"It's one of our older specimens,' Cindy explained. "It's nearing the end of its useful life."
"I have a donor's name," Deborah said. "Kristin Overmeyer."
"Okay," Cindy said agreeably, as if reconciled to the situation. She retraced her steps back to the computer workstation having recovered her previous poise. She typed in the name without hesitation, and the computer immediately produced the code: KO432.
"This way,' Cindy said, waving for the women to follow. She skirted the periphery of the room before turning into the first row. Joanna held Deborah back and whispered: "I know what you are thinking. It's a good thought!"
Deborah merely nodded.
"Here we are," Cindy said almost proudly, stopping at a specific tank. She pointed at the middle glass sphere. "KO432. It's a double specimen."
"Interesting," Deborah said after a quick glance. "The specimen has a lower number than the previous one, but looks younger. How can that be?"
Cindy glanced in at the two ovaries. It was apparent she was flustered again. She stuttered a moment before saying: "That's something I know nothing about. Maybe it has to do with the way the specimens are taken, but I really don't know. I'm sure Dr. Donaldson would be able to explain it."
"I have one more name,' Deborah said. "Rebecca Corey."
"Are you sure you people wouldn't like to see the oogonia cultures?" Cindy asked. "We feel that's the arena where we have made the biggest advances. The oogonia cultures are soon going to make these full ovary cultures passe."
"This is the last name," Deborah promised. "Then we'll move on to the oogonia cultures."
After another check of her watch, Cindy repeated the procedure for getting the code number. She then led them to the tank immediately adjacent to the one containing Kristin Overmeyer's ovaries and pointed at the appropriate sphere. Once again it was a double specimen.
Both Joanna and Deborah peered in at the ovaries which, like Kristin's, appeared younger than Joanna's. Both women trembled with the realization that they were looking at the ovaries of a woman who was supposed to have disappeared along with Kristin Overmeyer after picking up a hitchhiker.
"The oogonia culture room is immediately adjacent," Cindy said. "How about we head over there?"
Joanna and Deborah simultaneously raised their eyes from the ovaries and looked at each other. The horror reflected in their eyes made it instantly apparent they shared the same thoughts. They had uncovered significantly more than they'd envisioned, and it was terrifying as well as horrifying.
"I think we've already taken too much of your time," Joanna said. She gave Cindy a crooked smile.
"It's true," Deborah chimed in. "It's been interesting, but it's time we moved on. Maybe you could point us in the right direction toward the entrance, and we'll get out of your hair."
"I've plenty of time," Cindy said quickly. "It's no problem, trust me] I've enjoyed the break in my routine, and I think you should see the whole setup before you go. Come on! We'll see the oogonia cultures." She tried to take Deborah's arm, but Deborah pulled free.
"We want to leave," Deborah said more emphatically.
"You'll be missing the most significant part,' Cindy said. "I have to insist!"
"Like hell you'll insist!" Deborah spat. "We're outta here!"
"We'll find our own way," Joanna said. She started back the way they'd come. Although she knew it might not be the shortest route from what Cindy had said earlier, she didn't care. At least she'd be passing recognizable landmarks.
"I can't let you wander in here by yourselves," Cindy stated. "It's against the rules." She grabbed Joanna's arm with more force than she'd used with Deborah, pulling Joanna to a stop.
Joanna looked down at the woman's hand clasped around her arm. "We're leaving," she said assertively. "Take your hands off me!"
"I can't let you be in here unattended," Cindy repeated.
"Then take us to the exit!" Deborah snapped. She snatched Cindy's hand from Joanna's arm and pushed the woman back where she stumbled against one of the Plexiglas containers. The slight jolt set off a beeping alarm along with a flashing red light at the tank's control panel.
When Cindy reached for the button to disengage the alarm, Joanna and Deborah took off, running as fast as the narrow row between the tanks would allow. When they broke free of the tanks, Deborah's athleticism came to the fore, and she passed Joanna, urging her on. Behind they could hear Cindy cry out for them to stop.
"I knew we shouldn't have come in here!" Joanna panted, trying to keep up with Deborah.
"Shut up, and run!"
They ran through the arched tunnel, past the old freight elevator and darkened autopsy pit, and into the series of rooms with the incubators. Suddenly Deborah stopped. Joanna had all she could do to keep from bumping into her.
"Which way?" Deborah demanded.
"I think that way,' Joanna said, pointing due south through a succession of archways.
"I hope you're right," Deborah said. They could hear the echoes of Cindy approaching and calling their names, but the echoes made it impossible to tell the direction. A second later she appeared at a run from around an archway and collided with them. She grabbed onto Joanna's and Deborah's clothes as best she could.
"Good God, woman!" Deborah cried. With significant force she ripped herself free of the woman's grasp only to have the woman use both hands to clench Joanna. Deborah swung around behind Cindy and, grabbing her around the chest, pulled her free from Joanna. Then, with a slight twisting motion, she threw Cindy to the floor where the woman hit up against one of the incubators. The unmistakable but muffled sound of breaking glass came from within.
Without waiting to check on the woman's condition, Deborah grabbed Joanna's hand and dashed in the direction Joanna had suggested. To their relief, after they'd passed through several arches they caught sight of the stainless-steel door. Quickly running up to it, Deborah slapped the OPEN,CLOSE panel. The door began its painstaking glide to the left. Both women glanced over their shoulders in fear that Cindy was on her way, and she was. Turning back to the door, Deborah tried vainly to speed its movement with muscle power. The moment the gap was wide enough to squeeze through, Deborah propelled Joanna to the opening so that Deborah could deal with Cindy.
"Oh no!" Joanna cried as she pulled back after starting through the widening crack of the door.
Deborah, who'd momentarily turned to check how close Cindy was, spun around to see what had caused Joanna's cry and halted her progress out of the room. What she saw over Joanna's shoulder brought an involuntary cry to her own lips. Two large, smirking men dressed in black were coming toward them through the dilapidated but now lighted kitchen. They had handcuffs in one hand, guns in the other. The blond man in the lead, seeing the door opening and seeing the women, had started to run. Deborah recognized him. It was the man who had been leering at her in the dining room and who she assumed was the security chief.
EIGHTEEN
DEBORAH RESPONDED BY instinct, again slapping her hand against the raised OPEN,CLOSE button, closing the heavy steel door in the face of the onrushing men. At the same time she was assaulted by Cindy from behind, who grabbed her around the neck and tried to pull her away from the door. Deborah resisted, keeping the button depressed.
"Get this banshee off me!" Deborah cried. Cindy was screaming that the door had to be opened.
Joanna peeled Cindy's fingers from around Deborah and shoved her stumbling backward. But the woman quickly recovered and lunged back at Deborah.
"Joanna, hold the damn button," Deborah yelled while fending Cindy off with one hand.
As soon as Joanna had the panel depressed, Deborah brought both hands to bear on the persistent technician. Although Deborah had not hit anyone since clocking a bratty male fellow fifth-grader, she hauled off and punched Cindy on the left cheek. After four years of varsity lacrosse, Deborah was significantly stronger and more of an aggressor than she'd been in the fifth grade, and the blow stunned Cindy into sudden silence and immobility. A second later she sagged to the floor in slow motion, first sinking to her knees and then sloshing prostrate like a melting ice cream cone.