And there in the center of the room, was an incubator. The soft hum of the machine was the only sound. Inside, under the warm light, was a tiny, wriggling baby boy. He had a full head of dark hair. My hair. I walked over to him, my boots heavy on the lenolium. I placed my gloved hand on the plastic glass.
He was so small, so perfect, and he was alone in a room full of monsters. “I’m here, buddy,” I whispered. “Dad’s here. I needed to get him out. But the incubator was heavy, plugged into the wall. I couldn’t just carry it out through the woods. He needed the warmth, the oxygen mix. I heard footsteps on the stairs above. Check the levels.
Victor’s voice drifted down. I want him in prime condition for the handoff. The door at the top of the stairs opened. I had seconds. I couldn’t hide. I couldn’t run with the baby yet. I looked around. There was a breaker panel on the wall. I flipped the main switch for the upstairs power, but left the emergency generator circuit, which powered the medical equipment alone.
