A Girl Called Eight: The Sentinel Series, #2

By Valery Keith

Emily thought she and her sisters were the only ones. But they're not.

Genetically altered, raised and trained to be an assassin just like her sisters, Nina and Sara, Emily has been enjoying life since gaining her freedom nearly a year ago. No longer a girl called Eight, now she's Emily instead. Other than brawling with her sisters for fun, she's been living a relatively normal life, taking college classes and helping out on the ranch.

But all that changes with a single phone call.  

Once her family learns about children like them at risk of being murdered upon the termination of the illegal program which created them, they have no choice. With the help of their whole family, a sympathetic sheriff and a helpful motorcycle club, Emily and her sisters set out to rescue the children.

But the clock is ticking, and if they fail, the children will die.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valery Keith
• Release date: Dec 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781944535247

Book preview

Prologue

Once she knew they were going to kill the children, Wendy had no choice.

She sat through the executive management meeting announcing the chimera program’s impending cancellation, trying not to gasp aloud. As if these were not children they were discussing, genetically altered or not, they wanted all of them euthanized after the last set of tests finished. That way, they could preserve their research, but there would be no physical evidence that might be used against Genaxicon in the future.

The real problem was that Sentinel’s collapse had changed everything for Genaxicon, creating a degree of scrutiny which they had never experienced before. None of them had been prepared for the way Sentinel’s sins had suddenly exposed the entire industry. But since then, watchdogs, journalists and investigators were busy filing FOIA requests on a daily basis, looking to track everyone who had ever done business with them.

With that kind of pressure, it was only a matter of time until someone found out about their chimera program. Her company, Genaxicon Biosciences, was particularly vulnerable to that risk, especially since they had licensed the core genetic material from Sentinel. While the licensing arrangement was a common practice, now it meant the investigators on the Sentinel case would eventually find that contract and start sniffing around Genaxicon, too.

That would be the beginning of the end. It wouldn’t matter that buying genetic material for experimental purposes was the industry standard. No one would even listen to that part of the story. All that would matter was that Genaxicon had done business with the devil, and might be up to the same types of pure evil that Sentinel was engaged in.

Worst of all, if they came looking while the program was still active, they would find the children. Once that happened, Genaxicon would collapse, just like was happening to Sentinel now. But unlike massive Sentinel, Genaxicon wouldn’t have the resources to even fight back, much less pay salaries as they did so.

As a former business partner of the company everyone now loved to hate, Genaxicon was vulnerable, no matter how limited that relationship had been. They were already seeing the effects of it, after all, even before they had been accused of anything. Once Sentinel’s disgrace had come to light piece by piece over the preceding year, even those politicians who had been on Genaxicon’s payroll for years had turned skittish about any further involvement with them.

That meant there was no more money coming anytime soon, effectively stalling their growth. Without at least one elected official on the payroll to guide those government contracts their way, they didn’t stand a chance against their competitors. That was how the game was played, after all. Whoever owned the most politicians won, because the laws were always written and enforced to benefit them, courtesy of their political puppets.

But it was even more than just money at this point, she understood as she listened to the management team discuss their options, their voices frantic. Without political protection and support to make any accusations against them disappear, they were vulnerable to criminal charges and possibly even jail time if some over-zealous prosecutor wanted to make headlines at their expense. So these children couldn’t be left alive as evidence against them. Not if the industry watchdogs and inspectors were already sniffing around.

It sickened her, but she knew she wouldn’t change anyone’s mind now. They weren’t willing to be torn apart like the Sentinel executives, their names dragged through mud and their lives consequently destroyed. Many of the people around the table had come to Genaxicon precisely because the chimera program was expected to catapult this company into the big leagues, allowing them to reap the resulting rewards.

But if Genaxicon was dragged out into the light of day and punished like Sentinel, they probably wouldn’t be able to keep their doors open long enough to collect their golden parachutes. So this was a stalemate, where Genaxicon could not afford to be caught holding the bag if it ever wanted to be granted another government contract. That meant all the evidence of the chimera program had to go, even the children.

Sickened by what she had heard, she knew she couldn’t just sit idly by while four children were euthanized. Back in her office, she copied everything she had accumulated about the program to a USB key before she could reconsider. That was strictly prohibited, of course, but since there was nothing technically stopping her from making copies of files onto portable media, she filled it with everything important that would fit.

Being an executive didn’t spare her from their security procedures, such as they were. Her bags would be searched on the way out tonight, as they were every night. But the thumb drive was small enough to fit inside her bra, so that’s where she put it. Even if they insisted on frisking her in addition to searching her bags, she would still be safe. And if she timed leaving with the five o’clock rush, the likelihood of being randomly selected for increased scrutiny was unlikely.

When the clock finally hit five, she locked her office door and merged with the rest of the employees heading for the elevators.

Passing through security on the way out was quick and easy. In spite of her anxiety from the day’s events, she was one of only a few executive managers who were even aware of the grisly plan. The bag-screeners at the door didn’t seem any more or less concerned with her belongings than they were with anyone else’s and she passed through the doors without even being searched.

As Wendy got to her car, she quickly removed the battery from her cell phone and got in. Stopping at the first gas station she was passing, she bought a bottle of iced tea, some duct tape and a roll of paper towels from the attached convenience store. In the restroom, to ensure her actions weren’t captured on a store surveillance camera, she poured the tea out in the sink, then thoroughly dried the inside of the bottle before stuffing a dry paper towel in as a cushion. Carefully wrapping the thumb drive in another paper towel, she pushed it into the bottle, then packed another one inside before taping it shut and returning it to her purse.

Back on the highway, she continued on her planned route. Turning off the main road to wind her way through an upscale neighborhood, she carefully checked her mirrors to make sure no one was following her. Seeing that it was clear, she slowed in front of the right house and heaved the bottle through the open passenger window onto the lawn, as close to the front steps as she could get it. Then she hit the gas, got back onto the highway, and continued her commute home.

A few miles further along, she pulled over into another strip mall, then pulled out her cell phone and put her battery back in. She was going to reach out to the only other person she thought might understand, the same woman who currently had an empty iced-tea bottle full of secrets in her front yard. She had worked with May years ago when she had been employed at Sentinel. After Wendy had left for Genaxicon, May had clawed her way into a management position of some importance there, so they had stayed in touch and sometimes chatted at industry events.

The last time Wendy had seen her had been just weeks prior to Sentinel’s collapse. At the time, unaware of what was to come, May had been very chatty after a few cocktails, then even more so when they had left the event for a drink or two to speak privately about the industry. So now, she just had to hope May would help her. She took a deep breath as she heard the other woman answer.

May, it’s Wendy Arble from Genaxicon.

Wendy, how are you? May’s voice was cool. How lovely to hear from you.

Yes, well, I was just thinking about that charming conversation we had the last time we saw each other in person.

Oh? If anything, May’s voice was even colder, suggesting she had not been so drunk that she could not recall what she had said. I’m not sure I recall that conversation.

You know what I remember the most? That story you told me about finding a bottle full of cash tossed right in your front yard years ago, like it was garbage. I just had to call because I was thinking about that. Can you imagine finding something amazing in an iced-tea bottle in your front yard? How about if it was better than cash? Wouldn’t that be something.

As she had hoped, May was silent, clearly either suspicious or bewildered. She decided that was as good a place to stop the conversation as any.

Great catching up with you, May. I’m going to make sure to check my front yard for unexpected treasures tonight. You should, too. You never know what you might find.

Then she hung up. Once that was done, she drove home, her skin still crawling with nerves as she thought about what might happen next. May had lost her job with all the other top Sentinel execs, so if she had hated the industry before, Wendy could only imagine how she felt now.

May’s drunken confessions had included the fact that she knew the activation codes for Sentinel’s defense project subjects, and often wished she could set them free. Since those same three girls had actually brought down the entire company after escaping, Wendy was hoping she might be willing to help by getting in touch with those same girls and asking them to help. Fortunately, she and May had also joked about dead-drops on their front lawns to arrange further meetings to complain about their jobs, so she had to assume May would find the thumb drive.

Once she saw what was on it, she’d realize immediately why Wendy had passed it along to her specifically. Knowing she had nothing to lose, May would activate Sentinel’s program subjects remotely to help these children. Wendy had to believe that, because once she had sobered up enough to get past her seething personal discontent with her CEO, May had been as uneasy with the state of the industry as she currently was.

While they had clearly been maudlin from too much alcohol, neither had been lying. Nor had they been exaggerating their unease with how their respective companies, and the industry in general, behaved. In fact, that drunken conversation, strewn with shared regret and mutual confessions, had been the most honest conversation Wendy had shared with anyone in years.

Both of them had gotten into this field to help people, not exploit them. Yet that appeared to be where the entire industry was trending, shaving and altering the genetic proportions of subjects to allow them to claim them as animals rather than humans. Unrecognized as legal humans, they had no more rights than animals, which was the whole point.

It was disgusting, they had agreed, that anyone would argue a blood test could deny humanity to a person standing there asking for it. So she knew May wouldn’t approve either, not once she had looked at the contents of that USB key. She could go to the press, like the escaped girls had done, but until enough outrage had been stirred to convince the industry’s pet politicians to stop protecting their benefactors, nothing would actually be done.

Realistically, it would take months of investigation before anything actually happened which involved a raid on the facility. By then, the children would already be dead. No, she had to trust that May would activate the Sentinel girls to save these children from that fate, because anyone with a conscience would.

She just had to hope it would be enough.

1

Rand Matthews glanced over at his wife, his expression amused.

You know what they say, he said quietly, his voice teasing. You can’t fight nature. Looks like we might be seeing that play out right here.

Well, it’s good exercise, I suppose, Stacey agreed with her eyes on the girls, sounding like she was trying not to laugh. There is that, at least.

They were watching the three girls they had informally considered daughters for nearly a year now as they sparred on the front lawn, using the picnic table as a prop. He’d met Nina first, when she had hidden away in his pickup after escaping the lab where she had been created and raised as a genetically modified assassin, referred to only as Nine. Her sisters, Sara and Emily, had been sent to bring her back. Like her, they had been planned and trained for military deployment and called by number, Seven and Eight in this case, rather than proper names.

But they were every bit as human as Nina. Realizing that they could become more than numbers and military assets just as she had done, they had defied a lifetime of training and conditioning. Instead of dragging her back as ordered, they had chosen to protect and support their younger sister, long before they had understood how such a thing would truly free them.

Through that experience, his life had been completely changed. Now he was a happily married man once more, his wife Stacey as good a woman as any man could ever want. But this time he was also a father to these three girls and Cole, a fine young man who had become a son far more than a ranch-hand. Never a sentimental man, he had been surprised by how deeply contented it made him to be the husband and father to this family. It had been even better than he had ever expected.

But that said, the girls kept things from ever getting boring, that was for sure. Daily sparring was one of their hobbies and he had to admit that it was compelling to watch, fast as they were. But every time he watched, he also cringed a few times, and not just because their two dogs were racing around them, barking loudly enough to make his ears ring, either.

He didn’t care if they made noise or tore up the place. But he did sometimes worry about someone misjudging a punch, possibly