Acidalia XXVIII

By Amanda D

Sunday Oct 11 2:55 pm

Pacific Coast Highway:

They turned into the coffee shop parking lot, circled behind the building, and backed the Honda Civic into a space beside the tree line. As it had been just two days prior, the lot was mostly empty save a moving van parked taking up three spots near the lot’s exit and a couple of cars parked by the kitchen entrance that looked like they might belong to the shop’s employees.

Mia sat in the passenger seat, studying the shop through its wide plate-glass windows. The glass caught the daylight and threw it back at her, while the darkness inside kept its secrets. She sighed and looked over at Thomas who was behind the Civic’s wheel.

“See anything?” She asked the tall dark-haired beauty whose eyes were far sharper than hers.

“Naw. Too dark in there for me to make out much beyond the shape of a couple booths near the window. How about you private?” she asked Reznik.

From the back seat, Private Lou Reznik shook her head. “Negative.” She replied. She lifted her binoculars to her eyes and turned to scan the wooded area that surrounded the shop with them.

“Curious.” She thought quietly. Then said to the others, “Nothing in the woods either. Are we too early?”

Mia looked at her watch for what felt like the thirtieth time. “Not that much. We’re supposed to meet at 3pm and it’s 2:55. You’d think she’d have been here by now.”

“Maybe she got tied up.” Reznik responded as she continued to survey the area around the lot.

Russov had assured her Greyson would have a surveillance team in place. She should have spotted them by now. She hadn’t.

Either they were experts at camouflage, or they hadn’t arrived as of yet. Neither was a very comforting thought for the private. Her enhanced eyesight had never failed to uncover a lookout before.

She quietly wondered if whatever had happened to Becket's abilities had affected her too. Was she slipping just as badly? Or had the Colonel canceled the op without telling her? That made no sense. Whatever the explanation, the operation already felt off.

Thomas sighed. She looked over at Mia. “Do we want to at least go inside so if she does show up, she’s not wandering around looking for us?”

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” Dr Blue agreed.

“I’m not so sure.” Reznik piped up.

“Why not?” Mia asked.

“It’s too quiet.” The private responded. "It's too quiet. Something's got my hackles up."

Thomas nodded. "Places like this aren't exactly buzzing hives of activity these days because of the virus."

“True enough but, I’m not sure exactly what it is. I just smell a rat.” Reznik replied trying to put her finger on what exactly it was that was bothering her. The shop should be busier was all she could come up with. Greyson said they’d have observers and there were none.

“You two wait here. I’m going to go inside and take a look around.” The private told the others, deciding to take action over waiting it out.

Waiting had always been his weakness before the virus. He'd spent too much time weighing options, afraid of making the wrong move, and more than once that hesitation had cost him dearly. Reznik wasn't that person anymore. Better to investigate than sit in the car wondering.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Thomas asked.

“No.” she admitted. “But I’m the one best trained to deal with any situation that might be going on in there. Plus, it’s my job to protect the two of you and I can’t really do that sitting in the back seat.” She unbuckled her seat belt and climbed out the rear door of the dark blue Civic.

Once outside the car she tapped the driver’s window. Thomas rolled it down. Reznik handed her a second walking talkie. Thomas set the radio on top of the dashboard.

“I'll keep my radio open. If anything happens, you'll hear it. If you hear of any trouble on my end, just go. Don’t wait for me to get back here.

"We'll meet up at the overlook where Dr. Blue first met Dr. Cochran."

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Thomas told her.

Reznik checked the magazine in her 9mm before holstering it.

"From your lips to God's ears, Miss Logan. Okay, sit tight. With luck, I'll be back in two shakes."

"Fingers crossed," Mia said as the private headed across the parking lot.

"She's really on edge," the doctor commented once she was out of earshot.

“Yeah. It’s almost like she was expecting something else.”

“Something else? What do you think it is?”

"No idea. But something's got her rattled." Thomas replied as she watched Lou enter the restaurant.

Reznik stepped cautiously through the outer entrance and froze. Something was wrong. The inner door stood ajar—a breach of the routine caution that had become second nature since the virus. Through the tinted glass, she spotted the ordering counter and the front seating area.

Every booth, every table was empty. Greyson's observers should have been scattered among the tables. Her hand moved instinctively to her sidearm. By the time she reached the second door, the weapon was already in her grip.

With its reassuring weight in her hand, she shouldered the door open and raised her gun straight out in front of her. She swept the dining room from left to right.

Empty.

She let out a slow breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

No customers.

No employees.

No voices.

The silence felt wrong. Even without customers, she should have heard employees talking in the kitchen.

She leaned to her left trying to grab a glance around the small wall that obstructed her view of the cash registers but to no avail. She realized she was going to have to risk her neck a bit more if she wanted to get a better look. She pulled the pistol in close, muzzle angled upward, her trigger finger indexed safely along the frame. Moving quickly and decisively, she stepped across the narrow hallway leading to the restrooms and pressed her back against the wall.

Reznik drew a slow breath and let it out, using the breathing technique Russov had drilled into her to steady her nerves. Once settled, she turned and stepped around the short wall, extending her gun out in front of her in one swift motion.

The counter was empty but through a small servers opening in the rear wall she saw a shadow move. “I can see you back there! Show yourself!” she ordered loudly. Silence was her only reply.

Damn it.

No one was coming out.

Sweep and clear. Just like Russov had taught her.

Keeping low, the private edged along the counter until she reached the swinging half-door at the far end. She cautiously slipped through and leveled her gun down the narrow space beyond it, hoping to catch anyone hiding there by surprise. It was deserted.

Halfway down the back wall stood a pair of swinging doors leading into the employee area. Small windows near the top should have let her see inside, but from this angle they were useless. She tightened her grip on the pistol and advanced.

Movement outside caught her eye. She turned just in time to see the moving truck bounce over the curb and speed out of the lot. She stopped and watched as it proceeded up the road and out of sight.

“That’s not a good sign.” She whispered. Reznik took another deep cleansing breath to calm her jittery nerves.

Abandoning caution, she rushed the door, bursting into the gloom beyond with her gun leading the way. Her boot hit the tile and immediately lost traction. It was slick with some kind of liquid. Her gun clattered across the floor as the private's arms flailed. She caught herself against the edge of a stainless-steel sink.

Heart pounding, she snatched up her gun, cursing herself for letting it slip from her grasp.

Blood.

It coated the tiles in thick, dark pools. Her eyes followed the crimson trail to a heap of camo-clad bodies sprawled across the kitchen floor.

Fresh blood still seeped from the tangled pile. Greyson's observation team.

The private did a quick count—seven. She clamped a hand over her mouth, fighting back the bile rising in her throat.

All the victims all appeared to be male. Dr. Cochran wasn't among them. Relief flickered through her.

It vanished when she remembered the moving truck.

The back door stood open.

She stepped outside and scanned the parking lot.

Empty.

The truck was definitely gone.

The private turned back and surveyed the kitchen area again. Whoever had done this hadn't been worried about covering their tracks.
The bodies were riddled with bullet holes, as if someone had emptied an AK-47 on full-auto. The shooting appeared indiscriminate—the tile walls bore almost as many holes as the bodies themselves.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she swore aloud.

She reached up and gripped the radio's microphone on her shoulder. As she went to key the mic, a blinking red light on the opposite counter caught her eye. Confused, she stepped closer.

Just in time to see the digital counter reach zero.

Outside, in the car, the constant static from the walkie-talkie abruptly went silent. Thomas and Mia waited for Reznik's voice to come through, but nothing followed. Thomas looked over at Mia. She stared back, equally confused.

A moment later, the building exploded.

*****************
3:15pm PDT

Sheila:

The ropes binding her hands and feet dug painfully into her skin. They were far too tight for any pretense of comfort. No matter how she shifted or twisted, the pressure only grew worse by the minute.

She wiggled her fingers and toes as best she could, trying to keep the circulation moving, but the ropes—especially around her wrists—were so tight that even that small amount of movement was difficult.

Even breathing was a struggle with her mouth stuffed full of something hard and round. She pushed at the rubbery object with her tongue, trying to force it free, but the straps holding it in place around her head were pulled far too tight. She wanted to call out for help, but the best she could manage were muffled grunts.

Her kidnappers had gone to great lengths to make sure she couldn't escape. That much was clear.

What she couldn't figure out was why.

She had no idea why they had taken her, but there had been no hesitation on their part. They had come for her. They had wanted her.
Whatever their reason, she was the person they had chosen.

The truck hit a pothole, sending a jolt through her prone body as she bounced off the hard wooden floor of the cargo area. A moment later, the vehicle took a sharp right turn, sending her rolling across the deck and into the opposite side wall.

Her back slammed into the diamond-plate steel wheel well, sending a wave of pain through her.

"At this rate, I’m not going to have to worry about whatever they have planned for me when this trip is over. I’ll be beaten to death by their shitty driving before we even get there", she thought bitterly as she lay there, aching.

That was how the trip continued. Every turn sent her sliding across the deck, first one way and then the other. Each time the truck stopped, momentum shoved her a few inches forward; every acceleration sent her sliding back again. By the time the vehicle finally stopped for good, she was so dazed she had no idea how long the trip had lasted.

The sound of the roll-up door opening was quickly followed by the feel of hands grabbing her ankles. At least two people dragged her across the wooden floor of the cargo area.

Shelia winced as the tip of her nose scraped against the wood, bringing tears to her eyes. When she reached the edge and felt cool metal against her calf, her legs were pulled downward and her body hauled upward into a standing position.

Before she could get a look at her captors' masked faces, a black hood was pulled over her head, stealing away what little vision she had.

Shrouded in darkness, she strained to understand her surroundings, searching for any clue that might tell her where she was. All around her, loud mechanical noises echoed through the space, growing louder with every step as her kidnappers dragged her forward.

After what felt like forever, they stopped and forced her upright again.

"Just stay put, doc. Nod if you understand." A deep, rough-sounding male voice came from her right.
With no real choice while bound as she was, Shelia nodded.

"So they do know who I am after all. Shit. This is so fucking bad."

Her thoughts edged dangerously close to panic. She closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath, hoping to calm herself, but the gag made anything more than shallow breaths impossible.

In the truck, her fear had been a small thing—sharp-toothed and persistent, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. Now it had swollen into a monstrous certainty.

They knew who she was. This hadn't been chance. It had been planned. Deliberate. She was in deep shit indeed.

A startled yip escaped around her gag as hands suddenly seized both of her arms and dragged her forward again. After several steps, they stopped and forced her upright. A moment later, they started moving again, pulling her up a short flight of stairs.

The constant noise she'd heard since leaving the back of the truck suddenly faded, as if whatever room she had entered was heavily soundproofed. She was pulled along for a short distance before being pushed down into a plush seat. A seat belt was pulled across her waist and locked into place.

Panic crept closer.

They had switched vehicles.

That meant any hope of her security team having spotted the truck she had been taken away in was now gone. Whatever they had moved her into—a luxury bus or something similar, judging by the wide, comfortable seat—was going to be far harder to track.

Once the belt was locked in place, the same voice from before spoke.

"Once we're on our way, I'll remove the gag and blindfold if you promise to behave. If you choose not to, I'll have to drug you. How the rest of this trip goes is entirely up to you, doctor. Nod if you understand."

Shelia nodded quickly.

"Good girl. Just cool your jets, and this will all be over soon enough." The voice faded as he moved away.

Shelia sat perfectly still as the high-pitched whine of a jet engine filled her ears.

We're on a plane?

Panic began to overwhelm her.

"Where in the world are they taking me? What the fuck is going on here?"

They left her alone with her thoughts as the aircraft taxied down the runway. After a brief pause, the plane lifted into the air.

As the pressure inside the cabin changed, Dr. Cochrane tried to swallow hard, just as she had been taught, hoping to clear her ears. The gag made it impossible. The higher they climbed, the more painful the pressure became. She tried to call out to her captors, but all that escaped was a muffled squeak.

"I see you decided to go the hard way. Too bad, doc. The inflight meal sounds delicious."

The voice sounded distant and muffled through her clogged ears. A moment later, something sharp jabbed into the side of her neck, and darkness quickly followed.

Her last thought before it completely overtook her was: "At least my ears don't hurt anymore."

******************
Monday Oct 12 7:30pm AST:

"Doctor... wake up, doctor..."

A faint voice pulled at her from somewhere in the darkness.

Shelia grunted, unwilling to open her eyes. The blackness was comforting. All she wanted was to sleep.

Something touched her arm, shaking her roughly.

"What?" she tried to snap, but the word came out as little more than a whisper.

"Doctor!" The voice was clearer this time. "You need to wake up, doctor!"

There was urgency in the demand. It wasn't the same voice she'd heard on the plane. This one carried an unfamiliar accent.

Her eyes cracked open. Everything in her vision was a bright blur, and she immediately squeezed them shut again.
The shaking started almost immediately.
"
St...stop..." she slurred, a little louder this time. "I...I'm awake. Jeeze, give me a second, will ya?"

The shaking stopped.

The same voice spoke again. "You've been unconscious for quite some time, doctor. Do you need something to drink?"

Shelia considered the question briefly before realizing how desperately thirsty she was.

"W...water..." she croaked.

Her eyes cracked open a second time. This time, she could make out vague shapes through the glare of sunlight.
"Too...too bright..." she complained to no one in particular.

"Yes, of course." The voice turned away. "Yusef, get the shades."

The blinding light filtering through her eyelids gradually faded over several seconds until it became bearable.

"Is that better, doctor?"

She lifted one eyelid, blinked twice, and after a moment opened the other. The brightness had faded enough that it no longer stung her eyes.
She managed to open them halfway, about as far as she could in her still drugged state. Through the gloom, she made out two male figures, both wearing long, light-colored robes.

The man sitting beside her held something in his hand. She stared at it blankly for several seconds, her thoughts moving sluggishly, before finally realizing it was the water she had asked for.

Shelia raised a trembling hand and reached for the cold glass. Her limbs felt heavy and numb, and her fingers nearly knocked it from his grasp.

"Careful, doctor," the man warned gently. "Let me help you sit up."

A large, strong hand settled against her upper back, and with his assistance she slowly pushed herself into a more upright position. He guided the glass to her lips. She wrapped both hands around it, holding on as tightly as she could, and drank greedily.

The ice-cold water soothed the sandpaper-like fire in her throat. She felt a little better almost immediately.

After she finished, her host removed the glass, and Shelia took a moment to study the room.

Her mind still felt cloudy from whatever they had given her on the plane, but the surroundings had a distinctly Middle Eastern feel. She looked more closely at the two men. Both wore long white robes that nearly brushed the floor, paired with simple white head coverings that hung down their backs. Their feet appeared to be clad in plain, dark-colored sandals.

The room itself was large and tastefully decorated with Middle Eastern furnishings. A beautiful area rug covered the floor beneath her, adorned with a design that reminded her vaguely of Turkish patterns. To her left, several floor-to-ceiling windows were covered by the shades she had asked for.

"Where... where am I?"

"You are in my home, doctor. You are my distinguished guest."

The man closest to her spoke with a thick accent she hadn't noticed before.

"Who are you exactly?" she asked, a hint of indignation creeping into her voice. The drugs seemed to be fading quickly now. With each passing minute, her thoughts grew clearer.

"Ah, yes. How rude of me." He smiled slightly. "Dr. Mia Blue, my name is Omar Haddad. You are currently in one of the guest rooms in my home."

Shelia blinked. For a moment, she simply stared at him. She couldn't have heard him correctly.
"What did you call me?"

Her host stared back at her. A flash of annoyance crossed his deeply tanned face.

Haddad sighed before speaking.

"I do not wish to play games with you, doctor, nor do I have the time for them. So let us drop the pretenses, shall we? You are Dr. Mia Blue. Former head of the American Centers for Disease Control. Former head of the civilian side of the West Coast Acidalia prevention unit. Presently a fugitive from the American justice system. And now, my honored guest."

"Umm..."

Shelia hesitated, unsure how to explain the situation—or what his reaction would be once he understood.

"You have been brought here because you are one of the world's foremost experts on the Acidalia virus, and I have a dire need for your expertise."

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Mr. Haddad, but..." She paused, searching for the right words. "How do I say this?"

She let out a long breath.

"My name is not Mia Blue. It's Shelia Cochrane."

His expression hardened.

"Do not play games with me, Dr. Blue. I am a patient man, but my needs are quite pressing. I will do whatever is necessary to obtain your knowledge and fix my situation."

"I understand you are desperate, Mr. Haddad, but I am not Dr. Blue. I was supposed to meet Mia at the coffee shop where I was taken. But I am not her."

Haddad stood so quickly that the chair behind him toppled backward. He stared at her, stunned.

A look of confusion and anger crossed his face as Omar turned toward the other man in the room. Yusef simply raised his hands and shook his head.

Haddad looked back at Shelia.

He was furious.

She swallowed hard, silently hoping he wasn't a violent man.

"I... if you have an internet connection, you can verify my story," Shelia said quickly. "Look up a picture of Dr. Blue and you'll see I'm obviously not her. We look nothing alike, I assure you."

Omar turned back toward Yusef and snapped his fingers impatiently. The younger man immediately turned and hurried out of the room.

"The computer is in the other room," Haddad said. His voice was cold. "If you are lying, now is the time to drop the pretense. I do not enjoy being deceived."

"I promise you, I am not the one who has deceived you," Shelia said earnestly.

Haddad gave a curt nod and turned his gaze toward the doorway where Yusef had disappeared moments before, as if he could summon him back through sheer force of will.

As they waited, Shelia took stock of her "host."

He was a stocky man with a neat, closely trimmed black beard flecked with gray. His weathered-looking skin was the deep brown of dark coffee, with small crow's feet gathered at the corners of his light brown eyes. His hands were large, thick, and powerful, attached to equally thick forearms that disappeared beneath the sleeves of his robe.

Despite his middle age, Shelia had little doubt there was a great deal of muscle hidden beneath the simple garment. This was a man who could probably snap her in half without much effort if he wanted to.

Yusef returned carrying two sheets of paper and hurried over to Haddad. The older man took them, studying them carefully for several moments before finally looking back at Shelia.

"You are definitely not Mia Blue," he said matter-of-factly.

His expression sank slightly as the reality settled in.

"I am one hundred percent not Mia Blue," Shelia agreed.

Haddad released a long sigh, then looked at Yusef.

"Get that bastard Conrad on the phone immediately. He has much to answer for."

"Yes, Mr. Haddad," Yusef said as he took the papers and exited the room.

Haddad studied her for a long moment.

"I am very sorry you are here. This is not how it was supposed to go." He sighed. "May I have the pleasure of your name again, miss?"

"My name is Shelia. Shelia Cochrane."

The sadness that crossed his face was unexpected. He looked almost despondent.

"Can I ask what this is all about?" she continued. "Why would you go through the trouble of trying to kidnap Mia?"

"I have need of someone with intimate knowledge of the virus and its inner workings," he explained. "I have sent many requests to your government for assistance, but they have been ignored. In my desperation, I decided to bring Dr. Blue here and appeal to her for help."

"You thought kidnapping her was somehow going to convince her to assist you?" Shelia asked, unable to hide her disbelief.

She immediately regretted the sharpness in her tone and forced herself to be more careful. She had no idea how this man would react to being challenged.

Haddad gave her a small, defeated smile and shrugged.

"Desperate times breed desperate deeds, I'm afraid."

"Why are you so desperate? What happened that would make you think any of this was justified?"

He let out a quiet breath and sat down, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. He motioned toward the chair across from him.

"Please?"

Shelia uncrossed her arms and lowered herself into the comfortable-looking brown leather chair. A large, round, glass-topped table sat between them. Haddad reached for the drink resting on it, took a small sip, and let out a satisfied "Ahh."

She looked at him quizzically.

He smiled.

"My religion forbids partaking in grain and fruit alcohol, so I acquired a taste for mead instead." He chuckled.

Shelia gave a quick smile and nodded.

"My son, my sole heir to my company and the future patriarch of our family, has become infected with the virus." His voice was heavy with sadness. "It has been several weeks since the vile thing ran its course through the poor boy."

He paused and looked up at her. A single tear traced a path down his rough cheek. Haddad wiped it away absently before continuing.

"The Sheikh has told me this virus is a punishment from God upon those whose faith is not pure."

His eyes dropped to the drink on the table, and he shook his head in shame.

"I have a deep love for Allah in my heart, but I know I have not always been as devout in following His ways as I should be. And now my son is paying for my sins, while here I am committing even more."

He grabbed the glass and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the far wall.

"I cannot continue living with myself knowing my sins and my weaknesses may have cost my son his place in heaven and condemned him to eternal punishment."

The tears came freely now as he looked back at her.

"Mr. Haddad..."

"Omar, please. I kidnapped you. There is no need for formalities between us."

"Omar, I don't want to dismiss your beliefs, but I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that what happened to your son has nothing to do with God punishing you or anyone else who is infected. The virus was created completely by accident by a man trapped in a wheelchair who was searching for a cure to the illness that put him there. Its release was just as accidental. God had nothing to do with what happened."

She spoke earnestly.

"Anyone who tells you otherwise is misleading you. No offense intended toward your beliefs, but your son becoming infected was no more intentional than the creation of the virus itself."

He looked at her thoughtfully.

"Yes, I understand how many in the secular West see things like this. But I ask you, Miss Shelia Cochrane, how do you know this is not all part of God's plan?"

Shelia considered that for a moment.

"I suppose I can't say with absolute certainty that it isn't," she admitted.

Omar smiled slightly, as though she had conceded his argument.

"Regardless of its origins, there is no known cure for Acidalia at this time," Shelia continued.

"At this time" is the operative phrase in that sentence. I have money, I have facilities, and I have access to anything a researcher could need. I will not accept that there is no hope for my son."

She nodded at him.

"I wish you luck in your quest, Omar. The world could certainly use some good news on that front."

"Thank you, Shelia.”

"Not to downplay the importance of our discussion, but I have to ask... what do you plan to do with me now?"

"That is a very good question." Omar sighed. "I do not know at this moment, but I will have an answer for you later, once I speak to that bastard Conrad. He and I have much to discuss when he arrives."

A flash of anger crossed his face.

"We will need a way to return you to your country. It will not be easy these days, but it should be simpler now that the blockade has been removed. With luck, Conrad will know the right people to get you home."

"Going to need to smuggle me back in?" Shelia thought, rolling her eyes internally. "What a complete fuck up this is."

"In the meantime," Omar continued, "you are my family's honored guest. I will have a room prepared for you to sleep in until we can arrange your return home. If there is anything you need, all you need do is ask, and it will be brought to you."

"Thank you, Omar. That's very generous of you," she said pleasantly.

"Since you fucking kidnapped me and all. Nice of you to lend me a bed since I'm stuck here for God knows how long now." she thought.
Then it hit her.
"Ryan must be panicking. Do they think I'm dead?"

Not wanting to follow that line of thought any further she turned back to him she asked, "Since you brought it up, where are we exactly?"

"You are in my home, just outside the city of Al Jahra in Kuwait."

"Kuwait?" Shelia stared at him in disbelief. "You mean to tell me you've brought me halfway around the world?"

"I did tell you I was desperate, did I not?" he replied with an embarrassed smile.

Before she could respond, a slender young woman with warm brown skin entered the room, dressed in a beautiful deep blue robe with gold-laced cuffs.

Omar looked up and nodded. A tired smile crossed his face.

"Where have you been? We have been waiting for you."

"My apologies, I was..."

"Never mind that," he interrupted. "There is someone you must meet."

He gestured toward Shelia.

"This is Shelia Cochrane. She will be our guest for the time being."

Then he turned back to her.

"Shelia, may I introduce my son, Kian."

"A pleasure to meet you," Shelia said.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Shelia," she said with a smile.

Then she turned toward her father.

"Father, I have asked you countless times to call me Naila."

Omar's expression tightened. For a moment, anger flashed across his face before he looked away and sighed.

"And I have told you this is only a temporary situation brought on by the virus. There is no reason to abandon the name you were given."

"Very well, father. As you wish."

The words were polite, but the exhaustion behind them was obvious. This was not a new argument between them. Shelia suspected they had had it many times before.

"My son will show you to your room," Omar said.

"Yes, father," Naila replied quietly. Turning to Shelia, she gestured toward the door. "If you will come with me, Miss Cochrane."

"Please, call me Shelia."

"Very well. This way, please, Shelia."

Naila gestured toward the doorway.

"Shelia, we will talk later," Omar called after her as they left.

She looked back, but he had already returned his attention to the papers on his desk. With a small shrug, she followed Naila out of the room.

Once the two young women had departed, Yusef reappeared and moved to stand beside Omar.

"What did she say her name was again?"

"Cochrane. Shelia Cochrane."

"Shall I contact our people in her government?" the younger man asked.

Omar let out a weary sigh.

"I suppose. We should know who might come looking for her if we are discovered."

"Are you really planning to send her back to the United States?"

Omar was silent for a moment.

"How can we? She already knows far too much about my shame."

He looked down at the papers in his hands.

"No. It is best for everyone if the world believes she is dead."

Yusef glanced at the door and nodded.

"I spoke to Conrad."

Haddad grunted angrily.

"He says he has no idea how the mix-up happened but sends his profuse apologies. He says he will find those responsible and hold them accountable. He has also offered to refund half the money."

"Apologies?" Haddad let out a bitter laugh. "I want to see him in person. Then he can tell me how sorry he is to my face."

"Shall I send him an invitation to come visit, then?" Yusef asked.

"I want you to send some of our people to gather him up and have him brought to the stables. Then we will discuss how sorry he is."

"And the money?"

"I have more money than I know what to do with, but I do suppose that it is the principle of the thing. Take whatever he has readily available. Once we are done, he won't be needing it any longer anyhow."

"Yes, Mr. Haddad," Yusef replied as he turned and left the room.

Once he was alone, Haddad looked over at the pieces of the shattered drinking glass scattered across the carpet and shook his head.

He walked over to a small closet, opened the door, and poured himself another glass of mead. Carrying it back to the same chair he had occupied earlier, he sat down and began to consider what his next step should be.

************
8pm AST:

Naila led the way as the two women walked down the long, tastefully adorned hallway.

The Haddad home was larger than any private residence Shelia had ever been inside. It was humbling to think about the kind of wealth required to own a place like this. Their footsteps echoed off the polished stone floor and disappeared into the vast space above them.

"So, you're an Acidalia victim?" Shelia asked, trying to break the silence that had settled between them.

"Victim?" Naila repeated thoughtfully. "Interesting choice of words. I cannot say I have never considered my situation in that light. However, yes, I have been infected."

"How long has it been since your transformation?"

Naila stopped walking and looked back at her.

"My father says I am not to discuss what happened to me with anyone."

"I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to get you into trouble." Shelia paused. "I've just never actually met anyone who has survived the entire process."

She had seen plenty of victims who hadn't survived. She had examined the remains of those who had succumbed to the virus, but she had never encountered a living person who had made it through.

“Successful?” Naila asked thoughtfully. “I supposed you are right. The process was successful with me. I’ve never thought of it that way.”

"Can I ask what it was like?"

Naila glanced toward both ends of the hallway, checking to make sure they were alone. Then she reached out, took Shelia's hand, and quickly guided her through an open doorway across the corridor.

Inside, Shelia found herself in what appeared to be a library. Large, dark wooden bookcases lined the walls, filled with every kind of reading material imaginable.

Naila closed the door behind them and turned back.

"We must be quiet. As a house rule, females are not permitted in here. My father would be quite angry with us if he found out."

Shelia nodded.

"Can I trust you to keep what we say to each other between us?"

"I have no reason to betray you, if that's what you're asking."

"If you give me your word that you will keep this between us, I will tell you what it has been like for me since my infection."

Again, Shelia nodded and held out her pinky. "Pinky swear."

Naila stared at it for a moment, almost amused, before a small smile crossed her face. She glanced nervously toward the door one more time.

"As dreadful as the initial transformation was to endure, this experience overall has been... wonderful for me. Almost like a dream come true."

She looked down, a little embarrassed by the admission.

"My father wants to find a cure so he can get his son back. But the last thing I want now that I have experienced this life is to return to the one I had before."

Shelia stared at her, struggling to process what she had just heard.

"You wanted this to happen to you?"

"I did not exactly seek it out," Naila said carefully. "But now that it has happened, I have come to realize that I like who I am. This feels more like the person I was always meant to be than who I was before."

She looked directly at Shelia. "I do not want to be cured."

Shelia nodded.

"I take it you haven't shared your feelings with your father."

Naila gave a quick, self-conscious smile.

"How could I? Just look at what he has done to bring you here. My father is desperate to restore me to who I was before."

She looked down for a moment.

"Ever since that fool of a sheikh declared this to be God's punishment, my father has been convinced my condition is a source of shame. Those men know no more about this virus than the rest of us. But fear is a powerful tool. Tell people the infected are cursed, and they stop asking questions."

"I understand why you're afraid to tell your father how you feel," Shelia said. "But it isn't right to simply stand by while he turns other people's lives upside down. You have to know he isn't going to stop with me—especially now that I'm not even the person he intended to take."

Naila nodded slowly.

"I know what he has done is wrong. But if I tell him everything I have told you, I will lose whatever small amount of influence I still have with him."

She hesitated.

"You have to understand... I do not have the same freedom to challenge him that you might. My choices are not always my own."

"That's not very reassuring considering my circumstances at the moment," Shelia said with a sarcastic chuckle.

"Rest assured, I will see you returned home safely. And perhaps, if the opportunity presents itself, I can leave with you."

"You want to leave this place?"

"I cannot live my life here. I will always be a prisoner while he searches the world for a way to return me to what I was, regardless of my wishes."

Naila lowered her gaze as she spoke.

Shelia nodded, unsure what to say next. She didn't know how to tell the young woman that there might not be the kind of life waiting for her in the United States that she imagined. Not unless she considered quarantine and isolation a better alternative.

"Well, let me finish showing you to your room before he comes looking for us," Naila said.

She reopened the door and stepped back into the hallway.

*************
Earlier:

Mia and Thomas:

As the angry red fireball raced across the parking lot, it consumed everything in its path. Thomas reacted on instinct more than thought. She grabbed Mia by the arm and hauled her across the center console, dragging her out through the driver's side door.

She knew the movement would hurt the doctor, but there was no time to worry about anything except the approaching wall of destruction.

The heat reached them before they even cleared the vehicle. Thomas could feel it blistering her skin. Moving faster than any normal person could, she shoved Mia behind the Honda and threw herself over her, using her own body as a shield.

The flames roared over the vehicle, surrounding them in a furnace of unbearable heat. Thomas felt the skin across her back and legs began to burn as the fire swept past. A moment later came the storm of debris, chunks of the building raining down and hammering against her body.

As the barrage finally began to fade, Thomas lay still, silently praying she had done enough to protect the doctor.

For the moment, though, she couldn't move. Every inch of her back and legs screamed in pain. Even her scalp burned, and judging by the strange sensation against her head, she suspected a large portion of her hair had been lost to the flames.

The woman beneath her shifted, and a weak finger pressed against Thomas's side.

Thomas tried to lift herself away, but her burned muscles refused to cooperate. Every movement sent another wave of pain tearing through her body.

"T...Thomas..." Mia gasped hoarsely. "You're crushing me."

A wave of relief washed over the enhanced woman. The doctor was alive.

Now Thomas just had to get off her before she accidentally killed the very person she had tried to save.

Gritting her teeth, she pushed with everything she had. Agony tore through her as damaged muscles strained and burned, but somehow she managed to drag herself off Mia.

She had only intended to lift herself and settle back onto her stomach. The thought of rolling onto her ruined back was more than she could endure. Even so, the movement left her shaking from the pain.

With Thomas's weight finally gone, Mia took a deep breath and slowly pushed herself into a seated position. She ran her hands over her body, checking for injuries.

Everything felt like it was where it belonged. Even so, Mia found herself waiting for the pain to start, for some hidden injury to reveal itself.

Thankfully, nothing did.

Aside from a scraped knee where Thomas had thrown her to the ground, she appeared to be unharmed. She let out a relieved breath as she examined the bloody abrasion.

Once she was satisfied she wasn't seriously injured, she turned her attention to her rescuer.

To say Thomas was a mess was an understatement. The damage to her back was horrific. Most of the skin had been destroyed, and what remained was badly burned. Beneath the ruined tissue, glimpses of bone were visible.

Without the changes brought on by the virus, Thomas would have died.

"How bad is it?" Thomas asked quietly.

She was afraid of the answer. She knew the injuries were severe from the pain alone, but she needed to know just how much damage had been done.

Mia hesitated.

"Your back is... in terrible shape," she said carefully. "There is extensive damage to the tissue. I can see exposed bone and several areas where the burns are extremely deep."

She took a breath before continuing. "The heat has damaged the blood vessels enough that you aren't losing blood the way you normally would from an injury like this. But if you were anyone else..." Mia shook her head. "I honestly don't think you would have survived."

Mia looked around, searching for something she could use to get Thomas off the ground before dirt and debris could work their way into her wounds and create even more problems.

They also couldn't stay there and wait for the local authorities to arrive. Thomas would be taken into quarantine, and Mia would be arrested before she had any chance to explain what happened.

Off to her right, she spotted a large piece of metal partially buried in the ground. It looked like it might have once been part of an industrial refrigerator door, and it was only a few feet away.

She stood and walked over, gripping the edge and pulling hard.

It barely moved.

It might have worked as a makeshift stretcher, but whatever force had thrown it there had driven it too deeply into the ground for her to free it.

Mia sighed and looked around the parking lot, taking in the destruction.

The heat radiating from the blaze was intense enough that she wondered if something larger had caused the explosion, perhaps even a ruptured gas line. The Honda was beyond repair. The windshield had melted into a warped sheet of glass, and the front seats were nothing more than blackened remains.

If Thomas hadn't pulled them out when she did, neither of them would have survived. Mia made a silent promise to thank Thomas every day for saving her life.

"Mia," Thomas said, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. "We can't stay here."

The sound of approaching sirens reached Thomas's ears seconds before Mia heard them herself.

"You're in no condition to move, babe. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news."

"Trust me, I know." Thomas grimaced. "In my front pocket is the radio Reznik gave me. See if you can raise someone on it."

Mia dropped to her knees and, as carefully as she could, reached into Thomas's pocket and pulled out the radio.
To her surprise, it was still functional. Aside from a small crack in the casing, it appeared undamaged.

She pressed the transmit button.

"Hello? Is anyone there? This is Dr. Mia Blue."

Static hissed through the speaker for several seconds before a man's voice answered.

"Go ahead, Dr. Blue. This is Overwatch Three."

Mia lowered the radio and stared at it. "Overwatch Three? What the hell is that about?"

She looked around the devastated parking lot, searching for any sign of where the voice might be coming from.

There was no one.

"Are you there, doctor?" the same voice asked.

"Y...yes. There was an explosion at the coffee shop. It looks like Thomas and I are the only ones still alive, and she's hurt badly. We need someone to come get us before the civilian authorities arrive."

Before the voice could respond, the familiar voice of Sergeant Russov came through the radio.

"Everyone's dead?" he asked. A pause followed. "Private Reznik... is she with you?"

"No, Sergeant. As far as I can tell, she was inside when the building exploded," Mia replied.

Silence.

"Fuck," Russov finally said quietly.

Mia closed her eyes for a moment, but forced herself to focus. "It's a terrible loss, Sergeant, but we still need extraction. I can hear sirens in the distance. Emergency services will be here soon."

"This is Overwatch Three. We have a Humvee en route. ETA four minutes," the unknown voice replied.

"Thank you, Overwatch. We'll be waiting."

Mia lowered the radio and looked over at Thomas's prone form.

"Help's on the way."

"I... heard," Thomas replied through clenched teeth.

Mia frowned at the pain in her voice.

Thomas had endured a lot over the past months, but she couldn't remember ever seeing her in this much agony. Not since Reynolds. Not since Brady's "research."

"How's the pain?" Mia asked softly.

Thomas let out a strained breath.

"You don't want to know."

"Probably not, but I need to know," Mia told her.

She looked over at the new woman's back and felt a wave of relief. The exposed bone was already beginning to disappear beneath layers of newly forming muscle tissue. It was going to take time, but Thomas was healing.

She was going to survive.

"Still hurts like a mother fucker," Thomas growled.

"I can already see the regeneration taking place," Mia said, unable to keep the fascination out of her voice. "If we can ever understand how your physiology works, it could revolutionize medicine."

"Yeah," Thomas replied dryly. "I can't wait for them to start dissecting me."

Mia's expression fell. She knew exactly why Thomas felt that way.

The sound of emergency sirens was growing louder. If the army didn't get them out of there soon, they were going to have a lot of explaining to do.

Not that the authorities would know what had happened inside the building. But that didn't matter. All Mia knew was that she needed to avoid anyone getting a close look at Thomas before they were ready.

Mia clambered back up to her feet and again surveyed the inferno that used to be a coffee shop. She tried to see through the flames and smoke, hoping to spot Reznik or anyone that may have somehow survived the conflagration, but the heat was too intense to focus on that direction for long. Not there was much chance anyone had survived anyway.

As she looked, off to the left of the blaze a a dark green painted Humvee came barreling into the parking lot just ahead of three dark red fire trucks. A blue police car brought up the rear.

The driver of the Humvee swept the parking lot with a quick glance before steering toward them and skidding to a stop beside what remained of the Honda. A soldier climbed out of each front door, both clad in the virus-protection suits that had become standard issue for military personnel. A third soldier emerged from the rear passenger-side door, distinguished by the large red cross emblazoned across the chest of the protective suit and repeated on the helmet—a medic. Between the mirrored glare on the faceplate and the loose-fitting suit, it was impossible to tell whether the medic was male or female.

The medic ran to Thomas’ side and knelt down next to her as they assessed the damage to her back. The soldier that had hoped out of the front passenger’s door went to the back of the vehicle and pulled out a stretcher while the driver walked over to where the EMS (Emergency Medical Services) vehicles had stopped and was waving to the police officer.

“Wow!” the medic exclaimed.in a feminine sounding voice. “Your back is completely fucked up!”

“N..No shit!” Thomas said back to her scornfully. The pain was getting hard to hold back now.

“Sorry. Don’t mean to be captain obvious. I’ve just never seen anyone still alive after an injury like this.”

“She’s one of the enhanced ones they briefed us on.” The soldier with the stretcher told her. “She’ll be fine as frog hair in a few days based on the few of them, I’ve seen. Crazy shit.”

“For sure.” The medic nodded in the direction of the road. “What Captain Ramsey doing?”

“Trying to placate the civilians and keep them away from her. We don’t need all of them over here gawking.”

“We need something to cover her wound with!” Mia told them both interrupting their conversation.

“I..I don’t know if we have anything big enough to cover all that.” The medic said as she climbed to her feet. “Let me see what I can come up with.”

Mia kneeled down over Thomas, doing her best to shield her wound from the heat of the fire with her body as the medic searched though the truck for something large enough to cover the new woman’s burnt back side. The wound was awful looking, seeping some kind of fluid from all sides that mixed with the small trickles of blood coming from the unburned edges making for an almost black colored mess the ran down the undamaged skin on either of her flanks. The small bit of rib bone she’d seen exposed earlier looked to be mostly covered up now, a clear sign Thomas’ body was starting to heal.

She looked up to see what was taking the medic so long just in time to see the soldier walking back with a large canvas tarp. It wasn’t the cleanest looking thing Dr. Blue had ever seen but for the short term I would serve the purpose of covering the burn.

“Sorry about this Thomas but there’s no way to keep this from hurting.” Mia told her as she stood back up and took the front corner of the tarp.

“To the medic she said,” Let’s get this lined up and place it over her. We don’t want to have to move it once it’s on her back.”
The medic nodded. She looked down at the injured woman’s wounds queasily and reminded herself how bad it would be if she threw up in the bio suit

Several seconds later Thomas’ eyes grew wide with pain as the tarp came to rest across her back. She bit her bottom lip in an effort to try and hold back the searing pain, only allowing a small grunt to escape. Mia, knowing how bad it must have hurt, was in awe of Logan’s toughness.

"Damn, girl. You took that like a champ," the medic said. Even through the mechanical squawk of the voice amplifier mounted on her chest, the admiration in her voice was unmistakable.

Thomas nodded. The pain was too great for her to speak.

With the wound finally covered, they laid a stretcher down next to her and being as gentle as could be managed, the three of them got the injured new woman onto it lying face down. Once she was in position Thomas let out a loud sigh of relief at not having to move any longer.

Sweat ran off her in rivers as her back screamed in protest but at least now she was settled.

“See? That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Mia asked with a commiserating look on her face.

“Next time you lay on top when the fire in threatening to consume us and you tell me.” Thomas said through gritted teeth.

“You’re on. Next explosion, it’s me on top.”

“Thanks doc. You’re a peach.”

“Here comes the fun part. We have to get you in the Humvee for transport. Let me know when you’re ready.” Mia told her.

“No time like the present.” Thomas replied.

Trying to cause the wounded woman as little pain as possible, the pair of soldiers lifted the stretcher. Thomas’ eyes grew wide and she gritted her, but she remained silent as they carried her twenty feet to the back of the transport truck. Despite her best efforts, let out a loud cry as they jostled her about as she was loaded into the back of the transport.

Once she was settled Mia climbed into the seat next to where her comrade lay and asked her, “Are you ok?”

“I’m still here.” Thomas grumbled.

“Sorry for all the bouncing around. You’re a lot heavier than you look. Thought those two were going to have a heart attack trying to load you in there. You need to go on a diet girlfriend.”

“I’ll put that on my list right after never saving you again.” Thomas stuck her tongue out at the doctor and Mia laughed.

Thomas quietly wondered if after all this time she'd misjudged the doctor. She'd always written Mia off as something of a snooty, self-centered bitch, but today she was being kind, compassionate—almost warm. She was even making jokes. Maybe she wasn't irredeemable after all.

As the soldiers hopped in the front of the truck Mia asked, “Where are you taking us?”

“Our orders are to take you back to your facility. Was there someplace else you wanted to go instead?”

“Nope. The facility is exactly where we want to go.” Mia replied.

************

Kuwait 11pm AST:

The door to her darkened room burst open, flooding the far corner with light from the hallway. The crash startled Sheila awake. She sat bolt upright in the large bed Mr. Haddad had given her and looked around. Three men in long white robes stood over her, staring down at her.

“Wha?” she asked blinking and confused by the sudden intrusion.

“Get up! Get dressed!” the one closest to the bed told her. “You have three minutes. We will be outside waiting for you.”

“What? What’s going on?” she asked trying to push the sleep away. She looked up at the invaders trying to wrap her mind around what was happening.

“Do as you’ve been told woman!” he ordered. “Mr. Haddad will answer all of your questions if he so chooses when the time comes!”

Without a backward glance he three men turned and walked out, slamming the bedroom door closed behind them. Sheila remained sitting in the now empty room wondering what the hell this was all about before letting out a nervous sigh and rolling out of the oversized bed.

She had thrown her clothes over the back of a large, overstuffed chair on the far side of the enormous room. She stepped across the plush carpeted floor, snatching them up and quickly started to dress. Two minutes and forty-five seconds later the door slammed open for a second time.

More awake than the last encounter with the she looked over her shoulder as she finished buttoning her blouse and asked in a voice filled with false bravado, “Don’t you guys ever knock?”

The tallest of the men with his immaculately shaved beard looked at her angrily but declined to take her bait. “Let’s go!” he demanded. He reached out to grab her arm, but she pulled it back before her could.

“Keep your fucking hands to yourself!” She told him indignantly.

He raised his right hand at her and for a moment she thought he was going to slap her. “Come on then!” was all he said.

The three of them led her down a long-carpeted hallway to the set of stairs she used earlier to get to the room she’d been assigned. Two of the men were in front with the one that had yelled at her bring up the rear. All three held machine guns of some kind, Sheila was many things but an expert on guns was not one of them.

They led her out through one of the many rear doors and across a large, paved courtyard. An enormous lighted fountain stood in the center. On the far side was another building, nearly as large as the main house. When they entered, Sheila saw that it was a stable.

Sheila was amazed at the sheer number of horse stalls that lined either side of the building’s interior. In the center was a large circular area with hay all over the floor, that looked like a small indoor riding area. In the center of it stood Haddad and several other men all in similar white robes all looking at something she couldn’t quit see from her angle.

As they approached the group, Haddad turned to look at her. Anger and disgust were etched across his face. He pointed to a chair just outside the circle.

"Put her over there," he said. "I'll deal with her once this is finished."

The tall one, who seemed to be in charge of her escorts, nodded and pushed her from behind in the direction of the metal folding chair off to the right side of the circle.

Sitting gave her a clear view of what Haddad, and his men were focused on. Facing their group was a man with short blonde hair tied to a chair that resembled the one she’d been placed in. He appeared to be bleeding from several cuts on his face. The crimson mask, dark as it was, wasn’t enough to obscure the menagerie of large bruises round his eyes and cheek.

She sat and watched in stunned horror as the men surrounding the bound prisoner shouted at him in Arabic. One by one, each of his captors took a turn haranguing him. When a man finished speaking, the prisoner would answer, only to be met with a punch or a slap so hard the crack echoed through the stable. The ritual continued for more than twenty minutes until Haddad reached into the pocket of his robe, pulled out a pistol, and jammed the barrel into the prisoner's mouth, breaking several of his teeth.

Omar looked at her and in English shouted, “Do you see this, Sheila? This is the creatin that brought you here! Do you see what happens to people who disappoint me?”

Without waiting for her to reply Omar pulled the trigger and she watched with frozen, unblinking eyes as the captive’s brains exited the back of his head. Haddad pulled the gun out of the corpses mouth and strode over to where she sat purposefully. He came right up to her and squatted down so they were at eye level.

“You lied to me.” He told her as he wiped blood off the end of the barrel with the bottom of the white blouse she wore.

“I..I did?” she asked with her eyes locked on the gleaming silver gun. She’d never been so scared in her life.

“Yes. You did not tell me you worked at Greyson labs as a researcher. The very place the virus was born, and you are employed as a researcher there!” His face was turning red with anger as he spoke. “I had to have my assistant contact our people in your government to find this out.” Omar shook his head in disgust.

“I…I…” she didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t actually asked what she did for work, but she didn’t think that distinction would save her. She swallowed hard. “I..I’m sorry.”

He looked at her with eyes full of contempt. “I will not be returning you to your country, you will be staying with us until you’ve cured my son. After that we will discuss your fate.” He stood up as if the conversation was over then stopped looked back down at her. “Don’t ever lie to me again Sheila. I need you but I don’t need you that badly that you can’t be replaced. Understand?”

She nodded emphatically.

"Good girl.” Haddad told her condescendingly. Then to his men he said, “Take Dr. Cochran back to her room. Tomorrow morning, we'll show the good doctor where she'll be working."

**********************

Monday Oct 12 3am PDT:

Greyson Labs:

Lt. Col. Zoe sat at his desk reading over the report from the coffee shop explosion. He quietly fumed as he saw the number of presumed dead for the third time. Seventeen of his people were thought to be dead, including Reznik from Russov’s team. Losing an enhanced soldier was especially troubling; they weren’t exactly growing them on trees.

Four, including Sheila Cochran, were still unaccounted for. His explosives team had reported that his missing people might have been standing too close to the explosive devise when it went off and been completely incinerated in the heat of the blast. Only when the forensic investigation was completed would they know for sure.

He shook his head in disgust as the sloppiness of it all. So much had gone wrong it was impossible to point at any one particular event and say that’s the point where the mission went off track. He had so many questions starting with how his observation team been drawn inside the structure when they were sent there to simply observe the meeting from a distance. They never should have gotten any closer to the building than the parking lot, yet it seems most of them were inside when the detonation went off.

“Could they have been ambushed beforehand then forced inside?” He wondered. “That would certainly explain the breach of orders.”
A knock at the office door gave him a welcome excuse to stop brooding. His first thought was to wonder why his secretary hadn't announced the visitor. Then he glanced at the clock. It was after ten o'clock. Gloria had gone home hours ago.

"Enter," he called.

A moment later, Jackson Ryan stepped through the doorway.

“Yes doctor, what can I do for you?” he asked in great annoyance. The last thing he needed right now was more problems.

“Sorry to bother you, Colonel. I was just wondering if there were any updates on Sheila.”

The commander looked up at his head of research, it was obvious Ryan was an emotional mess. His cheeks were stained with fresh tear streaks he hadn’t bothered to wash off. His clothing was disheveled, his hair a mess. Zoe thought Cochran was just a piece of ass, but obviously he’d underestimated the depth of the relationship between them.

The Colonel made a mental note to forbid personal relations between staff members moving forward. He hadn’t been thrilled when he discovered how close Ryan was to Cochran, but it had been a preexisting situation, and he’d decided not to interfere. Seeing what an emotional wreck the civilian doctor as now though convinced him the decision to allow it to go one hadn’t been the right one.

"No word as of yet, Jack. I'm sorry I don't have more. All I know is her body hasn't been recovered from the wreckage. Officially, we still have her listed as missing."

Zoe considered telling him what the explosives team suspected—that anyone standing too close to the blast might have been completely vaporized—but decided against it.

Instead, the colonel rose and crossed to the liquor cabinet behind his desk. He poured two glasses of Scotch, then turned back and set one on the desk before the chair opposite him. Motioning Ryan to sit, Zoe lowered himself into his own chair.

The two men sat in silence for several moments, nursing their Scotch, before Zoe broke it.

"Jack, you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that we may never recover the missing."

Ryan nodded.

“What we’re doing here is too important to let this incident affect us for long. Tonight we mourn the dead and the missing but tomorrow morning we need to get back on the job.”

“I..I understand.” Ryan told him then went silent for a minute before continuing. “I..I just keep wondering if maybe we should have handled things differently. Maybe if we weren’t so gung-ho to get access to Greyson’s server none of this would have happened.”

“We are not to blame here, doctor. The two of us have no responsibility in the cluster fuck today turned into.” Zoe told him as he looked at Ryan over the top of his glass. “Someone knew what we were doing today and set up an ambush. That wasn’t on us.”

Ryan nodded and took a long swig out of his glass.

“I will find whoever compromised our security and they will pay dearly. That I promise you.” Zoe told him.

He already had his head of security digging into the phone and email logs of everyone in the facility including Dr. Ryan himself. Whoever fucked them over today would be dealt with most severely indeed.

“She…she was just so young and full of promise…” Ryan said quietly. The tears were close again and he did nothing to try and suppress them.

“I think we will have a better picture of what went on there once we get the satellite data I requested.” Zoe told him.

“There was a satellite on over watch?”

“Not specifically watching our mission but the NSA has several overlooking the west coast. It’s possible one of them may have caught something, even obliquely. I’ve put in a request for any images they may have captured.”

Ryan nodded. “Hopefully they will have something useful.”

Zoe nodded. “If luck is on our side, maybe.”

“There were no survivors? That doesn’t seem possible.”

"Other than your old boss, Ma Blue." Zoe glanced down at the report, then shuffled through a few more pages. "And an enhanced woman named Thomas Logan. According to the report, Logan covered Dr. Blue with her body when the bomb went off. She was seriously injured."

“Where are they now? Can I speak to them?” Ryan asked hopefully.

“I had my people bring them back to their facility to treat Logan’s wounds. I will be sending a team there tomorrow to interview both of them.”

“I want to go with them.” Ryan said.

“No doctor.”

“But…”

"Jack, you're our best hope of finding a cure. I'm not sending you into a facility full of infected people simply to observe my people interviewing witnesses and expose you to infection. Whatever we learn about Dr. Cochran's fate, you'll be informed immediately."

“But….”

“No more buts, Doctor. Make no mistake, if you were to become infected, I’d throw your ass in the isolation lab with your test subjects so fast it will make your head spin! Now get a hold of yourself!” Zoe told him angrily.

Ryan recoiled then nodded. “You’re right, of course, Colonel.”

Zoe nodded back at him. “Then I’d say this conversation is over. If there are any updates to give you, I will let you know. Have a good night.”

Ryan rose and extended his hand. Without looking up, Zoe waved him off and returned to the report on his desk. Ryan let his hand fall, turned, and left without another word.

***************

11am PDT:

The Sister’s compound:

Robi removed the sterile sheet covering Thomas's back and examined the enhanced woman's burns. Despite the severe burns that had covered her from head to heel when she was brought in, she was healing remarkably well. Satisfied with her patient's progress, Dr. Goings replaced the sheet and made a quick note in Thomas's chart. The dark-haired young woman should be fully healed within the next day or two.

“How’s it looking Doc?” her patient asked. Yesterday her back hurt so bad she had begged for relief. Today however there was hardly any at all.

“Yeah, Robi, is she going to live or should I start filing the paperwork making me her next of kin so I can inherit her millions?” Nicole asked jokingly.

“She has millions?” Robi asked. She looked down at Thomas and smiled. “If that’s the case, Nicole, I can slip her something before she goes to bed tonight and we can split the money after.”

Nicole laughed.

“Hey, hey, now!” Thomas said indignantly. “You’d both miss me if I was gone!”

“It would be difficult initially, but all that money would help ease the pain, I’m sure.” Nicole teased.

“She has a point.” Robi agreed.

“Sounds like you two have it all worked out, except the money part. I’m broker than broke.”

“Details, my love. Details.” Nicole said as she stuck her tongue out at her lover.

"Well, in my professional opinion, despite the potential for a large inheritance and all, I think you'll be back on your feet sooner rather than later.
The burns are healing nicely. Are you experiencing any pain?"

Robi touched one of the mostly healed areas with the tip of her finger as she asked.

“Not much pain at all.”

The doctor nodded “How about here?” the doctor asked as she moved her finger to one of the more raw looking spots.

Thomas hissed. “Yeah. That’s a little bit tender there.”

“I could tell.”

Robi made another note on the chart she was holding. She looked over at Nicole who was standing on the opposite of Thomas’ bed. “And how are you feeling today, ma’am?”

Nicole stretched her arms out over her head. “Fit as a fiddle.”

Robi nodded. “Let me see the wound please?”

From the bed Thomas added, “Yeah baby, show us some skin.”

Nicole stuck her tongue out at the prone new woman as she opened her robe enough to expose her shoulder to the doctor. The round scar the bullet left behind was still there but fading more as the days went on.

Robi poked it. “How does that feel?”

“If feels like you poked me.” Nicole replied with an impish grin.

Robi rolled her eyes and jotted another note on Nicole's paperwork. "I want to do another blood draw in a while to check your hemoglobin levels and such, but if everything comes back clean, I'd say you can go back to sleeping in your own bed tonight. Unless, of course, you can't stand to be away from Thomas."

"Please send her back to our room, Robi. I could really use the peace and quiet," Thomas teased.

"Ouch!" Nicole exclaimed, then stuck her tongue out at Thomas. "If that's how you feel, you can have the couch for the rest of the week. Once Robi send you home anyhow.”

"Hey now, let's not get crazy here." Thomas laughed.

"See how fast their attitudes change when there are real consequences for their actions?" Nicole said to Robi.

Robi laughed. “You two are too much.”

Nicole grinned and winked at Thomas.

“Ok as much fun as this has been. I have other patients that I need to check on.” Robi told the pair.

“Always a pleasure doc.” Thomas said.

“Mhm. You two behave.” Robi warned with a wink as she gathered her things. Once outside the now two-person room, she closed the curtain giving the two women a bit of privacy.

With that done, Dr. Goings surveyed the large hospital ward and let out a long sigh. Even with the addition of Dr. Turner and her people, there was still a staggering amount of work to be done. Despite the government's claims that the infection rate was declining, you wouldn't know it from looking around this room. Every bed was filled, and cots lined the far wall to help handle the overflow. The sheer number of sick men being treated here made Robi shiver and wonder what the future would hold for their species.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall and noticed her shift officially ended twenty minutes ago. Once again, she let out a sigh. She was tired, but that was nothing new these days. In her life before the virus, she never remembered being so constantly exhausted as she lately. Robi looked to her right and saw one of the patients waving their hand frantically.

“Now what?” she wondered as she gazed out across the room to see if anyone else had noticed the hand, but they were all occupied with others. “Fuck it.” She thought grimly. “Who needs sleep anyhow?”

She started heading in the direction of the hand when a pair of masculine arms grabbed her from behind. Robi let out a startled yip and turned to see her husband standing behind her with a wide grin on his face. She rolled her eyes and playfully slapped his chest. “You scared the shit out me! Jerk!”

Warren laughed. “Sorry babe. I just noticed it was time for you to be off shift, so I figured I’d come get you before you worked through it again.”

She planted a hand on her hip and scowled at him. "I was going to see what's going on with that one over there," she said, nodding toward the patient.

Warren looked at his watch. “Nope you were done twenty-five minutes ago.”

“Well, he needs help despite what your watch says.” Robi told him with an edge of resentment in her voice. “What do you want me to do?”

He smiled at her, understanding her anger was mostly exhaustion. “I want you to go upstairs to our room so I can make you some dinner and then for you to get some sleep.”

“That sounds wonderful, but I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon. There’s way too much left to do here.” She explained trying not to lose her temper with him.

Warren nodded. "And there will still be plenty to do twelve hours from now, when your next shift starts."

He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. "Baby, I know how committed you are to helping these people, and I admire you for it more than you know. But you're no good to them if you're this exhausted. You need rest, too. There are plenty of others helping now."

He glanced over his shoulder and saw Sam finally making her way toward the patient with the raised hand. "And Sam's already got the one you were headed for, so there's no reason for you to worry."

Robi struggled free of his embrace angrily. She glared at him. “You don’t understand!” she told him loudly enough that it caused some heads to turn in their direction.

“I don’t? he asked calmly.

She started him, burning daggers in his chest. She was angry now and wanted to fight, who was he not to take the bait? She opened her mouth again intending to carry on with her verbal assault when a finger tapped her on the back of the shoulder. She whipped around ready to attack whoever it was, prepared to take her anger out on them when she saw it was Ellie standing there.

“What?” she asked angrily. As mad as she was at Warren having Elie intrude into their conversation had her ready to go over the edge. Who was she to butt their business?

“Robi, Warren is right. You need to rest.” She told her calmly.

“I’m Fine! Jesus you two! Fuck off with this bull shit! I have work to do!” she said far more loudly then intended. Her face reddened when she noticed everyone in the room staring at her.

“Not anymore you don’t.” Ellie told her. “As a matter of fact, I’m taking you off tomorrow’s duty roster too.” Ellie told her.

“What? Why?” Robi asked indignantly. “I am perfectly capable…”

“No, you’re not.” Ellie told her. “You need a day’s rest and you’re going to take it if I have to have Warren lock you in your room.”

Robi opened her mouth to reply then the closed it. She looked at the two of the standing there with their arms crossed and threw her hands up in the air. “Fine! I’ll go rest but, I’ll be back in twelve hours.”

“Twenty-four hours.” Ellie repeated.

“Ellie!” Robi cried.

“Do you want me to make it forty-eight?” she asked. Much as she adored Robi she was starting to lose patients with this outburst was wearing thin.

Robi looked at Warren with pleading eyes.

He put his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Don’t look at me, Ellie’s the boss. What she says goes babe.”

“Fine!” Robi hurled the clipboard in her hands on the floor. They hit the tile with a loud clang. “Fuck you. Both of you!” she yelled and stormed off across the floor towards the exit.

Warren looked at Ellie worriedly. “I’d better go with her.”

“I’d give her a couple minutes.” Ellie replied.

"She's just exhausted," he said, instinctively defending his wife.

“I know. She will be fine once she calms down and realizes we’re only looking out for her.”

"I sure hope so. Those couches aren't exactly comfortable.".” He told her half-jokingly.

“I’m sure it will be fine.” Ellie reassured.

“I hope so.” He said. With that he headed off after his wife.

Once outside the infirmary, Warren quickly spotted Robi sitting on the stairs leading to the loft. Her head was buried in her hands. Her body shook as the sound of her sobs reached him. He hurried over and knelt beside her.

"Are you okay?"

“Go away.” She snapped.

“Robi…”

“I said GO AWAY!” she yelled at the top of her lungs as she stood up and poked him in the middle of his chest. “Go talk to Elie or whatever! She’s on your side!”

“Come on, Rob…”

“Fuck you! I told you to get away from me! What part of fuck off don’t you understand?” she screamed again,

She lashed out angrily and slapped him hard across the face.

Warren closed his eyes for a second. Arguing wasn't going to help. She was exhausted, hysterical, and completely spent.

"Okay," he muttered.

Then he stepped forward, lifted her onto his shoulder despite her protests, and carried her upstairs.

“PUT ME DOWN!” she demanded as she started slapping the bottom of his back the top of his legs.

“Nope” was all he said in reply as he reached the top of the stairwell.

“God damn it, Warren!” she cursed. “LET ME GO!”

He ignored her demands as he trudged down the long walkway that overlooked the main room until he reached the door of their room. Doing his best to hold her while she struggled and kicked, Warren managed to get the door open and quickly carried her to the bedroom and deposited her on the bed.

Robi popped right up as soon as she stopped bouncing and he pushed her right back down onto it. “Stay there!” he demanded. “Jesus fucking Christ, woman!”

She started to get back up but saw the anger he was struggling to repress etched in his face and thought better of it. Not that she believed he would ever harm her intentionally, but it clearly said he had had enough. He held his hand against the spot where she’d slapped him. The outline of her hand was already blooming across his cheek. The sight of it shattered the anger that had been driving her. All at once, she realized how badly she'd been behaving.

She looked up at him and whispered. “I..I’m sorry.”

“MHM. I bet you are.” He told her, unmollified by her apology.

“Is your face ok?”

"It'll be fine," he replied gruffly. He wasn't angry so much as exhausted. Robi's outburst had been so unlike her that he knew it was the fatigue talking. He wanted to put it behind them, but his cheek still stung where she'd slapped him.

“Come here. Let me see it.” She patted a spot on the bed next to her.

“I said it was fine.” He said sullenly.

"Warren Quinlan, sit your ass down here so I can look at you. Doctor's orders," she said, sticking out her tongue at the end to show she wasn't angry anymore.

“Oh, well if it’s doctor’s orders.” He replied with a small grin. He loved her far too much to stay angry with her for long and took a seat next to her.

She touched his cheek and he recoiled. “That hurt huh?”

“A little.”

“Well, that will teach you to carry me up the stairs over your shoulder like some kind of caveman.” She told him with a smile.

“I knew I should have spanked you while you were there, brat.” He leaned in and gave his wife a tender kiss.

She smiled and wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, returning the kiss. “I love you husband.”

“I love you too, wife.” He replied with a smirk.

He moved his hand across her breast, and she kissed him harder in response. “God, he makes me so hot and bothered.” She thought to herself with a smile.

He sat up a little straighter as the kissed and gently guided her down onto the bed and took her.

*****************
An hour later:

They laid in the bed holding each other in post orgasmic bliss. Warren had his arm trapped under her neck as the two of the looked up at the ceiling. He turned his head and smiled at her, then gave her cheek a kiss.

“Feeling better now?”

“Oh, so, so much.” She replied with a laugh. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

He nodded and replied, “I did.”

She smiled and slapped his chest playfully. “Brat.”

“Your brat though.” He told her as he leaned over and kissed her.

“Lucky me.” She said rolling her eyes, the smile still plastered to her face.

“You are very lucky actually. Not everyone gets a husband as patient, loving, and amazing as me.” he told her still smirking.

“Go me huh?”

“Totally! Go you!” he teased.

She leaned over and kissed him again. “I love you Mr. Quinlan.

“And I love you Mrs. Quinlan.” He hugged her tightly and gazed deeply into her eyes.

The depth of the love he felt for her still surprised him. Never in his life had he expected to meet someone like this woman. As he reflected on everything that had brought them to this moment, he couldn't help thinking it had been the strangest path to happiness imaginable.

Being framed by the army for the murder of Wanda Maximov at the TV station. Narrowly escaping his apartment as the authorities stormed it. Hiding for days in that crusty old warehouse. Never knowing where his next meal would come from. Living in constant fear of being spotted whenever he ventured outside. Then meeting Ellie and Nicole and being welcomed into the Sisters. And finally—best of all—meeting Robi.
He’d been amazed by her from the start. She was brilliant, compassionate, and beautiful, inside and out. It had never mattered to him what her life had been before the virus. The minute he met her, he knew she was the one for him.

“What are you thinking about, lover?” she asked, breaking his reverie.

“Us. How lucky we are to have found each other and what a strange path we’ve taken to get here.”

She kissed him. “It has been a strange one for sure.”

“Without a doubt one of the strangest ever.” He agreed with a small laugh.

She grew quiet for several heartbeats then sighed deeply. “Baby?”

“Yes, my love?”

“I want to have a baby with you.”

“Even after tonight?”

She nodded. "Especially after tonight. Life's too short to keep waiting."

“Are you sure?” he asked a bit stunned by the revelation. They’d never really discussed children.

“Yes. Very much so.” She admitted. “There is nothing more that I’d like then to raise a family with you.”

He smiled. “I think that sounds wonderful.”

“Me too,” she agreed. Her smiled grew even wider. She’d been daydreaming about having a child with him but hadn’t realized how much she actually wanted it until now.

“Up for trying?”

He looked down at his naked body. “Old sparky might need a little coaxing…”

“I think I know how to convince him.” She replied with a smile as she reached down and ran her fingernails across the bottom of his belly.

As it turned out, that was all the convincing he needed.

**************
2pm PDT

Olympia Washington:

Dr. Sophie Stanton sat on the hard wooden bench in the quarantine cell at the Olympia Police Department. Her butt was falling asleep from being stuck to the hard wooden surface for so long. She shifted her weight, but the handcuff securing her to the bench's lower rail left her almost no room to move. She’d been sitting there, bent forward for hours now, ever since the police picked her up this morning when they raided her home.

She supposed some of the venom the police had shown her so far was due to the fight she and her companions had put up when they broke in this morning. She guessed they hadn’t been expecting to find so many enhanced women there. They'd barely had enough officers to subdue them. Five minutes' warning, she thought, and the raid would have ended very differently. But they hadn't gotten those minutes.

She was fifty-seven years old, an Acidalia victim herself. Since her transformation, she'd used her knowledge of the virus to help treat the terminally ill. Her clinic was nothing like the other charlatan clinics she'd heard about that charged wealthy people hundreds of thousands of dollars to infect them. She wasn't doing it to enrich herself; she'd already made more money than she could ever spend in her pre-infection practice. Her specialty had been plastic surgery. Dr. Stanton had made millions from the rich and famous who believed money could buy immortality. Now she devoted herself to people who knew it couldn't.

Months earlier, she'd been dying of stage IV pancreatic cancer herself. Then, one fateful day during another endless chemotherapy session, her attending nurse unwittingly infected her with the airborne Acidalia Type B virus. At first, the doctors assumed her sudden decline into a coma was simply the final stage of the disease. In accordance with her wishes, her wife, Lana, had her sent home so she could die where they'd shared so many wonderful memories together.

Once home, she was placed in what everyone assumed would be her deathbed. It was on the second floor of their lakeside home, with a beautiful view of Black Lake and the surrounding woods. It was the perfect place to wait out whatever time she had left.

Day after day, Lara sat with her, holding her hand and waiting for the moment Sophie would take her final breath and their life together would come to an end.

Her transition wasn't an easy one. She assumed most of the difficulties were due to the advanced stage of her illness. On more than one occasion, she came perilously close to dying, but her body refused to give in even as the virus healed her. Finally, ten days after the doctors had pronounced her only hours from death, she awoke fully transformed.

Lana had begun to understand what was happening to her spouse by the third day, when the physical changes became impossible to ignore.

Realizing what would happen if the truth were discovered, she'd sent their housekeeper, Alice, home and locked down the house. Allowing the rest of the world to believe that Edwin, Sophie's pre-transformation name, had died while she remained at home grieving was far preferable to revealing the truth. Lana loved Sophie far too much to even consider sending her to quarantine.

The reality, however, was far different. Sophie had beaten impossible odds twice. Not only had the virus cured her cancer, she'd also emerged enhanced. Her gift was an extraordinary intellect. Already a brilliant surgeon, she found her mind operating at a level she'd never imagined possible. With that enhanced intellect, she began to see patterns in the virus's molecular structure that had eluded every researcher before her.

Those insights allowed her to manipulate it in ways that produced not only healthy new women but enhanced ones as well, and at an astonishing rate.

At that point, only five percent of newly transformed women survived the transition. Of those survivors, less than one percent emerged enhanced. No one understood the mechanisms behind enhancement better than Sophie. She used that knowledge to help those in the greatest need, free of charge. Those with nowhere else to go were offered a bed in the old stable on their lakeside property the couple converted into a dormitory of sorts.

Lana's position on the boards of directors of several of Olympia's most prestigious hospitals gave them access to all the medical data they could ask for. They used that information for one purpose and one purpose only: to seek out those who had run out of options and offer them salvation.

Many turned them down, and that was their choice to make. Those who accepted, however, were asked to fulfill only one obligation in exchange for treatment: they were to pay it forward by helping anyone they encountered who found themselves in the same desperate situation.

All of that had happened before today's raid by the authorities. Only those in charge knew what their captives' ultimate fate would be.

Quarantine was almost certainly the destination for anyone taken alive. She had no idea who had managed to escape and who was now in custody. Common sense told her that those in the throes of the transformation, unable to move or defend themselves, were almost certainly among those captured. She could only hope they were being cared for properly.

The door on the other side of the glass partition opened, and two women entered. The first was a small Black woman with an impressive head of bushy hair held in place by a headband positioned about a third of the way back, stretching from ear to ear. She wore a smart-looking business suit complemented by casual jewelry and deep red lipstick on her slightly pouty lips.

The other woman was dressed in army fatigues, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. She had a lighter complexion than the first woman but appeared to have Central or South American heritage somewhere in her family tree. Unlike the first woman, she wore no makeup, which seemed fitting not only for her profession but also because her skin had a natural glow that was nearly breathtaking.

The pair took seats beside each other. Each placed a separate manila folder on the desk in front of them. Judging by the thickness of the folders, Sophie assumed they contained information about her and her activities.

She watched them as best she could. After hours of sitting in the same position, her neck ached, and it was difficult to keep her head raised.

"I'm told you go by Sophie these days. Is that how you'd prefer to be addressed, Doctor?" the Black woman asked curtly.

"I suppose it fits me better than Edwin these days," she replied emotionlessly. "Any chance we can get these cuffs off? I've been sitting in this position for hours, and my neck is absolutely killing me."

"My name is Detective Gloria Johnson. I'm the lead investigator for the Olympia Police Department. Next to me is Lieutenant Fatima Lopez of the United States Army."

Sophie studied the two women for several moments before asking again, "Can we get these handcuffs off, please, Detective Johnson?"

"Maybe. It depends on how cooperative you feel like being," Johnson answered.

"Or I could simply refuse to answer any questions and demand to speak with a lawyer. I'm sure any attorney you send in would be horrified by how I've been treated."

"You're not getting a lawyer," Lopez said matter-of-factly.

"No?" Sophie asked. "That seems like a violation of habeas corpus to me."

"You're being charged with willfully spreading the virus. That carries severe penalties. Under the Acidalia Act passed by Congress in June, anyone suspected of violating the act has their rights to habeas corpus suspended," Johnson explained.

Sophie let out a long, frustrated sigh. Her plan had been to sit quietly until she could get a lawyer and let them take the case to court. No warrant had been presented to anyone she was aware of during the raid, she certainly hadn't been read her rights, and she seriously doubted anyone else had either. This case would be a civil rights lawyer's dream—unless, of course, everything she'd just been told was true.

Not wanting to reveal how badly that little piece of information had just derailed her plans, she smiled and asked again, "So, how about the cuffs then?"

The two women on the other side of the glass rolled their eyes in almost perfect unison. Lopez shook her head, a look of disgust spreading across her face.

"So, it's like that then?" Sophie asked the pair. "I've not been convicted of any crime, and I'm not even officially charged at this point. I've never done anything to willingly harm the public. Quite the opposite, actually. I've saved more lives than I care to count, and yet this is how you choose to treat me."

"This is how we treat anyone who purposefully spreads the virus," Johnson told her.

"By restraining them in the most uncomfortable position possible? To what end?" Sophie asked, genuinely baffled by their resistance.

"That's the least you deserve," Lopez said. "It's people like you who landed my brother in quarantine. People who think they know more than everyone else, who think the consequences will never touch them because they believe they're on the side of good. I say fuck you. As far as

I'm concerned, you can stay bent over like that for the rest of the day."

"That's your final word on the matter?"

"It is," Fatima replied.

Before Sophie could reply, the entire building shook. Dust drifted down from the ceiling tiles as both women on the other side of the glass looked upward in confusion.

"Looks like the cavalry has arrived," Stanton said calmly.

"Cavalry?" Johnson asked, coughing as she waved a hand through the dust-filled air.

"You didn't really think my people would leave me here to rot, did you?"

"What do you mean?" Johnson asked as the building shook again.

"I mean that when you save the lives of enough people, and some of those people emerge enhanced, they tend to become very loyal." Sophie smiled as the realization settled over them and raised voices echoed from the hallway outside.

"Won't be long now," she said. "Any chance you've reconsidered the handcuffs?"

Neither woman was looking at her anymore. They had shut off the intercom and were speaking frantically into their phones. Sophie watched them for a few moments, then smiled.

While they were distracted, Sophie looked down at the metal bar running along the bottom of the bench and gave the cuffs a light tug, testing the restraint. She nodded to herself, inhaled deeply, and began to pull, putting her strength into the hollow metal tube that secured her to the bench.

At first, the women on the other side of the glass simply stared in confusion as the bar began to bend. Their expressions shifted from disbelief to shock as the metal tube slowly arched, then began to squeal under the strain. The ends pulled against the loops holding it to the bench until the doctor finally looked at her captors and, with one final powerful heave, snapped the pipe in two.

“I guess you really didn’t do your homework,” she told the pair as she dropped the pipe to the ground with a loud clang. The intercom was still muted, so she doubted they could hear her, but the looks of astonishment on their faces showed they understood the intended message.

The building shook around them again. Whatever was happening outside the room was putting tremendous stress on the structure. The voices from the hallway grew louder than ever, some punctuated by popping sounds she assumed were gunfire. Stanton hoped none of her people were the ones being shot.

Suddenly there was a loud banging outside the door to her cell. The two women opposite her reached for their handguns and cracked open the door on their side of the divider. Sophie watched as they cautiously advanced into the hallway, covering one another before disappearing from view for a few tense seconds.

They hadn't been gone long before Johnson's body came hurtling backward through the doorway, slamming hard into the far wall. The portly

Black woman crumpled into a heap and lay motionless.

Stanton shook her head at the needless loss. Sophie's expression changed a moment later. A tall, heavily muscled Black woman strode in, one arm locked around Lopez's neck. She smiled at the doctor, then said something to her hostage that Sophie couldn't make out. Lopez shook her head no and her captor nodded. She released the chokehold, cupped Lopez's head in both hands, and began to squeeze.

Lopez slapped feebly at her captor’s hands with no effect. The hapless woman was forced to her knees as Agatha’s grip tightened enough to make her eyes bulge. Her face turned beet red, then purple. One hand fell away from Agatha's grip and pointed frantically toward something beyond Sophie's view.

The muscular woman let up on her grip and pushed the solder to the floor, stomping on her the stomach for good measure, then walked in the direction Lopez had pointed in. A moment later the intercom clicked on, and a smooth, deep voice came through it.

“Are you ok Soph?”

“I’m fine Agatha. Glad to see you.”

Agatha smirked. “We thought about leaving you here for another few hours just to see how quickly you could escape on your own, but Lana insisted we come give you a hand.” Agatha joked.

“What can I say? The woman loves me.”

“Do you need me to come unlock the door or do you have it?”

“I think we’ve probably done enough structural damage to the building already so if you don’t mind finding the key?” Sophie asked.

“No worries. I’m sure my new best friend here will happily show me whatever I need.” She said staring at Lopez as she huddled in the corner furthest from Agatha. “Isn’t that right general?”

Lopez opened her mouth to say something then seemed to think better of it and just nodded her assent instead.

“See? Easy as that.” Agatha said with her back turned to the doctor. She walked over to the petrified soldier, and Sophie could faintly hear her interrogating Lopez. The trembling soldier pointed toward Johnson's crumpled body. Agatha went over to it and after a moment of searching held a set of keys up in the air.

“Might want to hurry up some. Wouldn’t want reinforcements to arrive.” Sophie urged.

Agatha laughed. "Not much chance of that happening. If there are any left, they're probably hiding. The smart ones, anyway."

She walked out of the room and a few seconds later the hiss of air through the vents stopped. After another heart beat the door popped open.

“Sneaky fucks over pressurized your room so the door couldn’t be forced.” Agatha explained as she pushed the door completely open. “Never would have got you out of there without the keys.”

Sophie nodded. “Shall we?” she asked pointing at the exit. Agatha nodded and stepped back out of the way.

The corridor was a haze of smoke and bodies. Though the haze it was hard to tell how many dead and how many had just been knocked senseless.

Waiting at the end of the hall was a small group of four other women waiting there for them.

“Looks like you all had way too much fun.” Sophie said as they approached.

“Someone had to teach them some manners.” One of them replied.

“They were pretty rude.” Sophie replied then looked at the one that had spoken. “Hello my love. Nice to see you.” She leaned down and gave her wife a kiss on the cheek. “Looks like I owe you one.”

“Just one more to add to the pile.” Lana told her, smiling.

“Shall we get out of here?” she asked.

“We’re going to need to go out the back way. Upstairs is kind of on fire.” Agatha said calmly.

“Do I want to know?” Sophie asked.

“Probably not darling.” Lana replied.

“Good enough then.” Sophie replied with a grin. “Which way are we going?”

“Straight down in front of you. Take a left at the end and there’s an exit to the rear parking lot.” Agatha said.

“Sure there won’t be anyone waiting out there for us?”

“Reasonably?” one of the others, the stocky blonde named Siera said.

“That sounds suitably ambiguous.”

“What fun would life be if you knew all the answers ahead of time?” Lana joked.

“None at all my love. None at all.” Sophie agreed. “However, in this case life might go on a bit longer if we knew what was waiting for us out
there.”

“Details.” Lana said smiling as she waved her hand away.

“I’m glad you two are in such a chipper mood.” Carley told both. “We might want to save the comedy routine for once we’re out of here.” She had a serious look plastered to her nearly porcelain white skin. The virus had turned her into a living goth doll, tall and very lean, almost too skinny to be healthy, but healthy she was.

“Are you volunteering to go first, then?” Agatha asked.

“If I did, none of you would be able to keep up,” she retorted, sticking her tongue out.

Tamara stepped past the others. Nearly as tall as Agatha and built like carved granite, she didn't bother raising her voice.

"All right. Enough bullshit."

“Grumpy’s right, the time for grab ass is over. Let’s get moving.” Agatha agreed.

Tamara shot Agatha an annoyed look at the nickname. She hated it, but Agatha refused to let it die.

With Agatha and Siera taking the lead, they advanced down the smoke-filled hallway. They met no resistance from the police, but the smoke and the heat pouring down from the floor above made it difficult to breathe without coughing every few seconds. Even Sophie began to worry they'd stumble out the back door into an ambush while half the team was still trying to catch their breath.

They finally made it to the rear door and Agatha laughed out loud.

“What’s so funny?” Siera asked rubbing her watering eyes.

“The sign.” She replied pointing. “Emergency exit only. Alarm will sound if opened.” She read. “Talk about irony.”

From the rear Tamara yelled “Congrats, you can read. Can we get out of here now?”

Agatha flipped her the bird with a smile and Tamara blew her a kiss. The enormous new woman stepped back and gave the door a mighty kick sending it slamming open. They waited a beat as smoke poured through the doorway, listening for any answering gunfire.

When none did, Carly stepped to the front of the line and leaned out just far enough to see what waited beyond the doorway. Her gift was speed and agility. Any bullet coming her way would need the guidance of a missile to have any chance of hitting her, but none came.

The entire rear lot was empty—suspiciously so.

"How many cops did we take out upstairs?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Why?" Lana asked.

"Because there aren't any out here."

"Think they're waiting in ambush?" Siera asked.

"Only one way to find out," Agatha said as she pushed past the speedster and stepped into the silent lot.

With eyesight as keen as an eagle's, she swept the area for hidden threats but found nothing.

"I don't like it. Either they pulled back... or they're herding us somewhere. Stay sharp."

She waved them out and pointed toward a narrow side street running along the edge of the lot.

Without another word, the group hurried between the parked police cruisers until they reached the sidewalk. Smoke billowed from the shattered windows of the police station, and distant sirens echoed through the city, though none sounded close.

"What are you waiting for?" Sophie snapped. "Move! Unless, of course, you had so much fun this afternoon that you want to break out of
another police station."

"Where are we supposed to go?" Carly asked.

"We split up," Siera said. "The whole group walking together will look too suspicious."

Sophie nodded. "Agreed. Pair off and head in different directions. Meet at the Ambassador Hotel down town in two hours. Lana and I will go straight there and get us rooms."

"Sounds like a plan, boss," Carly said. She jerked a thumb toward one of the others. "Come on, Grumpy. You're with me."

*************
Carl Ditmore stood on the hill overlooking the police station, binoculars raised to his eyes, and watched as the five women emerged from the rear of the burning building.

Behind him waited a small army of Olympia police officers, every one of them eager to bring the fugitives down. He'd told them "no" more times than he could count.

He understood their frustration. They'd lost fellow officers, and every instinct told them to give chase.

But that wasn't the mission.

The women had to escape. They couldn't even be followed. One tail car, one overeager patrol officer, and days of planning could be ruined.

Opportunities like this didn't come around often.

So Carl held the line, armed with nothing more than a federal court order and the authority behind it, while the officers behind him simmered with frustration.

Through his binoculars he saw them break off into pairs. He nodded to himself and reached for the microphone on his shoulder and keyed it.

"Looks like they're headed out. What's your status?"

"We're set."

"Did they get their scents?"

"They walked right past the van on the way in. Alexi says that's all they needed. The only one we don't have is the prisoner."

“Excellent. I’m on my way back soon as I deal the locals.”

“We’ll be here waiting.”

Ditmore ended the call and turned to the man on his left. “Ok captain, you can let the fire department deal with mess now. The federal government appreciates your… restraint in dealing with this situation. All the families will be taken care of.”

"Keep your appreciation, asshole." The police captain told him frankly "Just make damn sure the officers who died for your project didn't die for nothing."

"You have my word. One way or another, this ends with them." Ditmore reassured him as he walked away.

A few minutes later, he returned to the oversized RV the team insisted on calling a van. He knocked once, the door popped open and he climbed the three steps to gain entry. Inside, the RV had been transformed into a mobile command center. Banks of monitors lined the walls, displaying everything from exterior security cameras to a live satellite feed of the surrounding area.

Carl made his way toward the rear of the RV, weaving between the six operators at their consoles. At the rear was a lock door. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, keyed in his access code, and a second later the door slid open.

Inside waited two men: Alexi Smirnov, an operative from Russia's SVR temporarily assigned to the project, and Lt. Mark Daniels of the Marine Corps. Beyond them, behind a steel cage, stood three women in skintight black bodysuits. Heavy, studded collars encircled their necks.

Matching masks concealed everything except their eyes and mouths. There was no hair sticking out of the masks as they’d all been shaved bald. Ditmore glanced toward them, then quickly looked away.

Their eyes unsettled him.

Empty.

Unblinking.

Not the eyes of prisoners waiting to escape, but of people who no longer seemed fully present.

“How are the girls doing?” he asked Alexi.

"The hounds are ready as soon as you are," the tall, broad-shouldered Russian replied. The scar running from his temple to his jaw should have been the most unsettling thing about him. It wasn't.

“Explain to me again how this works?” Daniels asked.

Alexi sighed and rolled his eyes. “"As I told you before, the hounds are enhanced. My government discovered that some can sense others of their kind. Once they establish a bond, it never fades. Your fugitives could cross the continent or hide underground—it won't matter. My hounds will find them."

“So, they’re trackers?” Daniels asked.

“Yes, but modified and relieved of independent thought.” Alexi explained further. “Their only purpose is to obey the commands of their handler. In this case, me.”

Ditmore looked at him dubiously.

"You doubt me, Mr. Ditmore?" Alexi asked, a wide grin spreading beneath his mustache. "Say the word, and we'll prove our worth to your government."

"For what we're paying you," Ditmore said, "you'd better."

Alexi chuckled. "We will."

Ditmore folded his arms. "You have to. I've never seen Washington move this fast. Half the government wanted this program yesterday."

Alexi's smile widened. "Then today will make believers of the other half."

He turned toward the caged women.

"Give them their hour," he said. "It will make the hunt more interesting."

****************
Confirmed cases: 132, 439, 661

Actual cases: 186, 223,560

End part 28

Thank you as always for reading my little transgender dystopia. As always please leave a comment.

Love Amanda