Degrees of Wrong

by Anna Scarlett

  “Furious.”

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  Anna Scarlett

  He raised a brow. “Are you in pain? He used the lowest setting on you.

  You’ve only been out for an hour.”

  “Where are we?” Hot damn, I sounded livid.

  “I asked if you were in pain.”

  “Thank you for your concern, but I’m not in any pain. You people really need to reconsider the use of tasers. The neurological damage you can cause far

  outweighs the temporary advantage you have over your victims.” I doubted he

  cared a snit about the neurological damage of his victims—he was probably the

  Superintendent of the Information Extraction Room.

  He chuckled. “I am sorry about that. We didn’t think you’d come willingly.

  Would you like something to eat? To drink?”

  “Is this a tea party, then?”

  Another chuckle. “No.”

  “Have I been arrested?”

  “No.”

  I strained against my bindings. He motioned to one of the clone-like guards,

  who freed me. I placed my hands in my lap in a show of poise—for now. These

  people excelled at the anticipation part of torture.

  I huffed. “Do I have to guess why I’m here? There are rules though, okay? If

  I’m close, you have to say ‘hot’, and if I’m not close—”

  “You’re very irritable, Dr. Morgan.” He uncrossed his arms and dragged the

  only other chair across the room to sit in front of me. The noise of it scraping

  across the concrete floor nearly gave me an eye twitch—another form of torture,

  no doubt. “Our mission was search and rescue. We came close to failing that

  mission.”

  I rubbed my neck and winced at the new pain. “Rescue? Are you sure? Felt

  more like a kidnapping to me.” Besides, I wasn’t in any danger when he found

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  Degrees of Wrong

  me. The fight was moving away from us, toward the village. Dear God, the village.

  “What about the others? Were you able to save—?”

  “It was a specific mission.”

  I shot forward, creaking the chair. “You—you came to the island looking for

  me?”

  “Not just us. Who do you think we were protecting you from?”

  “They came for me? I can’t believe that. All the killing, the brutality—an extermination. You’re saying I could have prevented it all by turning myself

  over?”

  The straight line of his mouth dipped into a frown. “It wouldn’t have

  prevented the killing. They would have done it anyway. You just would have

  been first.”

  I closed my eyes, remembering the arrival of the first soldiers to the island.

  They’d flown in on their choppers, jumping out when scarcely close enough to

  do so. The height should have broken their legs. These warriors were

  monstrosities though, almost twice the size of an average man, with long,

  muscled legs possessing a thickness envied by most tree trunks. Adorned in

  desert-hued livery and also masked, they carried enormous guns yielding shells

  big enough to separate a man’s upper body from his lower—firing as soon as

  their feet met with earth.

  The killings were indiscriminate and widespread. I couldn’t believe they had

  a purpose to their slaughter. I couldn’t believe their purpose was me. “Why?” I whispered. “Why me?”

  He sat back. “You have something they want. You have something we both

  want,” he amended. Even as he said it, I shook my head. “Yes. Your research on

  the Black Death has stirred quite an interest in the political arena.”

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  Anna Scarlett

  Clarity struck. The Black Death. They thought I’d found the cure to the

  HTN4 virus—the biological warfare waged by terrorists these past months. The

  disease engineered to wipe out entire cities, to debilitate continents, to weaken the unity of mankind in general, forcing them to ferret out hiding places for their children, to turn their backs on their neighbors in order to stay alive.

  They thought wrong. And a lot of people died today because of it.

  “I haven’t found the cure,” I snapped. “You’ve wasted your time.” And your

  bullets, blood and men.

  “But you’re close.”

  I scoffed. “Says who? You might have noticed, I’m not exactly leaping and

  bounding in resources here.” That was the truth. I bartered medical services for

  food and supplies to supplement the modest inheritance my parents left

  behind—hardly enough to properly fund the kind of research endeavor we

  discussed now. Still, my parents had died from the HTN4. What I lacked in

  resources I made up for in determination. My progress wasn’t the stuff of

  headlines, but more a private exertion fueled by the need for closure for my

  parents—and for the human race. His intimate knowledge of this left me feeling

  vulnerable, exposed. I wrapped my arms around myself in a protective hug.

  “We can remedy that.”

  “I don’t follow. And who is ‘we’?”

  “The United Nations.”

  I shot erect in my chair, mouth agape. “The UN sent troops looking for me?”

  I yelled, but couldn’t help it.

  The superintendent stood and paced the room. He seemed relieved we’d

  gotten to this part. “The UN has been informed of your works in this field and

  would like to offer its assistance.”

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  Degrees of Wrong

  At my raised brow he continued, “We’ve heard you’ve made progress in

  understanding the disease. We would like to offer you a deal, of sorts.” He

  seemed comfortable referring to the United Nations as “we”. I wondered what

  his rank was.

  “We will guarantee your protection, and all the supplies you require for your

  research. You’ll have access to the best equipment available. Unlimited time for

  your work. In addition, we’ll pay you—well—for your contribution.”

  Perform my research in a professional lab, with limitless resources—a scientist’s rapture. I doubted it immediately. “What if I don’t make a ‘contribution’? If I can’t do what you’re asking?”

  He stopped pacing and stood in front of me. “We’re confident in your

  abilities. We’ve researched your background. Very impressive, Dr. Morgan. You

  were the youngest individual to ever graduate from The World University of

  Medicine, at the age of twenty-one. The only child of two doctors, you displayed

  a gift in science and math at an early age…”

  Of course, they’d done their homework. This man spouting off my statistics

  knew everything about me before he even laid eyes on me. No doubt he knew

  the color and size of my moles, and what I dreamed about last night. I, on the

  other hand, had no idea where we were, or even his name.

  “What’s your name?” I blurted.

  This seemed to catch him off guard. He thought for a moment. I wanted to

  tell him the questions got much harder after this.

  “Ralph,” he said finally.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You don’t like that name?”

  “It’s slang for regurgitation.” Besides, Blue Eyes had called him something

  else—what was it?— Geoffrey.

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  Anna Scarlett

  He chuckled. “Never thought of it that way.”

  “Never thought of it at all, did you, Geoffrey?”

  “You are very observant, Doctor. Do we have a deal?” The man probably

  taught attention-deficit classes. His ability to focus annoyed me.

  “What’s the catch?” I tried to sound businesslike too. After all, that was how

  he presented it, like an everyday business transaction. Just sign here, I expected him to say. In reality, my life was changing. My stomach formed a knot that

  couldn’t be soothed by food or drink or drug—a knot of the unknown.

  He didn’t try to deny there was a catch. He sat down, leaned forward in the

  chair, hesitant. Either he was trying to build the anticipation, or he just wasn’t sure how to tell me. “You will be aboard a UOC vessel.”

  I believe that stands for United Oceanic…

  “Corps,” he finished for me. I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud, let alone

  struggled with the acronym. The UOC represented the oceanic front for the

  United Nations. When the Middle East bled their last veins of oil a few decades

  ago, the UN unveiled the earth’s first united ocean exploration team. The initial fleet of scientists evolved into an underwater military presence, a standing guard of natural resources, presumably. Beyond that, I knew little about it. I was certain the vessel to which he referred went in the water though.

  “I can’t swim,” I admitted. No doubt he was aware of this already.

  His laughter resounded off the walls and startled the twins, which I

  appreciated. “You don’t have to swim. The vessels stay submerged, and when

  you do port, you’ll be conveyed back and forth from the ship in transport pods.

  Your feet will never get wet.”

  “I can’t work in a lab on a submarine.” Of that I was positive.

  “For someone as intelligent as yourself, Doctor, one would think you’d be a

  little more in line with the times. The ships are massive. They house over one

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  thousand individuals, and can stay submerged for more than six months at a

  time. Think of it as an underwater city.”

  Not just a city below sea level. No, it was an entire other world. The knot in

  my stomach expanded the tiniest of fractions. “Why on a submarine?”

  He rolled his eyes at the word submarine—I made a mental note to always

  use that word in his presence.

  “It’s for your protection. Aside from the obvious gun power, you’ll also be

  mobile, making it more difficult for you to be located.”

  Unfortunately, it made perfect sense.

  “When?” But I knew when.

  He stood. “We’ve made arrangements for you to board tomorrow morning.

  We sent a team out to recover what’s left of your belongings. I’ll require a list of your immediate needs within an hour. You can stock your laboratory once you

  board.” He walked toward the door, paused and turned back to me. “There is

  one more thing. So as not to expose your whereabouts, you’ll be posing as a crew

  member. You will, of course, be part of the medical staff.”

  He’d saved the best for last. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. “I

  know absolutely nothing about military protocol,” I said through gritted teeth.

  He clasped his hands behind his back. “You’ll have a guide. As it happens, an old friend of yours is on board to assist you with your research and help you

  adjust to your surroundings. Dr. Lois Folsom is the directing officer of medical

  personnel aboard the vessel.”

  I doubted this had happened so much as it had been arranged. I was beginning to suspect that if they had desired me to eat oatmeal for breakfast this morning, they would have arranged my pantry in such a way as to promote it over the

  bran flakes.

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  Anna Scarlett

  Dr. Folsom was not an old friend of mine, but a friend of my mother’s, which

  I supposed made her one and the same. I last saw her at my graduation from

  medical school. So I would know one person in this underwater city of his.

  “Ralph?” I intentionally used his false name. “I haven’t accepted your

  terms.”

  The two strides it took him to get to me made the room seem smaller. I stood,

  making the guards uneasy. Geoffrey wasn’t as short as I thought. I stared at his

  neck.

  “Your acceptance is not required.”

  “I see,” I whispered. Definitely a kidnapping, then.

  His expression softened. “This is a beneficial arrangement for you, Dr.

  Morgan. I can’t think why you’d possibly refuse. It seems more of an

  opportunity than anything else.”

  Granted. Still, I didn’t like being forced to do anything. But then, what did I

  have to go back to? The island was destroyed and my home couldn’t have fared

  any better, especially considering I’d been the objective. And I couldn’t overlook the possible contribution to medicine, the suffering I could prevent. It felt

  irresponsible not to do it. Sacrifice the one for the many. I couldn’t do it earlier today because I lacked pertinent information. But I could now, in a different way and on a larger scale. Besides, it wasn’t like I had a choice—I didn’t know if these men had been ordered to kill me if I refused, and as he had mentioned earlier,

  others would be coming for me. The UN appeared to be the least of my worries

  at this point.

  I nodded. “I’ll give you a list.”

  “Excellent.”

  The Superintendent of the Information Extraction Room departed, leaving

  me with pen, paper and an ulcer.

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  Chapter Two

  I finished my list and handed it to one of the clones. He exited the room,

  leaving me with one protector. As he left, I saw him glance at the list and then do a double take. I knew which item had caught his attention and was determined

  not to be ashamed. I suffered from an addiction to chocolate and would discuss

  the matter with anyone who dared to ask. To his good credit he didn’t dare,

  although he grinned as the door closed behind him.

  That’s right, keep walking.

  I trudged back to my chair and plopped down. Time to deal with the

  inevitable. My body ached in places I didn’t remember studying in medical

  school—and the physical strain of the day wasn’t the culprit. The pent-up

  tension screamed for a release, but I hesitated, knowing I couldn’t accept what

  had happened.

  Not now, and not in a hundred lifetimes.

  Still, I had to attempt to confront my emotions somehow in order to manage

  the difficult days ahead, and this was the first quiet I’d been granted since

  waking up. Giving in, I stared at the wall in wonderment, as if a movie were

  being projected onto it. And in a way, it was.

  I relived the day over and over, recalling the initial awe as the gigantic

  copters cast large shadows across the island, preparing to discharge their cargo.

  I’d been on my way to the village to make some house calls, walking through the

  tall grass instead of the dirt path, swinging my medical kit to and fro like a

  Anna Scarlett

  carefree schoolgirl. I was certain, sitting in this desolate, empty room, that I

  would never feel that way again.

 
; I shuddered as I saw the first monster plant his feet and start firing. There

  was a group of three children armed with net and jar in the field adjacent to me, apparently in search of tiny wildlife. I’d just waved to them minutes before.

  When the choppers gathered overhead, the children delayed the hunt to gape in

  fascination at the spectacle. It would be the last thing they would see. Their

  lifeless bodies fell to the ground before they could even scream. Before I could

  even scream.

  Involuntarily, I’d dropped to my knees and vomited. Again and again, I’d

  emptied the contents of my stomach, my knees digging trenches in the dirt with

  the force of it. In retrospect, I knew the act had saved my life. When I was able to stand, I’d found the giants had passed me by altogether. I’d sprinted to the

  children, already knowing there was nothing I could do. Their deaths were

  instant, but that fact had not brought me relief then and did not console me now.

  Not in a thousand lifetimes.

  Hot, wet streams snaked down both sides of my face, and I shook my head

  to relieve it of the images in the field. I was back in the cold white room again.

  Propping elbows on knees, I buried my face in my hands. They were frigid and

  soothing to my hot cheeks.

  Ralph opened the door then, startling me from my misery. I sat up. My

  emotions were still a long way from reconciled, but I would have to finish

  sorting them later, in private. Ralph’s smile faded to alarm when he saw the

  assault of tears on my face. Furious, he fired an accusative glare at his guard,

  who returned a slight shrug. Ralph turned back to me with what looked like

  satisfaction resulting from the inaudible conversation. Curious, I tried to imagine how it went:

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  What did you do to her?

  Nothing.

  Why is she crying?

  I don’t know. She stared at the wall and spaced out. Then she started to cry.

  Women. Let’s get a beer after this, okay?

  Okay.

  I was irritable, I admitted.

  “How about something to eat?” Ralph asked. He either didn’t want to

  address my current state, or was trying to pull me out of it.

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

  “It’s just standard rations, but they’re filling, if nothing else. I’ve also made arrangements for you to have a shower.”