She lay unconscious in the mortuary. Her body harbored a recessive gene that had been the object of extensive searching for the past decade, and finally, she was in the hands of the same experimenters who lost her almost eleven years before.

She began hearing the voices of the men around her, though no meaning could be made of them. The lights, they were so bright, she didn’t want to open her eyes. She could feel the pricks of IVs in her arms, and louder than the outside voices was one seemingly inside her very being.

“I’m here,” it said.