MOTHERS

◙eighteen◙

Elle couldn't pry herself away from the security screens, desperate for one or more of them to turn back on. The one from downstairs was still active, though neither Rivo nor Lola were visible, both busy doing whatever it took to get their sister out. Star's room was heavily reinforced—she was the one who'd gone the most berserk that morning, and had required additional protection to keep her safe. To keep her locked up.

Lost in a trance of imagining her head being cut off or somehow deciphering a miraculous emergency exit from all this insanity, Elle startled when one monitor flickered to life.

"Hey," she whispered, tapping the screen with one hand, gesturing at those who'd taken refuge in her office with her other. "Hey, we've got something. One of them is back online."

She squinted at the screen, taking in what it showed: the clean tile, the flashing purple emergency lights, the vast hallway—it was upstairs, on the main ground floor of the laboratory. Where the cafeteria and dorms and offices were; where other employees hadn't risen from slumber, or hadn't bothered to come check. Also, where Elle's bedroom was.

The lack of activity up there meant that some might have found a means to get out. She silently wished them the best, but she also wished they'd have helped her out, too. Why hadn't they checked all levels, verified that everyone was safe?

Figures came into view on the monitor. One of them stood tall, intimidating, gesturing with his hands. It was a man, Elle realized, from the fit of the suit he wore, and the way his shoulders squared when he turned towards the camera, though not looking at it.

As the lights shimmered over his face, Elle gasped.

"Oh, no." She sucked her lips in, approaching her eyes to the screen. "That... that's Cole."

She'd recognize him anywhere; the dark and sandy strands of his short hair, now crisscrossed with violet from the emergency lamps. The set jaw, the firm posture, the air of curiosity plastered on his face; like when he used to ask her for definitions while reading a book, or when he was served a new type of food he wasn't familiar with.

Only this curiosity wasn't pleasant to see on screen. It radiated something else, another emotion Elle wasn't able to grasp, but wasn't positive she wanted to. In her months of observing Cole, she'd never seen him like this. Rigid, his mouth barely moving as he spoke, his neck muscles taut as he stood nearly immobile while addressing whoever had accompanied him. Or was he talking to himself? Elle couldn't tell, but he definitely appeared to be looking towards someone on the edge of the monitor, not yet visible.

"Room two?" Pajama lady perched closest to Elle, and shuddered. "So... shit, you weren't kidding, he did get out."

Elle refrained from punching the woman's arm. "As if all this," she motioned at the fluorescent lights still going off around them, "hadn't already convinced you? Are you serious?"

The woman brushed off Elle's annoyance and pointed at the screen. "Look, there are others there, with him."

Sure enough, as Elle refocused on the live feed, she detected four people coming into view, walking slowly, huddled together. They were holding one another, their steps uneven and cautious; Cole was waving them forward.

He took hostages? Who the hell are—

One of the captive's faces was lit up by a spark of purple light, and Elle clapped a hand to her heart. That bouncy hair, those deep, dark eyes, the rounded mouth, the sundress enveloping her hourglass silhouette—it was Esme.

Esme... one of the mothers who'd given birth to one of the aliens. Elle recalled her likeness from the pictures and videos the staff had been forced to show the children to calm them down. Esme was the most vibrant of them all, laughing and smiling and talking loudly in her videos. She wore bright colors and never concealed her emotions. She was thrilling and passionate, and beautiful.