look tired. I check Lorenzo’s watch and see that it’s two in the morning, but an entire year might as well have passed since Morgan brought us back here yesterday afternoon.

Poe presses the button for the main floor. “When we get out, you stay in line and get into the back of the van.”

The ride up seems to take an hour.

“Okay,” Poe says. “Ladies first.”