by Bianca D’Arc
“I know our late, unlamented colleague, Dr. Sellars, asked for your help with a certain formula. I also know that you solved his little scientific dilemma. You gave him the missing link to his equation. What do you think your military friends would think about that?”
She could say nothing to his threat. The commander wouldn’t understand. He’d already read her the riot act about having continued her research to work on the serum she’d developed. That could be excused, he’d told her, because it saved lives. But he’d never understand why she’d helped Sellars. He’d never understand how Sellars had played on her vanity and her naïveté, coming to her with compliments and supposedly innocent questions.
She’d helped Sellars complete his chemical equations and solve the little scientific puzzles he’d posed to her. Only later did she piece together the conversations and realize he’d been using her. She had contributed to his new version of the contagion and she hadn’t even known it at the time.
No way would Commander Sykes or his military superiors understand how stupid she’d been. They’d lock her up and throw away the key if they knew. And nobody would ever trust her again.
Sandra couldn’t afford that. Not when she was finally working on a way to redeem her mistakes. She wanted the chance to solve the zombie problem once and for all. A scientific solution that would render the contagion obsolete. Her after-exposure serum was the first step. She only needed time and funding to perfect it. From there, she’d move on to a preventative that would stop the contagion in its tracks before it had a chance to infect anyone else.
“I can see I’ve given you something to think about.”
“What do you want?” The words were dragged from her in a pained whisper. She could see her plans for the future—her plans for redemption—crumbling before her eyes.
“I want the same thing you gave Sellars. Your help. Your knowledge. Your expertise on the intricacies of our creation. I’m refining it, you know. Making it better. Making the creatures more intelligent. Not by much, I’ll grant you, but enough so they’re able to follow simple directions.” He looked inordinately pleased by the horror he’d created. “They make a much better army when you can keep them under control.” His obvious glee made her sick to her stomach. Only a fiend would find glory in the death, torture, and subjugation of others.
“You want me to work with you on the contagion?” Her voice was flat, dull. She felt her own horror growing at what he was trying to force her into. Worse yet, she didn’t see that she had any alternative.
“Yes, Sandra. I want you on my team.”
She heard a distant flushing sound. The sound of all her hopes and dreams going down the toilet.
“I just joined another team. You’re too late.” She had to try to salvage this situation.
“It’s never too late.” Rodriguez looked over his shoulder at something behind him on the road. “You think about what I’ve said. I’ll give you a little time to come to your senses, but I won’t wait long.” He slammed his hand on the hood of her car, right over her head. It was a frustrated move, and she realized why he was retreating. Flashing lights shone in her rearview mirror, drawing closer.
Saved by the cavalry. At least for now.
Rodriguez flicked a business card at her. She caught it in a reflexive move and glanced at it. It wasn’t printed. It was just a blank card with a handwritten number on it.
“Call me.”
He climbed into his car and sped away before she could tell him it would be a cold day in hell before she called him. The highway patrol car pulled up behind her, and she was occupied with the concerned young officer for the next fifteen minutes while he verified her identity and waited with her for a tow truck. He either didn’t notice or didn’t comment on the way her tire had blown. It hadn’t died of natural causes. It had been blown off by a bullet. One that was even now lodged in the old rim.
Luckily, car repair places weren’t like hospitals. They weren’t required by law to report gunshot wounds to their patients. With a well-placed donation, she ought to be able to get her car fixed with no questions asked. Either that or she could invent a sob story of some kind. It would depend on the nature of the mechanic who answered the summons for a tow truck.
As it turned out, Sandra hadn’t needed to resort to either method. The guy who sold her a set of rear tires didn’t bat an eyelash at the damage. He was more concerned about getting her to buy two tires instead of the one she needed to replace. She let him spin his tale about how the tires needed to be balanced properly and then quietly paid for two overpriced retreads. Anything to get back on the road.
She managed to pull into the base entrance only a couple of hours behind schedule. She stopped at the guard shack to identify herself and show the papers she’d been given, inviting her here. They searched her car and before they were through, Matt Sykes showed up, a concerned wrinkle between his brows.
“I heard you had some trouble on the road,” he said as he walked up to her. “Glad to see you made it here all right.” He shook her hand, and she could tell he was moderating his strength so he wouldn’t crush her fingers.
That was considerate. She’d shared too many handshakes with men who didn’t realize they were crunching her bones in their gorilla grips. It was nice to see the commander was thoughtful enough to consider such things.
“How’d you know about the flat tire?” She blurted out the question before she thought better of it.
“You’re too important to this team to take chances with, Sandra.” He tugged off his sunglasses, pinning her with his compelling, dark blue stare. “The minute that trooper ran your I.D., it sent up an alert that reached my desk a few minutes later. If you’ll recall, I was against your driving here all by yourself. It would’ve made more sense to fly. We could’ve had you here in an hour.”
“Yes, but I would have had to leave my car and all my possessions behind. Or worse, let them be sorted and packed by strangers.” She made a face just thinking of such an invasion of her privacy.
“You let us pack up the rest of your stuff to put in storage. I don’t see the difference.” He truly didn’t. She could see it in his expression. Typical of a man. He wouldn’t think twice of letting a stranger handle his jockey shorts. She noticed he didn’t comment on her car, he merely looked at it quizzically.
“Trust me. There is a huge difference. I brought the things with me that I didn’t want to leave in storage. My clothes and other personal stuff.”
He looked at the relatively empty backseat with one raised eyebrow. “You travel light.”
She had to chuckle at his hopeful tone. “It’s all in the trunk.”
He wandered the few feet over to the back of the car where an MP was letting his dog sniff the contents of her open trunk. It was filled with boxes and a few garment bags that contained a portion of her wardrobe and personal items. The dog hopped down, having found nothing objectionable, and the MP stepped away. The car had been cleared for entry to the base.
“Interesting choice of vehicle.” Finally, Matt commented on the land yacht. It had taken longer than most, which was impressive. But in the end, everyone was curious about the giant old vehicle.
“It was my dad’s,” she said simply. The short answer seemed to satisfy him. He only nodded briefly and put his sunglasses back on, hiding his gorgeous denim-colored eyes.
“If you’ll follow me, I’ll lead you to your lab. You’ll be quartered in the same building. I’ll show you the best place to park and help get your stuff inside.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” Sandra was impressed at his offer of assistance. He really was making her feel welcome. It was more than she’d expected.
Too bad it was under false pretenses. At least on her part. The scene with Rodriguez had kept replaying in her mind as she’d driven the last miles to base. She didn’t know what to do. She certainly didn’t want to work for the bad guys. Rodriguez was a worm. No, he was lower than a worm. He was scum. She wouldn’
t throw her lot in with him no matter what.
But how could she avoid having him spill the beans about what she’d done? She was in deep trouble and couldn’t see a feasible way out. Not yet at least. She’d try to play along for now and hope something changed before Rodriguez decided to force her hand.
Commander Sykes hopped back into the jeep he’d driven to the gate and led the way through the maze of buildings. She would need a map to find her way around until she got her bearings. After a lengthy drive through several outlying areas of the large base, he finally pulled into a spacious, mostly uninhabited lot and parked his jeep near a side door to one of the buildings it bordered.
Sandra parked the Caddy beside him and got out, stretching the kinks out of her back. It had been a long ride. She wasn’t used to road trips—or being run off the road, for that matter. Things in her life had definitely taken a turn for the strange and frightening. She was doing things and dealing with people she never would have before. She didn’t like it at all but had no idea how to go back to the way things used to be.
She and that first scientific team had let the genie out of the bottle. Now she had to do everything possible to cram it back in and make certain it could never escape again.
Sandra opened her trunk, noting three muscular, uniformed men rounding the corner of the building. She thought nothing of them until they veered in her direction. Matt greeted them and turned to face her; the imposing group ranged behind him.
“These are a few of the men you’ll be working with,” he informed her. “You probably remember Captain Beauvoir and Private Kauffman from the op on Long Island.”
“How could I forget?” She shook hands with Beauvoir and Kauffman as they stepped forward. “How are you, Captain?”
“Very well, thank you, ma’am.” He favored her with an intense smile. Xavier Beauvoir was one heck of a good-looking man. Shaggy blond-streaked brown hair, sparkling whiskey-colored eyes, and a physique that just wouldn’t quit. He’d run the operation on Long Island. The man was sharp as a tack despite his lazy Cajun drawl. Still waters definitely ran deep with him.
Matt continued the introductions. “This is Simon Blackwell. He’s a retired Navy SEAL, now working for us on a contractual basis. He’s one of my men from Quantico.”
She understood what that meant. No doubt this Blackwell fellow had been involved in the initial infestation. If he was still involved, he was more than likely naturally immune to the contagion.
“Good to meet you.” She shook his hand as well, feeling guilty all over again about having released the first round of monsters. If not for her stupidity, this man would never have been exposed to the contagion. He’d probably lost friends to it, too. All because of her.
After the introductions, each of the guys picked a few boxes or bags out of her trunk and headed for the entrance to the building. She was surprised. She’d assumed that Matt had volunteered to help her carry her belongings. She should have realized he had volunteered his men to help her instead. Why would a navy commander waste precious time moving boxes and bags when he had a troop of men at his beck and call to do the work?
With the men doing the heavy lifting, it took only two trips back and forth to bring all of her belongings inside. Matt had gone in with her, showing her to a small dormitory-style room and giving her a key. He stayed inside, talking with her while the men schlepped her stuff up to her room.
“Your lab is fully equipped and waiting for you in the subbasement of this building. You can access it from the flight of stairs down the hall, but you’ll need your base I.D. and this key.” He handed her another old-fashioned metal key on a small ring. “I’d like to take you over to get your base I.D. as soon as you’re settled so you can have access to every area you need right away.”
She looked at her watch. She was totally beat, but she understood his reasoning. Chances were she couldn’t really go anywhere without base identification.
“I can go now, if that’s convenient.” She gave in to the inevitable even though she would rather have taken a few minutes to recuperate from her long drive.
Matt grinned. “Perfect.”
Simon delivered the last of her belongings, and Matt dismissed the men. They waved good-bye to her and went on their way. She took a minute to look in the small mirror mounted on the wall above a chest of drawers and patted her hair back into place. They’d take a photo, she was sure. It couldn’t be helped. She looked decent, but she’d never been very photogenic.
She followed Matt out to the parking lot. They took his vehicle, leaving hers parked where it was for now. It had a temporary pass on the dash that had been issued by the gate guard. That would keep it safe while she attended to more pressing matters.
“How is Lieutenant Archer doing?” she asked as Matt drove.
“Driving the nurses crazy.” Matt’s tone invited laughter. “He’s at the hospital, in a secure wing, waiting for you as soon as you’re ready to go over and check him out.”
She hadn’t liked the idea of leaving her patient, but Sam was in good hands. She’d been told there was another medical doctor on the team—a woman who’d dealt with an immune soldier before. Sandra had consulted with Dr. Mariana Daniels by phone before even considering leaving Sam in her care. The woman, while not a career researcher, had impressed Sandra with her understanding of the contagion and the way it affected the human body. She also had firsthand experience with immunity to it and understood what to look for in Sam’s recovery.
“Could you drop me at the hospital after we get the I.D.?”
Matt seemed pleased by her request. “Definitely.” He turned into another parking lot and found a space. “In fact, I’d like you to tell Sam to come see me as soon as he’s fit for duty. I have new orders for him.”
“I’ll be sure to pass that along. If everything checks out, I’m going to release him today. Dr. Daniels sent me his test results electronically, and everything looks good.”
“That’s great news, doctor.” He held the door for her as she entered the building. “We can use every man on this team that we can get.”
The I.D. process was relatively painless. There was the dreaded photo, of course. And then a short wait for security to produce the card that contained a coded microchip. The chip would grant her access to specific areas of the base. With it, she would be able to come and go as she pleased in the areas she had been cleared to enter.
Matt drove her to the base hospital and stopped the car, but didn’t park it. “I have to get back to work,” he explained. “Call this number”—he gave her a slip of paper with a number scrawled on it—“when you’re ready to leave. One of the guys will come over and drive you back to your quarters.”
“Thanks for taking me around, Commander.” She hopped down from the jeep.
“It was my pleasure, doctor.” He looked like he wanted to say more but seemed to think better of the impulse. She shut the door and he tipped his fingers to her in a casual salute as he drove off.
Sandra turned toward the door and realized he’d placed her at the perfect entrance to the base hospital. The first thing she saw when she crossed the threshold was the personnel office. She’d have to check in with them before she could start roaming the halls and seeing her patient.
A few minutes later, with a shiny new sticker on her new I.D. card, she went to find Sam.
Across the base, another new member of the team was placing a difficult phone call.
“Hi, Dad. It’s me, Sarah.”
Sarah Petit, former Suffolk County police officer and newly hired military consultant, tried to break the news of her new job to her father. She hadn’t been looking forward to this phone call. Her father was a retired NYPD detective who’d never understood why his little girl would want to be a cop.
“Sarah, honey, what’s this I hear about you quitting the force?”
Crap. He’d already heard. “I was offered a really excellent opportunity with the government, Dad. I took it and I’m already
on my way to start my first assignment.”
The grim silence on the other end of the line didn’t bode well. Finally, her father spoke.
“Does this have something to do with the matter of national security you stumbled into?” He emphasized the words letting her know he’d heard all about the cover story the military had fed to the local authorities about her involvement.
“How did you hear about that?” She realized as soon as the words were out of her mouth what a stupid question that was. Big John Petit was still connected, no matter how long he’d been retired from the force.
“Did you know your Chief O’Hara was an old acquaintance of mine?”
“Dad! Have you been spying on me the whole time I’ve been a county cop?” She thought she knew the answer to that one already, too.
“It wasn’t spying, Sarah. O’Hara and I talked from time to time. It’s only natural your name came up. He was really pleased with your work, sweetheart. I was so proud. But he called me last week saying you’d been in the hospital and now were working for the feds.”
“Why didn’t you ask me directly? I would’ve told you what I could.”
“The phone works both ways, Sarah. Why didn’t you even tell me you’d been in the hospital? You know I would’ve been right there with you if I’d known my only daughter had been hurt on the job. Attacked by two thugs in an abandoned building, and I had to hear it a week later from your chief!”
Okay, so she’d screwed up on that score. She should’ve called her dad, but she’d been afraid of just such a reaction. He’d have called her brothers, and they would have enveloped her in a layer of virtual bubble wrap for her own protection. Meaning they would have closed ranks around her, and all the work she’d done with Xavier—her new fiancé—would never have happened. They’d have made it impossible.
Speaking of Xavier, her family didn’t know about him yet, either. Oh, boy.
She took a deep breath.
“Okay, Dad. I’m sorry. Things happened really fast after the incident, and I wasn’t really hurt anyway.”