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It's been nearly eight hours since we were rescued from one hell and thrust into another. I can still see the flashes of explosions, and hear the screams of men dying and women crying out in fear. It felt like a dream as I was carried and forcefully loaded aboard a small helicar along with my friend Jessica. I counted four helicars total. Our captors left the headlights off as they flew like demons away from the blaring sirens filling the nighttime air. They stayed low to the ground, following gullies and weaving through trees at nerve shattering speeds. The man who wasn't flying pulled a strange looking weapon from his pocket. He forced my head down and I felt the cold press of metal against the base of my neck and thought I was about to die. I experienced a brief moment of pain as he extracted the tracking chip. It had been surgically implanted when I was first sent to the breeding camp. He repeated the process with my friend.

Hours passed before the shadowy shapes of trees vanished to be replaced by the steel and concrete skeletons of mammoth towers. The ruins of some once great American city. Very few of the large cities escaped damage during the alien invasion. Some were destroyed to the point that they could not be rebuilt and were left abandon as monuments to a nightmare long ago. A nightmare that stills enslaves us.

I return my thoughts to the present, looking out the window and trying to make out shapes in the darkness. The helicars stay close to crumbled walls and weave in and out of the steel frames. I don't see how our captors can see to steer so precisely through the dark ruins at such speeds.

I watch the dark shapes zip by, wondering what this place would look like in the light of day. When my father was alive, he'd take my brother and me from our home in Baltimore to view the ruins of Washington D.C. The trips were always during the daylight. Scavengers, both human and animals were said to roam the ruins at night.

The helicar suddenly dives down a dark gaping hole in the ground that is surrounded by concrete and twisted iron beams. My knuckles are white from holding on tightly to the seat. It is then that our captor flips on their headlights and I am able to see clearly for the first time in hours. I glance around me and know instantly from my studies that this had once been a subway. The helicars fly down the middle of the long abandoned tracks, before finally setting down in the middle of an open cavern. I see several more helicars and other strange vehicles sitting empty as I am helped out of the vehicle. I am surprised to see the six other women from my barracks climbing out of the three other helicars.

We are given food and water before we are forced to continue walking. Our captors remain quiet throughout -- not even talking to each other.

I clutch tightly to Jessica's hand as we are lead down a dark tunnel. It is at an incline taking us deeper into the earth. The only light comes from the flickering flames of torches carried by two of our strange captors. It is too quiet. Only the sound of our breathing and footfalls interrupt the deathly stillness of this place. I glance at the man in front of me. He is large and dressed from head to toe in black garments. Black fabric is wrapped around his head covering his face only the dark lenses of goggles are visible. The other seven men are similarly dressed. I wonder if it is some type of uniform.

The man, who I assume is the leader, pauses in front of a concrete wall and reaches up to tug on a steel ring. The wall opens to reveal a flight of stone steps leading down. Their torches light our way as we descend into the dark depths below. I gasp and stumble. An arm quickly circles below my breasts, keeping me from falling.

"The baby...she kicked," I say nervously, touching my swollen belly. This is my fourth pregnancy. I have given birth three times. Each time I was not allowed to see the baby. I don't know if they were girls or boys. The doctors said it was better that way. Not knowing -- not having memories of their faces. I am surprised when the man speaks.

"You will be allowed to keep your baby, if you so desire," he says in a deep gravelly voice.

I don't question how he knows what I am thinking, I figure, he must be empathic. Empaths can be found among the population. Usually they are forced to join a special branch of the consortium military. I have tears filling my throat at what he promises me. Hope. Is it possible? "Who are you?" I choke out.

"Your questions will be answered shortly," he promises as we start back down the steps.

The steps end and we enter another dark tunnel. We walk for several miles, turning down intersecting tunnels until I am totally disoriented. No way will I ever be able to find my way back to the surface. My feet are killing me and I fear I can go no further. Suddenly I am lifted into the arms of one of our captors. He easily handles my weight. A feeling of comfort and security embraces me. I wrap my arm around his neck and rest my tired head on his shoulder, knowing instinctually that he won't harm me. Even though, he smells of smoke and blood. Death. How many people had he killed tonight?

The leader stops before another wall. He pushes against a spot on its surface and the floor next to it slides back to reveal more steps. Once again we descend into the dark void. When we stop at the landing I can hear voices -- singing. The passageway is lit in candlelight. I wonder why they don't have electricity. We see no one as we make our way down the corridor. I can hear voices coming from many directions. Other corridors connect to the one we are walking down. Our captors lead us through an arched doorway and into a large room. The room lit by kerosene lanterns. The man sets me down in a large overstuffed chair. Jessica squeezes in beside me as the other women are shown to chairs in the room. All the men then leave save one, who moves to guard the arched doorway.

A wooden door on the far side of the room opens and an elderly man steps through it, followed by a young woman. They are dressed in black uniforms, which paints a sharp contrast to their skin. It is like white alabaster with fine blue veins showing clearly beneath its surface. Their hair is as white as the freshly fallen snow. However, it is their eyes, which hold my attention. They have large pupils surrounded by golden irises that appear to glow.

"I am Commander Samuel Jefferson. Welcome to New York City," the old man says.

My eyes widen and I glance at Jessica, she is equally stunned. New York City received the brunt of the damage during the invasion over three hundred years ago. Millions had lost their lives in a blink of the eye. The city has remained uninhabitable all these centuries.

"Why have we been brought here?" I ask.

"Miss Nicola du Prés..."

"You know my name?" I gasp. No one has called me by that name in years. At the breeding camps I was referred to as Subject A-1121. The number is even tattooed on my wrist and was programmed into the tracking chip that was in my neck.

"We have detailed records on all the women sent to the breeding camps. It wasn't by chance that we selected you and the other women in your barracks to bring here."

"How could you know about us? No one outside of the consortium is allowed access to any of the camps or their records!"

"We have our ways." He looks across the room at the guard standing in the doorway. A silent message seems to pass between the two men. The guard turns and leaves. Commander Jefferson focuses his attention back on us.

"Ladies, my people are slowly dying out," he says, taking a seat in a chair across from us. His female companion remains standing silently, watching us. "Our genes have mutated to the point that we are no longer able to procreate. You are all descendants from the first families. Your genes, although not perfect, are purer than ours. We need your genetic material to treat my people -- to prolong our lives, until we can find a cure for our sterility."

I frown. My DNA was the main reason I was sent the breeding camps. These strange people are not the only ones having problems procreating. Only one in five hundred females have viable ovum and only one in two thousand men have viable sperm. The number shrinks each year. There is not a human alive whose genes are free of mutant strands. The human race is slowly heading toward extinction.

"Who are you people?" Marsha asks with a trembling voice. At sixty, she is the oldest in our group.

The young woman answers Marsha, holding her head up proudly. "We are the Resistance. While your ancestors sold out the human race and collaborated with the aliens, our ancestors fought against them both."

"You can't be descended from the resistance fighters. They were all killed during the brief war!" I say, remembering my history lessons of that era.

"No. When the odds became too great my ancestors retreated underground and waited, rebuilding their strength over the centuries."

I was stunned. They lived down here for centuries? "Does the consortium know you exist?" I ask.

Commander Jefferson frowns. "They know. But, they've never been able to locate any of our cities. We keep our use of electricity and machinery down to a minimum, which makes tracking us impossible," he replies.

The large man steps back into the room. He is no longer wearing the dark goggles or the black cloth wrapped around his head. Like the old man and young woman, he too has weird eyes and white alabaster skin. A woman, who is wearing in a bright red floor length dress and holding the hands of two small children, follows him into the room.

"I thought you said you were all sterile?" Marsha questions.

The Commander smiles. "We are. It's been over two decades since any of my people have given birth. We liberated these children in different raids. The little red-haired boy is your son, Miss Campbell."

"My son?" Marsha gasps and stands shakily.

"Yes, your son."

The little boy is around five. He clings to the woman's red dress and looks sheepishly at us from its folds. The other child is a toddler no more than two years old.

Marsha walks over to the little boy and pulls him into her arms. She is crying. In the fourty-two years she's been at the breeding camp, she's given birth to thirty-six children and was never allowed to see or hold any of them.

Jefferson turns and looks at me. "The toddler is your daughter, Miss du Prés."

I can't move. I just sit and stare at the little child as Martha continues to cry with grief and joy.

The uniformed woman who has been standing by the door walks across the room and picks up the toddler. She carries her over to me and kneels. "Hi, I'm Jacqueline. Nicola, may I call you that?" she asks smiling.

I nod, unable to speak as I reach out and touch the child's cheek.

"Her name is Jennifer," Jacqueline says.

I finally find my voice and look at the old man. "Why?"

"We are not barbarians. We would like you ladies to cooperate with us of your own free will. You have something we need, and in return we offer you a home down here with us and your children," Jefferson says.

"Are my children here?" Maria asks. The other women speak up wanting to know the same thing.

"Not yet. But if you give us your loyalty and submit to our medical procedures willingly, I promise to bring as many of your children here as we can find. You have my word on this."

"You need our genetic material that badly?" I ask, realizing what it would take to track down each of our children to wherever on earth they were sent.

"Your genes are the only thing standing between us and extinction." He smiles sadly. "The choice is yours."

It's not much of a choice, living down here as their lab rat or going back to the camps. That is if they set us free. I'd rather die before returning to the breeding camps. "I will stay," I say, picking up my daughter. The other women agreed to stay, too.

Commander Jefferson claps his hands together happily. "Fabulous! My ladies, you look tired. Jacqueline will show you to your quarters. Once you're rested, she will show you around our city."

We stand and follow Jacqueline out the door. I am carrying my daughter. For once, my future holds some promise. If I could only find my brother Wade and tell him that I am safe.

***

Minister Lermontov took a deep breath, trying to squelch his excitement, as he glanced around the conference table at the most powerful men in the world. "We have in our possession two, hundred-percent pure human males. Not only are they completely free of any mutant genes, they are also immune to the alien virus! Gentlemen, Fox Mulder's and Alex Krycek's DNA is the life font that will preserve the human race."

Tarlan is next.