He felt sick to his stomach. Nothing about this was feeling right at all. The eighteen-year-old soldier continued to mumble to himself furiously the entire time it took him to pack his hotel room. And by the time he was ready to leave, he still hadn’t decided what to do. There had to be a way to do the right thing, but he was very worried it was too late for him to wind up a good guy.
30 June in the Month of March
“Hello, dear. How are we feeling today?” Dr. Kenneth Williams leaned down and kissed the papery dry cheek of the young woman lying on the hospital bed. He didn’t expect an answer after fourteen years of silence. He was just accustomed to speaking with his daughter like this in some vain hope that someday she might hear and know he loved her.
He visited June often, though not often enough, his guilt-ridden conscience told him. He made sure she had the best of care in the basement of this hospital building he designed specifically around her needs. Out of habit, he checked her chart clipped to the foot of her bed. No change.
Long ago, he assigned a trusted meta female named Esther to oversee his June’s every daily need. The meta stood discreetly outside the doors now, allowing the doctor time alone with his daughter.
“Well, I’m working on your cure, my dear. I’ve sent two of my top soldiers to retrieve the serum I just know will get you feeling better,” he said as he absently adjusted her sheets up around her shoulders.
“You remember Farrow. She is working with a meta named Creed to make it all happen. We’re just days away from your cure, then we’ll get to enjoy walks in the garden and shopping at only the most exclusive shops; just as I used to do with your mother.”
“You have your whole life before you, my sweet June. You’ll see. Daddy will fix everything for you.” He smiled as warmly as his leathery face would allow at his pride and joy.
June lay as still as a stone. No matter what he did, Dr. Williams felt her accusatory silence pierce his soul, but not for much longer. Farrow and Creed would bring back the cure. They had to.
Chirping came from his breast pocket. A phone call.
“Reporting in, sir,” Farrow said obediently.
“Status?” Williams said, still staring at his baby girl lying helpless in the hospital room bed.
“Creed has followed directives thus far, and we’re on schedule,” she informed robotically.
“Well done, Farrow,” Williams smiled at his daughter feeling more confident than ever things would be different soon.
“What are your feelings about Creed? Is he going to follow through? Or has he gotten too close to the subjects? Do I need to send you reinforcements?”
“So far, he seems on target. I’ll keep a watchful eye and let you know. But sir, no reinforcements will be necessary. I’ll take care of things myself if need be,” Farrow concluded as any soldier would.
“I am confident in your abilities. Keep me informed.”
“As you wish, sir.” Her voice was like syrup on the phone, but that was exactly why he had chosen her to aid in this most important assignment. She was a valuable weapon, as he had determined female metas could be. Farrow was beautiful and voluptuous but as deadly as a viper. Yes, women had their secret weapons no man could duplicate.
“If you find it helpful, feel free to befriend the male metas,” Dr. Williams added knowingly.
“I will do whatever is necessary to complete the objectives, sir.” Her voice was like butter on a piece of hot bread.
“I know you will,” Williams smiled into the phone. “If Creed becomes a liability, I know you’ll take care of him, too.”
“As you wish, Director,” Farrow smiled widely.
31 Professional Courtesy
“Leaving so soon, Creed?” a sultry voice whispered from behind him at the hotel’s checkout desk. He didn’t even turn around. He knew who she was. He could smell her perfume.
The guest relations guy, who had been helping with the checkout, stopped to look up at the exchange. He couldn’t help but stare. The girl was gorgeous. Creed ignored his envious ogling and finished signing the receipt in front of him. He grabbed his large suitcase easily, turned and started walking away.
“You can stop following me, Farrow,” Creed growled once they were out of eavesdropping range.
“Oh, but I can’t. I have my orders, too, you know,” she said with a smile on her beautiful lips.
“Your orders are to follow me?”
“My orders are to be sure your objectives are achieved.” Her voice was crisp.
“What are you supposed to do if I don’t achieve objective?”
“I finish where you left off,” she smiled innocently at her fellow meta.
They had stopped walking and were staring at each other in the sunny hotel parking lot.
“And what happens to me?”
Farrow’s deceptively slender shoulders shrugged noncommittally. “I hope we don’t have to cross that bridge, Creed.” She reached out and touched the collar of his shirt, as though straightening it. Creed reflexively jerked away from her.
Since he first met her some six months ago, she had tried to use her charms on him. She came across, at first, as a thoughtful, intelligent woman, but he learned those were just her weapons. She was poisonous. Fortunately, he hadn’t opened up to her at all. If there was one thing he had learned about himself it was that he hated deceit. That’s probably why Meg’s naïveté struck him as so refreshing and sexy. Meg Winter was the polar opposite of Farrow Schone.
Farrow was pretending to pout at his obvious rejection. He wasn’t falling for it. Not one bit.
Over the last six months he had watched this woman carefully. He knew she was a trained sniper, deadly fighter and extremely intelligent. Those skills, coupled with her innocent-looking beauty made her about the scariest meta Creed knew.
“I’ve been invited by the family to stay at their guest house,” he said, aware of his muscles flexing involuntarily.
“Goodie,” Farrow cooed. “Please stay in touch. I don’t want to have to come knocking on the door.” She stopped, faced Creed directly, and raised one beautifully arched brow before adding, “but I will if I have to—or, if you want me to.” She slipped a smolderingly wicked smile across her full lips. “I would appreciate your showing me professional courtesy.”
“Right,” Creed’s jaw tightened in anger.
Just as he turned to walk away from her and toward his car, he heard her phone vibrate in her handbag. “You can tell Williams that I’m being a good boy and obeying all orders,” he called condescendingly over his shoulder.
32 Faith
The guest house was more than comfortable, though simple enough. There was a large bed with freshly washed sheets and an extra blanket folded neatly beside four of the fluffiest pillows Creed had ever seen. In the back was a small kitchen and bathroom stocked with all the essentials. The windows were easily opened allowing the ocean breeze to move freely through the small space. Creed could even hear the ocean waves as they rolled and crashed and retreated down on the beach.
But no matter how comfortable the bed, or how rhythmic the ocean sounds, or how tired his body, sleep was never easy for Creed. It was his mind that wouldn’t be calm at night and it had always been this way. Back at the Facility he would spend hours listening to the meta soldiers snoring soundly in their meager bunks while he tossed and turned trying to quiet his mind. He eventually learned to exist on far less sleep than most. Usually he could achieve a good three or four hours a night. Usually.
So it came as no surprise to Creed that he lay staring out of the open window at the bright stars glowing against the velvet black night.
The next morning, Creed woke feeling exhausted and drained. He was lying in musky, damp sheets now, having sweat through his thin T-shirt and shorts.
A slight groan escaped his throat when he threw his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. He wasn’t looking forward to what he had to do today, but what choice did he have? He knew he had to act soon befor
e Farrow decided she needed to take over.
Creed began walking toward the bathroom as he thought. Farrow’s version of “achieving objectives” with the Winter family and their friends would turn in to an all-out bloodbath. He couldn’t let that happen. He knew he wanted to keep casualties to a minimum, preferably none at all, but he still hadn’t figured out how he was going to pull that off.
The hot water felt amazing on his back. Creed stood in the shower much longer than he usually would have. He let the pulsing spray dig into his skin in hopes that some great idea would occur to him, but he was procrastinating, and he knew it. Angrily, he flipped the shower off and grabbed a towel.
He tried to psych himself back into the mindset he needed to get through the task at hand. This is just a means to an end, Creed. You know what you have to do, and you can do it with the least harm coming to these people. No matter what Williams says he’ll give you for doing this, in the end you know this family is in for trouble and it may as well come from you so you can minimize the damage. If you really care about Meg, you need to get her the help she needs and that help can only come from Williams. Just get the metas back to Germany. Focus, Creed. Do your job because you know you have to.
He stood staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, completely dressed, but still unable to get to where he was ready to leave.
A knock at the front door jarred Creed from his solemn reverie. The pity party was over immediately, and his game face was on. “I’m coming,” he called as he hurried across the room to the door. He opened it and stood face to face with Dr. Winter.
“Good morning, Creed,” she smiled. “Are you hungry for breakfast?”
He saw right away the dark circles under her eyes. She looked like she had aged five years in one night.
“Oh, I’d be fine with just a glass of milk,” he said trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed how haggard she looked. “How about I cook something for you? I’m pretty good in the kitchen, you know. Well, at basic stuff. I can fry a mean egg,” he offered politely.
“I might just take you up on that someday, but Paulie is the chef this morning,” she smiled ruefully. “No telling what he’s cooked up for us. He keeps trying to perfect local dishes and well…I’d rather not know what concoction he’s created this morning. I usually end up with coffee and a piece of toast on the days Paulie cooks,” she said with a tired smile.
“Coffee does sound good,” Creed said opening the door to the house for Dr. Winter before following her in.
“Evan was up all night with Meg, so he’s taking a nap now, and Alik is on watch. I’ll be relieving him after I grab a bite to eat,” Margo said as though she were casually discussing the 7am news.
“How is Meg this morning?” Creed asked hesitantly.
“About the same as she was after we gave her the blood transfusion last night. At least she’s not worse,” the worry lines grew deeper in her brow just talking about her daughter.
The two walked into the aroma-filled gourmet kitchen.
“Morning, Creed,” Paulie said with obvious forced chipperness. He looked almost as exhausted as Margo.
“Good morning, sir. Can I give you a hand with anything?” Creed asked trying to be of some help. His guilt-o-meter was flipped all the way into the red range. These were good people, probably the best people he ever met, and he was here to hurt them. Crap.
“Yeah, can you stir the sauce over there on the stove? It just brings out the rich flavor of the squid. You’ll love it!” he said happily.
Margo exchanged a look with Creed that said, I tried to warn you, didn’t I?
“Squid for breakfast, eh?” he said taking up a wooden spoon to stir the sauce.
“Oh yeah! The locals love it! I got this recipe from a rather large Samoan lady who used to teach marine biology at the university. I tell you what, if that woman hadn’t already been married I would have pursued her myself just for her cooking!” Paulie looked over at Creed mischievously and winked.
Creed couldn’t help but laugh at the good-natured old guy. Even Margo was giggling. She really was a beautiful woman when she smiled.
“What are we laughing at?” Dr. Andrews asked as he walked into the kitchen and headed directly for the coffee pot.
“Paulie’s telling us about his love life, or lack thereof,” Margo teased.
“Gee, I’m glad I missed that.” Theo smiled over at Margo as though they shared an intimate secret.
Creed wondered how these people could be so obviously stressed and terrified for Meg, yet maintain a sense of humor and closeness. He was willing to play along, but he still didn’t understand it.
All three of these doctors had every reason not to trust him, but they did. They all had every reason to shake their fists to the sky and hate everyone and everything out of spite because one of their own was critically ill in the next room, but they didn’t.
Margo had more reason than any of them to hate, but she didn’t. She had given up everything to live in hiding with three children who weren’t even her blood. She suffered horribly at the hands of Williams. She has to know things are going to be a whole lot worse before they’re better. How can she feel any sense of peace? Yet, Creed could see it in her eyes that she did.
“What is it Creed?” her voice came from the other side of his thoughtful fog.
“Hum?”
“You have a strange look on your face. What were you thinking?” Margo asked him even as she handed him a glass of milk.
“I have to ask you something,” he said unsurely.
“Okay, shoot.” Margo said.
“It’s obvious you love your children, so how is it that you’re able to keep your spirits up when we all know Meg is so sick?”
“Isn’t that obvious, too?” she asked cocking her head to one side studying him even as he studied her. “I have faith, Creed.” Margo’s voice was steady and sure.
“Faith, ma’am?”
“Yes, faith that God’s will, will be done. That is how I stay strong. My faith that God’s hand is on Meg—on all of us, is solid.”
“God. God is your strength?” Creed asked skeptically. “No offense, but you’re a scientist. Don’t you have more faith in science to cure Meg?”
“Of course, not. Any ‘cures’ that may come our way will be there because God allowed them to be there.” Margo was pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Hasn’t anyone ever talked to you about your soul, son?” Dr. Andrews was looking intently at Creed.
“My soul? I don’t think I have one, sir,” Creed responded without thinking. He had never shared his fear of being soulless with anyone before.
“Of course you have a soul, Creed,” Margo said matter-of-factly.
“How do you know?” Creed asked waiting for some philosophical explanation that would be easily refuted because he wasn’t a human being.
“Because I can see it in your eyes,” she said simply.
Creed stared at her as though he had never seen her before. He watched her soft, brown eyes full of sincerity. She made a pretty tough argument.
Awkwardly, Creed answered, “Um, if you say so. Thanks, Dr. Winter.”
“Oh, please call me, Margo.”
“And me, Theo.”
“And me, Paulie. Now, let’s eat!”
“Say grace with me first, you old coot!” Margo smiled widely at her old friend, bowed her head and began saying a blessing over the food.
Creed wanted to crawl into a hole like the soulless snake he knew he was.
33 Final Countdown
Evan spent the night in the lab working on his mother’s request. And true to his word, he was able to extract the original serum from his own DNA blood samples inside five hours. He made three sets of the serum. One, he assumed would travel with Meg, one would remain here at the lab as a backup, and the third was a backup to the backup. No one but his mom and he would know about the third batch. No one needed to know. It was a contingency plan he hadn’t even concocted yet, but
knew life well enough to know it is always a good idea to have a plan B.
He put batches one and two in the laboratory’s locked refrigerator. Before he did the same with the third, he first slipped into a small, self-contained cooling unit. As he sealed it shut, it made a sucking, vacuum-like hiss before it locked into place. Satisfied, he put the whole unit into the fridge and closed the door. He finished cleaning up his materials before Alik arrived to take over watch. He didn’t want to worry his brother any more than he already was.
“Hey, man,” Alik called to his baby brother when he was finished scrubbing in. “How’s our patient?”
“Alik, hey. She’s the same. Stats are constant. Fever down. I just finished documenting everything on her chart, so she’s good to go for you.” Evan’s eyes looked over his sister’s face and welled with tired tears. Gone were the days of stoic, detached Evan; he’d cried more in the last few days than his entire life previous.
“Great. Good deal, Ev. I got it from here. You go on and get some sleep, okay?” Alik knew his brother better than anyone else and to see his formerly unemotional little brother suffering so deeply was making everything feel even more desperate.
“Right,” Evan sniffed. He turned and walked stiffly out of the room.
Alik could hear the whoosh of the sliding doors as his brother stepped on the sensor. Then again, the woosh of the doors closing behind him. He glanced up and saw the top of his baby brother’s head as he pulled off the scrubs he was wearing and tossed them into the biohazard hamper. He pulled on his plain blue T-shirt and walked out of sight.
“Well, big sister, it’s just the two of us,” Alik said, trying to pretend his sister was just sleeping and not on death’s door.
He reached over and grabbed the clip board off of the table beside him. He saw his brother’s notes written in his typical neat script. The last note was written about ten minutes ago. Alik put the clip board down softly, so as not to disturb his sister.
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