The church steeple tilted into an intravenous position, and crows swept across the sky carrying the shattered bones of the wafer-bearing wreckage. Allison clambered onto the fallen transmission tower supports, the memory metal dug from Ethan's spine embedded in her palm, the falcon insignia etching her palm prints into the insulating layers of the high voltage cables.
Infrasound waves of mineral resonance emanate from underground, and fluorescent green bone marrow extract oozes from cracks in the asphalt. Jackson's image is suddenly synchronized in every window, his left eye replaced with Sarah's iris scanner, and fiber-optic veins extend from the fingertips of his right hand to wrap around the town hall's DNA data tower. "All you destroyed was my skin double," his voice mingled with the murmur of overloaded crystalline tubes, "the real altar is in your hip joint chamber."
Allison used hydraulic shears to pry open the titanium cover of the hip implant, and the frozen embryo emerged in a mist of liquid nitrogen - a fertilized egg grown from her and Sarah's stem cells, branded with the family crest in the carotid artery. At the bottom of the petri dish is engraved the town council's resolution number: Granting Alison's listing as the "47th Living Ark of the Holy Spirit".
In a mirrored pod in an abandoned subway tunnel, she finds three hundred genetically matched clones of herself. Each body has a different era of Eagle Falcon ring on its ring finger, the newest with Ethan's worker number engraved on the inside. When she rips the nutrient lines from the clone's pod, pus pools on the surface of the mirror to form the console's unlocking pattern - the same foil-stamped crack on the cover of Sarah's diary.
Allison was inserting the memory metal into the clone bay's mainframe when Jackson's armed forces crashed through the blast doors. All the culture fluid suddenly boils over and the clone's skin begins to peel away, revealing cobalt-blue explosives embedded in the muscle tissue. Church bells tolled the countdown to the genetic time bomb, and with each chime, the townspeople's pupils appeared in blood-colored binary code.
"This is the real bloodline." Jackson's projection twisted into DNA chain form in the smoke as his voice poured out of the clone's vocal matrix, "When you kill me, three hundred of you will become the load-bearing pillars of the new altar."
Allison bites the cyanide capsule in her back teeth (Ethan's last gift), and the venom mixes with her blood to form a fluorescent purple conductive plasma. The moment she leaps into the main transformer, the blast fuses of all the clones are deactivated, and the eyes of the saints on the church's stained glass turn collectively to the top of the transmission tower - the memory metal that is absorbing lightning in the thundercloud, transcoding centuries-old miner's ghosts into electromagnetic pulses.
When the shockwave reaches the family gene bank deep in the earth's core, the incubator of frozen embryos begins to play the miner's call recorded during Ethan's lifetime. As the wave shatters all the falcon crests, Allison sees her clones dance the dance of death in the arc, their bones melting in the heat to form stainless steel soul monuments.
As dawn breaks, Allison walks towards the monument with her half-melted left leg. Behind her was the silent burning wreckage of the cloning pod, and in front of her was the mutated wild wheat that had grown wildly with the geomagnetic reversal. She pulled the embryonic petri dish from her festering hip, and the lifeform inside had mutated into a new species of metal and flesh, humming the mining rhymes Ethan had taught her in Sarah's voice.