Acidalia 26

Acidalia XXVI
By Amanda D

Thursday October 8th:

2:45pm EDT

The White House:

President Robert Fuller sat behind his large blonde oak desk in the Oval office fuming. On the TV off to his right the Senate was holding hearings that would decide the fate of his presidency. There was no one there to defend him or speak on his behalf, that wasn’t allowed. It was just an endless line of Senators giving speech after speech about failed policy and abuse of the public trust. All of course, blamed him, that was the entire purpose of the charade, to make him their scapegoat.

It irked him that most of those same Senators now raking hm over the coals, mere months ago had sat and applauded as he laid out his plans on how to deal with the growing Acidalia epidemic. Many of them had been there during those early day’s strategy sessions. They’d unanimously voted to give him extra powers to allow a faster response and now they were using the policies those same powers they’d agreed he needed to implement the agreed-on policies, against him.

Leading the way on this witch hunt was his opponent in the upcoming elections that were barely three weeks away, Senator Edward George. The senator had been on him from the start by creating a committee that by fair means or foul, constantly trashed the president and his handling of the virus epidemic on television every day, five times a week since the outbreak began. As unbearable as having his name dragged through the mud on a nightly basis became after a while, this was infinitely worse.

As he sat, half watching the proceedings, his mood grew darker with every word spoken against him. He began to wonder if he should just give up, resign and step aside. Go back to being just Bob Fuller, ordinary average guy. Hang out in the back yard, cook on the grill and watch baseball games on TV all summer long.

It was a fun fantasy to indulge when things got tough but there was something inside him that would never allow him to quit. That same determination to see things through to the end that got him elected to the nation’s highest office in the first place.

He sighed thinking. “And now it’s all come crashing down around you.”

It was days like this that he missed Jessie and the kids more than ever. He missed that support that came from his family, but it had been five long years since they’d had any meaningful contact. Jessie, bless her soul, had never been built to be a political wife. She hated every minute of the games and backstabbing that came with office. His now former wife had begged, sometimes even pleaded with him on more occasions than he could count to give it all up and just be a loving husband to her and a devoted father to their three children. However, that thing in him that couldn’t ever let anything sit unfinished pushed him to strive for higher and higher office until he reached what at the time he thought was going to be the pinnacle of his career, Speaker of the House Representatives. It was the third highest office in the nation, and he felt satisfied in the position.

The party, however, had other ideas for him. He was approached about running for president. Initially he balked at the idea, with Jessie full support. Despite the protestations the party leaders would not stop. Day after day, week after week, he was constantly badgered. They told him he was the only one that could win for this side and little by little he began to warm up to the idea. Jessie of course was horrified.
Finally, just weeks before he was scheduled to announce a run for president, she presented him with divorce papers. Instead of seeing it as a wake-up call that it was intended to be, he became bitter with her for trying to derail her ambition. He’d used every single device in his power to try and make her regret the decision to leave him. He was fairly sure she did regret it at times, but not in the ways he’d hoped. To her credit, she never went after him publicly, no matter what kind of an asshole he was to her. For that, he now realized he owed her a tremendous, unrepayable debt. At the time though, he took it as carte blanch to continue to rake her over the coals.

In the end though, having endured as much as she could stand, she took the kids and left the country entirely to escape his wrath. He considered it a victory at the time. Vengeance against the woman that refused to support his never-ending ambition. He had felt great satisfaction indeed.

“You such a fucking asshole.” He thought quietly to himself.

As for the kids, they refused to have anything to do with him now. The four of them were all living on the west coast of Australia these days. It never occurred to him until recently that he’d been so terrible to her that she needed to move to the furthest place from him on the planet to find any kind of semblance of peace.

“Fuck!” He muttered to himself as he watched Senator George’s committee swearing in his former press secretary Kerry Enrich. If there was anyone who knew where all the bodies were buried it was Kerry and of course Fuller had done an amazing job of burning bridges with him. Not only had he fired the man in full view of white house staff and ear shot of reporters, but in a fit of pique he’d also named his successor right in front of him a moment later.

“Excellent way to make yourself look like an even bigger fool. Nice job there Bob. Way to handle things.” He shook his head at his own stupidity. He sighed to himself and looked at the liquor cabinet.

“Getting drunk isn’t going to solve anything but it might make watching this a little less painful” he thought, then reconsidered. “Or make it more.”

A buzz from his intercom interrupted that particular line of thought. He glared at it and stabbed at the button with his index finger savagely.

“Magda, I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed today.” He said angrily.

Magda, to her credit ignored his tone and simply said, “I’m sorry Mr. President, but VP Carlyle is out here with a few others demanding to be seen.

“Fine! Send him in!” he said in a sulky, defeated voice. “Can’t even watch my entire life go up in flames in peace in this place.” He muttered as the door opened across the room and Defense Secretary Blake and VP Carlyle walked in. Outside the door he could see several other members of the cabinet sitting in the waiting room.

“Might as well have everyone come in.” Fuller said with great annoyance in his voice. Whatever this was he was definitely not in the mood for it.

Carlyle turned and waved the rest of those waiting to come in. The cabinet members filled in silently, each taking a seat until they filled a semi-circle in front of Fullers desk.

The president looked each one over trying to decern the reason for the impromptu gathering but came up with nothing. There was obvious stress written on the faces of several of them, including Joanne Constantine who looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

“So, folks to what do I owe the pleasure of a full cabinet meeting here in my office?”

Carlyle stood up. “Mr. President, your cabinet and I as your Vice President, have come to you today as show of support for you. In light of today’s proceedings in the Senate, we thought you could use some reassurance that we are all behind you, sir.”

Fuller looked up at the VP blank faced. “Here to support me? You, Davis? Why?” he asked the vice resident. “You have the most to gain out of me being removed. Why in the world would you be behind me?”

“You’re the President” Carlyle said curtly. “That’s why.”

It was obvious to everyone in the room that there was a great amount of tension between the two. Several members of the cabinet, including Joanne, had witnessed tempers boil over on several occasions between the two. She had been dubious of the reasons behind this little get together from the start but had come anyhow because she wanted to show Fuller, she was behind him until the end. Sadly, that end might be coming as soon as Monday, but at this moment that was a concern for another day.

“Mr. President,” Secretary of the Interior Vincent Tannenbaum began. “I’d like to personally thank you for all you’ve done to try and keep the country and all of us here in this room safe from the virus. I think that’s what’s been lost in all the ducking and fucking that’s gone on the last couple of weeks. I believe you did was you thought was best to keep as many safe as possible.”

Fuller nodded and stood. “Thank you, Tannenbaum. That was nice of you to say. Thank you all of you, I appreciate you all coming here today.”

He paused as the moment left him choked up. Fuller swallowed down the emotional storm that brewed inside him and continued. “I…I truly wish there was a chance that we could continue working towards the goals that got us elected but we, as a team and an administration, were caught off guard and our agenda derailed by something no one could have seen coming. It’s been an honor to work with you all. Anything I can do to help you all with whatever ever projects find you after we’re all done here will be my pleasure.”

Fuller sat back down behind his desk and looked at the people that had helped him build his version of the government with sincere sadness. He felt deeply that he’d failed them all in the worst way possible. Even Carlyle, the sneaky little bastard he was, had his sympathies. If things continued down the present path he was going to be set firmly in the hot seat. Fuller wondered if he truly understood what he was in for.

“Doubtful.” He thought to himself.

As he sat, each member of the cabinet stepped up to the desk offering him their personal sympathies or short stories about how he’d affected their lives in some positive way. To Fuller it reminded him of a wake. In a way that’s exactly what it was, a wake for the death of his presidency. All that as left to do now was to have the grave side burial when congress made the announcement official.

After an hour of speaking with his most key people, he found himself alone in the oval office with Carlyle. He looked over at the man who was most likely to succeed him. Carlyle looked back at him impassively. Fuler thought he should offer the man some kind of advice, some words of wisdom, but he couldn’t come up with anything suitably profound. The fact was that he actively disliked the man and wished him nothing but hardship and failure.

“Do you know what time they will be holding the vote?” Fuller asked to finally break the silence.

“No Mr. President. I’m not sure that they will get all the testimony in that they planned today.” Carlyle tried to sound mournful and respectful but inside his heart he was dancing.

In his mind, his ascension to the presidency was fait accompli. All he had to do now is wait patiently and let the train complete its roll into the station. In a way, he felt a small amount of pity for the president. The man had done his best to do the right thing for the country and to his credit a lot of his ideas were good ones.

Under other circumstances he would be being celebrated at this moment for all he did to save his people. However, the opportunity to seize power was just too good to be passed up and today’s hearings were the final nail in the coffin he’d spent the last months building for Fuller.

“What would you do Davis? If it were you sitting here waiting to be strung up. Would you fight to the last or resign before being further embarrassed publicly?” Fuller asked him.

Carlyle thought about how to answer for a moment before opening his mouth. “Mr. President, I’m not sure how to answer that question if I’m honest. I know you. I know how much you hate to leave the job unfinished.” Davis answered.

Fuller watched his face as several heart beats passed before the vice president began to speak again. He couldn’t tell if Davis was thinking of what to say or waiting for him to speak first. Then he went on.

“Robert, the odds are very long. There is very little chance this is going to end in anything other than a conviction and impeachment. We both
know where the party stands on you continuing to hold office. Thanks to Edwards committee, you’re radioactive now if I’m being completely honest. I can’t tell you what to do, whether to fight it out until the end or give up, but I can tell you regardless, once I’m installed into office, the first thing I will do is pardon you for whatever crimes the senate decides to convict you of. I promise you’ll never have to see the inside of a courtroom.”

Fuller nodded. “Thank you for that reassurance, Davis. I know we haven’t seen eye to eye much lately but that is very generous of you.”

“It’s the least I can do Mr. President and no less than you deserve.” Carlyle replied, trying to sound sincere.

“I wish you luck Mr. Vice President.” Fuller told him standing up to shake his hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to have a little bit of time to myself so I can consider my options.”

“Of course, sir. If I can be of any help just call down to my office.” Carlyle told him then turned and left.

Once he made his way back to his office, Davis found Defense Secretary Blake waiting in the reception area. Carlyle smiled at his secretary and motioned for Blake to follow him.

“Belinda, please hold my calls.” He said over his shoulder as Blake closed the door behind them.

As he took a seat Blake asked, “So what’s he going to do?”

Davis looked at his co-conspirator with a wide smile. “I don’t know if he’s going to resign or not, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t think he knows yet for certain.”

“You don’t think he’s really going to hang on til the bitter end, do you?” Blake questioned.

“He might. But it doesn’t matter. He knows he’s done. You can see it in his eyes.”

Blake smiled back. “Good we can’t have this going sideways on us at this point.”

“George has him nailed to the wall. There’s no chance he’s not convicted and indicted.” Davis told him reassuringly.

Blake laughed. “Well, we were the ones that supplied him with the most damning evidence so he should have no problem once it comes to a vote.”

Carlyle studied Blake’s face carefully as he spoke. The Defense secretary was nearly as giddy as he was. He had every right to be, things were certainly moving in their favor. He quietly wondered how the man would take it once he learned that his assumed position as VP in the Carlyle administration wasn’t going to happen.

If Blake was honest with himself, he’d see that there was no way Davis could ever fully trust him once he took control. The man had conspired to overthrow a sitting president after all. How could the next one ever believe he wouldn’t do it again if the opportunity arose? No, there was no place for a man like that in Davis’s inner circle once the coup they’d planned was complete.

“I guess we will know by this time tomorrow based on how slow things are moving today. Doesn’t look like they will get to vote before the six-o-clock news starts.” Davis said, turning on the television.

“George will wait then. He’ll want it to be the lead story on the evening news.” Blake agreed.

“Get all the talking heads going on about what a hero he is and the whole nine.” Carlyle said with an eye roll.

“Won’t last long though.” Blake said with menace.

“No. He victory will be very short lived indeed.” Carlyle replied fingering the manila folder that sat in the center of his desk.

*********************
Thursday Oct 8th 8:45am CET:

Nice France:

Carla Ryson looked out the window of her modest second story apartment at the view of the Mediterranean sea over the top of her neighbor’s roof. It was a lovely October day in southern France. The waves crashed relentlessly into the golden sandy beach, which when the warmer months arrived, in more normal times, would be filled with sunbathers and tourists.

Today however the beach was deserted. Even the deep blue waters beyond were deserted, all of the hundreds of boat mornings were empty. If she ignored all the scruffy little houses on the ocean side of the street, she could pretend she was the only one left on earth. It was an intriguing fantasy; one she indulged in more and more frequently these days.

She sighed and looked back down at the three-inch-thick folder on the breakfast table in front of her. She knew she should be studying it, but the view of the water was just too spectacular this morning to be ignored. At least that was the excuse she was telling herself today. Truth be told she wasn’t all that interested in learning about her new life.

She resented the world that made her have to give up her old one. If not for being falsely accused of unleashing the Acidalia virus, she’d be back in her own house, fast asleep happily in her own bed. Peace and quiet was all she desired from life now. Since late May, things had gotten far too exciting for her taste.

It reminded her of the ancient curse; may you live in interesting times. Times were certainly far too interesting for anyone’s taste, hers especially.

Over the summer she’d been jailed, put on trial, kidnapped, nearly shot, miraculously escaped her captivity, hidden, nearly arrested a second time and now she was living in another country trying to put her entire life in the rearview and start anew. She was grateful to the French government for smuggling her out of North America and giving her a place to stay and live in. They even had her lined up to work in one of their largest research facilities on a cure or vaccine for the same virus everyone believed she unleashed on the world.

Before she could get to work, however, the doctor needed to learn the history of the new identity she’d been given. She needed to memorize every facet of that made up life and make it her own. Now all that was required was for Carla to get over indignation over the situation she found herself in and do it. The part of her that rebelled against giving up the life she’d worked so hard to create was the hardest thing she’d ever tried to get past.

The very idea of having to take on a new name and a made-up life story was what galled her the most. While she understood the need, the US government wasn’t through looking for her, not if it took a million years. Ryson understood those in charge of her home country would stop at nothing to bring her back and put her out there in some kind of show trial. Though it would serve no real purpose other than to try and distract what was left of the American public from the fact that the species was in serious danger of going extinct. Making her the scapegoat for all that’s happened would be the exact kind of diversion the government there was looking for these days.

The danger she was in was self-evident but giving up her name was like killing part of herself. It would be akin to raping her past and killing the person she’d been for all time. However you wanted to describe the feeling, it came down to the same thing, Dr. Ryson didn’t feel she should have to go through all of this when she hadn’t actually done any of the things they’d accused her of.

She sighed and reopened the folder. Inside, paper clipped to several sheets of paper was a driver’s license, a carte vitale (the government id that granted her access to the French health system) as well as an employee id card for access to the lab facility they were placing her in once she was ready. All were made out in her new name, Monique Lebow.

She’d undergone a small bit facial reconstruction surgery upon her arrival. Just enough of a change to make her look like she was her own sister. The idea being to disguise herself just enough to fool any facial recognition systems she may run across. You never know in this technological wonder the world had become who was watching.

The life’s history told the tale of a young woman that grew up in the bustling French city of Lion. She was, according to this fabrication, the youngest of three children, having one older brother named Louis and an older sister named Deidra. Her fantasy father was William, a house painter by trade, and her mother was Sybille, a librarian at the main branch of the Lion public library. It was all so very neat and properly boring that most would never think of digging further into it, they hoped.

As a young girl Monique had excelled in school, as had Carla, and upon graduation had been accepted into the medical program at the prestigious Université Paris Cité in Paris. Monique studied medicine for two semesters before becoming infatuated with the idea of discovering cures for the world’s worst diseases and had switched to research, much like Carla herself.

While Carla was fairly fluent in French, as well as several other languages, she would never be able to convince anyone she’d spoken it her entire life on her ow, so there were daily French lessons she had to endure. Her teacher encouraged her to try to think in the French language as much as she could manage to help get her used to using it. That wasn’t as hard as trying to maintain the Lion accent while speaking. Like most who grew up speaking a different language, all French accents sounded the same to her ears. It was very hard to wrap her head around the idea that the same word might be pronounced slightly differently in different parts of the country. It was a daunting challenge but the more she practiced the more natural it would become, she hoped. Her instructor mentioned she’d already noticed small improvements so there appeared to be a chance that one day she’d get it down pat.

On the stove across the small kitchen a kettle began to whistle. She smiled at the sound, knowing it meant her morning dose of caffeine was on the way into her system shortly. They’d made her give up coffee in favor of tea for no other reason than tea wasn’t something Carla drank. Now however, despite her preferences, it was Monique’s choice of morning time drinks.

As she put her cup together, she thought back to her escape several weeks back. Henry had been true to his word. Once she’d agreed to the French government’s terms, he’d got right on arranging transport for her out of the United States.

Two days later he’d shown up at the hotel they’d stuck her i driving a beat-up Toyota pickup truck that looked like it had been new back in the Nixon administration. He reassured her that what the truck lacked in looks and creature comforts were more than made up for by the engine under the hood and its ability to blend in. The part about blending in was the most important one. The last thing they needed was something flashy that would draw a lot of attention.

“Doctor,” He’d told her in his thick accent as he handed her a fake identification card. “I don’t expect us to run into any trouble on the way north. My people will in cars all around us as we make our way up to Canada, however if we should run into trouble, I need you to promise to follow my lead at all times without discussion or hesitation.”

She told him she would do as he said. What else was she going to do? She certainly wasn’t some kind of super spy like he apparently was.

“Good, good.” He smiled reassuringly. “Shall we be on our way then?”

With that they began the long journey from Washing DC to Montreal, Quebec Canada. With the route he planned to travel, the trip was going to be too long to do in one day, so he’d made arrangements for them to stay in a safe house a couple of hours from the boarder in Burlington Vermont.

That night spent at the safe house with Henry and his men was a lesson in French culture like she’d never received before. Most of what she remembered about it was the wine and the food, so much food. It was like they were all celebrating her coming to their side. She’d been toasted more time than she could remember. Of course, her memories of that night were somewhat hazy due to her own overindulgence.

The next morning hung over as she was, they were off again but this time in a rusty Honda Civic. The car was far more comfortable than the pick-up truck had been, which was actually damned by faint praise, but for the small bit of extra comfort she was grateful beyond words.

“Henry? Do you know what happened to Col. Sa’heed and congresswoman Flaherty by chance? I haven’t seen anything on the news about ether of them.” She asked.

“I do not know, doctor. However, since that other Colonel, Jordon, was killed, I’m not very optimistic for them.” Henry had told her. “It’s far too easy to disappear people these days I’m afraid.”

She nodded numbly as his assessment. She hadn’t known Christine for very long, but Robert had been an ally and a more importantly her friend since almost the beginning of this odyssey she found herself on. If something had indeed happened to him because of him helping her, she wasn’t sure she would be able to carry on.

The incredible guilt the welled up inside her at the idea of Sa’heed possibly being killed nearly overwhelmed the doctor. She dropped her head into her hands and began to cry. Henry reached across the seat and reassuringly squeezed her shoulder. After the storm passed, she had looked over at him, her face streaked with tears and tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace.

“It will be ok.” He said trying to reassure her. “One day when you’ve found the cure you can stick up Fullers ass non? Show him who’s really solving problems.”

“I’m not sure what good it will do either of them.”

“None but it will make you feel better, believe me. I’ve lost more compatriots than I want to count. While nothing will bring them back, vengeance upon those who caused the harm feels great eh?” He had a big shit eating grin on his face for emphasis.

“Very cathartic huh?”

“Oui. Nothing like it really.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned at her. His time in government service had obviously hardened him. She silently wondered if she would become the same at some point. A large part of her fervently hoped not.

That was the last thing she ever said to anyone about the trio that had made her escape possible. She kept them in her heart and intended to do her best to honor their sacrifice by pouring herself into her work and trying to find a solution to the Acidalia problem. Henry was right the more she thought about it. Finding the cure, even as Monique, would be the perfect payback for those that tried to the blame for the entire mess on her.

Now all she needed to do was embrace her new life and get to work finding it. With newly found determination, she turned her focus back to the folder and began to study.

An hour later, as she was getting ready to take a break from her studying, there was a loud knock on her apartment door. Carla/ Monique looked at it curiously. She wasn’t expecting any company until her French lesson later. She got up as the knock was repeated and made her way over to the door.

There was a small writing desk against the wall next to the doorway. Under the top was a small red button. Henry had informed her that any time something unexpected came up all she needed to do was push it and her security detail would be alerted.

She peered over at the desk for a moment undecidedly. The last thing she wanted was to cry wolf over nothing. However, the people looking for her were exceedingly dangerous and wouldn’t think twice about kidnapping her and doing her harm.

Carla had never been one to allow fear to run her life. Ignoring the little voice in her head that screamed for her to push the button, she opted instead to see who it was first and turned to look out the peep hole in the door. Just as she stepped forward to look, the apartment door bust open, smashing her right in the face and breaking her nose in the process.

Carla collapsed to the floor, howling in shock and pain as the room filled with men in all black riot gear. Her eyes opened wide with horror as the invaders surrounded her. Cursing herself for being so stupid, she tried to scramble away from them and get to the desk, but it was too late.
Gloved hands roughly groped her as she was pulled to her feet and pushed face first against the nearest wall. Her arms were yanked painfully back, and restraints were placed tightly around her wrists. Once they were in place she felt her body pulled backwards for a brief second then pushed hard forward making her bounce off the paster with enough force to leave her seeing stars.

As she blinked her eyes trying to regain her senses a voice from over her shoulder started speaking.

“Dr. Ryson, it’s nice to make your acquaintance. We’ve been looking for you for a long time. My superiors aren’t very happy about us having to come all this way to find you.”

In French Carla replied. “Non. I don’t know any Dr. Ryson. My name is Monique Lebow!”

“Save your breath doc, none of us speak French. Besides it all sounds like a bunch of bullshit any way.” He bounced her hard off the wall for a third time.

“Sir.” One of the others said from off to her right. “The chopper’s inbound. Five minutes til pick up.”

The one behind her nodded and pulled her back roughly. “Come on doc, don’t want to keep your ride waiting. We arranged you first class accommodations in the brig of the frigate USS Harmony. You’ll love it.” He shoved her into the wall yet again the puled her back hard.

Carla did her best to keep her feet under her but the impact with the wall left her more stunned than she supposed he intended. Unable to keep her balance she stumbled forward. With her arms bound she was unable to brace herself and planted face first on the floor next to the desk.
The impact hurt as bad as anything in her life, but somehow the pain helped her regain her wits. She kicked at her captors, trying to ward them. off. She heard them laughing at her feeble attempts at fighting back. She lifted her foot and tried to kick the closest one in the balls as she rolled over onto her back, but he swatted it aside easily. Reaching down grabbed a hand full of her hair and roughly pulled her up onto her feet.

With her back upright another of the masked men in black body armor grabbed her left arm while the first held her right and the pair began to drag her towards the door. Once outside the apartment, they dragged her along the short hallway and started up the first flight of stairs. Feeling a growing sense of desperation, she remembered the training Henry had given her and dug the heel of her shoe into the edge of the riser, stopping her captors short. The sudden stop left the two men teetered unsteadily.

For a moment she thought her gambit had failed but the one on her right began to tumble backwards. The one on her left let go of her arm in an effort to catch his comrade as he began to fall. With her arms suddenly freed she used her elbow to hit the one still standing on the side of the head, catching him squarely with it. That was all it took; the pair men went down like puppets with their strings cut and tumbled down the steps to the landing taking the three surprised men behind them along for the ride.

The one leading the party in front leaned down to grab her and he turned and hit him with all she had, catching him square in the face. She’d worried his mask would be made of something solid enough to deflect the power behind the blow, but it turned out to be a simple scarf. The guy’s nose exploded with very satisfying spray of blood. He let her go and grabbed his shattered nose, howling in pain the whole time.

She wasted no time and began to rush forward hoping to get away before her kidnappers recovered. However, her escape attempt was cut short by the sound of a round being leveled into the chamber of a gun. She turned and looked back to find one of her attackers back on his feet with his rifle leveled at her.

“One more step doc and you’re all done.” He told her in a conversational tone. The sight of the gun barrel made her hesitate just long enough for the one with the broken nose to grab her by the hair and yank her backwards hard.

He pulled her hard and stepped out of the way. With her arms punned behind her back she tumbled helplessly backwards down the stairs. Her would-be captors were even nice enough to move out of her want and let her continue all the way down to the landing. She crashed hard onto the tiled floor, smacking her head off it as she came to a stop.

Stars exploded in her head and a loud buzz rang through her ears. Her eyes refused to focus as hands descended toward her. They grabbed her up roughly making her head spin, the nausea began to rise. Without warning she threw up on the chest of the man in front of her.

“Oh, what the fuck!” he exclaimed. He reached out and punched her hard in the head in retaliation, rocking her.

“Enough of that shit!” another hollered. “She’s no good to us dead! So, knock that shit off Carmichael! Grab her and let’s get to the roof!”

“She puked on me!” Carmichael yelled back defensively.

“I’ll get you a towel once the chopper gets here. Til then deal with it! Now let’s go!” He came down the steps and grabbed her arm and began to drag her up the stairs.

Her feet were loose, and she stumbled twice before someone from behind began to push her. She stumbled and bumbled up the stairs, tripping several more times. The ringing in her head only got worse with each passing minute. As disorientated as she was there was little doubt in her mind that she had a concussion.

Her condition slowed them down and it took several minutes before they arrived at the top of the stairs. The small wooden door ahead led to the roof. The one that seemed to be in command keyed the mic on his walkie talkie and began to speak into it. Carla ears were ringing so loud she couldn’t hear a word he was saying. She shook her head trying to clear it but that only made things worse.

The man let go of the mic and pointed towards the door. “Chopper will be here in 30 seconds. Soon as we hear it, we’re out! I want Carmichael and Sanders out the door first to cover. The rest singe file with Ryson in the middle of the pack. If you see anything that looks like it might be a hostile, take it out! No questions asked. Let’s make sure we all get home to see the wives and girlfriends when this is over boys!”

They waited in silence as the clock ticked down to time to exit. Through the door they could faintly hear the sound of rotors approaching. The one in charge slowly counted to ten then nodded at the rest of the group. At his signal, the one nearest the door reared back and gave it a mighty kick. The old wooden door all but burst off its hinges as it slammed open.

The group advanced out onto the roof cautiously. Each member of the team had his rifle pointed in a different direction trying to create a 180-degree bubble of coverage. Off in the distance, perhaps a mile out was a helicopter gunship. It moved quickly across the sky headed in their direction.
Off to her left Carla saw one of them pull a flare gun out of his jacket. He pulled the trigger, sending the flare skyward. A moment later the copter did a minor course correction. It was now headed straight for her building.

Her captors seemed to relax a bit as the airship approached. She felt the hands holding her loosen their grip slightly. Dazed as she was there was nothing she could to escape even if they’d let her go completely. She felt sick in her heart. All this effort to bring her here, the new identity, new job, everything had all been in vain. They’d found her anyhow and now she was going to be taken back to the States and executed.

A bright flash came out from off to their right and began streaking across the sky. She looked up just in time to follow the vapor trail coming out the back end as it met with their intended escape vehicle. The chopper exploded in midair a moment later.

Half a second later she felt herself being tugged down to the ground as debris began to rain down from the heavens. The helicopter had been close enough so that she could feel the heat from the fireball it had become. As result of the proximity the roof top was peppered with falling debris.

Her captors were all wearing body armor. They shoved her down and covered her with their protected bodies. Their combined mass pressed
her painfully to the gravel-covered flat roof. Small stones dug into her cheek as the weight crushed down onto her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t hear, couldn’t see. Part of her wondered if this was her end.

“Carla died here today. Crushed to death by those who were taking her to be executed.” She thought darkly.

The weight seemed to only increase for several moments. Carla felt close to passing out, when suddenly the crush began to abate. Little by little the mountain of bodies began to peel away. She gasped as her lungs were finally allowed to expand to something that approached acceptable capacity. Light began to seep through the tangle of bodies as one by one they were removed from on top of her.

When she finally dared open her eyes and looked up she saw a soldier. This one was far different from the ones that had invaded her home, he was wearing a crimson beret on his head and no mask.

“Here she is!” he said to someone she couldn’t see in French. He reached for her and pulled her out from under the last body, which she was just coming to understand was really a body now. “She looks none the worse for wear. Few bruises is all really. She’s a lucky one, non?”

Once she was up and back on her feet, she looked around her. Every one of her would be captors were laying on the roof. Most looked to be dead, the rest lay face down with their hands behind the back of their heads.

She reached for the soldier that had pulled her up and asked in confusion, “H..how?”

He looked at her as if he didn’t understand the question for a moment before he spoke. “We had you under surveillance non?” was all he said in response.

She nodded slowly. It made her head spin, but at least she was safe. He grabbed her by the upper arm as she swooned.

“Are you ok doctor?” he asked.

“Concussion…I..I think.” She told him.

He nodded and waved someone from behind her over. “We get the doc to look at you.” He said with a smile.

A moment another stranger wearing a French army uniform with a red cross patch on his arm was in front of her. He looked at her eyes with a serious expression on his face. From one of what seemed like a thousand pockets on his pants he pulled a flashlight and shined it directly int her eyes. Carla pulled back slightly as the light made her headache all the more.

“Yes. You have a concussion, doctor. We’ll need to take you to the hospital to be watched.”

“I..I..am I safe?” she asked completely flustered. “Who are you people? What the hell is going on here?”

A woman wearing a similar uniform but with stripes on the shoulders, Carla thought they might indicate she was a major but wasn’t one hundred percent sure, stepped forward.

“You are safe doctor.” She said in perfect English. “We are with the French army. We’ve been surveilling your home since you arrived, in case of incidents like today. We are sorry they got as far as they did. Believe me someone is going to be in a lot of trouble for this incident.”

Carla nodded. Pointing at her would be captors she asked, “They are from the US?”

“No. They are working for the Saudi’s.” she informed Carla.

“But they said they were taking me to a frigate, The USS something or another, I don’t remember.”

“Yes, but the ship they were actually bringing you too is not American registry. It is Algerian. These men are mercenaries for hire.” She looked down at one of the live ones and spit in his direction. “They are scum. Beneath contempt.”

“Why does Saudi Arabia care that I’m here?” she asked bewildered. This whole situation suddenly seemed to be spiraling out of control. She understood why the French had offered her asylum, but not why another country would want to kidnap her.

“They want you for the same reasons we offered you safety here. They are looking for a cure for the bug too.” Carla looked at her blankly. “Imagine if you can, doctor, what it must be like in Muslim countries for victims of your virus. Women are second class citizens in most of the middle east. Now the men that have oppressed them are joining them.” The Major laughed.

Carla nodded. “I’d say they might be a touch desperate.”

“The crown price is in hiding. No one has seen him in months. Theologians there are falling to the virus at an alarming rate. Their entire belief system which keeps the royal family in power for centuries is quickly eroding. They are the very definition of desperate doctor. As result of today’s treachery, we will be stepping up your security around the clock.” The major assured her.

“I thought that the idea was for me to blend in and become invisible.” Carla told her.

She laughed. “It was. However today has proven that no matter what we do to help you blend in a determined person or government will always find out again. I’d be surprised if the Saudi’s weren’t already on the telephone with your government telling them what they found in hopes of getting the Americans to pressure us into giving you back.”

Carla nodded. As intolerable as the situation had been this was infinitely worse. She sighed quietly to herself. She wasn’t prepared to be under constant surveillance, even if it was benign. She quietly cursed the fate that brought her to this ending.

This isn’t how her life was supposed to play out. She had plans. The doctor’s life’s desire at the beginning of the summer was to buy Sam Greyson out sometime in the next couple years and take over the lab. She wanted to spend her years until retirement running her business and doing groundbreaking research. That was how her life was supposed to unfold, not this bullshit.

The worst part of it all was she had no more idea how the virus had come to be than anyone else. She was at the hospital with her nephew the night Sam became infected. It wasn’t until days later that she figured out that “Samantha” Laura’s new assistant was actually the company’s owner, and he’d somehow cured himself. The fact that the cure had caused him to change sexes didn’t really register. It would save Tyrone and that was all that mattered to her. The possibility the virus might be contagious never entered her mind.

“Maybe you should have thought it all the way through, Carla.” She chastised herself. “But then Tyrone would be dead.”

The simple truth was, that no matter how the events had actually unfolded, she was the one the government was pinning it on. Getting mad at those who had actually offered her help and protection was as counterproductive as it gets. She sighed out loud this time.

“Non?” The Major asked.

“Nothing, Major.” She replied.

With the scene secured, additional medical personnel were finally allowed to come check on Carla. The pair of doctors agreed with the army medic that she had a concussion. Within minutes she found herself strapped to a stretcher and being whisked away to whatever hospital they thought would be the safest.

As she rode in the back a single tear leaked down Carla’s face as she bid goodbye to Monique. Seeing her go was sad, even though she’d hardly begun to live that life. Seeing that identity going away so quickly reminded her how tenuous her situation really was.

Like it or not she was now at the mercy of the French government. She fervently hoped she could live up to their expectations.

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

Thursday Oct 8th 9am EDT:

Greyson labs:

Mike Flint groaned as consciousness began to dawn. He tried to lift his hand to his head but felt it held back by soft restraints of some kind. He blinked twice, trying to clear his vision. Above him was an acoustic tile ceiling with embedded fluorescent lighting. The light hurt his eyes a bit as he looked up into it. He blinked again and tried harder to lift his arm but again the restraint held it down. He lifted his head and tried sitting more upright but found another band strap across his chest.

“What the fuck?” he said to no one in particular. Then a moment later followed it up with, “Where the hell am I?”

“You’re in hell.” A man’s voice said from somewhere behind him.

“I’ve been to hell; it wasn’t this bright and clean.” Flint replied. He immediately regretted saying it, but when things got stressful, he cracked jokes. There was no helping or stopping the reaction one way or the other.

He tried to twist and angle his head so he could see who’d spoken to him but as soon as he tried to move his neck screamed out in pain. His eyes popped wide open in response. He’d been hurt before, but nothing had ever felt as bad as he did at that moment. He lay stock still gritting his teeth waiting for the agony to fade. Tears streaked out the side of his clamped shut eye lids.

Finally, after what felt like hours the pain receded enough that he could speak normally again. “Who are you?” he asked the mysterious speaker.

“Names Rogers. Harold Rogers.” The voice replied.

“Flint is what everyone calls me.” Mike told him. “Why am I strapped to the gurney, Harold? Did you do this to me?”

Harold let out a small sarcastic laugh. “No. I didn’t do that to you. I’m in the exact same position as you are.”

Flint tried to nod but his neck was having none of it.

“As to where we are, you are currently a guest of USAMRID, here along with the rest of us at beautiful Greyson labs.”
“USAMRID? Greyson labs?” Flint questioned.

“USAMRID is the army’s infectious disease unit.” Harrold replied.

“Yeah. I know what it is. Greyson labs? As in Sam Greyson?” Flint asked.

“The one and only.”

Flint laughed bitterly at the irony of being imprisoned at the lab where the virus was born immediately after almost killing its inventor. “I met her just this week.”

“Met who? Greyson?”

“Yes.”

“Lucky you. I’d love to meet that little bitch again so I could ring her god damned neck.” Harold told him with great anger in his voice.”

“Actually, that was the plan. Until the fed’s showed up and raided the house anyhow.”

“You should have worked faster and put her down once and for all. Probably would have been better if you’d let them kill you or done it to yourself before they could take you too. Death is a far better choice than being alive in this place.”

A disembodied male voice came in through a speaker Flint hadn’t seen embedded in the wall. “Now Harold is that any way to talk to your newest roommate? You’re going to scare him.”

“Fuck you, Ryan!” Harold hissed. Harold knew Ryan would punish him for that little bit of rebellion but considering what he’d been through already he thought he didn’t have much to lose. He’d decided days ago to score points where he could and take what little satisfaction, small victories like this would bring him.

The disembodied voice let out a loud disappointment filled sigh. “Fuck me, huh?” he chuckled. “You might want to reconsider your attitude a bit my boy and remember who you are speaking to.”

Outside the isolation chamber Jackson Ryan turned a few knobs on the control Panel in front of him and flipped a switch. A moment later the speaker on the desk was filled with Harold’s screams.

“What the fuck?” Flint yelled over Harold’s anguished cries. “What the fuck did you do to him?”

“I added a little bit of nitrogen to his IV line and gave him a small case of the bends.” Ryan replied nonchalantly. “He needs to learn how to speak to his superiors and this should be a lesson he won’t forget any time soon.”

“What the fuck?” Flint hollered. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“If you’d like Mr. Flint, I can easily do the same for you and let you enjoy the sensation together.” Ryan told him. He gave the knob to his right a slight turn. A moment later Flint began to squirm uncomfortably as much as his restraints would allow.

“Ahh! Jesus fucking Christ!” Flint complained.

“Do you want some more? That’s only .5%. I can go a lot higher.” Ryan taunted as he inched the dial up slightly.

“F…F…F..fuck you! Flint growled. Despite his obvious discomfort he wasn’t going to give this mad man the satisfaction of seeing him beg.
“Is that how it’s going to be? Fine with me.” Ryan taunted back as he turned the dial up higher introducing more nitrogen into Flints blood stream.

“FUUUUUCCCKKKK!!!” Flint cried out. Tough as he was this was a whole new level of agony.

“Are you ready for me to stop now?” Ryan asked sarcastically.

“Y…yes..” Flint said between pain filled breaths

“Go ahead then. Ask me to stop, Mr. Flint. But ask nicely, politely.” Ryan told him. He was going to enjoy breaking this man he decided.

“Pl…please stop.” Flint said as evenly as he could manage.

“That’s please stop Dr. Ryan.” Jackson taunted as he turned the knob a tiny bit more.

“Pl…please st…stop do..doctor R..r..r..Ryan.”

“Very good my boy.” Ryan turned the dial all the way up for an instant before turning the gas infusion off completely. On the other side of the window Flint howled as loudly as Rodgers had been. “I trust no further lessons need to be taught this morning?”

“No..no more lessons…” Flint panted. His insides felt like they were being twisted in a blender from the nitrogen gas.

“To answer your question as to why you’re here, “Ryan began. “You my new friend, are a verified immune male. We have great need of immune males in our search for a cure for the dreaded virus sweeping our nation and even though they are loathe to admit it, the rest of the world a well. They will never know about the sacrifices you and the others here are making in helping us with our research of course, but you will be appreciated by those of us who will get the credit once it’s been found.”

“Sacrifice?” Flint repeated not loving the way that sounded. “You can’t hold me here like this! I have rights!” He told Ryan in a more forceful voice.

“Rights?” Ryan laughed. “Sure thing. We’ll get your lawyer on the line at once.”

More laughing came through the speakers inside the room. After a few minutes Ryan finally collected himself enough to speak again. “Mr. Flint under the Acidalia act passed by congress this summer any and all citizens can be held for as long as necessary if it is believed they can be helpful in the search for a cure. From this moment forward you are nothing more than a guinea pig. Actually, I take that back. With PETA (people for the ethical treatment of animals) keeping watch, a guinea pig has more rights at the moment than you do.”

Flint felt the pit of his stomach fall out. This was bad, as bad as it gets.

Was he really somehow immune, he wondered. How could that be? No one was immune. At least that’s what the government kept telling everyone. And yet, he had been with Yvonne, and she was positive and he was still a man so maybe it was true? He’d always just assumed she wasn’t contagious anymore since none of the other guys in the house had become infected.

Either way, he could feel his balls shriveling up as he considered what being here meant. Poor Harold, whoever he was, was still behind him screaming in agony as the nitrogen bubbles worked their way through his bloodstream. Apparently, Ryan wasn’t finished with punishing him yet.

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself. He pulled on his restraints, trying to feel if maybe one of the clasps had been left loose or something but nothing gave, not the smallest bit. It began to hit home just how well and truly fucked he was. Unbidden tears began to stream from the corner of his eyes.

He understood from the beginning there would be consequences for his part in Dr. Greyson’s kidnapping. He had thought he was ready to accept whatever the consequences were in the name of vengeance for the rest of the world. But this? This was something else. He’d never considered they had places like this to stick him in. Again, he whispered. “fuck!”

“Looks to me like you’re starting to get the picture.” Ryan said over the microphone. “That’s good. It will be easier if you just accept your fate, my boy. Cooperation means no punishment, or at least less. It behooves you to be as cooperative as you can be Mr. Flint.”

Flint was so choked up with fear he couldn’t muster any kind of reply. He’d always considered himself to be relatively brave but now he was filled with a feeling of total helplessness. He was tied to a gurney with needles stuck in him everywhere and a mad man behind the control panel.

Years before he’d read the book Gerald’s Game by Stephen King. The woman in the story found herself handcuffed to a bed in a cabin in the middle of nowhere after her husband suffered a heart attack in the midst of some kinky sex. Her plight had seemed terrifying as he had read along from the comfort of his favorite chair but being here brought her plight into a whole new perspective. Unbidden tears began to roll out of the corner of his eyes.

“I will take your silence as acquiescence.” Ryan taunted. “Now I need to take some bone marrow samples from you. As a gesture of good will I’ll be adding some medication to help you sleep through the procedure into your IV solution. Are you feeling ok now? No more discomfort from the nitrogen?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I guess.” Flint replied sullenly.

“Excellent. Sleep well Mr. Flint.” Ryan told him. A moment later Flint felt darkness beging to close in on him.

Some unknown time later he first became aware of a light. His eyes were still closed but it was bright enough for him to see the red capillaries in the lids. The light annoyed him a little bit, as much as he as capable of being annoyed at that moment anyway. He kind of drifted in and out of the light until suddenly it felt as if something was drilling into his spine.

It was then that he became aware of voices and the high pitch screech of some kind of mechanical device. He tried to squirm away from the pain, but he was pinned tight. Whatever they were doing to him, they hit a particularly painful spot, and he let out a choked off yelp. They’d stuffed something into his mouth he couldn’t seem to spit out

“Doctor, I think he’s awake.” A concerned female voice said from somewhere above him.

The noise stopped for a moment. “He’s strapped down nice and tight. He won’t be able to move.” The unconcerned voice of Dr Ryan said.

“Shouldn’t we up his sedation?” The woman said.

“Shelia, we are almost done.” He said impatiently. “I don’t have time for measure out another dose. We’ll be done here before it would take effect anyhow. Now get out of my way and let me finish. Then you can stitch him up and send him off to dream land again if you’re so worried!”

“Yes doctor.” She said.
A moment later the high-pitched whine began again. Flint felt it vibrating on the boney part of his vertebrae. Ryan must have been bearing down hard as he could feel his spinal cord crushing against something inside him. The pain was excruciating. Flint tried to protest again but his feeble voice was lost behind whatever was in his mouth and the whine of the drill. He felt something inside him being pinched added to the nearly unbearable pain. For a brief moment he felt as if his whole body was on fire and then the blackness reclaimed him again.

Ryan watched his patient slump down onto the gurney as he passed out from the pain. To Shiela he said, “See? I told you it would be fine.”

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

10:58am PDT:

Manning:

The Reverend sat squatted down on a small wooden box in the dank dusty warehouse his people had commandeered a week ago. All around him sat stacked piles of boxed munitions they’d liberated from a group of Arabs a few days ago. His people had gone through each box, and they were all clearly marked on the outside what was contained within in English. Only a couple of his followers were able to decipher the Arabic symbols that were originally on the boxes, so translation was needed.

The actual guns themselves were of little interest to Morris this morning. They were a means to win the war he was planning to start against those that would defy gods will and they needed as many as they could find. Their opposition was mighty, in some cases unbelievably powerful if the internet was to be believed. He and his top advisors, or disciples as he liked to think of them, had spent a lot of time studying video’s online of these so-called enhanced women performing unbelievable feats of strength and agility. There was one in particular that bothered him more than the rest.

It has showed an enhanced individual wearing a spiderman mask, appropriately enough, sparing with a man in a karate Gi. The man was quite proficient in the martial arts, as pre session videos confirmed. He was fast and powerful, able to break bords and concrete blocks and the like with seeming ease. However, in the session with this comparatively tiny new woman, he looked like an uncoordinated buffoon.

No matter what the move or strategy he tried to employ, he was unable to so much a lay a finger on her. Every move was feinted, every attack perfectly defended, it was almost as if she knew what was coming an instant before the move was made.

And when she went on the offensive, he was totally helpless against her agility and speed. She landed punches and kicks at will. No block he attempted was fast enough to avoid being struck. It was quite an impressive lesson in what their enemy was capable of.

That aside though, today his biggest concern was one of the three small footlockers they’d found in one of the hidden rooms they’d discovered when searching the place. The footlockers contained what he was told were EMP devises. The Reverend didn’t have a lot of understanding of weapons of mass destruction, so he sat and listened intently as they were patiently explained to him.

“As you can see,” the instructor said as he pointed at a spot on the top control panel inside the box, “the pair of switches there are the timer and the primer. When you’re ready to use one of the devices you need to first set the timer. That is vitally important. If you set the primer first the devise will detonate instantly taking you and a couple city blocks with it.”

The man laughed at the end of every sentence he uttered. Manning found that propensity to be exceedingly annoying and normally would have had his tongue ripped out but no one else knew these devices as he did so he was forced to endure it for now.

“So, I need to manually set the timer?” Richard Spector, the reverends munitions expert, asked.”

“There are several timer presets built into the control panel you can use if you like but yes, I’d go with manually setting them myself. That way you know for sure how long you have to get out of dodge before the thing goes off. You need to understand these things are improvised and not exactly built to military standards. The chances of something being faulty with them are pretty good, relatively speaking. You’re going to want to do as much as manually as you can. Don’t trust the preset stuff.”

Manning nodded.

“When we use them, what would be the most effective placement to achieve the maximum effect?” the Reverend asked.

“That all depends on what you’re trying to accomplish. If you’re looking to take out a couple city blocks, then you can leave it on the ground somewhere inconspicuous. It’s a small nuclear device but still a nuke. It will cause a shit ton of damage no matter where it’s left as long as it’s in the open.”

“If the objective is just to disable all the electronics in the vicinity, then I would place it up high as you can get it, like on the top of a skyscraper or something like that. The higher the better. Dropping it out a plane would be optimal but again, when it goes off all electronics go poof, so you’d need a hardened military type aircraft to stay aloft after detonation.” He explained.

“So, the top of a building is the best place we’ll be able to manage.” Spector replied. “Good to know.”

The instructor nodded and smiled. Up until now he hadn’t realized they actually intended to use the devices. The thought of one going off in a populated area made his stomach turn. He fervently hoped that wherever these loons were thinking of setting it off was nowhere near him. He silently considered calling a tip to the FBI soon as he was safely out of here with his payment.

“Any more questions?” he croaked. He swallowed hard as he tried to work up a bit of saliva to alleviate his suddenly dry mouth.

“No, I think you’ve explained the operation well enough.” Manning replied. He looked at Spector, who nodded back in return.

“Excellent.” He replied with tremendous relief. He couldn’t wait to get away from these people. “I guess I will collect my payment and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Come with me I’ll get you your money.” Spector told him.

The Reverend stood up and offered him his hand. “Thank you for fine instructions. God has truly blessed us today with your presence. I never caught your name though.”

“My name is Spring, David Spring.”

“A pleasure to meet you Mr. Spring. Richard, take care of the man.” He told Spector as he exited the room.

Once outside the Reverend turned back and looked at the man as he and Spector finished up their business. There was something in his body language after he told them they planned to use the devises that bothered Manning. Perhaps it was God warning him the man was a betrayer. Either way Manning felt that something wasn’t quite right with the man.

As he considered what to do next someone bumped into him from behind. The Reverend turned to look and saw a young man with dark hair. The man, not much more than a boy actually, looked at him guiltily.

“Sorry Reverend. I wasn’t looking where I was going. A…are you alright?” he asked urgently.

Manning smiled. “Yes, my boy I’m fine. I might be old but I’m not so old that I can’t take the smallest of bumps.”

“Y…yes sir. I mean yes Reverend.” The young man said.

Manning out a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It ok, my boy. There’s no need to be nervous. We are all soldiers in god’s army after all.”

“Yes Reverend.”

Manning smiled at the young man’s awkwardness. He wrapped his arm around the boy’s shoulders, turning him towards the door he’d just walked out of. He pointed at Mr. Spring.

“Do you see that man there?” he asked.

“Yes Reverend.”

“I want you to follow him when he leaves here. See where he goes and if possible, who he speaks too.”

“I can do that for sure sir…err Reverend.” He said earnestly.

“I’m very concerned about where his loyalties lay.” Manning confided.

“Yes sir, Reverend. I understand. He may be a traitor to our lord’s cause.” The boy replied beaming.

He looked over the boy’s wardrobe which consisted of the same white shirt and black pants all his followers wore. “Good. Go change into something less conspicuous and be quick about it. Then go out the back and circle around so he won’t see you leaving here.” Manning instructed.

“Thank you for choosing me for this mission.” The boy told him.

“I didn’t pick you boy, Almighty God himself did. You will be doing his work today.” Manning told him. “Now go.”

The young man scurried off. He ran up the steps to the second floor and down the hallway to his room. He quickly took off his tie and white shirt and changed into a black tee shirt and jeans. Once situated he ran back down to the first floor and moments later burst out the back door of the warehouse.

He was about half a block away from the front of the place so he ran fast as he could around the large building arriving at the street side, breathless. He stood off to the side bent over, with his hands on his knees panting. He did his best to look inconspicuous but was pretty sure he was failing miserably. All that really mattered was he made it out front before his quarry.

Just as his breathing was beginning to slow the man, Mr. Spring, came walking out the front door of the building that housed their warehouse. The young man watched as he strode purposefully down the sidewalk, eventually stopping in front of a black Mercedes sedan. The boy took a few cautious steps in the same direction as Springs back was turned.

Spring turned and looked back at the warehouse he’s just exited. He drummed his fingers on the car’s roof thoughtfully. It seemed like he was trying to make a decision of some kind. The young man watched as he threw his suit jacket into the back seat of the sedan and pulled a cigarette out.

Spring lit it and took a deep drag, then blew it out as he continued to look back at the entrance to Manning's hideaway. Though he’d been paid handsomely by Manning the idea of letting the mad man loose on the world with three nukes, even small ones, was unsettling to say the least.

As he smoked, he weighed which agency would be the one that could most easily get the issue resolved. Was it better to call the FBI of the ATF? Or perhaps the NSA would be the one. There were already federal warrants out for Manning, anyone not living under a rock knew that. He was quite sure any federal agency he got in touch with would be very interested in his whereabouts.

He wondered if there was a reward for turning Manning in. That would make it even more worth the effort. Collecting a reward after being paid by the man himself sounded wonderful to Spring. Talk about your classic win, win situation.

He looked around for a pay phone. He could have just used his cell, but Spring didn’t want to chance the call being traced back to it. It would be very bad for business and quite possibly his health too, if his clientele found out he’d turned one of them over to the authorities. He spotted one on the other side of the boulevard on the wall of a convenience store. He flicked the cigarette away and ducked into the car looking for some change.

From his vantage point the young man watched as Mr. Spring popped back up out of his car with a clenched fist. His quarry then quickly trotted across the street and picked up the pay phone there. The boy mirrored Spring’s action and crossed the street too. As the man dialed, he walked casually in his direction, trying to look like he was doing anything but spying on him.

It wouldn’t have mattered how good his acting was because Spring never turned around to look behind him as he hunched down and dialed. The young man stood a few feet behind Spring, leaning against a street sign and did his best to eaves drop on the man’s conversation.

“Hello? Yes. Hi.” Mr. Spring began. “I’d like to speak to someone regarding Reverend Morris Manning. I believe I’ve just seen him.”

The young man’s eyes grew wide as he heard Spring say, “Yes I’ll hold.”

“The Reverend was right!” the young man thought to himself excitedly. “I.. I have to tell him. But if I leave, he’ll be able to tell the cops of whoever where he is.”

The young man stood there indecisive as the seconds ticked away. If he didn’t act soon whoever was on the other end of the phone would pick back up and it would be too late.

He stuffed his hand into his pocket and fingered the knife he’d brought with him. Soon as he touched it, he knew what to do. With a smile on his face the young man pulled it out of his pocket and flicked the blade open.

He looked quickly to his left then his right to see if the coast was clear. There were plenty of people on both sides of the street, but no one was close enough to stop him. He smiled as he took the three steps that separated him from Spring. Without so much as word, he jabbed the blade int Spring’s back, hitting just above his kidneys. As the man recoiled from the unexpected blow, the young man pulled the knife out and stabbed him over and over again.

Spring grabbed for his back as his unknown assailant continued to stab him repeatedly. He collapsed down to one knee and the knife moved from his lower back to his upper. The blade kept finding its way home. Spring writhed in pain as blood ran down the back of his shirt. He dropped the phone and tried to step forward, but he collapsed to his knees. Every internal organ screamed in agony as the knife found its way in one with every thrust.

The young man, with his victim obviously far to injured to fight back leaned forward and wrapped his arm around the man’s chin, pulling him backwards. They locked eyes for a moment before he stabbed Spring on the throat three times in rapid succession. As he watched blood spurt from the fresh wounds, he knew those would be the fatal blows.

Spring tried to speak but blood filled his mouth making him gag. He reached out for his attacker but was to weak to grab him. The boy stepped back and let him fall. Spring’s body hit the pavement with a thud.

In the distance he heard voices from up the sidewalk crying out in shock over the grizzly scene. It was time to go as he heard calls for someone to call the police from the stunned onlookers. He glanced down at Spring and watched blood trickle down the corners of his mouth as he weakly gasped for air. Smiling, he took off running as the sound of distant sirens began to grow louder.

People leapt out of his way as the young man bolted back towards the corner of the block and turned down the side street he’d emerged from not twenty minutes before. He glanced over his shoulder and saw no one was chasing him. He grinned thinking God truly was on his side and redoubled his efforts, sprinting like all the devils in hell were chasing him.

He rounded the back corner of the warehouse, skidding to a stop. He was panting hard as he stole a glimpse back the way he’d come. There was no one there but off in the distance he could hear the sirens were very close. He looked down at his hand at the blood-soaked knife and smiled at the memory of stabbing God’s the Reverends enemy.

From out of the back door one of the Reverend's followers stuck his head out and waved at the young man, urging him to get inside quickly. The boy ran to the door and up the steps as the other slammed the door closed behind them.

As he skidded to a halt, he saw Manning himself standing in the narrow hallway.

“Well, that was fast.” Manning said in a pleased voice.

“He…he was calling the police or someone about you Reverend.” The young man blurted out breathlessly.

“I see.” Manning replied.

“I stabbed him a bunch of times in the back and the throat. Pretty sure he’s dead.” The breathless young man told him.

“That would explain all the police and the ambulance over across the way, yes.” Manning agreed. “You’ve done well my son. God certainly chose he warrior well today. What’s your name boy?”

The young man beamed with pride over the Reverends praise. He stood tall and told him, “My name is Victor, Reverend. Victor Cruize.”

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

2:15pm PDT:

Mia shook her in disgust as she drove the dark blue late model Honda Civic that the Sisters had somehow come to possess over the last couple of weeks, up Ocean Ave. headed through the city. On the corner up ahead stood a large group of armed men in military type fatigues. They appeared to be guarding the entrance to the city courthouse, but in reality, due to the latest government edict that stretched the limits of constitutionality, they were there to spot check the citizens of San Francisco for Acidalia infection.

In the government’s typical fashion of overreacting in the wrong way, the City Council had passed a directive, that called for random sweeps for infected men and women throughout the city, but especially the men. It was of course a direct violation of their civil rights, but again, being in a time of crisis, no one seemed to care about silly things like the constitution anymore.

The edict was within hours reinforced by endorsements by both the governor and the president. The ACLU had filed an emergency brief with the Supreme Court, but they landed on the side of the government and refused to issue an injunction. Pundits on the side of the ruling cheered it as victory for public safety. At the same time those on the other side of the issue proclaimed it as the end of civil liberties.

She sat patiently for the light turn green and watched as three of the armed masked men dragged a civilian along the sidewalk and into what she assumed was a testing clinic. The man they dragged hung limply between the pair dragging him while the third grabbed the door. Their victim face was red and puffy with one eye seemingly swollen shut, giving lie to their claim that all those being subjected to testing were being treated humanely.

Behind them all was a small blonde woman screaming and wagging her finger at them as she followed then down the sidewalk. As they approached the entrance, one of the idling uniformed men grabbed her by the upper arm before she could follow them inside. She tried to pull herself out of his grip while yelling profanities at him. In response he roughly pushed her to the ground and started shouting back at her. He pulled his side arm out as she started scooting backwards along the pavement.

Meanwhile the poor soul being dragged disappeared, possibly forever, into the building just as the light turned green. Shaking her head in disgust, Mia hit the gas. She was angry at the unfolding scene and stomped the petal harder than she’d planned. For the briefest of moments, she found herself careening towards the group of soldiers. They looked up with concern on their faces; a couple even began to swing their rifles into firing position before she got the car back under control and pointed up the street again.

“That wouldn’t have gone well.” She said to herself, as she caught the group giving her dirty looks on her way by.

She glanced down at the dashboard clock and cursed under her breath. There was no way she was going to make it all the way to Santa Cruz by the agreed upon time. She sighed in frustration as she considered calling and letting Ryan know she was going to be late.

“Fuck it.” She muttered. “Leave him wait. It will do the pompous ass some good.”

No one had been more surprised than her when she looked at the text on her phone last evening and found it to be Dr. Ryan. He asked her to meet up today to compare notes on the virus at the Greyson facility. She’d been dubious of idea of going to the lab itself, even though he guaranteed her safety. Instead, she opted instead to meet somewhere more neutral. They agreed on a meeting at a rest stop along the Pacific Coast highway as a compromise.

Even with Colonel Jordon long dead and gone, the idea of going back to Greyson gave her the heebie-jeebies. Her mind wandered as she drove on thinking about her time there. The bad moments far outweighed the few good. Starting with the death of Sam’s lab partner Lauren Wayne, Jordon ordering Sam’s imprisonment, the facility commanders desperate decree giving carte blanch to experimenting on human subjects, Ryan’s accepting of the job when she was, as he called it, reassigned it had rapidly become a bigger and bigger shit show. They’d committed so many horrors in the name of finding a cure for the incurable disease, it made her wonder if the human race really was worth saving.

And now Ryan wanted to meet up. It didn’t make a lot of sense to her; Jackson Ryan was many things but willing to share the credit with others wasn’t one of them. She considered the possibility they’d discovered something else that might lead to a vaccine and wanted to share information. It was possible but again sharing wasn’t really Ryan’s way of doing things.

Also, she and Sam had a theory or two on why some people were immune, but they’d made no real progress in proving anything out. Even if they’d made progress there was no way he could have known about it unless he had the Sister’s place bugged.

She passed a highway sign indicating their meeting place was still 40 miles away. She glanced at the clock for what felt like the eightieth time and sighed, she was going to be late for sure. She hit the gas a little harder bringing the car up to 80mph.

“Unless I run afoul of the highway patrol, I might just only be ten minutes late instead of a half hour.” She thought sourly. The one thing she had in her favor was these days there were nowhere near the amount of police on the roads as there used to be. Unsurprisingly, traffic violations had fallen to the wayside these days. She was sure the cops had far better things to do than risk being infected by a random speeder.

Thirty-five minutes later she saw the signs indicating her turnout was only two miles ahead. She wasn’t even going to be ten minutes late, only seven if all went well. Even though she considered that a win, she knew Ryan would be fit to be tied for having to wait.

“Good enough.” She thought with a grin as she pulled off the highway into the surprisingly crowded rest area that overlooked the pacific ocean.

She pulled the car into an open spot and shut it down. Mia gazed out through the windshield at the small group of tourists directly ahead. They were all smiling and laughing while taking pictures while leaning against the sturdy-looking metal railing that was meant to keep them all from falling into the sea far below. Off to her right were a pair of couples conversing as they leaned against a bright yellow convertible of some unknown make. She marveled at the bravery of the handful of men in both groups. The threat of infection wasn’t stopping them from living their lives it seemed.

“Bully for you guys.” She said quietly. “You’re dumb as stumps for it but go you!”

She took a look over to her left. There was a small area with picnic tables on the grass and benches closer to the cliff’s edge. On one of those benches sat a lone woman looking out over the ocean. Ryan was nowhere to be seen, which made her distinctly nervous.
It wouldn’t be beyond them to use her relationship with people from Greyson as a way to lure her into a trap. That’s exactly how this was starting to feel. She growled in frustration and cursed herself for being stupid enough to have fallen into it so easily.

“Fuck.” she muttered she put her seat belt back on and turned the car back over. Just as she was about to put it in gear she heard someone knocking on the driver’s side window. She looked over her shoulder with dread in her heart only to see the woman that had been seated on the bench there.

Mia rolled the window down and asked, “Yes?”

“Doctor Blue?” the woman asked her.

“Who are you?” Mia replied a little more roughly than she intended. Her nerves were on edge.’

“My names Shelia Cochrane. I work with Dr. Ryan.” The woman told her.

“I see. And where is Jack?”

“He doesn’t know about us meeting up. I kind of stole his phone while he was sleeping and used it to contact you.” She quickly explained.

“While he was sleeping?” Mia asked dubiously. Shelia nodded as her cheeks turned a bit red. Catching the hint Mia told her, “I see.”

“I needed to talk to someone about what’s been going on at the lab.”

“I see. And you chose me huh?”

Dr. Blue had no idea what was going on with this girl or what she wanted. She could see she was alone and that was a relief at least for the moment. A very large part of her screamed it was time for her to count this as a small lesson in trusting texts and get the hell out of there.

However, the young woman had an air of desperation about her that made the doctor consider juts how big of a risk that Shelia might be talking by being there. That was if she was being honest and not setting Mia up for a trap, which she still wasn’t one hundred percent sure of yet.

“Can we go somewhere? I feel so exposed standing here?” Cochrane asked. She kept popping her head up and looking around every few seconds. Whether that was nerves or wondering where her backup was had yet to be decided on Mia’s part, but she was starting to lean towards the former

“There was a coffee shop I saw a couple miles back that looks like it might be open. Want to follow me there?”

“I’d much rather ride with you if possible. They have a GPS unit in my car. I’d much rather it looked like I was just here taking the view for a while.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Sure” she said hitting the door unlock button. “Hop in.”

***************
Ten minutes later they were sitting in a booth at the shop with steaming mugs of coffee sitting in front of each of them. The place was deserted other than themselves and the employees behind the counter. The sun shone brightly through the large windows at the front of the place. It wasn’t a cold day out by any means but for California it was chilly and the warm coffee really hit the spot.

“So, Sheila, nice as it is to meet you, why don’t you start explaining why you lured me here.” Mia told her. Her nerves were settling down some, but they weren’t quite there yet. She kept glancing out of the large window at the parking lot beyond. At this point s was still largely deserted, which was reassuring.

Shelia lifted her cup to her mouth and stared at Mia over the rim. Now that she was actually here with Dr. Blue, she wasn’t sure where to begin. Part of her couldn’t believe she was actually going to go through with it. Stealing Ryan’s phone had been a lark, not really a plan if any kind.

The last session with poor Mr. Flint had been the final straw in her mind. Dr. Ryan was insane and she was beginning to understand all to clearly. He had no compassion for the test subjects, or his underlings, other than her. She understood that she escaped his wrath mostly because they were having sex. If that stopped then she was sure he’d treat her just as badly as everyone else.

Part of her believed it was the pressure being put on him by Lt. Col. Zoe. The commander had put a lot on Jackson’s shoulders with his threats of incarceration or worse if they failed to find a cure. That was enough for any man to be desperate enough to cut corners and take short cuts. It was more than that though. She could see it in his eyes. Pressure or not he only had eyes for the prize. Whatever it took to reach it is what he’d do, orders from above or not. He wanted the personal glory of being the one to defeat the bug.

Across the table Mia waved her hand in front of Sheila’s eyes. “Earth to Sheila. Come in please. Earth to Sheila.” She said in an annoyed sounding voice.

“Sorry, doctor, was just trying to figure out where to begin.”

“How about at the beginning? That’s usually the best place.”

Sheila nodded and smiled. She was starting to understand why the doctor had ruffled so many feathers in her time at Grayson. A woman with her intelligence and obvious, take no bullshit, attitude was bound to get under the skin of the men working there very quickly. The fact that she had lasted there for as long as she had was itself pretty impressive.

“Not long after you left, Greyson went on a hiring spree of sorts. They added somewhere around thirty more scientists and almost twice that for lab assistants.”

“It must be tight quarters there now.” Mia said trying to imagine so many people in the tiny facility.”

“They’ve added onto the building.”

“They must have. No way all those people could fit into what Sam had built.” Mia replied.

“Oh right. I forgot you knew Dr. Greyson before she escaped.”

“Who escaped? Sam? I don’t know where you get you information, but she was released on Col. Jordon’s orders. No one broke her out or
whatever lies they’ve been feeding you.” Dr. Blue replied defensively.

Sheila nodded. “I didn’t mean any disrespect doctor.”

“I know. Sorry. Sam’s a sensitive subject with me.” Mia admitted.

She nodded. “Anyway, after Col Jordon got arrested and relieved of duty they put Jack in charge of the place. He had this big meeting to tell everyone he was the big honcho and everything.” Sheila told her.

“That sounds like him.”

“Yes, lots of ego wrapped up in the genius brain of his.”

“Yes, a gigantic ego.” Mia agreed then added, “Not so sure about the genius part though.”

“Well either way, after the meeting he took me and this other lab assistant, Denis was his name, he told the two of us, we would be working with him personally. That we’d be doing cutting edge research, which of course, was very exciting.”

Mia nodded.

“After a few days of us all working together and seeing what he was talking about Denis started raising ethical concerns with Dr. Ryan.”

“Ethical concerns?” Mia asked.

“Yeah. Denis didn’t like the way Dr. Ryan was treating our test subject Harold. He was a former employee at Greyson, that Dennis was friendly with, that Ryan and turned him into a lab rat which was later endorsed by the commander.”

“Harrold?” She thought for a moment trying to come up with his last name. “Harold Rogers?” Mia asked with concern in her voice.

“Yes, that’s him.”

“What have you doing to poor Harold? He was one of the top research assistants when I was there.”

Sheila was quite for a long minute while she debated how much she should say. Then she realized she was already too deep into the discussion to back out of full disclosure now.

“Harold, as it turns out, is immune.”

“To Acidalia?”

“Yes, of course to Acidalia. What else would it be?” Sheila asked giving a bit of attitude back to the doctor. She couldn’t believe the absurdity of the question.

“Sorry for asking a stupid question, I just wasn’t aware any immunes had been discovered in the male population.” Mia lied.

Sheila watched her face closely trying to decide how truthful the doctor was being, then nodded. “Yes, we have discovered at least four immune males to this point.”

“Four?” Mia said with exaggerated wonder. There was no way she could let on she knew about immune men for fear of putting Warren in danger.

“Yes, and we expect to see more coming through soon.” Sheila told her.

“More? How do you find them?” Mia asked genuinely curious.

“Jack, with my help,” she stopped and shook her head in shame. “We changed the test we’ve been administering at the testing clinics.”

“Changed it? Changed it how?”

“We changed the formulation. Now instead of only testing for infection there is a second step where they take the cheek swap and rub it in a modified viral medium.”

“You’re purposely exposing health care workers to a live version of the virus? Are you out of your fucking minds?” Mia said far louder than she intended to.

The people behind the counter all stopped talking and looked over at the two of them.

“Jeeze, tell the whole world why don’t you.” Sheila whispered angrily. “It’s not a true live virus it’s modified and mimics the infection in cells.” She added defensively.

Ma nodded. “I’m sorry for being so loud. You just caught me off guard with that one. I didn’t mean to announce it to the whole world. Be that as it may though, what the fuck is wrong with you girl?”

“I…I thought I was doing good. I got caught up in the glamor of Jack and the idea of being the on to find the cure. It felt like a the time that nothing was more important.” Sheila explained with great embarrassment.

“And now?”

“Now, I don’t know. I still think finding a cure is paramount to the survival of the species.”

“But?”

She sighed. “But are we worth saving if we’re willing to torture the shit out of each other to get to a cure?”
\
“Torture?” Mia asked. The more this girl talked the more alarmed she was becoming.

“He’s got no regard for the test subjects. We had one wake up mid-procedure yesterday and he refused to let me add more anesthesia.”

“He wouldn’t let you put him back out. In god’s name why??” Mia asked in a stunned voice.

“He doesn’t care about them. All he cares about is getting results. He says they are no more than lab mice.” Shelia explained.

Mia knew Ryan was a man of loose ethical standards, as evidenced by his willingness to experiment on humans. However, to not stop long enough to fix a small issue like anesthesia was borderline psychotic. She couldn’t imagine the agony the poor patient must have been in.

“It’s not just that.” Shelia went on. “We have new commander there too, a LT Col. Zoe. He’s just as crazy as Ryan, maybe even worse. He’s told Jackson that if he finds the cure for the virus, anything he does enroute to achieving that goal will be forgotten and forgiven. If he fails though everything he’s done will be made public. That’s added a ton of pressure on the doctor. He’s more desperate than ever now. I don’t know what he’ll do next.”

Mia nodded. “This is nuts. Fuller needs to reign his people in. We can’t just forget our ethics and treat people like they were animals. It just not right.” Mia told her in disgust.

“I know but n their defense, the men in charge are also becoming more desperate by the day.”

“I suppose you’re right. None of them want to be out buying a whole new wardrobe.” Mia agreed. Then she decided it was time to cut to the chase and asked, “So why are you telling me all this? What do you expect me to do with all this information?”

“I…I don’t know. I know you’re affiliated with those Sisters of Acidalia people. I guess I was hoping since you already broke in once there was something you could do. Those men need your help.” She explained with a frantic air to her voice.

“I’m not really sure what we could do for you. We’re not a combat unit. We have no weapons really, just a small handful of enhanced new women. Not nearly the kind of resources you’d need to launch a full-on assault on Greyson.”

Shelia sat silently taking in what Mia told her. Of course, she understood that the Sister’s weren’t a paramilitary group but they’d certainly wreaked havoc all over the city in recent weeks. The rumor mill had it that they were at City Hall when it blew up and helped save half the people in the place. People in the know around the facility talked about them like they were a modern-day Justice League full of superheroes like in the comics. Doing heroic acts just because it was the right thing to do. She didn’t know how much of it was true, but she’d hoped there was something to it.

She knew for a fact though that just two days ago they’d assisted the NSA in a raid of the house Flint had lived in. During his initial interview after coming to Greyson, he’d described to her how unstoppable they were, that was the whole reason for setting up this meeting. Now however it seems she’d vastly overestimated their capabilities.

She sighed as the first tendrils of depression began to tickle her consciousness. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t save the men on her own, she needed allies.

“We might not be able to set them free for you but maybe there is a way we can help.” Mia said, bringing her back from her thoughts.

“And what would that be?” She asked more out of consideration than actual interest in what Dr. Blue had to say.

“We can shorten everyone’s time as a victim if we exchange information.”

“What kind of information are you talking about?” Shelia asked. She had suddenly completely lost interest in talking to Mia. Her anxiety was fast turning to depression, and it was sweeping her up. There was nothing she could do to stop it when these moods took over. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to at this point. She had pinned her hopes on the Sisters being able to liberate Ryan's victims but there seemed to be little chance that was going to happen. Suddenly everything seemed so futile and hopeless.

“We’re both working on finding a cure. We can share research with each other. We have some interesting ideas, but we don’t have any immune men or enough women for that matter to make a legitimate focus group to test them out. You on the other hand have an ample supply of both.” Mia explained.

Shelia perked up some at the idea. “You have Idea’s? Please tell me, what’s your theory?”

Mia glanced at the deserted coffee shop to make sure no one was listening. “We have discovered by comparison between the blood of one immune female and several infected ones, that it seems the white blood cells in are larger by a lot in her. Far larger than in the girls that are viral carriers.”

Shelia’s eyes got wide. “We noticed the same thing in the men we have. Dr. Ryan and I were just discussing it a couple days ago. Have you managed to test the theory yet?”

“No. As I said we a very limited supply of immune women and no men to work with, but it sounds like you might have something more substantial?” Mia asked, hoping.

“No. We haven’t moved forward with any kind of tests on the idea yet.” Shelia replied. “We literally just noticed the difference days ago. I haven’t even thought about what we’d need to do to test it.”

“Mmm, yes, the virus is notoriously had to work with. It doesn’t like to culture in anything that’s not alive. Even keeping extracted cells at body temperature has been more miss than hit.”

“We’ve run into similar issue’s when trying to create a diluted version of the virus for the testing center cultures. It was so hard we were eventually forced to turn to gene splicing to make it work.” Shelia replied. “Early on we had the idea of making a nearly dead version of the virus as the basis of a vaccine, but we couldn’t culture it. It wouldn’t take to the medium.”

“Did you try the idea out on mice or anything?” Mia asked with an excited edge to her voice. This was what she was made for, research. A diluted version of the virus was an idea that neither she nor Sam had thought of.

“No, we couldn’t get it to work. All we’ve done is inject our immunes with a fully live version of the virus to confirm their immunity.”

“They all killed it I assume or at the very least it didn’t harm them in any way?”

“No, it had no effect at all.” Shelia sighed. “Within just a few days after being infected they all showed no trace of it in their bloodwork.”

“See? This is exactly why we need to share information.” Mia told her eagerly.

“I agree. That seems to be the best way we can help each other. But how? They are going to notice if I keep disappearing to meet you. I’m actually kind of surprised they haven’t shown up looking for me yet to be honest.”

Mia looked back over her shoulder as a sudden paranoia gripped her. Her eyes swept the mostly empty parking lot looking for signs that she’d been set up by this woman but there were no other cars in the lot besides hers, that she could see. Shelia reached out and touch her hand, making the doctor nearly jump out of her seat.

“Are you ok?” she asked genuinely concerned.

Mia put a hand over her beating heart. “Yes. Sorry. When you said you were surprised, they hadn’t followed you, it kicked my survival instinct into overdrive. I’ve been set up before and, well there’s no gentle way to say this but, I thought maybe you had too for a moment.”

Shelia nodded. “I understand. No offense taken.”

“I think the best way to share information would be through Sam’s proxy server.”

“They know about Dr. Greyson’s personal server at the facility.” Shelia told her.

“Of course they do but I can guarantee you they don’t know about this one because it’s not at Greyson.”

“Oh. It’s not? How would I access it then?”

“You can’t it’s just a pass through for email, but it deletes all metadata from both ends, so it makes email untraceable. No one would know you sent or received anything other than the sender and yourself. It pretty amazing. Sam says it’s like a VPN but far more advanced. Honestly once she started getting into all the specifics of it my eyes kind of glaze over. Electronics and computers are not my thing.” She said with a laugh.

Shelia gave her a sight nod.

Mia was excited now. Shelia was obviously interested in the idea, but she seemed a bit dubious. Having never met Sam there was no way for Shelia to truly understand the depth of the virus inventor’s genius. Even Mia herself had trouble at times grasping the true depth of her daughter’s intelligence.

Dr Blue desperately tried to think of a way to convince her to get onboard. Shelia didn’t seem like a credit hound. Offering to let her take full credit for any results that their collaboration might produce probably wasn’t going to work. The problem was she just didn’t know Sheila well enough to know what hook to use so she punted.

“I’ll tell you what. I’m going to need Sam to set you up access to the server. Why don’t we meet here again in a couple days and that way you have some time to think it all over.” She told her.

“Yes. I think that would be the best route.” Shelia agreed.

Mia smiled. The relief on Shelia’s face was obvious. “Then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll be back here around this same time the day after tomorrow with your credentials. If you decide this isn’t what you want to do, then just don’t show up and I’ll know there’s no deal. Simple enough?”

“Yes. Simple enough.” Shelia started to stand but then sat back down again. She whispered, “I’m sorry for getting cold feet. I will be here, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you’re not sure you will keep, hun.” Mia replied with a smile. “Think long and hard about this. If they find out you’re collaborating with us it might be very bad for you, even if we’re producing results. You don’t just have to worry about the military finding out, Ryan would lose his mind if he knew you were working with me. And look at what he’s done already.” Mia told her.

Shelia swallowed hard. She looked like she might throw up. “You’re not much of a saleswoman.”

Mia laughed. “They may have put me in charge, but people skills were never my strong point.”

Shelia laughed too. “That I can see.” She stood. “I will see you in two days Dr. Blue.”

Mia nodded and watched as she turned away and exited the shop. She smiled as she wondered how long it would be before Shelia realized she’d driven them here. She stood and put her coat on, laughing to herself as Ryan’s lab assistant trudged back towards the door.

“I drove.” She called across the shop as she finished gathering her thing.

“I remember, now anyhow.” Shelia replied with an embarrassed laugh.

Mia walked across the shop towards the door thinking, “This might just work out after all.”

*******************
5pm PDT:

Greyson Labs:

Shelia sat back at the control panel outside the containment watching their quartet of prisoners as they lay on their gurneys deep in a drug-induced sleep as she considered Dr. Blue’s offer of collaboration. Even though it was barely a half measure the idea of working with Dr’s. Blue and Greyson was an intriguing idea, even if it was indirectly. They were two of the smartest people on the planet. If anyone was going to find a
way out of the mess she was sure it would be them. The idea of being in on the discovery when it happened was very appealing indeed.

As she daydreamed of the day Acidalia was defeated, from behind she heard the door to the lab being opened. She turned to see Dr. Ryan
walking in.

“Good evening, Jack.” She said to him while putting on her best fake smile. He made her stomach turn these days but for her own safety she needed to keep it to herself.

He smiled and took the seat next to her. He put his hand on her knee making her even more uncomfortable, but she kept silent about it. She put her hand over his and smiled at him.

“How was your day?” she asked.

Dr. Ryan stretched his back and let out a loud yawn. “It was fine, we were very busy with running genetic profiles on the four musketeers in there.”

She nodded.

“How was your meeting with Dr. Blue? Productive?” he asked casually.

“With who?” She asked. “I’m not familiar with any Dr. Blue. Are thy new here?” She felt panic rising in her chest but did her best to sound as casual as possible.

Ryan looked at her and shook his head. He couldn’t blame her for playing stupid, but he’d seen the pictures of the two of them seated in some kind of restaurant taken this afternoon. To say he was disappointed in her was a massive understatement.

“Shelia, let’s not play games.” He told her seriously. “We all work for the federal government in conjunction with the military, none of us have any secrets that are safe from their eyes.”

She just looked at him shocked. She had no idea what to say.

“Did the meeting go well? Does she trust you now?” He asked.

“I…I guess so.” She decided that the less she said the better off she was going to be.

“Good. We can use that trust to keep tabs on their activities. Lt. Col. Zoe will be pleased. He was very concerned you might be turning on us. He wanted to have the marshals bring the both of you in for questioning, but I reassured him you were one hundred percent on our side.” He said with a satisfied smile.

“Of course, I am.” She said smiling back worriedly. She reached for his hand, but he pulled it away giving her a stern look as he did.

“I..I’d never betray you, Jack. You know that.” She was doing her best to act nonchalant, but her nervousness was obvious. She silently cursed herself for stuttering.

“That’s very good to know, doctor. I have to be honest with you Shelia, to certain people it looked very much like you were trying to betray us. If it turns out those people are right and your lying to me, it will go very badly for you.” He told her watching her eyes closely as he spoke. He smiled to himself as he twisted the screws on her ever more tightly. He did so enjoy bullying those in position below him. It was one of life’s little pleasures. “

“So, what did she want?” he asked changing the subject abruptly to keep her off balance.

“S..she wants to exchange information on testing results and the like. A back door collaboration of sorts.” She told him. She hated throwing Mia under the bus like that but if they knew they met she couldn’t take a chance that they hadn’t been listening in on the conversation too.

“Share info huh? Interesting. How would this sharing take place?”

“Dr Greyson has some kind of private email server thing. Not really sure of the details of how it works but it deletes metadata so no one can see where it came from or on the other end who sent it.”

“I see.” He said thoughtfully. “Am I correct to assume you’re going to be meeting her again to finalize this collaboration.”

“We are supposed to meet up again in a couple days, if I was on board with the idea, yes. I suppose that now I won’t be making the trip.” She said hopefully.

“Won’t be making the trip? My dear, of course you’ll be meeting back up with her. Not only that but you’ll be enthusiastically on board with her little plan.” He informed her.

“I..I will?” she asked swallowing hard.

“Yes, you will. After that meeting moving forward you will share whatever information she gives you about the virus with me immediately after.” He gave her a stern look before continuing. “You’ll need also need to arrange to meet her in a public place so we can station marshals around the two of you also. For your safety of course. Wouldn’t want her to attack you or anything like that so you will need as much security as we can muster. As a matter of fact, moving forward any time you leave the facility, you will need to be escorted by a pair of security personnel. You’re far too valuable an asset to lose Shelia.” His face held a look of false sympathy as he gave his little speech.

Shelia nodded. This was it now. She was officially fucked. She’d thought to help the four immune men and now she was a virtual prisoner moving forward.

Ryan stood up and without warning, slapped her hard back hand across the face. He reached out and grabbed her by the throat. He pulled her in close and whispered angrily, “Next time you try to go behind my back I will let Zoe have you. Do you understand me?”

He gave her a stony stare as he squeezed a little harder before letting her go.

Shelia coughed and gagged as her airway suddenly cleared.

“You very nearly fucked the whole thing up for all of us you little bitch.” He told her as he slapped her again. “Don’t ever fuck with me again! It will put a serious crimp in our relationship both professional and personal.”

He reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her out of the seat. He grabbed her from behind the neck and pushed her towards the door.

“W…where are we going?”

He stopped and smiled at her. “We had plans for a little aloe time tonight, didn’t we, dear? We’re going to my room. You can come along willingly, or I can have the security escort you there. The choice is yours. I don’t much care either way as long as you do your duty.”

***************
6pm PDT:

KLTR News:

“Good evening, San Francisco. I’m Ellen Goodwife and this is a KLTR special report.” The pretty, raven-haired anchorwoman began.
“Just moments ago, Senate president Chevis Rolle’ of South Carolina announced that in an early evening vote, the Senate has adopted the articles of impeachment put forward by the House of Representatives. The adoption now sets the stage for tomorrow’s vote on whether the charges warrant the removal from office of the embattled president.”

“This is the first time in our country’s long history that the impeachment process has been carried out to this extent. As many of you may remember that on October 30, 1973, the House of Representatives began the impeachment process on President Richard Nixon. The former president however opted to resigned rather than face the public disgrace a hearing would bring.”

“The process was started again on December 19, 1998, when the House adopted two articles of impeachment against the President Bill Clinton. However, in that case the Senate found the president not guilty and the impeachment attempt. went no further.”

“Today’s historic vote along with the formal removal vote coming up tomorrow, will put the president squarely in the crosshairs of the Justice Department. Several sources have indicated that federal prosecutors have been called to a meeting with high-ranking members of both parties this evening to discuss the procedures involved in formally charging the president with criminal negligence. Regardless of what comes of that meeting, it seems obvious the presidency of Robert Fuller has come to a rather untimely and abrupt end.”

“When asked for comment on tonight’s historic vote Press Secretary Lia Holiday told reporters that President Fuller was in deep discussions with legal counsel and no decisions on his future had been made as of yet.”

“Please stay tuned as we continue to follow this developing story as the fate of our nation’s leader comes into clearer focus.”

*******************
9:15pm EDT:

The White House:

Davis Carlyle nearly leapt out of his chair with joy as the news from the senate came across his desk. His dream had finally come true. He was finally going to be the next President of the United States. He could hardly believe it was happening at long last. All the months of plotting and conspiring had finally come to bear fruit, and it was the sweetest nectar he’d ever tasted.

He grinned as he thought of the look on Fuller’s face when the news was delivered. He imagined him crestfallen, on the verge of tears as the final nails were driven into the coffin of his presidency. Davis gleefully savored the image for several minutes. He silently wondered if Blake was having as hard a time concealing his satisfaction at the final turn of events. He’d have to wait to find that out, however, because now was not the time for public celebration.

Carlyle got up and closed the door to his office. Upon reseating himself, he reached into the top drawer of his desk and picked up his burner phone and quickly dialed. On the third ring it was answered.

“Harkin.”

“Mr. Harkin.” Davis began. “I assume you’ve seen the news.”

“Was just watching the report this minute, sir. Good news for you. Congratulations.”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” Carlyle told him. “You need to get on a plane back to Boston first thing tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Do you think he’ll be back in the city that soon?” Harkin asked.

“No but you need to make sure everything that’s been agreed on with his people still stands. We can’t take a chance of last-minute cold feet
ruining the final gambit. We’ve only this one last obstacle to overcome and our victory will be complete.”

“Yes sir, I understand. “I’ll head out on the first available flight.” Harkin told his boss.

“Excellent.” Carlyle told him excitedly. “These are exciting times, Harkin. Exciting times indeed!” Davis could barely contain himself.

“What about our operations on the west coast sir?”

“Leave them for now. If something important comes up while you’re gone, Blake will have Russov deal with it.” Davis told him.

“Very good sir. I will call you once I land.”

Be sure you do.” Carlyle said. “And Harkin?”

“Yes Mr. Carlyle?”

“Don’t fuck this up.”

**********************
9:41pm:

The White house residence:

President Fuller sat slumped in the soft cushy chair with three quarters empty tumbler of whisky hanging from his limp hand. He was angry, far angrier than he’d been in a very long time. The President sighed loudly and shook his head in disgust. Fifteen minutes ago, he received the news that his life had been officially turned upside down.

“What a cluster fuck.” He brooded defeatedly.

His time as president was all but officially over. The fact that he’s known this day was coming for weeks didn’t make it any easier to accept. Now that it had arrived, it was time to make the hard decisions. Was he going to fight to the end and go scorched earth on those that had supported his policies and then threw him under a bus as soon as their alliance became inconvenient. The idea had some merit; there wasn’t much more he desired at this point than a little bit of revenge. He thought back to an old Star Trek movie where ethe villain told Kirk that revenge was a dish best served cold. He smirked at the idea of dragging them all down with him.

The other was to simply accept that fate had dealt him a bad hand this time and walk away from the table with his head held high and a little bit of his self-esteem still intact. That option wasn’t as appealing as the revenge tour to his broken ego, but it was the far more sensible route. What was really to be gained at this point? Nothing he could do would change any of it.

Still, it pissed him off something awful to think that the very people that had stood and cheered him at the State of the Union address back in back in May, just days before the first outbreaks were reported, were now hanging him out to dry.

The pollical animal in him understood that it was time for pollical self-preservation and the members of congress were just doing what needed to be done for the good of the party and their own survival. Not that he believed for a minute they were going to retain power.
They’d applauded his moves and enthusiastically voted in favor of his measures to try to control the spread of the virus, and the American people all knew it. He may be the one they are scapegoating but he was far from the only one on his way out. With his early exit he could reserve the best tee times because come November the golf courses were going to be full of former members of congress.

“Here’s to you Edward.” He said glumly raising his glass to the senator pictured on the television. “Be careful what you wish for buddy, you might just get it.”

Fuller tipped the glass and downed the last of the alcohol with in. He stared vacantly at the TV for another moment then stood and pitched the glass across the room. He smiled as it shattered against the opposite wall. Venting the anger felt good and he looked for something else to destroy. He seized the table next to the chair and flipped it on its side, sending its contents scattering across the carpeted floor. He grabbed it and lifted it high above his head intending to smash it off the floor, but an urgent voice called though the closed door.

“Mr. President? Are you alright sir?” It was the head of his security detail Bill Fielding.

“Yes Bill, I’m fine. Just had a little accident.” Fuller called back.

“Do you need housekeeping to help with the mess sir?” Fielding asked.

Fuller smiled. Bill was sharp. He knew he was throwing a fit. “I will need them but maybe in a bit. I’m not ready to deal with anyone at the moment.” Fuller answered back.

“Understood sir.”

Fuller placed the table he was holding, back down in its place, unsmashed. He glumly set about picking up the stuff he’d dumped off the top in his moment of rage.

“Temper, temper Bobby, my boy.” He chastised himself as he reached under a sofa to retrieve an ash tray that has skittered under. “Pitching a fit like a seven yar old who didn’t get the toy wanted for Christmas isn’t exactly Presidential.”

He sighed at that last part. Nothing he did was going to be very presidential for long. The time had finally to let it all go had arrived. He’d held the break on this runaway train for as long as he could but now it had burnt his hand. It was time to leave it for someone else to try.

He walked over to the in-house phone and lifted it to his ear. A moment later it was answered. “Yes Mr. President.”

“Can you have Lia and the speech writer Malkovich meet me in the Oval office in fifteen minutes please?” he asked.

“Yes sir. I will them know.”

“Excellent. Thank you.” He hung up the phone feeling lighter than he had in weeks.

Accepting one’s fate was a liberating feeling. Now it was time to put the whole mess to bed for the good of everyone, including himself.

***************
Friday October 9th 8:15am:

The White House press room

The President stepped up to the podium, speech in hand and looked out at the assembled press corps. He had invited his entire cabinet and VP Carlyle to attend, and they all stood behind him as he took the stage.

His mind wandered for a moment as he looked out at the seated press corps, remembering how when he first took office, the room was filled to capacity on a daily basis. Now however, thanks to the virus less than 1/3 of the seats in the room were filled and all by women. Not a single male to be found among them. It as a poignant reminder of how badly he’d failed the American people.

“Thank you all for coming. I’m sorry to roust you all out of bed so early this morning.” He said with a small grin.

A ripple of respectful laughter ran through the room. He appreciated their effort to make this feel as normal as possible. When a man stands at the foot of the gallows you don’t do things to make him feel worse it seemed.

“As you well know the Congress has voted and found me guilty of all charges that have been levied against me. While I may not agree with their verdict, it is certainly well within their purview to bring impeachment forward when a member of the government is believed to be acting against what’s best for the people of our great country.”

Fuller paused for a moment and looked out over the room again trying to keep control of his emotions. This was harder than he imagined it would be. He felt tears wanting to well up and squashed the wave of self-pity and despair down hard. He would be damned if the last picture the people saw of him was him bawling like a baby.

“So it is with a heavy heart that I’ve come to you today to announce that I am resigning my position as president for the good of the country effective as of 5pm eastern time tomorrow afternoon. I feel this is the most prudent way to handle the situation we find ourselves in and the quickest road to recovery for all involved. Congress has far more important things to do these days than drag on about my failings as president.”

Fuller swallowed the large lump that had formed in his throat before continuing. “To the American people, I’d like to offer my personal apologies for how badly off the rails my policies have gone since the outbreak. Though my intentions were good it’s obvious now how badly I misjudged the situation. For my part I regret the way things have gone and take full blame upon myself for this government’s failures. As the saying goes, the buck stops here. I am the president and it’s my responsibility to guide this great country of ours along and when the course I set has become FUBAR it’s my job to take full responsibility. That is what I’m doing today. Thank you for allowing me to be your leader. I’m sorry I didn’t not live up to expectations.”

Fuller took one last moment to look over the room again. Every reporter in the place had their hands up looking to ask questions but the time for answering them was done, for him anyhow. Now it would be Davis Carlyle’s turn, for a few weeks anyhow. Until the party was voted out en messe.

He turned his back on the press corps, choosing instead to face the people he owed the largest apology to, his cabinet. They had all stood by his side and now would be forever labeled as co-conspirators in the cluster fuck his administration had become.

He took a moment to shake the hand of each and every one of them and thank them for their time and support. At the end of the line stood Carlyle Davis. Fuller steeped in front of him and took his hand.

“Mr. Vice President, the country is now in your hands.” He told him.

“Thank you, Mr. President. I will do my best to finish the job you’ve started.” Davis told him sincerely.

Fuller looked him in the eye and saw a glint of self-satisfaction in there. Thinking back to earlier words about Edwards, the soon to be former president leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Just be careful what you wish for Davis, you just might get it.”

*******************
Confirmed cases: 135,678,290

Actual cases: 184,571,943

End part 26

Thank you for taking the time to read my little transgender dystopia. As always please leave a comment.
Hugs
Amanda