Chapter 9 - BENEATH SAINT ORISON
The coffin landed on a hydraulic platform one level below the chapel.
Noah struck the metal edge and lost his breath. Above him, the floor panel slid shut, cutting off the gunfire and smoke. Emergency lights flickered along a stone tunnel lined with sealed crypts.
The casket rolled forward on an automated track.
Noah clung to the side rail as it accelerated.
"Mom!"
A muffled answer came from inside.
He pulled at the visible clasps. They opened, but the hidden latch had reset. The keyway required a narrow triangular tool.
The key from the blue box.
Noah had left it with Evelyn.
He searched the track mechanism. A chain drove the platform toward the family mausoleum beneath the cemetery. If he could jam it, he might stop the transfer.
He tore the metal buckle from his belt and forced it between two guide wheels.
The buckle snapped.
The platform jerked but kept moving.
Behind him, a second motor engaged.
Captain Rusk descended in a smaller lift.
Noah climbed onto the coffin lid and jumped for a maintenance ladder along the wall. His fingers caught the lowest rung. The casket rolled beneath him and continued into darkness.
"No!"
Rusk fired.
Stone burst beside Noah's head. He climbed, swung onto a narrow ledge, and ran parallel to the track. The tunnel curved under the chapel grounds. Ahead, iron gates opened automatically as the coffin approached.
Beyond them waited an unmarked hearse.
Two men stood beside it.
Noah had seconds.
He spotted an emergency brake wheel mounted on the wall across a gap in the ledge. He jumped, slammed against the opposite side, and caught the wheel with both hands.
Rusk fired again.
Noah turned the wheel.
The track screamed.
The coffin platform stopped so abruptly that the casket slid forward and smashed into the iron gate. One hinge tore loose. The men by the hearse scattered.
Noah dropped onto the track and ran to the coffin.
Rusk landed behind him.
"Move away from it."
Noah placed both hands on the lid.
"You need her alive."
"I need her voice. There are other ways to preserve a voice."
Rusk aimed at Claire's head through the white lacquer.
A shot echoed.
Rusk staggered.
Victor stood at the far end of the tunnel, one hand pressed to a bleeding wound in his side, his handgun raised.
Rusk turned and fired. Victor dropped behind a crypt wall. Noah used the moment to push the coffin through the damaged gate. The platform rolled again, this time down a sloped service track toward the cemetery loading bay.
Noah climbed beside it.
The coffin gained speed.
"How do I open it?" he shouted.
Claire tapped from inside.
Three knocks. Pause. One. Two.
A code.
Noah examined the decorative brass cross. Three screws at the top, one at the center, two at the base. He twisted them in sequence.
The cross lifted, revealing a manual release cord.
He pulled.
The lid opened two inches.
Claire gasped for air.
Noah tore the tubing from her arm and released one wrist strap. Before he could free the other, the casket crashed through wooden service doors into daylight.
Mourners arriving for the funeral screamed as the coffin rolled across the lower courtyard.
A black van struck the platform broadside.
Noah was thrown onto the grass.
Men in medical uniforms jumped out. One slammed the coffin shut. Another injected Noah in the neck.
His limbs became heavy almost instantly.
Through blurred vision, he saw Victor emerge from the tunnel and fire at the van. He saw Evelyn and Ward racing down the chapel steps. He saw Captain Rusk crawl into the sunlight, leaving blood across the stones.
Then a woman in a black dress stepped from the van.
Not Evelyn.
This woman had silver hair and a face Noah recognized from portraits in the Whitmore boardroom.
Dr. Helena Vale, founder of the Larkspur program.
She looked down at Noah.
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"Claire made one mistake," she said. "She taught her son to wake up."
The world went dark.
