Chapter 3 - The Barcode
The taxi dropped them off at a seedy, cash-only motel on the outskirts of the city. Sarah paid the driver with a hidden stash of emergency money she always kept inside the lining of Maya’s canvas tote.
Once inside the locked, dimly lit room, Sarah laid her son on the cheap floral bedspread. He was perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, breathing softly.
"Why did they want him, Mom?" Maya asked, shivering as she wrapped herself in a scratchy towel.
"I don't know, baby," Sarah whispered, gently wiping the dirt from her newborn’s face. But as she unswaddled him to check for injuries, her heart stopped.
There, stamped on the bottom of her baby's tiny heel, was a mark. It wasn't ink. It was a faint, glowing UV stamp—a microscopic QR code.
Sarah’s blood ran cold. This wasn't a mistake. This wasn't a bureaucratic error. Her son had been cataloged. Inventoried.
"They sell them," a gruff voice suddenly spoke from the shadows of the motel room.
May you like
Sarah gasped, spinning around and grabbing the rusted pipe she had carried with her. Stepping out of the bathroom was a man in his fifties, wearing a battered leather jacket. He held his hands up in a gesture of peace.
"Easy, Sarah," the man said. "I'm Detective Cole. I followed the taxi. And if I found you this fast, Dr. Thorne's fixers are about ten minutes behind me."
