For a long moment it felt as if time had stopped. Sarah, and now me—we'd been lured here to provide the life force for Mayan surrogate mothers. This whole elaborate recreation wasn't about rainforest drugs and research into fertility; it was just a cover to use the bodies of these intensely believing Native Americans. Alex Goddard had perpetrated the greatest systematic exploitation of another race since slavery. The difference was, he'd found a way to get them to give themselves willingly.
Baalum was definitely a place of miracles. There could scarcely be another isolated spot on earth where he could find this many sincere, trusting people with powerful beliefs he could prostitute. And all of it hidden deep in an ancient rainforest.
But I had to be sure. I turned around, leaving Marcelina to watch in confusion, and marched out into the hall and into the next room. The Maya mother there cried out in shock as I unceremoniously strode over to her crib and checked.
Her baby was the same. Sarah stamped all over him. My God.
When I went back, Marcelina was still trying to calm Tz'ac Tzotz's mother with her bedside manner.
As I stood looking at them, the extent of what was going on finally settled in. All those new babies at Quetzal Manor, even Kevin and Rachel—they all looked alike because they all were from the same woman. The one who was here before Sarah. And now hers were ready.
I was going to be next. The new "bride." Those fresh petri dishes down in the lab . . . My God, why didn't I destroy them when I had the chance?
So whose sperm would he use? Of course. It would be from the man Alan Dupre was going to deliver to him.
"Marcelina, don't you realize what's happening?" I wanted to pound some sense into her. They didn't have to let him do this to them.
"I know that with miracles must come sadness," she said, reaching to touch Tz'ac Tzotz's tiny brow. "We all understand that."