At 2:47 a.m., a little girl called crying: "It hurts... Daddy's baby wants to come out."
“This is an experimental biological research program,” Mariana said, her voice trembling. “Look at the autopsy reports at the back of the binder, Tomás. There were others before Lili. Six other girls, all from poor families, went missing between 2015 and 2020. The system classified their cases as ‘runaways’ or ‘parental abductions.’ But they were brought here.”
Tomás turned the binder to the end. His gaze swept over the clinical and macabre photographs of small bodies, their abdomens surgically opened. The descriptions were chillingly identical to what Dr. Velázquez had found on Lili's scans: "Organism successfully integrated into the host's circulatory system… Host rejection minimized by immunosuppressive treatment… Acceleration phase initiated."
"They weren't trying to cure anything," said Tomás, a chilling, repulsive horror washing over him. "They were culture vats. They were using those children to grow something."
"And Lili is the only one who survived the integration," Mariana whispered. "Her father didn't hide her out of simple fear of social services. The people in charge of that place... they ordered him to keep her. They threatened him. He lied to us out of pure instinct for survival."
Suddenly, one of the forensic technicians shouted from the farthest corner of the bunker.
"Sir! Si quan Reyes! You have to see this! We found the main power supply... it's still drawing power from an underground line. And this monitor just turned on."
Tomás and Mariana rushed towards a heavy, obsolete computer terminal embedded in the concrete wall. The monochrome green screen was flashing frantically, displaying a series of diagnostic telemetry data.
Tomás's heart stopped beating.
The screen displayed live biometric data. Heart rate: 112 bpm . Body temperature: 40.1 °C . Vascular pressure: critical .
These were Lili's medical records, perfectly mirroring the screens of San Miguel General Hospital. This terminal continued to actively monitor the entity within her.
But that's not what prompted Tomás to pull out his weapon.
At the bottom of the green screen, a flashing message appeared: a digital countdown that wasn't there a second before, triggered by Lili's sudden temperature rise during her recent crisis.
[GESTATION CYCLE: 99.8% COMPLETED] [TIME BEFORE RUPTURE: 00:14:22]
Fourteen minutes.
“Oh my God,” Mariana gasped, clutching her chest. “The doctor is going to operate. If they cut into this tumor when it’s fully mature…”
Before she could finish her sentence, the heavy iron trapdoor at the top of the concrete stairs slammed shut with a loud, deafening CLANG .
The lights in the bunker went out instantly, plunging them into total darkness, except for the strange green glow of the terminal screen.
From the top of the stairs, the loud, heavy click of an exterior lock echoes through the concrete walls. Then, the sound of a fan abruptly stopping.
And from the shadows behind the incubation vats, a dull, damp, and raucous sound began to resonate — something heavy, sliding from a drainpipe that plunged deeper into the forgotten bowels of the city.
Tomás raised his flashlight, the beam piercing the darkness, to illuminate only a pair of pale, elongated fingers gripping the edge of the broken glass tub.
What has the system left in the dark? Will Tomás manage to escape the bunker before the fourteen-minute countdown ends, or will Dr. Velázquez unwittingly unleash a true nightmare on the operating table? Find out in Part 3!
