The Tide

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Anthony J Melchiorri

October, 2015

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Table of Contents

Title Page

Books by Anthony J Melchiorri

Prologue

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Thank you for reading.

The Tide Series Continues...

Also by Anthony J Melchiorri

About the Author

Books by Anthony J Melchiorri

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The Tide Series

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The Tide (Book 1)

Breakwater (Book 2)

Salvage (Book 3)

Deadrise (Book 4)

Iron Wind (Book 5)

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The Eternal Frontier

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Eternal Frontier (Book 1)

Edge of War (Coming 2017)

Shattered Dawn (Coming 2017)

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Black Market DNA

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Enhancement (Book 1)

Malignant (Book 2)

Variant (Book 3)

Fatal Injection

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Other Books

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The God Organ

The Human Forged

Darkness Evolved

The Tide

Copyright © 2015 by Anthony J. Melchiorri. All rights reserved.

First Edition: October 2015

http://AnthonyJMelchiorri.com

ISBN-13: 978-1-5170-7905-5

ISBN-10: 1-5170-7905-5

Cover Design: Eloise Knapp Design

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Prologue

June 23, 1944

Tokyo, Japan

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A breeze swept over the tarmac behind the Harbin Bioweapon Facility of Unit 731. The cool air provided a momentary reprieve from the suffocating, muggy summer heat, but it did nothing to assuage Shigeru Matsumoto’s hot memories of the blackened buildings, the burned bodies, the cities rendered nothing more than soot and ashes by the Americans’ firebombing.

Matsumoto’s fingers trembled, his nose scrunching into a snarl as he pictured his familial home in Yokohama. Where once the tatami mats had crunched under the feet of his elderly parents, his wife, and his children, there were left only the charred remains of a few rafters now rotting from the summer rains.

He curled his hand into a fist with exaggerated care, for the vial he held in his grip had the power to change the tide of war. Its contents were undeniably dangerous, but he kept it on him as a last resort should he find his life in the hands of a foreign invader.

“If the Americans should land within our empire, they will regret the day,” he said.

“America will bow before us and retreat back across the ocean,” Kinzo Nishiyama, a lab assistant, replied. “They will bring home only the stories of their shameful defeat.”

“There will be no invaders left to tell stories,” Matsumoto said, his voice laced with venom. His white coat flapped in the wind. He was one of the medical doctors assigned to Japan’s bioweapon and chemical research facilities. He’d taken his role seriously, spending exhausting hours in the laboratory, staring into microscopes and hunching over lab benches. While he didn’t carry a gun or a sword, he was a different type of warrior with the ability to kill countless enemies.

He spent that time away from his family, though Yokohama was only a short trip from Tokyo. Now he’d never see them again.

The Americans had made his assignment to Unit 731 personal.

“Yes, of course you’re right,” said Nishiyama. “None will make it back alive.”

General Otozo Yamada sauntered toward them with Surgeon General Shiro Ishii trailing behind.

“General.” Matusomoto bowed deeply, Nishiyama following suit.

Yamada’s face was creased in deep-set wrinkles, his dark-black hair turning gray. Undoubtedly the Soviet advances—and the unacknowledged defeats—weighed heavy on his mind. This was a man who harbored no intention of letting gaijin—foreigners—step foot on Japanese soil.

“We have little time,” he said, “and I have less to waste.”

“Yes, of course,” Surgeon General Ishii said, his hands clasped, his lips straight under his thick mustache. His eyes appeared cold and calm behind the round, black eyeglasses framing his face. “I am certain we have developed a weapon to ward off any gaijin from invading the Empire. We’ll strike fear into the deepest core of their beings. Every man, woman, and child will be grateful for their part in serving the great Empire when we deploy the Amanojaku weapon.”

“Amanojaku?” General Yamada asked. The weapon, the contents of the glass vial in Matsumoto’s hand, had been named after the demon-like creature of folklore that provoked people to act out their darkest desires and perform unspeakable deeds.

“The meaning will become clear soon enough,” Matsumoto said.

“We should be less interested in mythology,” Yamada said, “and more interested in this weapon’s purpose for preserving our Empire.”

“Very well, sir,” Matsumoto said and turned to Nishiyama. “Bring out the subjects.”

Nishiyama ducked into the yellow-brick Harbin building. He returned leading a line of twenty-five men still dressed in the soiled green fatigues they’d worn in combat. Their eyes were sunken, their faces sallow. Cheekbones jutted out, leaving no mystery as to the shape of the skulls behind their skin.

A cadre of Japanese guards prodded and herded them into the middle of the tarmac. A chain-link fence topped with barbed wire surrounded the area.

“American Marines, I am told,” Matsumoto said. “Supposed to be the finest caliber of Allied soldiers in the Pacific.”

“These look like a breed of weak, sad men,” Surgeon General Ishii said.

Matsumoto gave a slight nod and held up the glass vial again. Sunlight sparkled through it. A clear liquid, appearing as innocuous as water, sloshed inside. “All the better to demonstrate our capabilities.”

He handed the vial to General Yamada.

“What is this?” Yamada said.

“A protein concentrate I’ve developed, farmed from a variety of sources.”

Yamada peered into it and placed a thumb on top. He started to unscrew the tiny lid.

“You should be more careful with that,” Matsumoto said. Yamada gave it back to him. He stowed it in the pocket of his white coat. “Line them up,” he barked.

Nishiyama directed the guards to split the Americans into two uneven groups. They guided twenty-two of the Marines toward the far end of the fenced-in area. Then four guards secured the wrists of the remaining three Americans with heavy ropes and tied these ropes to a steel post hammered into the asphalt.

“Why don’t you get your ass in here, Doc?” one blond-haired American yelled in grating English, his hazel eyes bright against his bruised and sickly complexion.

Matsumoto remained stern, ignoring the soldier’s jibe.

“Who is this insolent man?” General Yamada asked. “And why don’t you strike him down?”

“In a few moments, you will understand. His name is Lieutenant Gregory Ewing. No one of note,” Matsumoto said. “I believe he was these men’s platoon commander.”

“Not a compelling leader if most of his men surrendered like this,” Yamada said, checking his wristwatch. “But enough. Let’s see this demonstration.”

“Very well.” Matsumoto gave Nishiyama a hand signal. The guards exited the fenced-in area, except for the four around the tied-up Marines. Three nurses, each with a single syringe in hand, walked up to the three separated Marines. They bent to administer the injections.

“Don’t let them stick you!” Ewing called as he stepped forward. One of the guards fired a warning shot at his feet, and Ewing backed against the chain-link fence with the rest of his men.

Two of the nurses proceeded, injecting their Marine subjects. The third attempted her injection, but the Marine threw his shoulder into her chest. Her fingers slipped, and the syringe’s needle stabbed into her hand. She let out a piercing scream.

Matsumoto frowned. “This is regrettable. Remove the other two nurses.” He pointed to the whimpering nurse who’d injected herself. “That one remains.”

Nishiyama nodded and barked orders at the guards. They herded the two nurses who’d succeeded through the gate. When the third ran to the fence, one guard shoved her back and slammed the gate shut.

She collapsed, wailing, her fists pulling against the fence.

“Why does she need to stay?” Yamada asked.

“It’s a precautionary measure,” Surgeon General Ishii said. He wiped his glasses on his shirt. “How long before it begins?”

“Not long,” Matsumoto said, his eyes glued to the roped-up Marines and the nurse, her chest heaving in sobbing breaths.

Gregory Ewing took a step forward again. “What the hell have you done to my men?”

His compatriots glanced around, anxious and confused.

The nurse’s sobbing ceased, and she collapsed into unconsciousness. The two Marines who’d received injections fell beside the steel post. The one who had foiled the nurse’s attempt to inject him bent toward his brothers in arms, his voice low. “Sam? Jimmy? Guys, you all right?”

Ewing strode toward the middle of the fenced-in space. A guard aimed his rifle, preparing to fire. Matsumoto shook his head and raised one hand.

Then the nurse shot to her feet. Her neck twisted wildly, her shoulders hunched. She caught sight of Ewing and froze. Her fingers twitched, and her arms trembled.

Ewing stared back at her. “What the—”

The nurse tilted back her head and let out a guttural scream. She sprinted at Ewing and knocked him to the ground. Her nails scratched at his face, gouged at his eyes. He held his arms before him to shield his face. Despite his emaciation, the nurse appeared no more than half his weight—yet she overpowered him easily.

Matsumoto felt a surge of pride as he watched the lieutenant struggle to fight the woman off. She sank her teeth into Ewing’s arm, and he let out an agonized yell. Three of his men rushed to pull her off. The nurse swung an arm out, and one Marine flew back into the other men approaching the brawl.

Another man yanked the nurse’s arm back. It twisted in a way that would have debilitated a normal person. She glanced down at her crooked wrist and then back up at the Marine holding her. In one swift movement she pounced on him, and his screams were abruptly silenced by the clunk of his skull on the asphalt. Ewing’s savior went limp on the pavement, giving the nurse free rein to dig her fingers into the man’s neck. Blood spilled from the wound as she tore his flesh and pulled his carotid artery free. It ripped with a sickening tear.

Bubbles of crimson liquid popped out of the Marine’s mouth. The nurse, her teeth chattering and limbs shaking, stood and screamed. The remaining men swarming around Ewing stared back incredulously.

Another growling roar echoed across the tarmac. One of the tied-up Marines had woken and stared wide-eyed at the third Marine who’d escaped his injection.

The enraged Marine lunged. One of his shoulders popped from its socket as he fought against the ropes securing his hands to the steel post. The third Marine shuffled backward, landing hard on his back. His second companion woke with a start, and the two injected Marines lashed against their ropes until the heavy bonds split. They descended upon the third man. He had no time to yell or struggle, tied up like a sacrificial offering to the gods.

“Do you see now why we call this weapon the Amanojaku?” Matsumoto asked Yamada.

The general nodded, seemingly transfixed by the bloodbath before him. Several of the men surrounding Ewing charged at the nurse. Her neck twisted from side to side as if she was taunting them. She stood her ground, her good arm raised at a forty-five-degree angle. The first Marine dove to tackle her. She sidestepped, grabbed him by the back of his neck, and swung him into the razor wire atop the fence. The sharp metal shredded his fragile flesh, and he yelled, stuck in the coils.

The nurse let another scream fly as she lunged at the other men charging her. She stabbed at them with her hands, her fingers working quick as daggers. Another Marine flew, knocked away by her inhuman strength. But sheer numbers, sheer weight pressed on the nurse until the Marines had formed a dogpile on her body, crushing her under their mass.

She let out a yell—not of pain, not of fear. Matsumoto was sure of it. It was pure, unadulterated rage escaping her lungs.

The two crazed Marines, torn ropes dangling from their wrists, turned from the third tied-up Marine they’d disemboweled. No longer the men they once were, they charged the brothers they had fought and bled with on the sandy beaches of the Pacific. They tore through the bodies, flinging them aside as if they weighed no more than hay-stuffed scarecrows.

“Amanojaku,” General Yamada muttered. “Maybe. But now it seems I am watching shinigami with my own eyes.”

Matsumoto inhaled sharply. For a moment, he thought to correct the general. Shinigami were death gods, but these people tearing into each other were no gods. He, Shigeru Matsumoto, was the death god.

The remaining Marines, bleeding from multiple wounds, cowered in a corner of the cage. The infected trio, bruised and scraped, inched toward the Americans. One of the nurse’s arms hung crooked at her side, bent where no joints existed. Her left foot jerked inward, far past the limits of normal human anatomy.

She didn’t seem to notice, nor did it slow her as she approached her prey.

One man reached up to the fence with his lanky, skeletal arms. His body weak from starvation but fueled by adrenaline and an ancient survival instinct, he scaled the fence, making it to the barbed wire before Matsumoto signaled his guards to fire.

Gunfire cracked out, and his body fell limply to the ground. The nurse shuffled over it, ignoring the dead man. Her eyes, like those of the other two enraged Marines, were locked onto the bodies of the living. Their prey.

Everything Matsumoto had done in the lab, the countless experiments and countless hours away from his family, had paid off. His creatures were programmed to hunt now, eat later. Destroy before devouring.

He would avenge his family after all.

A single Marine crawled from under the pile of bodies in the center of the arena. Ewing’s eye was swollen shut. A gash in his left upper arm glinted red in the summer sun, his muscle exposed. He stood, his legs quaking, his fists clenched.

“Bastards!” He yelled as he charged the line of Japanese riflemen behind the fence. Matsumoto signaled for them to cut him down, feeling a trace of something tingle through him as the bullets punched through Ewing’s flesh. Sympathy? No, it wasn’t that, but maybe a hint of respect. The man had, in the end, died fighting.

The infected Marines switched from hunt mode to devour mode. They swarmed over Ewing’s twitching body, ripping his flesh. His cries devolved into gargling gasps, a death rattle, and then silence. When they were finished feeding, the monsters honed in on the frightened remnants of the Marines. The scuffle was brief and the aftermath gruesome.

Once the enclosure was devoid of life, the trio of infected charged the fence. They wore expressions of hunger.

Matsumoto stared hard at the nurse, her hair matted in blood, her almond-shaped eyes filled with animalistic intensity. Her good arm reached through the chain links though he stood yards away from her. She jumped at the fence, attempting to scale it.

With a flick of his wrist, Matsumoto signaled for the guards to end the demonstration. Gunfire cracked, resounding across the hot asphalt. The smell of gunpowder and the coppery odor of blood filled the air.

“The gaijin will not stand a chance,” Ishii said as Nishiyama ordered the guards to clear the bodies. Several of the men hesitated before opening the gate. Nishiyama yelled until they relented and entered the cage.

“This is...abominable,” Yamada said. He regained his composure. “How long before this is ready to deploy against the Americans? And the Soviets, too?”

Matsumoto withdrew the glass vial from his pocket again. “The protein complex can be ready and produced in a matter of weeks.”

“The most important problem is being addressed,” Ishii said. “We’re developing strategies to spread the Amanojaku. We need a method of infection other than direct injection, something to reproduce the proteins once they’re in a human host to encourage their spread among a population.”

“Very good. But though this concoction, this protein complex, as you say, turns people into monsters, how will it aid our efforts?”

“I apologize, but what do you mean?” Matsumoto asked.

“If we turn our enemies into monsters, if we make them more effective killers, how does that help us? Must we sneak into their camps, their naval ships, their home countries to administer shots in hopes they will destroy themselves?”

“No, not at all,” Matsumoto said. He pictured his family. The children, the wife, the parents he’d never see again. They’d perished without so much as lifting a finger against their enemy.

Destroyed by cowardly bombs, they’d never been given the opportunity to fight back against the Americans.

He thought of the men dying on the Pacific isles, the men fighting against the American soldiers. The men sacrificing themselves by flying their planes, loaded with explosives, into the gaijin forces.

Such an honor, he thought, to die for the Empire.

But his family had died for nothing, killed in their sleep.

No other father should go through such pain. No other family should suffer in vain without the chance for honor, for pride. The chance to sacrifice their lives for the preservation of the Empire of the Rising Sun.

“General Yamada, you asked me to develop a weapon of last resort, one to be used when all other hopes and prayers have gone unanswered. I have done just that.” He thumbed the glass vial again and peered at the crumpled body of the infected nurse. She’d been frail, weak. A lowly servant, nothing more. But with the Amanojaku inside her, she’d been a warrior worthy of highest honor.

“If the Americans or Soviets set foot on our soil, every man, woman, and child of the Empire would be proud to defend their homeland.” Matsumoto held up the vial. “And with this, not only will they have the pride and honor, but they will have the ability to do so.”

-1-

Gulf of Guinea

Present Day

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The plastic explosives detonated, and the hatch burst inward. The acrid scent of the charges stung Dominic Holland’s nostrils as he charged into the pilothouse of the MT Elizabeth. A band of Nigerian pirates, bristling with AK-47s, had taken up positions around the wheelhouse of the massive oil tanker. Once inside, he ducked under the chart table. Bullets pinged across the walls and shattered the windows overlooking the tanker’s decks and the crystal-blue Atlantic.

Miguel Ruiz peeked around the doorframe, taking several careful shots. Returning gunfire lanced into the wall. A round tore into his left forearm, and he staggered backward.

“Careful!” Dom yelled. He rolled to his right and shouldered his rifle. Without proper cover, the pirates were easy targets. He shot two in the chest before a third and fourth returned fire. The noise in the pilothouse swelled with the crack of automatic gunfire.

Grunting, Miguel leaned in again and squeezed off two more shots, picking off the final pirates.

“Nice shooting.” Dom stood, brushed himself off, and sauntered over to Ruiz. He smacked Ruiz’s left arm, the one that had been shot. “Be more careful, buddy. Could’ve been your good arm.”

“This is my good arm.” Miguel winked and pulled back his sleeve over the complex prosthetic. He’d lost his flesh-and-blood arm in an IED blast during his time as an Army Ranger in Afghanistan. The Army wouldn’t have him back on the ground, but Dom didn’t have any such prejudices against wounded warriors when it came to his Hunters, the group of men and women who served beside him on any mission requiring firepower. They made up just one unit of his private covert ops organization, which specialized in combatting biological and chemical warfare.

“Glad to see that’s all it was.” Dom patted him on the back. “Don’t do something that stupid again.”

“Whatever you say, Chief.” Miguel pulled a photograph from his pocket and compared it to the four men sprawled across the floor of the pilothouse. None matched the dark complexion, piercing brown eyes, and eyebrow scar of Molih Klisman.

Dom glanced across the ship’s deck, scanning the latticework of pipes and beams. Across it, a spidery man ducked under and jumped over the veritable jungle gym. Klisman.

“Hector, Jenna? Do you read?” Dom barked into the microphone secured to his collar, his comm link with the rest of the men and women in the Hunter squad aboard the MT Elizabeth.

“Here,” Jenna’s smooth voice rang back.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Hector said. “Hostages are secure. Took down the pirates camping in the mess hall but no sign of Klisman anywhere.”

“Klisman’s moving across the deck, headed toward the bow,” Dom said. “We need to take him down.”

“On it,” Jenna said.

Dom raced out of the pilothouse and leapt down the stairs toward the deck. Miguel sprinted after him. Klisman had almost reached the gunwale, where the pirates’ rope ladder led to their rust-pocked speedboat. Dom fired; the bullets ricocheted off the pipes. Klisman dove for cover, and Dom narrowed the distance between them.

“Keep him down!”

“I’m working on it!” Miguel’s voice boomed as he fired off several potshots.

Dom raced forward, his lungs burning and his chest heaving. Sweat trickled down his back and across his forehead, the salt stinging his eyes. He had no intention of letting Klisman get to his boat. The Nigerian pirate was suspected of funneling money toward the development of chemical weapons. He made these funds by holding ships like the Elizabeth hostage and selling the weapons he helped develop to Al Qaeda.

Klisman turned back, spraying rounds from his AK-47. Dom bent low and charged, hurdling over a series of pipes. He fired a salvo before Klisman disappeared behind a large steel drum near a set of stairs. Focusing on the drums, Dom approached in a stealthy crouch, his gun shouldered. He hugged the walls and then curled around the drums toward where he’d last seen Klisman. The pirate was gone, but his AK-47 remained. He picked it up and checked the magazine. It was empty.

Then a heavy weight fell on him. He crashed to the deck. Klisman had climbed into the latticework above and tackled Dom. The pirate pummeled him until Dom knocked him off with a powerful left hook. He swept out one leg, and Klisman fell, his head hitting the deck with a sickening thud. But the blow didn’t keep the man down. He jumped to his feet and pulled a crooked knife from his waistband. He sprinted and leapt at Dom.

Two gunshots rang out.

Klisman crumpled. His knife clattered away, and blood poured from the two holes in his side.

Jenna lowered her weapon. “Don’t need a pirate making Dom sushi today, do we?” She marched toward him, training the barrel of the FAMAS on Klisman in case the pirate made a final attack despite his fatal wound. The French assault rifle had become a favorite of Jenna’s since Andris Jansons, a former French Foreign Legionnaire originally hailing from Latvia, had joined Dom’s Hunters. She brushed a hand over her short-cropped blonde hair. Her blue eyes gleamed under the unrelenting sun hanging over the Atlantic.

“Thanks,” Dom said. “But—”

“Yeah, I know how it goes. You could’ve handled him.” She rolled her eyes. Jenna was one of the first women to go through Ranger school after the US armed forces had opened up the Special Forces to women. “You going to send confirmation of the elimination to Webb?” she asked.

Dom held up his smartwatch, snapped a picture of the grisly scene, and transmitted it. An error message popped up, proclaiming the message could not be delivered.

“Strange,” Dom said, nonplussed by the notification. He tapped the smartwatch’s face to save the image. “We’ll have to confirm with Webb later. Problem with the watch.”

Jenna’s brow scrunched in worry. She didn’t say anything, but Dom read her expression. They both were surprised anything would go wrong with their technology. Back aboard his ship, their technical operations comprised a talented team of computer scientists and electrical engineers. They ensured all devices worked properly on and off the vessel. His smartwatch’s face glowed green, indicating an incoming call from one of the communications specialists, Chao Li.

“Dom, something’s up.” Chao’s voice was crystal clear. “We got a transmission from Webb.”

Meredith Webb was Dom’s contact at the CIA, responsible for supplying work to his agency of private covert contractors. “Antsy, isn’t she? We’re just wrapping up here.”

“No, it’s not about Klisman. It’s something else. Something bad, I think. A new directive.”

“Man, she doesn’t waste any time.” Dom inhaled slowly, soaking in the smell of gunpowder and oil mixing with the ocean air. “But we got to earn a paycheck somehow, huh?”

***

Dom ran toward the AW109 helicopter in a hunch. Hector, Jenna, and Miguel followed him to the bird. He climbed inside and looked to the cockpit where Frank Battaglia was waiting.

“Ready to get the hell out of this joint?” Frank asked.

Dom gave him the thumbs-up, and they lifted into the air, accelerating westward over the Atlantic. His thoughts strayed toward Chao’s words. Meredith had always kept her communications with them brief. She’d warned him his relationship with the CIA was tenuous at best. She was their sole connection to the agency, and their business could be severed without warning if her superiors deemed Dom and his Hunters a risk to national security.

If they failed a mission, there wasn’t anything to prevent the CIA from eliminating all evidence they’d ever done business with Dominic Holland and his crew. Such a move would leave him a sea-bound vagabond, not dissimilar to the recently deceased Klisman. But unlike the Nigerian pirate, Dom’s primary motive wasn’t jihad or profit. He’d proudly served his country as an agent in the CIA, and he still found immense satisfaction in defending the world against the threat of biological and chemical warfare. But now he found his thoughts straying toward his daughters, Kara and Sadie, back in their Maryland home with his ex-wife, Bethany.

He wanted to provide for them, and this was the best way he knew how. He’d already managed to use the earnings from his life as a contractor to create an enormous trust fund that would take them through the rest of their lives. With Kara already at the University of Maryland, he hadn’t yet told her how he was paying for her education and wouldn’t until he’d retired from his covert services for good.

“There she is,” Frank’s voice crackled over the comm systems of the helicopter.

The chopper banked hard toward a sleek ship prowling the ocean. Its gray hull was that of a Visby-class corvette, a ship equipped for stealth. A half dozen of the ships had been ordered by the Swedish Navy, but they had cancelled the sixth ship. In reality, the project had never been scrapped. Rather, Meredith Webb had pulled a few strings and procured the ship for Dom’s organization. He had aptly named it the Huntress. Its composite-material hull and angular design minimized its prominence via radar. The shape also reduced the chances of being visually spotted. Below decks, there was a medical bay complete with a science laboratory for the detection and characterization of biological and chemical weapons along with a workshop for electronics and computer gadgetry. It was equipped with a helipad suitable for the eight-person AW109 Frank now piloted toward the deck. If stealth failed, the Huntress was fitted with surface-to-air and anti-surface ship missiles.

Dom proudly referred to the Huntress as his seaborne, forty-person Batmobile.

The landing wheels of the chopper hit the helipad with a jolt.

“Thanks for traveling with Flying Dutchman Pirate Catchers today,” Frank said in his mock airline pilot voice. “We appreciate your business.” He saluted Dom and his Hunters. They piled out as the twin engines whined and the rotors slowed.

Thomas Hampton, the ship’s next-in-command and second mate in charge of the day-to-day operations, beckoned at Dom from the hatch nearest the helipad. He had a cigar drooping out of one side of his mouth, giving him the grizzled look of an old sailor who couldn’t tear himself away from the sea. The cigar was not a good sign. Dom knew the man only smoked when he was stressed; it was never a celebratory gesture.

Beside him stood Chao, who looked unsteady on the open deck.

With the Hunters in tow, Dom rushed to his side. “What exactly did Webb say?”

“Not much to me,” Chao said, leading them into the Huntress. “She said she’d only speak directly with you. Sounded urgent.”

Their feet clanged against the metal stairwell as they descended. Hector and Jenna split off while Miguel followed behind Thomas.

“Didn’t even want to talk to me,” Thomas said with mock disappointment. “Whatever she’s got cooking, you know it’s got to be good.”

Chao led them through the narrow corridor in the ship’s lower deck. They passed the armory and medical bay. He opened the door to the electronics workshop, where the crackle of radios and humming computers greeted Dom. The chorus of electronic chirps often sounded like a noisy mess more grating to the ear than drunks singing off-key pub songs to him. But Chao had often described it as a melodic chorus, each sound speaking to him and the rest of the techies hunching over their stations.

Dom followed Chao to one of the workstations, where four computer monitors glowed before them. The techie made an encrypted video call to the private access line Dom had with Meredith. The line rang only once before she accepted the call.

“Dom,” she said. Her long red hair and stern face came into focus. She wasted no time with perfunctory greetings. “How soon can you be in Bermuda?”

-2-

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CIA Headquarters

Langley, Virginia

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Meredith watched Dom’s face on her computer monitor. The chisel-jawed covert operator gave no indication of the curiosity or questions that must be roiling in his mind. She had always respected that stoicism in their long combined partnership—and friendship—working in the field of intelligence.

“We’re still in the Gulf of Guinea,” Dom answered. “It’s not going to be soon. What’s up?”

“I’ve got...a strange request,” Meredith said. “But it’s urgent. Like, I wish I had a team on this yesterday, urgent.”

Dom nodded. “Understood. Wish I could change the laws of physics to be there today. Can you give me a couple days at least?”

Meredith wanted Dom on this case. He ran the best covert group she knew, but she feared time was already running out. “It can’t wait.” She ran a hand through her hair. “But I still want you to head that way. I’m going to send another team for now, but I’d appreciate it if you were on standby.”

“Standby? Damn, Meredith. I hate being your next-in-line.” Dom smiled. “I thought what we had was better than that.”

“Sometimes a woman can’t wait around, Dom,” Meredith said, “and now is definitely one of those times.”

“Can you at least tease me with something? Give me some idea of what the hell you want me to wait around for.”

She always gave her contracting groups as much intel as possible. Files, maps, briefings...enough to fill textbooks. Whole libraries of textbooks. But this time what she’d discovered was far from ordinary. “I don’t have much.” She lowered her voice and added, “But I’m worried I found something potentially polluting.”

Dom’s eyes widened for a brief second. She saw he recognized their code word. What she’d found might be tied to the United States—potentially even the CIA. It was why she’d blocked his early transmission aboard the MT Elizabeth. Maybe she was being paranoid, but she needed to limit communication with him and ensure everything was airtight. Hell, for all she knew, she might already be under surveillance.

“I hear you,” he said. “Can you at least give me a more precise heading so I know where you need me?”

“Will do. Chao should receive it as soon as we’re done here. I’ll keep you up to date on what I find. Stay safe out there.”

“You, too.” Dom grinned and ended the transmission.

She drummed her fingers across her desk before picking up her phone. The strange memo that had started her frantic search lay across the polished wood. She glanced at it once more and dialed the number for another, smaller covert group run by a man named Jay Perry. A silent prayer ran through her head as she hoped Jay would be ready to do her bidding. He answered and agreed to her terms, promising her he was already out the door and en route.

She breathed a momentary sigh of relief after ending the call. She’d played her cards. Now it was time to see if someone around her offices actually knew what the memo meant—or more importantly, if they’d be willing to clue her in.

Meredith made her way through Langley’s corridors. She eyed the Biological and Chemical Warfare Defense sign on Chief Special Agent David Lawson’s slightly ajar office door. She rapped softly on the wood frame when she saw he was on the phone.  

Her boss, phone to his ear, waved his hand. His message was clear: I don’t have time for you now. Despite the scowl on his face, Meredith seated herself in front of his desk. In one hand, she clutched the memo with its simple transcription:

International Biologics at Sea Laboratory dark. Risk assessment: Immediate catastrophe. Crew affected by agent. Limited to: Global. Termination permission requested.

A set of coordinates with a location in the Atlantic Ocean followed.

Lawson held up a finger and put his hand over the phone’s mouthpiece. “I’m on a conference call with DARPA. Can we do this later?”

Maintaining her poker face, Meredith stared hard into Lawson’s steel-gray eyes. She slid the single sheet of paper across the surface of his desk. “What the hell is this?”

When Lawson’s gaze dropped to the memo, he ended the call without saying a word. His reaction alone set Meredith on edge. With such an ominous memo, the International Biologics at Sea Lab wasn’t the only thing left in the dark. She’d never heard about this project or institution or whatever it was.

Lawson unclipped a pair of reading glasses from his front pocket and twisted the paper so the words faced him. He mouthed them as he read the memo with his brow furrowed.

Acting, Meredith thought. The surprise now seemed feigned. She watched a drop of perspiration drip from his receding hairline.

“I have no idea what this is,” Lawson said, pushing it back toward her.

“Bullshit,” Meredith said. “What the hell is this International Biologics at Sea Lab?”

“Sounds pretty innocuous.”

“The worst ones always do,” she said.

“I haven’t heard of it.”

“So something as cryptic as this just shows up at the agency, and you, grand master of science and research, haven’t got a clue?”

Lawson’s fingers tapped across his keyboard. He twisted his computer monitor so Meredith could see. “Take a look.”

He’d inputted the name of the lab in their classified and unclassified known research institutions database. The results window displayed a glaring No Matches Found.

“Don’t pull that one on me,” Meredith said, taking the paper back. He’d performed the query on a database that included information accessible to any agent or operative a full security clearance below both of theirs. “Search again, but this time use your credentials. Not the open access agency search.”

“Webb, you know I can’t. Whether or not this turns up as a match, it’s against policy for me to even access such a database in the same room as another person without my security clearance.”

“Come on, live a little. I won’t tell.”

Lawson peered over his reading glasses, his bushy white eyebrows raised in annoyance.

“I’m supposed to oversee all potential bio warfare threats, and I can’t do that if you’re hiding something from me,” Meredith said. “Now, I don’t know what screwed up in your line of communication that this came across my desk, but judging by its contents, this doesn’t appear to be the first time someone in this building has heard something about this lab.”

“I don’t know what to tell you.” Lawson held up his hands. “Maybe...maybe it’s some kind of sick hoax. Maybe someone misinterpreted an encrypted transmission.”

Too many excuses, too many lies.

Meredith opened her mouth to protest but stopped. She’d caught Lawson as if he were a child with his hand in the cookie jar. The man routinely faced crises involving everything from scientists taken as hostages to the infiltration of foreign research institutions. Yet his immediate reaction to a single memo had taken him off guard.

“What’s going on?” Meredith asked.

“Maybe—”

“Tell me the goddamned truth.”

Lawson folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned back in his chair. “You’ve been with the agency for what? Twenty years?”

Meredith said nothing.

“You’re intelligent, you’re at the top of your field. We’ve worked closely together for years,” he continued. “Yet you keep certain sensitive topics from me.”

“Yes, but—”

“I understand it’s for the safety of our nation, for plausible deniability. All the same, there is information that even I, as your superior, am not privy to.”

She knew exactly what he was referring to. For many of the missions she oversaw, she was the agency’s sole point of contact with private covert contracting agencies like Dom’s and Jay’s. “We need that kind of separation from the groups I work with. You don’t want to be tied with them when they’re operating in Iran or off the coast of North Korea.”

“And likewise, you don’t want to be tied to this project.” Lawson leaned across the desk. “I urge you to forget you ever saw this memo. If you were another agent, someone with less significant history at this agency, you’d be terminated immediately.” He folded his reading glasses and slid them back into his pocket.

“I’ve managed operatives in Syria who dismantled chemical weapons undetected. I’ve contracted a team to sabotage a biological weapons research facility in Iran and got another team to subvert the Kremlin’s research on a genetically engineered bubonic plague.” She huffed. “After everything I’ve done for the agency—everything my operatives have done—you can’t trust me with this?”

“I’m afraid not.” His expression turned dour, a rare moment of seemingly genuine emotion. “This is an issue I am dealing with. And I know where your intentions and loyalties lie. The project at IBSL would conflict with that. Trust me.”

Without another word, Meredith got up from her seat. She marched to the office’s exit, knowing the obstinate man wouldn’t let her in on his secret.

“Meredith.”

She twisted halfway, an ear turned in his direction but her gaze shifting to the hallway.

“I’m begging you, forget everything about this. If my people find you’ve been digging into it...I won’t be able to protect you. Trust me, Meredith. Leave this one alone.”

Meredith left his office in silence.

The last thing she would do was trust Lawson. Everything he’d said sounded like smooth-talking fabrication to obscure this IBSL project. Meredith wasn’t sure who Lawson might be working with, what covert op teams might be contracted to his “project.” If Meredith had learned anything over her two decades with the agency, it was to trust no one. Especially if it was a close colleague keeping secrets from his most lauded employee.

She had Jay already on his way and Dom on standby. It never hurt to send them in for a little reconnaissance. She hoped they would find something as innocuous as the lab’s mundane name.

But as she’d said to Lawson, the ones that seemed the most harmless almost always turned out to be anything but innocent.

-3-

––––––––

Undisclosed Location in the Atlantic Ocean

––––––––

Jay Perry nudged open the steel hatch with his gloved hand. He played the barrel of his suppressed SCAR across the steel counters, stools, and glassware. “What the hell is this?”

“A science lab?” Corey Luna whispered. Like Jay, he wore black fatigues and night-vision goggles strapped over his head.

Their footsteps resonated on the grating, and Jay winced with each step. Stealth was key, and he had no intention of being discovered prowling about the enigmatic oil drilling platform. They were deep enough in the metal behemoth that they couldn’t see without the aid of their night-vision goggles. Someone had cut the lights, and no natural light could penetrate the inky darkness this far below decks.

With every guarded step, he wondered if there was anybody home. So far, the expedition had been nothing more than a silent meandering through abandoned crew quarters and a mess hall.

Their handler at the CIA had warned them she could find little intelligence on the aging structure above the crashing waves in the middle of the Atlantic. It had been tucked away, off the beaten path of the shipping lanes. According to Webb, the platform had been commissioned for a drilling operation, but all the paperwork had somehow fallen through. Webb had found it in the satellite images she’d obtained through some coordinates mistakenly delivered to her. She’d told Jay the op might be dangerous, but so far, they hadn’t found anything.

Jay and Corey were nothing but expendable cannon fodder to her, hired guns with a penchant for secrecy and covert ops. The money was good, the risk was high, and the repercussions of failure were even higher.

“This is creepier than the mines in Syria,” Corey said.

Jay nodded, playing the muzzle of his gun across the countertops. He recalled the bomb-making facilities Webb had sent them to investigate in the Middle Eastern country. At least there, they had recognized what the terrorist facilities were used for.

Here they had no idea. Webb had been especially hush-hush this time around. She wouldn’t even tell them why she wanted them to investigate. Normally, Jay would have been skeptical, but the money Webb had offered them was more than enough to retire on.

If he and Corey succeeded, Jay could buy a house on the Florida Keys, maybe St. Thomas, or Grand Cayman Island.

Somewhere tropical.

A loud blast of thunder rumbled outside. Maybe it was his imagination, but the platform seemed to sway in response. He pictured dark waves outside, crashing against the thick pillars and scaffolding holding the platform above the roiling ocean.

Hell, maybe living on an island wasn’t such a great idea.

“You know what the fuck this is?” Corey held up a plastic tube. Jay could see a couple of chemical formulas scrawled across a paper tag attached to it.

Jay squinted at the label. “No idea. But we should probably snap a couple pictures for Webb.” He slung the strap of his rifle across his back. “Take guard for me.”

Corey nodded and crept around the hulking lab bench in the center. He nudged the door closed and locked it. The mechanism clicked loudly, and Jay flinched.

“Sorry, boss,” Corey said.

Directing his camera over the chemical formulas and unidentified solutions in the lab, Jay snapped a bevy of pictures. He adjusted the second small camera strapped to his head. It provided a constant one-way visual and audio feed back to Webb. He wanted to be sure she saw everything he did back in the States.

“I wonder if this is what Webb was interested in,” Corey said. He crept toward the rear of the lab and peered through the porthole. “Shit.”

Jay’s heart stopped. He dropped the camera and spun, raising his rifle. “What is it?”

“Come look.”

Jay joined him and peered through the thick glass of the porthole. Before them stood huge steel drums. Pipes snaked between the drums with gauges reporting pressure, oxygen concentration, and other gas levels.

“What the hell is that thing?”

In his mind’s eye, Jay pictured one of the courses he’d taken during his year-long training at the CIA before his first assignment. An image of a similar contraption in his biological and chemical warfare class returned to him. “It’s a large-scale bioreactor.”

Corey tilted his head. “What’s it for?”

“Typically, it’s used in the pharmaceutical and research industries. It grows up populations of cells and can be used for the production of antibodies, proteins, chemicals, medicine, maybe.” His breath fogged the window, and he wiped it away. “At least, that’s what I remember.”

“I’m guessing this bioreactor or whatever isn’t just sitting in the middle of the ocean so some company can make hard-on pills.”

“You’re right about that,” Jay said. “I’ve seen these things used in the production of chemical and biological weapons.”

“Webb didn’t tell us to suit up. You think we’re breathing poison shit in here?”

“Too late now, isn’t it?” Jay thought of his imminent retirement again. Complete this mission, take the cash, and he’d be set for life. He could settle down in Mexico, maybe Ecuador. Beach, not island. “I’m sure Webb’s going to want to see this.”

Corey nodded and opened the door. “On me,” he said. He angled his suppressed SCAR on the shadows. They scoured the cavernous room, flitting between the looming bioreactors until they reached the opposite end, where another door awaited them. This time, no window offered them a preview of what lay on the other side.

Jay snapped a few pictures of the bioreactors and joined Corey near the exit.

Corey pressed his ear against the steel door. “I can’t hear anything.”

“Then let’s fucking do this.” Jay placed one hand on the handle, and Corey shouldered his rifle. He burst through the door and rushed behind a protruding piece of iron scaffolding.

Down the corridor, a couple of blue biosafety suits were hung up on pegs. Beside them, a door lay open, revealing clear plastic curtains. Splotches of dark goo marred them.

Tiptoeing forward, Jay fought to manage his fear.

“We should go,” Corey said, his voice wavering. “This is fucked up.”

Jay ignored him. This must be what Webb wanted to know about.

He pushed aside the plastic curtain and sniffed the air. Something rotten stung his nostrils, but the odor wasn’t strong enough to deter his curiosity. He slipped beyond the filthy plastic curtains into an antechamber of sorts.

A decontamination chamber, he thought. A second set of curtains hung from the opposite side. Metal pipes laced the ceiling above him with intermittent nozzles to deliver the appropriate disinfecting agents. Corey’s worry that something was in the air, something dangerous, made him pause.

But the doors had already been opened, and the decontamination chamber hatch had been gaping wide when they’d ventured down here. If there was something in the air, they had already inhaled it. No use going back now.

A shadow moved beyond the plastic curtain, derailing his thoughts.

Sweat trickled down the back of Jay’s neck. He pointed at his eyes then at Corey and then at the curtain.

Jay adjusted the camera strapped to his head. He wanted Webb to have a clear view of whatever lay beyond this partition. With one hand, he peeled back the plastic, and Corey dashed through. Another dark laboratory greeted him. Several biosafety cabinets with enclosed glass chambers stood like hulking mechanized sentinels. Air hoses hung from the ceiling, one with a positive pressure suit still attached. Jay scanned the room as he bent toward the suit. He turned it over, stifling a gag. His stomach lurched at the sight of skeletal remains inside the shredded rubber of the suit. Dried tissue hung off the bones of the corpse.

“What the fu—”

“Hands up!” Corey’s voice resounded in the laboratory.

Jay shot up, his SCAR aimed in concert with Corey’s. On the other side of the lab, a person in a torn biohazard suit stood beyond a rack of glass test tubes and beakers.

The person turned slowly, no sense of urgency in their movements. A positive air pressure suit draped across them in tatters. A moment later the figure stepped into Jay’s line of sight. In the green-hued darkness of his night vision, he saw a twisted monstrosity.

Before he could react, the thing let out a rasping scream that echoed throughout the laboratory. A short silence followed before a cacophony of raucous yells answered throughout the platform. The horrible chorus resonated in Jay’s bones.

The humanoid creature before them opened and closed its mouth, gnashing a set of long, pointed teeth. It drew back a hand, and he saw that each finger ended in a sharp talon. Bony spikes sprouted from its joints. The thing looked like a person whose skeleton was trying to break out from beneath its flesh. A deep growl escaped its cracked lips.

Then the creature sprinted straight at him.

-4-

Reston, Virginia

Meredith Webb jumped back from her laptop. The screams and cries pierced her eardrums. She threw off her headphones, flinching from the unbearable sound, and focused on the low-quality video. She could make out only the misshapen silhouette of a person in Jay Perry’s video feed, but it was just enough to make her flinch. Acid churned in her stomach.

The feed had gone dark. She tried the headphones, but the audio too had ceased transmission.

Meredith stood and paced the studio apartment. A slew of electronic devices hummed and buzzed on the card table she’d set up in the center. Her suitcase lay open, clothes hanging out of it, near the inflatable air mattress. The first night she had slept on the mattress, she’d woken with her back aching. She was forty-five and in no place to venture off on a wild goose chase. But she’d had no choice.

She knew something was going on and, she feared, this time it wasn’t Syria, North Korea, Russia, or China making the play. If her suspicions proved true, her own country was involved in producing some kind of chemical weapon. The development, production, and use of such weapons were prohibited by almost every single sovereign nation in the world—including, of course, the United States—stemming from the Biological Weapons convention of 1972 that supplemented the Geneva Protocol. Not to mention the United States had taken a strong stance against such weapons after passing the Bioweapons Anti-Terrorism Act in 1989.

She often came across unusual and terrifying intel from around the world. Reports of previously undocumented genocides, assassinations, terrorists pursuing chemical weapons, foreign governments funding radical groups. She thought she’d seen it all.

Never from her own government though. Never from the United States, the supposed leader of the free world. Yet the more she had dug into the IBSL case, the more she suspected her government was—or had been—investigating some kind of unsanctioned biological weapon.

And Lawson might be covering up this mysterious project. The man, known for his stolidity, had told her everything she’d needed to know without saying a single word. His expression when she’d first shown him the telltale memo was more than enough.

When he had found she’d discovered satellite imagery over the sight of the IBSL oil platform, Lawson had told her again to give it a rest, to stop chasing dragons. Nothing was going on that she needed to worry about.

Fearing her apartment in Langley had been bugged, she rented out this neglected studio in nearby Reston to set up shop.

She tried placing a satellite call to Jay Perry, desperate to reach him again.

No answer.

It appeared as though she’d lost contact with her first batch of covert contractors. She checked the encrypted messaging equipment she’d set up and then cursed. She knew what all these devices did, but she didn’t know how they did it. She was no techie, no electrical engineer. Meredith typed a couple of commands into the laptop, and the feed flickered back on. She’d done something right. At first, she thought it was just a picture, a still image. She tried to refresh the video, but it remained fixed on the tiled floor. Only the thin steel legs of a lab bench remained in the camera’s focus. Securing the headphones over her ears, she adjusted the volume, wary of the horrendous sounds that had caused her to fling them down before.

She strained her ears. Distant crackles rang out—gunfire, maybe? Yells, indistinct.

The camera feed shook and skittered across the floor. Something had kicked it. It came to a rest, tilted toward the ceiling. A face, bathed in shadows, appeared over it. Meredith gasped as she stared at the laptop screen. The person’s face was misshapen, skeletal. His cheekbones seemed to protrude out, the skin stretched taut.

Then as quick as he appeared, the face vanished. His footsteps quieted as if he was running away from the lab Perry and Luna had discovered.

She dialed their satellite phones again. Only static.

She tried again, and again she heard nothing but white noise. She reviewed the video. The pixelated face, the grainy silhouette lunged at the camera again and again as she rewound the footage. She recalled the enigmatic memo that had started her on this hunt for answers: Crew affected by agent. Was this creature, this monstrous-looking person the result of some experimental biological agent?

Her blood ran cold. Whatever was going on at that oil platform, it eclipsed anything she’d imagined. She needed to know what kind of mad science had led to the carnal scene Perry and Luna had run across.

And she needed to know if they were still alive. She’d promised Perry and Luna a hefty reward for the mission, and she wasn’t sure she could afford to hire another team of contractors after them. She’d barely received approval for her initial payments to Perry’s and Luna’s secured offshore accounts as it was. Another large financial request might make Lawson more suspicious of her activities than he already was—and his threats warning her to leave this project alone still rang clear in her mind.

It was time to call Dom in. She hoped he’d made it close enough to act, close enough to find out if Jay and Corey were still alive and figure out what the fuck they’d just run into. She picked up her phone, ready to make a call she hoped was sufficiently encrypted and secure. But before she could even finish setting up the call, an alarm went off on her computer. Her heart sank. The security system she’d set up around her makeshift safehouse consisted of carefully placed cameras and sensors that alerted her whenever someone showed up around the apartment building. Most of the time it was the druggies and meth-heads rolling in from a long bender.

But not tonight. She tapped out a quick message, attached the video from Jay Perry’s feed, and sent it to the Huntress. As she did, the black-and-white security feed showed four dark sedans rolling into the parking lot. Her heart thumped, panic flooding over her.

They’d found her.

***

Thomas Hampton entered Dom’s quarters without knocking. “We just got word from Meredith.” He chewed on the end of an unlit cigar.

Chao stepped in from behind Thomas. “She sent a video, Dom. A fucking strange video.”

Dom stood immediately and followed the duo as they jogged from his room to the electronics workshop. “What the hell is it?”

“It’s...hard to explain,” Chao said. “I thought this was a prank, a sick joke. Maybe a rogue hacker group got through to us or something.”

Dom raised an eyebrow, skeptical that a hacker group, either professional or not, could thwart the best and brightest of both the CIA and his organization. “You believe that?”

“No way, not anymore.” Chao sliced the air with his hands.

“This is legit,” Thomas said, running a hand through his black-and-gray-speckled hair. He pocketed his cigar. “Definitely Webb.”

“Does she want us to go all in? No more waiting?”

Chao’s brow wrinkled. “I think so.”

They passed the crew quarters. Miguel peeked his head from his cabin. “Whoa, in a hurry, guys? We going to see some action?”

“Looks like it,” Dom said. Miguel filed in behind the trio.

“Yes, Webb specifically asked for Hunters.” Chao brought them to his workstation. “But I’m afraid you all won’t be the only ones doing the hunting.” His fingers worked across the keyboard, and a video popped up, playing on all four screens. “This is taken from another secret service contracting team on an oil platform.”

“Play it,” Dom said.

Chao clicked the mouse.

“Might want to cover your ears,” Thomas said. “It’s a bit...loud.”

A lone person stood in the shadows of what appeared to be a biosafety level four lab. Maybe it was the darkness, maybe it was the low quality of the image, but something appeared wrong with his anatomy. Dom thought the man seemed hunched, yet strange shapes protruded from his silhouette.

The man moved slowly at first. Then he heard a couple of voices trying to communicate with the shadowy man—probably Meredith’s other covert agents. When the thing turned—Dom could no longer call it human—it let out a blood-chilling scream. Miguel’s ruddy complexion went pale, the humor gone from his expression. Chao tried to adjust the volume as a discordant volley of screams echoed around the workshop, carried by the top-of-the-line speakers equipped by the computer station.

A cold shiver crept through Dom’s spine.

The video shook. Whoever was filming seemed at first to run then get into a scuffle. A flurry of dark shapes and shadows muddled the screen. Then the camera dropped, settling on the floor.

Chao reached toward the keyboard and fast-forwarded. “Nothing much happens”—he stopped it—“until now.”

A skeletal face marred by bony protrusions appeared across the four monitors. Dom’s mouth fell open. Miguel staggered backwards. Then the feed went dark.

“What the fuck was that?” Miguel asked.

Thomas shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

Incredulity overcame Dom’s initial shock at the strange scenes. “This can’t be real.”

Chao shook his head, brushing a hand through his long dark hair. He gestured toward Samantha Hamlin. She stood from her computer and folded her tattooed arms across her chest. “I’m afraid everything I’ve tried to prove it was a fake didn’t work.”

“Which means, unless we’re missing something, we can’t show it’s fabricated,” Chao said.

“So you guys think it’s legit?” Dom asked.

“It’s definitely from Meredith, and it seems authentic enough.” Samantha sauntered over. She leaned across Chao’s desk, her fingers typing in a mad rush. “And Webb even provided a satellite imagery of the encrypted coordinates she sent.”

An image of an oil platform appeared on one of the monitors, a small dark square in the middle of the ocean. Chao opened the message from Meredith on another monitor.

CLASSIFIED: HUNTER TEAM: EYES ONLY

Unidentified contacts at these coordinates. May be affected/infected by unidentified bio/chem agent. Two men boarded, no word from either. Can’t guarantee financial compensation yet, but promise to pay you back. Owe you big time. Potential matter of national security. Threat to life. Prepare for hot-zone bioweapons.

Dom reread the cryptic message. “Try Webb again. I need to talk to her.”

“Can’t reach her,” Samantha said.

“Try again.”

Chao fiddled with his satellite radio setup, and Samantha ran through her myriad of applications and software. After several long minutes, they stopped.

“Nothing’s working,” Chao said.

Thomas added, “She’s gone dark.”

“Well, Captain, what do you want us to do?” Chao asked.

Dom scratched at the stubble on his chin, using the moment to think. For the first time in his career, he wasn’t sure he wanted to take the job. He recalled his motivation for joining the CIA, for taking an oath to serve and protect his country by whatever means necessary. Now there was more than just his country to consider. He had his daughters, an ex-wife who still haunted his thoughts, and a crew with their families on shore. Protecting their country from a potential bioweapon threat would be protecting those husbands, wives, sons, and daughters on the mainland.

“I have a feeling a lot more is at stake here than Webb let on, but this shit might be out of our league,” he said. Dom glanced at the map on the monitor again. “But if Webb thinks it’s serious, it’s serious. We’re going in there whether we hear from her or not.”

“I’ll be damned if I face whatever the fuck those things were without getting paid top dolla, brother,” Miguel said.

Dom bit back a retort and thought about Meredith’s ominous warnings. Matter of national security. Threat to life. He didn’t need the money; the Huntress didn’t need the money. They had plenty of cash to keep them figuratively and literally afloat.

“Good thing you don’t get a choice,” Dom said. “We’re doing this because it’s the goddamn right thing to do.”

Miguel let out an exaggerated huff, but Dom could tell his stubbornness was nothing more than a show. “Whatever suits you, Chief.” He toyed with his prosthetic arm and turned to Chao. “I guess if we’re going, you may as well show me some of those new gadgets you got for my arm.”

“Check this out.” Chao held a nickel-sized chip in between his thumb and index finger.

“No more IEDs going to surprise me,” Miguel said.

Dom leaned in. “What is it?”

“It’s a field effect transistor made of silicon nanowires used for the detection of explosive traces.”

Miguel ticked off his flesh-and-bone fingers, one-by-one. “In other words, it’ll help me find the roadside bomb, C4, or even the charge on a dirty bomb before it finds me.”

“Fair enough,” said Dom. “You guys hurry up, because we’re setting sail for that platform.”

“Sure thing.” Chao set to work on Miguel’s prosthetic with a set of tools, and Dom left the workshop.

Thomas fell into step beside him. Dom turned to his second-in-command. “Stop by the armory. Make sure everything’s back in place from the last mission and prepped for this one.”

“You got it,” Thomas said.

The two men parted, and Dom jogged back to the medical bay and wet labs. He stepped through the first hatch and entered a space set up like a miniature hospital. An array of imaging equipment was pressed against one wall. A couple of patient examination chairs and beds lay in a row. Beyond this room was another, almost identical, protected by a clear acrylic partition.

Given their foray into CIA operations and bioweapons missions, the Huntress had been equipped with an isolation ward. Fortunately, they’d never had to use it, and Dom hoped they never would. None of the medical staff were present in the medical bay, so he stepped through a second hatch into the laboratory setup.

As she bent over a microscope, Lauren Winter’s oak-brown hair swept over her white coat.

“Lauren,” Dom said.

She jumped but swiveled around on her stool. Her elfin nose twitched, and she blinked. “What’s up, Dom?”

“I need the medical staff to prep the bio-safety suits.”

Lauren’s eyebrows met in a worried expression. “Uh, okay.” She sounded hesitant. “How many do you need?”

Dom thought back to the video of the monstrous creature aboard the oil platform and the choir from hell that joined in the beast’s cries on the audio feed. Meredith’s brief message filtered across his mind, the threat of a potential bioweapon, and he repeated the words she’d sent. “All of them.”

-5-

––––––––

Jay fought to catch his breath. He crouched behind the heavy metal frame of a bed he and Corey Luna had hoisted against the door in the oil platform’s crew quarters. Corey tallied the remaining rounds in his rifle’s magazine and clicked it back in place.

A single beam of white light pierced the darkness as Jay rotated a flashlight in his hand. He’d lost his NVGs. The first beast they’d encountered in the lab had swiped them from his face. He’d counted himself lucky, as he’d barely dodged in time. A second later and he would’ve lost more than his NVGs.

The relentless scratching on the other side of the metal door sent a shiver up his back.

“Shit, man, we need to find another way out of here,” Jay whispered. He probed the dark corners with his flashlight beam and centered it on the grating leading to a ventilation shaft. “Think we can fit through that?”

The door shuddered as one of the creatures slammed against it, and the door groaned.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” Corey said. “We don’t have any extra mags, our radios are dust, and those things are everywhere.”

Jay nodded. Whatever the creatures were, they’d been roused by the screams of the first monster. Jay and Corey had fired what seemed like a constant spray of bullets. But no matter how much lead they poured into the humanoid beings, the beasts charged forward with all the desperation of a pack of starving wolves. For all the years of professional training between them, they were not prepared for a situation anything like this.

“We have to get back to that boat,” Corey said, his voice cracking.

Jay pictured the black rubber Combat Raiding Rubber Craft, commonly known as a Zodiac, waiting for them at the docking post beneath the oil platform. That was only their first stop on the way back to dry land. “Hopefully Ryan’s staying on course out there,” Jay said. Ryan Zimmer, the third man on their team, was trawling in the yacht they’d commissioned for their travel across the Atlantic. The ship was too large to warrant an inconspicuous approach to the oil platform, so they’d used the low-profile Zodiac. If they reached the craft, they could be back aboard the yacht in an hour or so.

Another beast slammed against the door. The metal groaned again but held. The pounding intensified, sounding like desperate sailors trapped and banging on the bulkhead of a sinking ship.

“Shit,” Jay said.

Corey scrambled toward the ventilation shaft and tore off the grating.

The monsters screeched as though they knew Jay and Corey were trying to escape. Their screams and scratching echoed in the cramped cabin. Jay’s pulse pounded in his ears. He pushed Corey up into the shaft with sweaty palms. Jay took his flashlight in his teeth and jumped. His fingers grabbed the lip of the vent.

Another shuddering bang.

The sickening sound of something scraping across the metal deck and the cries of the creatures filled the room as the door burst open. One of the creatures, covered in skeletal plates, tumbled in. It reached out with a bony claw, swiping at Jay. Another three beasts piled in behind it.

Two hands grabbed Jay’s wrists, pulling him into the shaft and out of the creature’s grasp.

“Come on!” Corey yelled.

The monsters’ howls filled the cramped space. Corey crawled ahead. Jay guided them roughly with the flashlight. His limbs shook. With its strap around his back, the rifle hung under his chest, clanging against the shaft’s walls. He strained his ears, listening for the sound of something scraping across the metal after them. But only the feverish bellows chased them farther, deeper into the maze of the ventilation.

For now, anyway.

Sweat poured across Jay’s brow. “We’re not going to make it,” he muttered.

“Keep moving,” Corey said. He stopped at a four-way intersection and said, “Listen. You hear anything from this direction?” He tilted his head toward one of the passages.

The distant cries of the beasts behind them sent goose pimples prickling across Jay’s skin. He strained his ears. “I don’t think so.”

“Good. Let’s try it.” Corey crawled through. “There, shine your light ahead again.”

Jay did as his partner requested. The beam shone on the slats of another grate. “Let’s check it out.”

They began moving forward again. Another roar hurtled through the ventilation shaft. The ear-splitting sound of something hard scraping on metal resounded through the narrow enclosure.

“They’re in here!” Jay yelled. “Faster!”

Corey shuffled forward and reached out for the grate as the scratching and scuffling behind them grew louder. He tumbled out, Jay close behind. They landed on the hard floor and scrambled to their feet. For a moment, they stood frozen in a corridor filled with metal pipes and diamond-plate flooring. The clamor of the approaching creatures paralyzed Jay’s thoughts.

Then a small rectangle of light flashed in the distance, followed by rolling thunder.

“There!” Corey pointed.

Jay directed the flashlight beam toward where they’d seen the lightning. A porthole—a sign they were almost out of this steel hellhole and the demons haunting it. They sprinted away from the monsters. The clanging of creatures spilling from the ventilation shaft sent a wave of adrenaline through Jay’s veins. At the porthole, they ran into a T-intersection. He spun, squeezing a volley of shots at the misshapen shadows in pursuit.

He expected a cry of pain, a bloodcurdling yell of agony from a bullet tearing through flesh. No such sound rewarded his efforts.

“Move!” Corey sprinted toward the right, striding ahead into the darkness.

Jay flicked the flashlight forward again to illuminate his escape path.

But it was too late. The beam landed on a beast, yards away from Corey.

Corey skidded to a stop, scrambling to redirect his adrenaline-fueled momentum. The creature lunged forward.

Jay squeezed the trigger. The spray found its target, slamming into a humanoid brute and pinging off the bony plates bulwarking its vital organs. It appeared as if the thing’s ribs had grown out from beneath its flesh to wrap around the beast like a cage.

With a swipe of its hand, the creature stabbed its claws through Corey’s body and lifted him into the air. The beast smashed him into the floor.

Jay’s finger found the trigger again, but his weapon clicked uselessly. He was out of rounds. The encroaching howls and yells filled the corridor. The pack was closing in.

In front of Jay, the beast tore into Corey’s stomach, shredding the soft flesh and pulling out his innards. A long crimson rope hung between the creature’s malformed hands, and it smacked its lips as it chewed with jagged teeth.

Jay cried out as he watched blood pour from Corey’s wounds. The contents of his own stomach raced up his throat, churned on by the grisly sight.

Blood bubbled from Corey’s mouth as his eyes glazed over. Then the creature stabbed its claws into the flesh under his chin and wrenched it backward. A loud crack filled the corridor. Corey’s head fell off his body, hanging by a sinewy thread.

There was no saving his friend, and the pack of creatures was closing in from behind. Jay had no choice. His heart thrashed against his ribcage. He sprinted forward, praying the beast was distracted enough from its first kill. He raced straight at the creature and Corey’s disemboweled body, aiming to squeeze by and escape outside.

The beast, blood on its claw-like hands, looked at Jay. It seemed to catch his gaze, to sense his fear. Jay swore its lips almost split into a demonic smile, pleased at the destruction it caused. At the last second, as the beast reared its arm back, Jay dove to the floor like a runner sliding to home base. The beast’s bony fingers swung across his face, one skeletal nail scraping his cheek.

Warm blood seeped from the cut, but he was alive. Jay pushed onward. Lightning illuminated the dark ocean outside again, bathing the passageway in an ephemeral glow. It was a door to salvation. His lungs burned, his muscles shook with the effort. He burst outside, and rain immediately drenched him. The humanoid creatures followed him, slipping and sliding as they rushed after.

He rounded down a set of wiry stairs, catching sight of the Zodiac illuminated by another crack of lightning. The crash of thunder resounded across the water, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the predatory calls of the unrelenting pack.

Jay jumped down the last set of stairs, agony shooting up through his leg. He had rolled his ankle but pushed through the hot pain. He leapt onto the Zodiac, slipped out his knife, and cut the ties mooring the craft to the oil platform. He yanked on the cord to start the Zodiac’s off-board motor. The low gurgle of burning fuel sounded—beautiful music to his ears.

A piercing cry caught his ears, and he glanced up to see the silhouettes of creatures tumbling down the stairs of the platform, still on his trail. Lightning flashed above, illuminating the frenzied beasts as they ran and pushed each other toward their fleeing prey. They wouldn’t give up even though he was already in his boat and seconds from escape. He turned the boat against the storm tides that were curling around the gigantic posts of the oil platform. Desperate, the creatures began to leap. Their bodies splashed into the dark water around him. Most flailed wildly or sank as black waves swallowed them whole.

Then one falling creature cut through the air toward him. He caught its eyes on its descent just before the beast crashed into the side of the Zodiac, scrambling for purchase as the tide sucked it overboard. Another wave washed over them.

For a moment, it appeared as though the beast would be pulled into the storm currents, yanked from the small craft. But luck was not so kind.

The creature’s bone-plated limbs pushed its body upwards, out from the unforgiving Atlantic, and it rolled onto the bow of the Zodiac. Its red eyes met Jay’s once more. There was no humanity there, no mercy.

He tightened his grip around the knife in his hand, the blade glinting in the burst of white electricity coursing through the sky. Images of his home, his friends and parents back in Washington, DC, flashed across his mind. He prayed Meredith Webb would keep her word that someone in his family got the money he earned through his sacrifice.

The beast howled. Its skeletal fingers clicked against each other. It leapt toward him, and he jumped to meet the creature, blade flashing before him.

-6-

––––––––

Meredith watched the video feed of her apartment hall. Two agents were approaching her door. She had prepared for this moment, but she hadn’t expected it so soon. It had been mere days since she’d uncovered the cryptic memo regarding the IBSL oil platform. Lawson must have found out that she’d already sent a team to explore the laboratory and she’d continued her investigations after he’d told her to drop the subject. He was undoubtedly making good on his threats, and she might soon feel the full wrath of the agency when he used his power within the organization to bring her down.

One woman against the CIA. She didn’t stand a chance. The best she could hope for was eluding them long enough for Dom and his crew to find out what happened to Jay Perry’s team and, more importantly, what the hell was going on at the IBSL facility.

She hoisted her rucksack onto the card table. The pack was already half loaded with the gear she’d need to survive on her own. She stuffed the encrypted radio unit and a satellite phone into the side. Once she was far enough from this compromised safe house, she would reestablish communications with Dom.

Meredith could hear the men’s footsteps outside her door now. The mics she’d planted outside let her eavesdrop somewhat on their muffled words. It sounded as if they were conferring about breaking down the door or having agents sweep in from the balcony, she thought, given the few words she could make out.

She focused on the task at hand. The card table still held a couple computers and a radio set up for encrypted communication. Meredith couldn’t take all the equipment with her. Instead, she set a small timed explosive and placed it between the devices. She’d wiped the devices clean, but she was no computer wizard. While the agency might have some idea of what she’d uncovered on the IBSL facility, they knew virtually nothing about Dom and his covert operators. She intended to keep it that way.

The timer ticked away. Thirty seconds to go.

She needed to make a break for it, and the front door obviously wouldn’t do. Agents would be waiting outside her windows and below her fourth-floor balcony, too. Undoubtedly spooks were positioned near her car. In her twenty years with the CIA, she’d learned the importance of a contingency plan. She cracked open the door to the utility closet and slipped inside. She removed a tile in the ceiling, threw her rucksack up into the cobweb-filled space, and hoisted herself up. After replacing the tile, she scuttled over the support beams and crawled under ductwork and water pipes away from her apartment.

A muffled explosion shook the thick dust from the woodwork. Her small bomb had detonated, destroying the computers and electronics she’d left behind.

She continued her trek until she reached another tile marked with a black X formed by electrical tape. The tile slid out of place with a gentle nudge and revealed a stairwell below. On the landing near a steel door, an agent paced with two fingers pressed to his earpiece and his back to her.

In one fell swoop, she twisted out of the opening and swung down behind the agent. Her arm whipped around his neck, and she put him in a chokehold before he could so much as yell into his throat mic. His fingers shot up and around her wrist, and he squirmed. When he slammed his heel into her foot, she winced and bit on her bottom lip. She pulled her arm tighter around his neck and crushed his windpipe until he passed out.

She gently lowered his body against the landing and felt his neck for a pulse. The agent was unconscious but alive. She quickly snatched the comm piece from his ear. Then she searched his suit jacket and felt for the cold steel of his holstered gun. A quick pat down revealed a suppressor tucked into a concealed pocket within the jacket. She screwed the suppressor onto the handgun.

Descending the stairs, she listened for radio chatter.

A voice crackled through her earpiece. “Echo One here. No sign in the apartment.” He seemed out of breath. “Just some burned-out equipment. Anyone else got eyes?”

Two other winded agents responded in turn. “Negative.”

Meredith breathed a sigh of relief. At least the man at her door hadn't reported any injuries or fatalities from her little explosion—she had no intention of killing Agency employees—and they still didn’t know where she’d gone. She dashed down the stairs toward the four-story apartment building’s south exit.

She snatched a pair of night-vision goggles from her pack and snapped them on. She nudged the stairwell exit door open and scanned the alcove beyond. There were no lurking agents in the immediate vicinity, but a hulking dumpster blocked her view of the rest of the parking lot. She tiptoed out and gently shut the door. A cool breeze tussled her hair as she crept forward. She crouched behind the dumpster. A short sprint would lead her straight into the woods, where thick underbrush and columns of sturdy trees could shield her escape north toward the Potomac River.

She surveyed the parking lot to see who might spot her if she ran straight for the trees. A couple of shapes moved beside a line of parked cars near the front of the building. If she kept low, maybe she could avoid being spotted. But the knowledge that these two agents could be avoided did not sit well with her. Trained field agents knew how to set a security perimeter. An agent or two would probably be positioned somewhere else nearby. She just hadn’t found them yet.

A quick flick of a switch on her goggles gave her a thermal view of her surroundings. Her field of vision swam in blues and blacks, interspersed with hot areas of red, yellow, and orange. The augmented view of her environment exposed two more agents, lit up as if they were on fire, hiding in the woods. She could wait for the right moment and sprint to the cars nearest her, which might shield her from their vision. Then she could sneak past them by crawling low and slow through the curling weeds and dense foliage.

Her stolen earpiece crackled to life. “Positions, report.”

Each agent’s voice sounded off in sequence until there was a brief pause.

“Echo Five, come in.”

Silence for a moment.

“Echo Five, come in.”

Meredith pictured the man she’d left unconscious in the stairwell, his body slumped against the cinderblock walls.

“All agents, be alert. Echo Five is not reporting. Target may be on the move. Echo Six, Echo Seven, close gap on the north stairwell.”

The two agents near the edge of the woods stood. They started in a prowl and headed her direction.

So much for taking it slow.

Would Dom act on the short message she’d barely had time to send? If she failed now and was caught, the fate of whatever that oil platform-turned bioweapons facility harbored lay completely in his hands.

***

Tucked in the belly of the Huntress, the cavernous loading bay buzzed with the sounds of zippers and tearing duct tape as the Hunters donned their blue positive-pressure biosafety suits. Despite a history of delving into facilities filled with a host of biological agents and hazardous chemicals, this was the first time Dom had ordered the full contingency of suits for a mission. The Hunters prepared themselves, bantering as usual, almost as if to distract themselves from what lay ahead.

Brett Fielding, a former Ranger and one of the youngest Hunters on Dom’s team, pulled out a small photograph he brought with him on each mission. He kissed it before putting it in his front pocket and pulling up his biohazard suit. Dom had seen the photo plenty of times before—an airbrushed headshot of a blonde with undeniable Scandinavian roots and sharp cheekbones.

“Bro, tell me about that girl of yours again,” Miguel said to Brett.

“She was this tall.” Brett held his hand an inch above his own head. “Gorgeous, smarter than me even.”

“That ain’t exactly hard to do.” Scott grinned as a couple other Hunters laughed.

“Come on, guys.” Jenna patted Brett on his back. “Let the kid have his fantasy.”

Brett scowled. “She was—I mean, is—real, I’m telling you.”

“Christ,” ex-Army Ranger Scott Ashworth said, rolling his eyes. “And she was a Victoria’s Secret model, too, huh?”

Ivan Price, a Marine, elbowed Brett playfully. “Is her secret that she isn’t real?” He looked around the group, but the others gave him sour looks.

“Lame, man,” Terrence Connor, another Ranger, said. “Brett’s imaginary girlfriend could come up with a better one than that.”

“So about that Victoria’s Secret thing,” Jenna started. “Can she get me a discount?”

“Well, I...”

“It’s okay, I’m not into that lacy crap anyway,” Jenna continued, “but was she really one of the Angels walking the runway?”

“She was, honest!” Then Brett turned away as he adjusted his suit’s glove. “But that was after she dumped me.”

“Cold, bro,” Miguel said. “Ice cold.”

Dom stood tall as Lauren zipped up the back of his suit. She laid a strip of tape over the seams where his outermost glove met his suit.

“Good to go.” Lauren patted his back as she finished with the tape. “I’ll have the decontamination chambers set up right here as soon as you’re on your way.”

Dom nodded and scrutinized his squad members, who were busy slipping into their blue suits. They’d all seen the video and had agreed to take part in the mission to gather firsthand intelligence on the facility. He didn’t want to blindly lead the people who trusted him into whatever nightmare lived on the oil platform, but something about Meredith’s warning and the brutality of the video didn’t sit right with him. He counted down the line of Hunters with their rifles strapped across their chests. There were times when he thought of them as a rambunctious lot, such as when they levied their jokes at Brett’s expense. But once they were suited up and ready to go, there was no question as to their professionalism or seriousness.

“Hector, Jenna, Glenn, Scott, and Miguel, you're on me.” The five Hunters positioned themselves by Dom. “Andris, Terrence, Brett, Ivan, and Spencer, follow Renee's lead on team Bravo.”

The remaining Hunters gathered up around Renee. She nodded at Dom, her green eyes serious and focused. The former gymnast and CIA clandestine agent took stock of her team. Leading came naturally to her, and Dom always had enough confidence in her ability to command a squad whenever he had to divide up his Hunters.

“We don’t know what the hell is on that platform, but we don’t want to let it off,” Dom said. “Webb suspects bioweapons, and if what we saw in this video is the result of some kind of biological agent, then we’re about to enter a hot-zone of unparalleled proportions. Questions?”

Glenn Walsh, a former Green Beret, sauntered forward. Even beneath the unflattering bio suit, the man’s muscles pressed against the blue plastic fabric. “Are we to engage all hostiles? Take prisoners? What’s the deal with these things?”

The video raced through Dom’s mind again. “I don’t think these people—these things, whatever they are—will surrender. Eliminate any aggressive threats with extreme prejudice.”

“Why the hell are we going in again? Let’s just blow the place apart,” Scott said. “Boom. Problem solved.”

“No way, bro,” Miguel said with no hint of his usual good humor. “Maybe this isn’t the only place they’re developing this agent. Maybe this weapon is already being deployed. Pretty stupid to destroy the only evidence we have, if you ask me.”

“Exactly,” Dom said. “First and foremost, our mission is to figure out what is or was going on there. Gather up any biological or chemical samples you can and get it all back to Lauren’s team.” He hated bringing back samples of what they found on the drilling platform aboard his ship, but they had no choice. Lauren and her team couldn’t do the science without the samples to test.

“Bring back everything,” Lauren added with deliberate emphasis on the word. “If someone uses the biological or chemical weapon that was developed at the IBSL, it’s crucial we know what the weapon is. We need to know its origins. Depending on what it is, determining its chemical or genetic makeup is crucial. We can only find a way to treat or prevent it if we can characterize it in our lab.”

“Ready?” Dom asked the eleven Hunters before him.

“Aye aye, Captain!” Their voices carried up in unison, and energy coursed among them.

Dom watched Lauren quickly glance at Glenn as the former Green Beret adjusted the strap of his rifle. Her face contorted in a worried expression for only a moment before she turned away. Dom had always suspected the two had once shared something more than friendship, but there wasn’t time to contemplate intra-ship relationships now. He signaled to Alden Jorgenson, one of the ship’s engineers. Alden tapped a touchscreen on a command console built into the bulkhead. The entire bay went dark before being filled with the dim red glow of the battle lights. A starboard-side hatch opened to reveal a black sky above roiling waters. Howling ocean winds pierced the inside of the ship and rattled against Dom’s suit. Alden’s fingers danced across the console again. A hoist and pulley system extended out above the churning ocean.

Two of the Hunters in biosafety suits clipped the first Zodiac to the small crane system.

“All right, we’re going to go six to a Zodiac,” Dom said. “Bravo, load up first.”

He watched the team board the small black craft and then disappear beyond the bulkhead as the Zodiac was lowered toward the ocean. When Alden raised the cables again, Hector and Jenna attached the second Zodiac. Dom boarded with them, joined by Miguel, Scott, and Glenn. He shot a hand signal to Alden, and they swung out over the rough Atlantic. The first Zodiac had already cleared the Huntress and drifted a couple dozen yards away.

The pulleys clinked as the cable was fed through them, and Dom looked back toward the open bay door. Illuminated by the dull crimson interior lights of the ship, Lauren leaned out. Her dark hair whipped about her face. The worried expression she wore turned to a weak smile when she caught his gaze.

The Zodiac hit the ocean’s surface, and a wave rolled over them. Hector and Jenna released the clasps holding the Zodiac to the cables. Given his experience as a former Navy SEAL, Hector took his spot as coxswain and adjusted the tiller on the craft. He directed the boat toward the first squad in open water.

A burst of distant lightning sliced the dark clouds rolling through the sky, and heavy rain started to pound against Dom’s suit. It reminded Dom of an old joke among SCUBA Divers: Don’t go diving when it’s raining. You’ll get wet. But he hardly felt like laughing. Another wave rocked the small craft, and Dom tightened his grip on the rubber gunwale. He didn’t want anybody, wet or not, ending up in the stormy ocean tonight.

The outboard motor’s low chugging intensified. They shot out westward into the night, toward the unknown against an enemy they’d seen only once in a grainy video feed. Already, the storm brewing above them threatened to upend their efforts and send them all into the sea. Just one of the many pleasures of hurricane season in the Atlantic.

Any other mission, Dom would’ve waited for better weather, a clearer night. But the nightmarish bioengineered weapons on the IBSL wouldn’t wait. They must be eliminated before they unleashed their horrors on the world.

The Zodiac sliced through a capping wave. Again, water rushed over the rubber gunwale. The Hunters faced forward with their eyes trained on the distant, almost invisible horizon. Dom knew what was on their minds. They usually functioned on thorough intel provided by one of the world’s most prominent intelligence agencies. Tonight, they ventured toward a target they knew almost as much about as they did the deepest depths of the ocean.

Dom gripped the SCAR-H hanging across his chest. Another distant arc of lightning silhouetted the oil platform beginning to loom before them. Adrenaline pumped through his vessels as he imagined what terrors lay in wait for them on that rig.

-7-

––––––––

The derrick in the center of the platform shone like a skeletal finger thrusting into the sky. A framework of steel beams and rails lay across the deck.

“What’s it look like?” Miguel asked, yelling over the rolling thunder and crashing waves.

“Let’s find out.” Dom lifted a pair of night-vision binoculars to his biosafety suit’s face shield. He aimed the binos over the menagerie of beams and lattices. “Nothing but metal and shadows.”

Another crack of lightning activated the binoculars’ automatic safety shutoff feature, and Dom’s vision went black for a moment. If there was something on that rig, they wouldn’t find out until they were on it.

The Zodiac motored toward one of the massive legs of the platform. They closed in on a ladder extending up to the platform. Hector struggled with the till against the relentless waves. Jenna and Glenn threw heavy cords around the rungs of the ladder and moored the Zodiac in place.

At another ladder a couple dozen yards away, Bravo team followed suit. The team’s leader jumped to the ladder and scaled it like a monkey with a rifle strapped across her back. Near the top, she paused and waved at Dom.

“Hold up, Renee,” Dom said over his comm link. “I know you all don’t like to hear it, but we’ve got to play this by ear.” He stretched out toward the ladder. A rising wave pushed the Zodiac higher, and he braced himself on a rung. “But what I said on the ship still applies. If they’re aggressive, take them out.”

He began climbing. The rest of his team padded after him. When he reached the top, he paused and looked toward Renee. She already had one hand on the steel diamond-plate surface of the platform and appeared ready to leap up.

“As soon as we hit the deck, stay low and watch for contacts,” Dom said. “Renee, you’ll take Bravo team down to the bottom decks first. Alpha, stay on me to sweep the top decks.”

A flurry of affirmatives echoed through his comm link.

“On my signal.”

Renee flexed her arm. Her legs were coiled and appeared ready to propel her up.

“Now!”

Dom heaved with all his might and rolled across the metal surface. He swung his gun in front of him and dove behind the legs of a massive crane. Miguel followed after and dashed forward to a wide, cylindrical tank. Hector and Jenna pressed themselves against the tank next to Miguel. Glenn dashed toward one of the vacant crane legs with Scott at his heels.

“Bravo, you got contacts?” Dom asked. He stole a peek around the legs and scanned the platform. He glanced toward Renee.

“Negative,” she reported. She’d already set up position behind the yellow tube-shaped drilling drawworks near the derrick’s base. Two more of her squad mates joined her near a steel wall stretching around the derrick’s feet. Another sprinted toward them with a gun cradled in his arms.

The last Hunter scurried over the lip of the platform’s deck but caught his foot on the final rung of the ladder. He spilled forward. His gun clattered across the metal flooring.

For a moment, everyone froze.

Then an ear-shattering howl erupted from near Renee’s position. A shape hurtled out of the darkness. It careened straight toward the fallen Hunter as he scrambled to his feet. Dom shouldered his rifle and fired at the racing target. Each recoil sent a shudder through his body.

The creature ran faster as its prey leveled his gun. The Hunter fired, but nothing slowed the beast. It crashed into the man, and both bodies cartwheeled off the platform. They flew out over the hungry ocean. A scream echoed over Dom’s comm link, followed by momentary silence. His blood ran cold.

“Who the hell was that?” he asked as his stomach twisted in a painful knot.

“Brett,” Renee’s voice echoed back. She stood from her position and appeared ready to dash over the edge after him.

“Brett, do you copy?” Dom asked over the comm link. No answer. “Brett, do you copy?” Dom hoped the man had hit the water and his comm link had been knocked from his ear. Maybe Brett swam for safety back to the Zodiac...but the sinking feeling in his gut told him otherwise as he played his rifle across the deck, looking for more contacts.

The deck of the rig was eerily silent. No other screeches or screams sounded, other than the howling wind through the metal trusses. Goddammit, Dom thought. He didn’t have time to give in to the despair that was threatening to take him over now. If more of whatever had attacked Brett were lurking around, they needed to find out what the hell they were dealing with and how to stop it.

“Radio discipline, Hunters,” Dom said in a low voice. He shot a couple hand signals to his team, and they prowled forward. Renee’s team moved in parallel with his. Belabored breaths came over the comm link in rasps. The fear simmering in each of his Hunters was almost palpable.

Then the clatter of something hard against metal rang out behind him, and he swiveled to face it.

A beast appeared at the edge of the platform, illuminated by another arc of white lightning. The oil rig lit up as if it were day, and the features of the monster appeared more grotesque than Dom could ever have imagined. Its ribcage seemed overgrown, jutting out from its chest like a veritable suit of bony armor. Its shoulder blades, yellow and crooked, protruded from its back like the stumps of a fallen angel’s freshly shorn-off wings. The creature’s bones pierced through the ends of its fingers as if the skeleton beneath didn’t know when to stop growing. Bony flanges traced its brow, but its eyes, wet and gleaming, stared back at him with a frightening intelligence. Its fleshy tongue flicked between its gnashing teeth as its cracked lips peeled back. It howled at Dom. Water sluiced from the thing as it raced forward. It brought one claw back and appeared ready to impale Dom with its skeletal talons.

Then Dom noticed something as the beast yelled again and spittle flew from its mouth. Crimson stains colored its teeth. Blood. Dom’s hope of finding Brett alive disappeared like a grain of sand tossed into the ocean.

This was the beast that had fallen with Brett, and now it was hungry for its second course.

-8-

––––––––

Fueled by anger, Dom sprinted at the beast. Three quick squeezes of his trigger sent bullets at Brett’s killer. Each of the rounds thumped into its body, but the creature didn’t slow.

“What the fuck?” Miguel said. He, too, fired off a salvo at the creature. But still the beast ran full tilt at Dom.

Cleaver-like skeletal plates cut through its skin at the joints, scraping against the creature’s body as it let out another howl and leapt.

A smatter of bullets left Dom’s rifle, peppering the beast. Dom was close enough now to see the rounds splinter and fracture the bone-like body armor. Yet not a single bullet appeared to penetrate the growths. The beast flew through the air, raking its claws before him. Dom brought his rifle up to aim for its face, but the beast caught his gun and sent the SCAR clattering across the deck.

Dom sidestepped the monster and barely dodged its talons. He didn’t want the thing to tear a single hole in his suit, lest he catch whatever vile contaminants this rig might be harboring. The creature bounded at him again—upright, like a human.

Like a human. Dom juked to the left and avoided the second charge. At the same time he slipped a knife from the sheath holstered around his biohazard suit. He was too close to the beast for his Hunters to take a clean shot. He tried to back away, but it followed his moves.

The creature jumped. This time Dom couldn’t dodge the attack. He caught one of the creature’s wrists with his free hand and twisted his head to avoid the beast’s other claw as he fell backward under its weight. The skeletal growths covered the thing, marring its flesh, and only its face remained uncovered by the strange mutations. This might be Dom’s one chance. Spittle flew from the creature’s chomping teeth as it tried to bite him. Dom plunged his knife into one of its red eyes and twisted it deeper. The thing shrieked but kept swinging its free hand.

Just...a bit...more. Dom gritted his teeth as he pushed the blade farther. The beast at last stopped its struggling and fell. Dom rolled out from underneath it as it slumped. He kicked the thing over to look at its face.

A hand clamped on Dom’s shoulder, and he spun, bringing his knife back up.

Miguel held his hands up, his rifle slung over his chest. “Whoa, it’s just me. Sorry, I couldn’t...”

“Even if you could’ve taken a shot, it wouldn’t have done shit.” Dom kicked the creature over. “Look at this nasty fucker. Covered in bones or some shit,” he said between breaths. “The only weak spot is the damn thing’s face.”

Miguel stared at the face. “Is it just me, or does this thing look almost human?”

“From the looks of it, it might’ve been human once,” Dom said.

“What the fuck kind of twisted fun house is this?” Miguel asked.

Dom let the question linger as he stared at the humanoid creature that might’ve killed Brett. Anger built in him like an over-pressurized boiler fit to explode. He wanted to lash out and stomp the monster’s face in. He gave it a final kick before marching back to the center of the rig’s helipad and signaled for his squad and Renee’s to join him. The ten Hunters stood before him, clad in their biosafety suits with their weapons clutched and ready. Each shared a similar pained expression behind their face shields. The twisted knot in his stomach was still there, but he couldn’t crumple in defeat now. They hadn’t even probed the depths of the oil platform, and if Brett had indeed made the ultimate sacrifice, Dom wouldn’t let it be in vain.

“Alpha, Bravo, anyone see more contacts?” Dom asked.

“Negative,” came the replies.

He pointed at Hector Ko and Spencer Barrett. “You two head back down to the Zodiacs. If there’s a chance we can recover Brett, I want you to do whatever you can. We don’t leave a man, dead or alive, behind. Understood?”

The former SEALs nodded. If anyone could deal with the crashing tides and the murky waves, it was those two.

“Don’t do anything stupid, though. I don’t want you swimming around, but if you can take a Zodiac to recover Brett, do it.”

Hector saluted. “You got it.” They scrambled to the edge of the rig and descended the ladder.

“That goes for everyone,” Dom said. “I want to be in and out as fast as we can. Plan still remains. Alpha team, on me. Bravo, on Renee with the lower decks. We meet in the middle, come hell or high water.” And on this rig, Dom wasn’t sure which would come first as the Hunters nodded. “One last thing before we split up. These creatures might’ve been human once, they might not. Whatever’s going on, they don’t seem to have any regard for human life. If you run into hostiles, protect yourself first and ask questions later.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” the Hunters responded.

“When it comes to killing these things, aim for their goddamned faces. These pieces of shit—at least the one that nearly killed me—are covered in some kind of armor.” He hoisted his rifle in front of him to emphasize his point. “So go for headshots, and shoot to kill.” He made a cleaving motion with his arm, directing Renee’s squad toward the entrance to the rig. “Bravo team, go!”

“Roger that, Captain,” Renee replied. She jogged to the entrance. Her squad followed and disappeared down the stairs beyond the door.

Dom led Jenna, Scott, Glenn, and Miguel next. He hesitated at the stairs. His NVGs provided a glimpse at what the shadows held, but he wondered if they’d be enough. “Huntress, this is Alpha One. Do you read?”

“Copy,” Chao responded. “We’ve still got live feed from your cams, too.”

“Great.” Dom started down the stairs into the first corridor with Alpha in tow. “Is there any way we can turn the lights back on in this hellhole?”

“Let me see what I can find.”

The comm link went silent as Dom started forward through the top deck corridor. He played his gun across the passage, and his Hunters probed each room as they went. Behind each door, they found cots, clothing, and toiletries. It appeared they were in the crew quarters.

Miguel emerged from one of the rooms and held up a small notebook. “Looks like a damn diary or something.”

“Take it with,” Dom said.

Miguel stowed the notebook in the bag slung across his back. They continued searching the room, stowing away anything that might help Lauren or Chao. Halfway through, Dom’s earpiece flared to life.

“Alpha, Bravo, this is Chao, do you read? Over.”

“Copy, Alpha team here,” Dom said.

“There should be two generators. Based on the facility’s specs, you’re looking for two 6.25 MVA gas turbine generators. Should be on the bottom deck where Bravo is.”

“Bravo team, did you catch all that?” Dom asked.

“Roger,” Renee replied.

Dom treaded down the hallway and slowed to a halt. Something had caught his eye. He signaled for Miguel to watch his back as he approached what looked like a torn garbage bag. He stifled a gag when he realized what it was.

In the middle of the floor, a body lay torn to pieces. Its limbs were scattered and its bones cracked open. A dark pool of blood encircled the corpse like a shadow. Dom knelt by the remains and examined what appeared to be half a femur. Most of the flesh and organs were simply gone. The remnants of flesh that did remain were starting to decay.

Dom peered inside the broken femur. Its marrow had been sucked dry. Fragments of the ribcage lay next to a SCAR. This must have been one of the mercs Meredith had sent before requesting the Hunters.

Miguel stepped forward and took a long eyeful of the remains. “Please tell me you don’t want us to take that back as evidence.”

***

Renee planted her boots, shouldered her rifle, and scanned the shadows. In her mind’s eye, she saw Brett falling off the rig again and again. She wished she had acted sooner and intercepted the wailing beast. But regret wouldn’t keep her alive, and she forced the lingering thoughts from her mind. She knew she’d have to deal with the psychological repercussions later. Right now, she was in charge of three other lives, and she needed to be ready if Dom called for help.

“Which way?” Andris asked in a whisper.

A four-way intersection beckoned for her to make a choice and gamble on what may lay in wait for them. She nodded toward the left. “Let’s take this deck counterclockwise.”

With no doors leading off the passage, they sprinted along it. They were careful to keep their footsteps light and avoid unwarranted attention. A steel door greeted them at the end. Renee twisted the door handle and spilled inside. She played her rifle across the boxes and crates towering above her, but nothing jumped out. No terrible wails or howls echoed against the walls.

Terrence Connor, a decorated Ranger, pried off the lid of one of the crates. “Canned goods.” He pulled one out. “Green beans.” He tossed it to the floor.

“Check them all just in case,” Renee commanded. The group tore through the contents of the cargo. Nothing.

They strode out into the hall and ran toward the intersection again. Renee led her team to another heavy steel door and leaned onto its handle. It didn’t budge. She pressed all her weight down on it, her muscles straining, each fiber exerting all the force she’d trained through her years of gymnastic conditioning and weight lifting. It didn’t give.

She waved to Terrence, and he understood immediately. She hated asking the man do the heavy lifting, but his weight might provide more leverage and get the damn door open. Terrence threw all his bulk into the door handle and shoved in with his shoulder. The door stood solid and unmoving. A small wave of relief washed through her when he couldn’t break through either. Her pride had been saved.

“My turn.” Andris Jansons stepped forward. He didn’t wait for an answer before molding a small plastic explosive around the lip of the door near the handle.

“Keep it small as possible,” Renee said.

“Just enough to open the door. No more, no less.” Andris finished placing the explosive and signaled for them to back up. “I learned explosives in Latvia, long before I became a Legionnaire with the French. They don’t know explosives like I do. You can trust me.” He held up three fingers then counted down. Three, two, one.

The charge detonated with a low bang. A trail of smoke and dust poured from the edge of the door, and it swung open. An iron rod fell out and clanked on the floor.

Renee waved her hand to clear the smoke from her vision and crept forward, her gun shouldered. As the smoke dissipated, something became visible to her. A huddled shape wearing a set of blue coveralls lay across the floor past the metal toilets, showerheads, and sinks. She kept her gun trained on it, but it wasn’t moving. She crept closer and realized the shape had a shaggy head of dark hair. It was a body—a human body.

Renee raced forward.

“Careful!” Andris called.

There was no sign of bony protuberances on this man. His coveralls were torn and stained but otherwise didn’t look to be affected by whatever had turned the person they’d scuffled with earlier and the one in Meredith’s video into those monsters. Renee knelt by the man. Sweat matted down his black hair and dripped over his light skin. She pressed her fingers against his neck. He didn’t roar to life, nor did he flail at her like the creature above deck. A weak, almost imperceptible force pushed back against her finger. A pulse.

He was alive.

***

Dom knelt by the picked-over corpse. The flesh was ragged and already growing rank. He plucked at the black cloth hanging from the remains. Gnaw marks scarred the bones.

Miguel took a knee beside him as the others stood guard. “What do you make of this, Chief?”

“Probably one of Webb’s other contractors.” Dom rubbed a piece of fabric between his gloved fingers. “Looks like special ops getup.” He motioned to the SCAR belonging to what little was left of this man or woman along with a crushed set of NVGs.

“Those creatures did this to him?” Scott asked. “Holy shit.”

Glenn glanced down the corridor. “He didn’t do it to himself.”

“Enough. Let’s move.” Dom stood and pointed at a fragment of the man’s shattered ribs. “Take that with you.”

“Serious?” Miguel asked.

“Serious as this place is dark. If we’re looking for bioweapons, we might find something there.”

“And I suppose you’re going to want us to grab a sample of one of those Skull beasts, too?”

“Skull beasts?”

“Yeah, Skulls.” Miguel withdrew a small plastic container for the collection of biohazardous samples. He also held a set of forceps he used to deposit chunks of broken rib into the container. “The damn thing that attacked you looked like a skeleton flipped outside its body, didn’t it?”

“Fair enough,” Dom said. “And yes, if we can, we’re going to want a sample of a Skull. Now, let’s see if we can’t find something more interesting than the crew quarters.”

When Miguel closed the biohazard sample container, Dom motioned for the Hunters to step in with him as they continued their exploration. Echoes of the pounding rain outside resonated within the passageways. The platform almost seemed to sway with the crashing of the storm and waves. They delved deeper into the corridors until they reached a room filled with glassware, microscopes, and contraptions that looked like squat gray refrigerators—cell incubators.

A lab, Dom thought. Finally someplace that might actually have something useful.

“Collect notebooks, hard drives, anything you can get your hands on,” Dom said. The Hunters did as he commanded and then gathered at the rear exit of the lab.

Dom counted down on his fingers, kicked the door open, and sprinted through. The passage opened up into a larger corridor filled with heavy metal tanks.

“Looks like a distillery or something,” Glenn said in a low voice.

“Bioreactors,” Dom corrected.

They snuck through the corridor. Dom kept his eyes on the shadows behind the vats and waited for the intense howling of the Skulls. Plastic curtains, covered with splatters of something, hung in another entryway. A heavy steel door drooped off its hinges. The hydraulic cylinders that had once controlled it were burst and leaking. The hair on the back of Dom’s neck stood straight. He held up a fist, signaling his team to hold up. He waited a second while he anticipated a Skull charging through the plastic curtain.

He almost jumped when his comm link crackled. “Alpha, this is Bravo,” Renee reported over the comm link. “We found somebody.”

“Not a Skull, was it?” Dom asked.

“A Skull? You mean those monsters. No.”

“Was it another commando?”

“No, but he’s alive.”

“What did he say?” Dom asked. “Did he know anything?”

“He’s out cold,” Renee said. “But I don’t think he was one of Webb’s guys. We found him behind a door. He barricaded himself in from the outside.”

“How’d he go unconscious?”

Renee hesitated. “When we blasted the door to gain entry, I think he was a bit too close.”

“Shit. What did you do with him?”

“Terrence and Andris are carrying him.”

Two less guns guarding their movement. “Be careful.”

“Copy, Captain. It stinks something fierce down here. Like diesel.”

A new voice piped up over the comm. “Bravo, this is Chao. Sounds like you’re near the generators.”

When the radio chatter ceased, Dom directed his squad forward. They passed by the ominous bioreactors standing as silent sentries in the corridor and drew near the splattered curtains. Dom signaled Scott and Jenna to follow his movements. Ready to provide fire support, they shouldered their weapons.

Dom yanked back the ragged plastic curtains. He pushed through the remnants of a second curtain and stepped out into a large space filled with more lab benches, microscopes, biosafety cabinets, glassware, and a host of large bioreactors lining a wall. Shattered beakers and flasks lay across the tiled floor. Perspiration dripped across his forehead and smeared his biohazard suit’s clear visor. He didn’t mind the small inconvenience if it was protecting him from whatever turned people into those Skulls.

Dom bent and picked up a set of night-vision goggles complete with a camera. He surveyed the room again. “This must be where the video Webb sent us came from.”

“There was definitely a Skull in that video.” Jenna crept to his side. Her gun’s muzzle swept across the equipment and a bank of dark monitors. “No sign of them now. You think the one that attacked Brett was all that was left?”

“Somehow, I doubt it,” Miguel said. He pressed a button on one of the computers lining a bench top. “Instead of trying to turn the power on, why don’t we just scrap these things for the hard drives and get the hell out of here?”

“We could,” Dom said. “But that’d eat up a lot of time, and I’m interested in the storage space we can’t access by yanking their drives.”

“What do you mean?” Scott said.

“I’m not convinced everything is stored on these.” Dom patted one of the computers. “I want to dig into this platform’s intranet, see what’s on the network. Maybe we can access any VPNs or rout out a connection to the mainland. That might help us find the assholes behind this mess. We can’t do any of that without power.”

“Makes sense,” Miguel said. “I’d rather find out everything we can about this damn place so we don’t have to come back.”

“Agreed,” Jenna said. “Even if we killed all those damn Skulls, this place is by far one of the creepiest we’ve been to.”

Glenn was scouring through the drawers. “Found a couple more notebooks.”

“How about some biological samples?” Dom asked.

Miguel nodded and pulled a biocontainment canister from his rucksack. The lockable aluminum cylinder contained several insulated layers to protect biological samples from the external environment and ensure whatever went into the device stayed in the device. He marched to the walk-in cooler near a series of biosafety cabinets. “Start in here?”

“Sure thing,” Dom said. He wrapped his fingers around the cooler door’s handle. Miguel set the canister down and shouldered his weapon to affirm his readiness.

Dom jerked the cooler open. A sudden wail filled the lab space, and a creature pounced from within. Miguel fired, but his shots missed. Clad in the remains of a biosafety suit, a Skull pounced forward, swinging its skeletal limbs. Miguel threw an arm up to deflect the Skull’s talons. The beast knocked the gun from his hands and drove him to the floor.

Dom wanted to fire, but he couldn’t risk firing accidentally shooting the Hunter. He dropped his gun and pulled his knife from the sheath wrapped around the leg of his biosuit.

The Skull screamed. Saliva flew out of its mouth and covered Miguel’s visor. Dom lunged and yanked back on one of the horn-like protrusions above the creature’s brow. He drove his knife into the flesh under its chin. Hot blood spilled out. The Skull wailed a high-pitched scream and flailed its arms. Dom dodged the bony talons and twisted the blade deeper. With a final cry of agony, the creature twisted, more hot crimson spilling, before it fell limp. Dom turned the beast over and removed his knife. He wiped the blood on the tattered remnants of the monster’s suit.

Backing away, Miguel cradled one of his arms. “That thing was one of the scientists here.”

Dom pointed to Miguel’s arm. “What the hell happened?”

Miguel waved the limb. “Just the prosthetic again.”

Despite the dismissal, Miguel’s tone was worried. Gashes in Miguel’s bio suit revealed the complex wires and actuators in his metal appendage. A deep pit formed in Dom’s stomach. He didn’t want to believe what he saw. First Brett, now this. Even if they fixed the positive pressure suit with duct tape, it was already too late. The tears were too large—the entire arm of Miguel’s suit was in tatters. “Your suit’s been compromised.”

“But the arm is fine,” Miguel said, feigning his normal good humor.

“Miguel, if whatever is turning people into these monsters happens to be airborne”—Dom pointed to the dead Skull—”then you might be exposed to it.”

“Then I might be,” Miguel said, sounding determined. “And there’s not a hell of a lot we can do now. What are you going to do? Send me back to the boat?”

“You need the doctor to take a look at you.” Glenn rested a large gloved hand on Miguel’s shoulder.

“How’s Lauren going to help me? She’ll need to give me a diagnosis first.” He waved a hand at the Skull’s corpse. Blood pooled around its head. “And I doubt she knows what kind of disease does this to a person.”

Dom slung his SCAR-H across his back. “Damn it.” His first instinct was to abort the mission and retreat. They’d already lost one man, and now they faced the loss of a second.

As if reading Dom’s thoughts, Miguel caught his eyes through their visors. “If it’s already too late for me, I want it to be worthwhile. The only way to do that is by finding out what’s going on here. We need to stop this bioweapon from being used on others. Your family, Dom. The States. Think about it.” He tore off the tattered sleeve and tossed it aside. Scott gasped, but Miguel ignored him.

“No, Miguel,” Dom said. But as much as he wanted to believe it, he knew Miguel’s suit didn’t matter now.

“No point in wearing this torn up piece of shit anymore.” Miguel’s hair was matted to his head by sweat, his breath condensing in his visor. “If I’m screwed, I’m screwed. But I want to make this count. Let’s get the data off these computers and scrounge up whatever samples we can. Let’s figure out what’s going on before the whole goddamned world is turned to Skulls. Let’s—” His eyes shot to the small LCD screen on his prosthetic limb, now open to the atmosphere.

Dom stepped forward. “What is it?”

“Remember the chip Chao installed in my arm?”

“For detecting trace explosives?”

“That’s the one,” Miguel said. “It’s found something.”

-9-

––––––––

Jay Perry stood in the wheelhouse of the yacht. The bow broke through the choppy waves, remnants of the storm following them from the oil platform turned Frankenstein’s lab. Whitecaps continuously slapped along the boat’s hull, and a frothy wake trailed behind them. The skies were slowly turning from an ominous black back to a calmer cerulean.

In his mind’s eye, Jay saw the last creature fling itself at him once more. He had barely dodged its raking claws and gnashing teeth. It had been luck more than anything that drove his knife through the beast’s nasal cavity and into its brain. The thing had writhed then fallen still. Its body had been draped across the rubber gunwale of the Zodiac until he’d pushed it into the sea. The cries of the other beasts had filled the air after him. A couple had even tumbled into the churning waves to swim after him.

But he’d lived; he’d made it. Unlike Corey. A deep pang of regret filled him again. He couldn’t help but wonder if his friend’s death had been worth it. Probably not, he decided. He probed at the bandage across his cheek, a lingering reminder of all he’d been through.

“Is it bothering you?” Ryan Zimmer asked, his hands on the wheel. “Do you need painkillers? Antibiotics, maybe? I mean, that was a bioweapons lab, right? Better to be safe than sorry.”

“Already took them,” Jay said, “and it’s not bugging me so much anymore.”

And it was true. The slash across his cheek had caused only a slight pain. It was the memories that haunted him now.

“Still can’t believe Corey’s gone.”

“Yeah.” Jay slumped into a chair behind Ryan but said nothing more. Ryan no doubt wanted to know what else had happened—and why he’d come back alone—but Webb had sworn him to secrecy. Despite Ryan’s role in the mission, even he wasn’t privy to the same sensitive intel Webb had provided Jay and Corey. She hadn’t wanted anything that happened on the mission, anything they would find on the oil platform, to get out. After what Jay had seen, neither did he.

A strip of green vegetation appeared along the horizon on their starboard side. Jay recognized the sight as they motored closer to the woods along the coast. Cape Charles. They would traverse up into Chesapeake Bay and dock in Annapolis on return from their “deep-sea fishing expedition.” Even before Jay and Corey had boarded the Zodiac for the platform, they’d spent enough time with their fishing lines dangling in the ocean to gather a plethora of snapper, grouper, and triggerfish in their stores to bolster their alibi.

He checked his satellite phone again to confirm Webb’s initial payment had gone through to the Cayman account. It was there, but her second deposit hadn’t been made. He sent her a short encrypted message about it. Maybe he didn’t deserve compensation. Corey had lost his life, and they were unable to tell Webb what the hell had been going on. The mission had been an outright failure.

But Jay had learned one thing from the mission: it was time to get out of the United States. From what he could tell, the scientists and researchers on the IBSL had been turned into those bloodthirsty monsters. And if the biological agent or drug responsible for the disaster might be let loose on America, he didn’t intend to get swept up in the chaos. He would escape to the Caribbean as he’d planned. Hell, maybe somewhere farther, more remote.

Ryan pulled a hand through his mud-brown hair. “So I’m just never going to get the full story on Corey, am I?”

“Even if I could tell you...” Jay let his words trail off and shook his head. He ignored the exasperated look from Ryan and meandered out of the wheelhouse and down the stairs outside. The gunwale beckoned to him, and he leaned on it. A cool sea breeze rushed across his face and tickled his skin. He soaked in the salty air as gulls swooped and squawked overhead. He needed this escape from Ryan’s unquenchable curiosity.

When he had escaped from the rig and boarded the yacht, he’d told Ryan there had been more armed mercenaries on the rig than expected. They’d prevented him and Corey from probing into the bioweapon secrets Webb had directed them to find. It wasn’t so far from the truth. Just replace mercenaries with monsters.

Cape Charles grew larger. Jay could make out the individual trees and houses now, along with the sandy beaches and the piers jutting out over crystal-blue water. Other boats and ships kicked up their own wakes. They were drawing nearer to civilization. Home.

Ryan’s earlier words repeated in his head. Better to be safe than sorry.

He wondered just how safe any of them were.

***

A quick twist of the lockpick caused the tumblers to click into place. Renee’s pulse pounded in her ears, and sweat trickled between her palms and gloves as she held up her fingers. She signaled: three, two, one. She pulled the door open to the reassuring scent of diesel. They’d found the generator room. She signaled Ivan to take point and motioned for Andris to take rear guard. Terrence held security in the corridor to guard the still-unconscious man they’d found holed up in the bathroom. Renee gestured for him to stay put with the mechanic—the name they’d given the knocked-out man because of his blue coveralls—until she gave him the all clear.

Ivan swept the room with his gun before stepping in, and Andris pushed in behind him. Renee darted in behind them. The trio melted into the shadows of the cavernous room. The boxy shapes of the two main generators took up most of the space. A smaller backup generator lay dormant nearer Renee’s position. Congealed diesel fuel made the floor slick. She wondered why this room had been locked shut, why something so vital as power to the platform had been closed off from the rest of the rig.

The answer came in a gargling yell from the far corner of the generator room. A Skull rushed out of the darkness. Its lips peeled back, baring its jagged teeth, and it ran with its arms outstretched, muscles twitching underneath its bony plates.

Ivan backed away, gunfire lighting up his retreat. His haphazard shots didn’t stop the creature charging him. It pounced, its claws swiping across the front of his suit. Ivan fell to the floor. “Help!” He tried to push the beast off, but it persisted, snapping at him and snarling. Closest to Ivan, Andris aimed his rifle at the creature and fired. The bullets slammed uselessly into the creature’s armor, and the Skull swatted the gun out of Andris’s hands.

“Shit!” The Hunter yelled and leapt to recover the gun. Terrence ran in from the hall to help, but Ivan was directly between him and the Skull.

Renee knew the Hunter wouldn’t get a clear shot. She ran at the Skull and slammed the stock of her rifle into its face. The blow knocked chunks of bone off the horns rimming the creature’s brow. Dazed, it swiveled its head toward her. Its mouth opened wide as it let loose another deafening wail. Its tongue shook over its pointed teeth, and it reared a clawed hand back. Renee sidestepped as the Skull lunged forward. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she dodged the long talon-like fingers and the overgrown skeletal blades protruding from the beast’s joints.

“Bravo, the fuck is going on?” Dom’s voice called over the comm link.

“A fucking Skull, that’s what,” Renee yelled back as she prepared for the creature’s next attack.

The Skull slid across the slick floor, thrashing and scrambling to gain traction. Renee shouldered her rifle and fired directly into the beast’s face. The bullet smashed through its eye socket. More bone fragments and red tissue exploded from the exit wound. The beast fell slack and slumped forward. Its blood spilled across the dark shadow of diesel already covering the floor.

“Ivan, you okay?” Renee shouted.

He grunted. “Fine.”

Renee watched the Marine stand and wipe at the diesel clinging to his suit. She’d almost lost a second Hunter. She took point as Andris returned to her side. She signaled for Terrence to bring the mechanic in from the corridor. She shut the door behind him and relocked it to ensure no one and no thing wandered in on them while they worked.

“All clear,” Renee said as she lowered her weapon and began to examine one of the twin generators.

“Why the hell would they lock one of these things in here?” Ivan asked as he sidled up to her.

Renee considered the question. “I don’t think they had a choice.” She nodded toward the mechanic. “He wasn’t armed. I haven’t seen guns or ammunition anywhere,” she said in a low voice. “When the Skulls took over, I’m guessing the people here were forced to lock them up for their own safety.”

“That or hide.” Terrence gestured to the unconscious man.

“You think there are other survivors?” Andris asked.

“No idea,” Renee said as she cleared diesel residue from a lone gauge and tried to make out its purpose. “But let’s focus on getting the power turned back on so Alpha team can finish their lab recon and recovery.”

“And then we can get the hell off this shithole,” Terrence added.

Renee nodded before activating her comm link. “Huntress, this is Bravo One. Do you read?”

“Copy, Bravo,” Chao’s voice came over the comm link. “Go ahead.”

“Huntress, are you getting video?”

“Roger that. But your suit’s blocking part of the feed.”

Renee adjusted her headpiece and visor. “Better?”

“Looks good. We’re going to run through some diagnostics. Check the main generators first. See if we can start them.”

“Copy. What am I looking for?”

“There should be a panel with a bunch of gauges and buttons.”

Renee walked around the bulky parallel generators until she found a metal plate with six gauges and a series of large black buttons. “Found it.”

Chao guided her through priming and started the generator. Renee’s heart leapt as it shuddered briefly, but the machinery ground to a halt. She tried again with the same result. “Not working.”

“What’s the fuel level look like?” Chao walked her through checking the gauges and the fuel tank.

“Plenty of diesel,” she reported. “What next?”

“Stand by.” Chao’s line went silent for a moment, and then he said, “Check the engine for leaks or damage.”

Renee nodded to the rest of her squad to do as Chao said. She probed the cold metal tubes around the engine.

“Found something.” Andris held up a gunk-covered finger. “Oil leak.”

“Shit,” Chao’s voice cracked through the comm link. “Wet stacking, probably.”

“Wet what?” Renee asked.

“If life aboard the rig went downhill fast, I’m guessing the load on the generators was well below the normal output range. Probably accumulated a mess of unburned fuel, oil, water, and carbon particles—wet stacking—and that’ll keep the thing from starting.”

Renee drummed her fingers along the generator’s surface. “So what now?”

“The engine needs to be loaded for a few hours to burn off the excess fuel.”

She glanced down at the twisted corpse of the skull. “We don’t have hours. Alpha team needs power now.”

Renee moved several fuel drums surrounding the smaller backup generator. Some were tipped on their sides.

“Then fill the backup generator and pray it works.”

Renee signaled to her Hunters to hoist a barrel over the input nozzle of the backup. Andris, Ivan, and Terrence lifted a heavy barrel, their grunts echoing against the metal bulkheads. The diesel came out of the barrel in slurping waves, splashing against the side of the generator and over the floor. But enough made it in for Renee to see the needle on the gauge tick to the left.

“Huntress, this is Bravo One,” Renee said over the comm link. “The backup generator is full and ready to go.”

She pulled the on-switch, and the generator rumbled to life. Its deep cough reverberated through the room. She’d successfully revived the oil rig.

“Christ, that’s loud enough to wake the dead,” Andris said, yelling over the generator.

“Might not be so far from the truth.” Ivan nodded toward the dead Skull.

“We’re not sticking around to find out,” Renee said. She shouldered her rifle and walked toward the exit. “Let’s move,” she said with authority.

Terrence hoisted the unconscious mechanic over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

She led her Hunters back into the passage lit with emergency lights. The malicious red churned over the hallway. Renee worked her way carefully with her rifle sweeping the shadows. A whoosh sounded overhead as air flowed through ventilation ducts. There was something else, too. Faint but unmistakable. A howl. She shivered and increased her pace.

-10-

––––––––

“Alpha One, this is Bravo One, you got lights on up there?” Renee asked over the comm link. “We’re en route.”

“Roger that, Bravo One,” Dom said over the comm link. “We have light. We’re in the central lab facility.”

The computers buzzed back to life. Sterile air circulated through the biosafety cabinets, and the temperature control panels outside the walk-in cooler blinked, flashing digital numbers. Dom welcomed the chirp of electronics and snapped off his NVGs as the lights dispelled the shadows in the lab.

“Plugging in the sat-link now,” Miguel said. He inserted a small device Chao had designed into a computer.

“Huntress, this is Alpha One,” Dom said. “You linked in?”

Samantha’s voice sounded over the comm link. “Roger that, Alpha One. We’ve got a live link to the rig’s intranet. It’s a jungle in there. They’ve buried whatever’s hiding on their servers pretty damn well.”

As the other Hunters collected small vials and chemicals stored in the lab’s freezers and coolers, Miguel tapped at a keyboard. The monitor requested a retina scan and a password. Miguel turned to Dom and shrugged.

“Huntress, we’re stuck on our end,” Dom said. “Can you give me a SITREP on their cyber security?”

“Firewalls and encrypted data...nothing I can’t handle with a little time.”

“How long are we talking?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Fifteen?” Dom glanced at Miguel’s prosthetic arm. The small screen still blinked in warning. “I’m giving you five before we get the hell out of here.” He called Renee next.

“Go ahead,” Renee’s voice came back in a hushed tone.

“Any sign of an armory, munitions dump, or explosives?”

“Nothing. Something up, Captain?”

“Miguel’s detecting trace explosives,” Dom said.

“Could it be the C4 we brought aboard?”

Miguel was listening in on the comm link and shook his head. “Chao calibrated the chip to control for whatever we brought aboard.”

“He’s right,” Chao’s voice broke over Dom’s earpiece. “You think that Skull did something to your arm, Miguel?”

“Other than a couple scratches, everything seems to be functional.” Miguel flexed the fingers on both hands and rotated his wrists to underline his point.

“The detector’s brand new. Maybe there’s an error.” Dom wanted to believe it. But Chao was an undeniably talented perfectionist; he didn’t make mistakes. The expression on Miguel’s face told the same story.

Dom’s heart hammered as the pieces of the puzzle started to click in place. He thought back to Meredith Webb’s report that a bioweapons facility had gone dark. There weren’t supposed to be any breadcrumbs leading back to this facility. He guessed it was never supposed to be found. And undoubtedly there’d be some failsafe mechanism put in place.

“Samantha, how long until you have everything you need?” Dom asked.

“I transferred some data. It’s still encrypted, so I don’t know what I’ve found. I’m trying to track communications between the rig and any onshore locations to identify any potential VPNs. But—” She paused. “There’s an application running, something unencrypted.” Her voice hitched up in excitement. “Dom, there’s something going on between the computers aboard the rig—a signal passing between transmitters. Seems like a...a countdown!”

Dom understood at once. “We need to leave! Bravo One, you copy? Cancel the rendezvous and get the fuck off the rig. Back to the Zodiacs!”

The drone of the generator sounded over the comm link. Renee’s voice was barely audible. “Copy, Alpha One, we’re moving!”

“Roll out!” Dom barked. He ushered his Hunters from the lab. “Huntress, do you have any word on that app—”

A thunderous roar resonated through the oil rig. More glassware tumbled from the shelves. A pipe burst, and clouds of white gas plumed from its gaping wound. Scott lost his footing, and Jenna caught him. Then a second explosion tore through the platform. This one seemed closer. Maybe only a deck below. The emergency lights flickered on and off.

The platform had been rigged to detonate. It was a final precaution to send the hulking steel behemoth plunging into the ocean along with the Skulls and all evidence of the bioweapons research on it. Dom guessed the power outage had disrupted the programmed explosives. Now there was no way to know when and where the bombs would go off.

“Go, go, go!” Dom yelled.

Another blast shook the platform. Dom sprinted behind his Hunters as they charged past the picked-apart corpse they’d seen earlier in the corridor. He fought for breath as he ran full speed. They made it out onto the platform’s main deck in a matter of minutes. Renee and her squad pounded up the stairs after them as smoke billowed from the platform’s interior. She gave him a silent nod, the fear and urgency in her expression undoubtedly matching the look on his face.

As they sprinted across the empty helipad over the deck, Dom realized they weren’t the only ones desperate to escape the flames spouting from the rig. The gargled yells and shrieking wails of the Skulls pierced his eardrums as the creatures spilled from the bowels of the platform and out on the main deck.

-11-

––––––––

Meredith Webb caught the sour scent of rotting fruit as she crouched behind the dumpster. She could see the silhouettes of two agents striding toward her location, weapons drawn. She knew they, like her, wore NVGs; the darkness wouldn’t be enough to conceal her position. She drew back behind a pile of trash bags someone had been too lazy to throw in the dumpster. When one agent moved close enough, she pounced. She swept a leg out to knock him from his feet and caught him in one swift motion. She pulled the man’s handgun from his grip and pressed it to his temple.

In a low voice, she spoke to the second agent. “Don’t do anything stupid, or he’s dead. Got it?”

The second agent lowered his weapon but said nothing.

“Got it?” She pressed the muzzle of her weapon harder into her hostage’s skin.

The second agent nodded.

“Give me your radio, cell, and pistol.”

The man thrust his hand into his pocket.

“Slowly,” Meredith added.

He was young, smooth-skinned. Meredith figured this might’ve been his first assignment with any real action. She recalled her own days as a brash new agent, serving in the CIA with Dom as a partner. On their first field outing, they'd been tasked with taking down a homegrown bioterrorist cult growing deadly strains of E. coli. The group had been ready to deploy their weaponized bacteria in an attack in Oregon, but Dom and Meredith had stormed in even though the agency hadn't yet authorized their infiltration of the bioterrorists' suspected facility. An intense gunfight with a dozen holed-up terrorists led to Dom taking a bullet through his shoulder and Meredith receiving a gunshot wound in her thigh. Yet they had kept fighting through the pain until the final terrorist, the leader of the cult, surrendered.

She saw a flicker of that same brazenness in the novice agent as the man pulled out his cellphone. She knew he wouldn't cooperate easily.

“Throw it over here,” Meredith said.

He hesitated before taking a step forward.

Her muscles tensed. She could sense his eagerness to take her down. “Don’t take another step.”

The agent’s jaw seemed to tighten, and his hand slipped into his jacket.

Meredith readjusted her aim and fired a suppressed shot into the agent’s thigh. The man went down, his hands clenching the leg wound, and the hidden pistol from his chest holster clattered across the asphalt.

“Fuck!” The agent yelped. He grabbed his leg and grunted, appearing to fight against the pain.

“Don’t make another sound. Don’t yell, don’t sneeze, don’t blink your goddamn eyes, or he’s dead.” Meredith tightened her arm around her hostage’s neck. She didn’t intend to kill him. Hell, she hadn’t wanted to hurt the other agent. But she knew he wouldn’t have stood down unless she showed how sincere she was.

Voices barked over the radio she’d taken earlier. “Any visuals on the target?”

“Negative,” another replied.

Meredith feared they were scouring the apartment building and closing the dragnet around the complex. Time was running out. She stuck one hand into her hostage’s jacket pocket. Her fingers hit plastic, and she pulled out a set of zip ties. Her hostage writhed in her grip, but it seemed he’d taken her warnings more seriously than his partner.

“On your knees,” Meredith said. “Hands behind your back.”

The man did as she said, and she cinched the zip tie cuffs around his wrists. She tore off his jacket and gagged him with the sleeve. The second agent huddled against the brick wall of the apartment building. His face seemed strained, as if he was biting back the agony that must be coursing through his leg from the gunshot wound.

When Meredith bent to gag him, he surged up and knocked her into the side of the dumpster. He swung a fist that glanced off her jaw. She staggered backward but ducked under his second jab. The agent lurched forward and dove for her legs. Meredith grabbed his shoulder and arm and used his momentum to slam him headfirst against the dumpster.

The hollow sound of skull against metal rang out. The man crumpled. Her stomach dropped as he twitched and then went limp. Killing an agent was never her intention. She knelt by him and pressed two fingers against his neck. A pulse. His chest rose and fell slowly. He’d have a hell of a headache, but he’d live.

She sprinted into the woods at the edge of the parking lot. The tree branches scratched at her as she flitted between the spindly trunks of tall pines. She raced through without looking back. Soon the dense branches blocked her view of the moon and stars. Her pack thumped against her back as she bounded over the underbrush. Soon, she reached a small creek gurgling over rocks. Its muddy trail led her toward a concrete drainage tunnel she recognized.

This was the next stage of her escape route. Her lungs burned as she strained to catch her breath. She spotted a familiar tree stump singed by lightning. Pine needles and fallen tree branches surrounded it. She knelt and dug through them to uncover a larger bag she’d stowed away. It contained MREs, comm equipment, extra clothes, and camping gear for her journey.

Exhausted but determined, she trudged through the night until she reached her next destination: Great Falls, Virginia. She emerged from the woods to a sea of asphalt in front of a strip mall. A host of dark storefronts greeted her. An orange closed sign blinked from the Happy Turtle Tavern, and the lot’s light fixtures cast a brackish glow over the pavement. Several cars sat in the parking lot along with a semi-trailer truck, its diesel engine idling.

Meredith slipped a key from her pocket and made her way to a rust-pocked Honda Civic. She’d bought the vehicle with cash from an unscrupulous seller she’d found on Craigslist and managed to avoid transferring the car’s title to her own name. She unlocked it and threw her hiking backpack and the rucksack with the equipment from her apartment into the rear. She slid into the front seat and started the four-cylinder engine. It sparked to life with an unhealthy grinding sound. She guided the car onto the empty street and prayed it would get her to Harper’s Ferry undetected.

Once there, she’d take the Appalachian Trail north and hide in plain sight by looking no different than the others trekking and camping along the famed footpath. The hike would take her to Maryland, where she’d try her luck at getting ahold of someone at Fort Detrick, one of the Army’s premier facilities in biodefense. She hoped someone there would listen to her.

The car lumbered onto the highway and out of Great Falls. She flicked on the radio and scanned the channels.

“Current weather trends point to—”

“—Democrats don’t care what the Republic—”

“—four eggs and a cup of milk. Then add—”

“—alien spacecraft. I swear. I can’t think of any other way to explain it.”

This ought to be good, Meredith thought, desperate for anything to take her mind off recent events.

The low, crooning voice of the radio host came through the tinny speakers. “Thank you, Rhonda. Our next caller has something rather unusual to report. We’ve all seen the pictures of giant squids and whales washing to shore. But Roger? Well, Roger has something completely different.”

She followed the highway west. The headlights illuminated swathes of dark, empty asphalt and trees lining the road. She tensed each time another set of headlights pierced the darkness and another car passed. But no one followed her, and no cops pulled her over.

“That’s right,” the caller’s voice cracked with a Georgian drawl. “I live out here near Savannah.”

“What exactly did you find, Roger?”

“A body on a public beach. I was just out sweeping—you know, with my metal detector—before sunrise. Gotta beat the tourists and swimmers and stuff.”

“Makes sense to me.”

“Well, sure enough, I saw a person. Or at least what I thought was a person. But it wasn’t no person, I swear it.”

“What was it, Roger? Tell the listeners what you saw.”

“You see, I wanted to help the fellow, if by God’s good grace they were still alive. So I walked up, grabbed their shoulder to turn ’em over, and cut my hand on something.”

“Cut your hand? I don’t understand, Roger? How’d you cut your hand?”

“The body! The damn body was covered in these bony growths sharp as knives.”

Meredith’s heart stopped for a moment, and she jerked the wheel out of surprise. Steadying the car and herself, she listened to the interviewee with a renewed sense of interest.

“Bones? I’m not sure I follow, Roger.”

“These things were just poking out. Kinda like their skeleton was trying to climb out from under their skin. Scared the living sh—”

“We’re live, Roger. Careful with the language. But go on—it sounds gruesome. What’d you do next?” The radio host’s voice seemed measured and calm, but Meredith guessed he was skeptical.

She was not. She’d seen Jay Perry’s last video stream featuring the monster that for all she knew had taken his life. The man on the radio was right to be afraid.

“Nothing. Just got the hell out of there. I tell you, I tell you, I want to know what our government is up to. Crop circles, secret societies...now these weird bodies. Something’s going—”

“Thank you, Roger.” The radio host cut him off. “Our next story is about a couple...”

Meredith tuned him out as she tried to do the math in her head while the road wove on before her. Jay Perry’s team had just reached the rig only a short time ago before she called in Dom’s team, who’d been lying in wait. The body that had washed up on shore couldn’t have originated from Jay’s expedition. She doubted it would’ve been carried by the currents in such a short time. Then she recalled the report that triggered this wild goose chase. The cryptic message requesting program termination had been an early warning. Something aboard the IBSL facility had gone drastically wrong. If whatever was on the rig turned people into monsters, then maybe the workers and researchers had all been affected by this unidentified bioweapon.

If the IBSL had been dark for weeks as the memo indicated, these creatures might have been floating around the ocean for quite some time. Their corpses might be driven up on land by waves all over the Atlantic coast, spreading whatever disease or biological agent they carried. As if to confirm her fears, another caller reported a similar occurrence. Then a third caller described his own encounter. A fourth, fifth, and sixth sent shivers down Meredith’s spine. All had happened within a couple of hours. She thought again of Dom and his Hunters. If anybody was equipped to infiltrate a covert laboratory and unearth its secrets, it was Dom.

But it might already be too late.

-12-

––––––––

Another explosion rumbled beneath the IBSL oil platform. The entire structure listed, and a long groan resonated through its steel legs. Rain pelted Dom’s biohazard suit as he worked his way across the metal grating lining the edge of the helipad. Glenn slid alongside him. Renee seemed at ease, leaning to balance herself. She joined Dom’s side as another roar from beneath shifted the platform slightly.

Scott lost his foothold, and Glenn shot an arm out to grab Scott’s wrist. Both men steadied themselves and aimed their guns at the approaching horde of monsters. The sooty air played tricks with Dom’s vision as shadows danced among the gray wisps of smoke, illuminated by tongues of flame. The creatures climbed from the windows and doorways around the platform. Among the crackle of the smoldering rig, the voices of the Skulls carried up in shrieks and echoed against the derrick.

“Open fire!” Dom yelled. As the rig lurched, the crack of the Hunters’ weapons sent two Skulls falling backward, chunks of bones flaking down over the rain-slicked surface toward the edge. The Hunters fought to gain purchase as the rig moved beneath their feet, and the Skulls scrambled toward them. The creatures reached out with bony talons, climbing and scurrying over the pipes and rails. The beasts were a barrier of gnashing teeth and skeletal appendages between Dom’s team and the Zodiacs.

“We’re trapped!” Renee shouted.

Dom scanned for a way out, even though he knew there was only one option. They either fought their way through the beasts or went down in a hail of fire and steel.

“We fight to the end,” Dom said. He fired a round that sent a Skull’s body falling forward. “’Til the end!”

Miguel slid next to them. He shouldered his rifle and shot a brief volley that sent flesh and bone flying from one of the Skulls’ faces.

Another explosion echoed over the rig. One of the cranes fell sideways as if in slow motion. Steel screeched in protest. The crane collapsed over the deck, crushing several of the bone-plated Skulls. Yet more creatures climbed between the beams of the fallen structure.

“Keep moving!” Dom barked over the comm link.

Squeezing the trigger of his SCAR-H, Dom advanced toward the creatures. One bounded for him in a full-out sprint, its arms outstretched and claws splayed for attack. He let loose a quick burst. The bullets slammed against the creature’s skeletal chest plate and pinged off its shoulder blades. The Skull leaped and soared. Dom took aim and fired. Three quick shots pierced the beast’s face. It was dead before it crashed against the steel grating, and Dom sidestepped to dodge its malformed body.

“Move, move, move!” Dom shouted.

Renee sprinted forward and hurdled the railing onto a lower deck. Two creatures rushed at her from another open door near the bulbous gas compressors. She stopped to fire just as the deck under the two Skulls disappeared. Tendrils of fire surged into the sky. Another rumbling blast deafened Dom as he watched the concussive force send Renee backward. The Skulls flew into the air, their bodies cartwheeling and tearing into pieces.

“Cover me!” Dom yelled to Glenn and Scott, who obliged with a fierce volley of gunfire. He ran to Renee and fired as he took a knee. A Skull toppled only inches away from slashing her leg. He grabbed Renee’s gloved hand and helped her to her feet. More gunfire filled the air.

“Thanks,” she said before a scream of agony caused them both to twist.

Dom watched Scott fall to the deck. A Skull slashed at his chest. Miguel rushed to help, but he couldn’t get a clear shot at the monster’s face as it bit at Scott’s abdomen. Miguel backhanded the creature with his prosthetic and kicked it backward.

When the Skull staggered, Miguel blasted the creature’s face. The Skull crumpled to its back, revealing a crimson beard of Scott’s blood on its face.

Miguel hoisted Scott’s left arm over his shoulder. “Let’s go, man!”

The front of Scott’s biohazard suit flapped open, and blood gushed out. The sheer amount made Dom pause. They had to stop the bleeding—but the monsters around them wouldn’t make that possible.

“Clear a fucking path!” Dom shot two Skulls encroaching on Miguel and Scott. A hail of bullets riddled the Skulls still climbing over the fallen crane as Dom led the Hunters’ charge. Most of the beasts continued forward, unfazed by the rounds ricocheting off their warped bones. Renee kept pace with Dom and fired with each step despite the pained expression on her face. They made it to the edge of the platform and descended to a landing. Another blast rocked the platform. Groaning metal and the snap of cables and steel wires sounded.

“Double time, Hunters!” Dom yelled. “Bravo team, fall in with Renee!”

Renee split off with her squad toward the ladder where they’d first boarded the rig. Dom waited at the top of his ladder while he ushered the Hunters down to the ocean below. Jenna descended first, followed by Glenn. With one arm over Miguel’s shoulder, Scott limped toward him. His head lolled back and forth.

The shadow of a Skull darted from the cover of smoke. Dom fired before he even had eyes. The shots went wild, pinging harmlessly against the steel struts behind the creature.

“Miguel!” Dom fired again, but the Skull was moving too fast. It cocked back an arm, ready to swipe Miguel just as he prepared to help Scott down the ladder. Dom jumped between the monster and Miguel. He swung the stock of his rifle into the Skull’s jaw. The beast’s head snapped, and it reared back. Dom smashed the butt of his weapon into the creature’s face a second time. It staggered, and he battered it again and again until its face was a bloody pulp of flesh. He aimed a powerful kick into the Skull’s chest. The creature careened over the edge of the platform and plummeted into the murky ocean below.

Only after all his Hunters were descending did Dom scurry down the ladder. He caught up to Miguel and Scott as they struggled to make their way to the waiting Zodiac. Scott’s fingers slipped, and he started to fall. Dom shot an arm out, straining to reach Scott from above, and grabbed the man’s collar. “Hold on, buddy. We’re almost there,” Dom said.

“We got a problem,” Renee said over the comm link.

Miguel helped Scott into the Zodiac while Dom perched on the last rung of the ladder. He looked across at where Renee’s squad descended the ladder to board their craft. The green-hued shapes of the Bravo squad members and the mechanic they’d found weren’t moving. Something was wrong. It only took a moment for Dom to see the team was staring at the churning water where their Zodiac was supposed to be waiting for them.

***

“Where the hell is my Zodiac?” Renee barked into the comm link.

As if in reply, the groan of a falling crane sounded from above. Several of the Skulls began descending the ladder. Their claws clacked against the steel rungs.

“We’re on our way,” Hector Ko’s voice came through. “Just found Brett’s body.”

“Copy, but get your asses over here.” Renee’s heart leapt even as she took potshots at the Skulls clambering toward her. One of the creatures fell. Its body plunged into the roiling Atlantic. While some of the creatures climbed down the scaffolding and ladders, others leapt over the edge. Their bodies splashed into the waves before disappearing. The platform still listed, threatening to topple over. “What’s your ETA?”

“Now!” Hector’s voice rang in her ears.

She looked down to see the Zodiac spitting out from under the platform and swerving to her position. Hector sat at the tiller and guided the craft under her and her squad.

“Let’s move, Hunters!” Renee waved her squad mates into the boat. The crashing waves tossed it about, but Hector strained against the forces of nature until Renee and her Hunters had clambered aboard. The mechanic, along with Hector, put the craft past normal capacity. “Hector, can we make it back in this weather?”

Hector stared forward as he struggled with the tiller. “We’re at our limits, but I think we can make it.”

One of the Skulls decided to test those limits. It leapt from the ladder and crashed against the gunwale. Its claws stabbed into the inflated rubber sides, and air bled from the wound. Renee lashed out at the beast with the butt of her rifle. She crushed the creature’s face until it let go and fell into the water. She fired at it for good measure, and it sank below the surface.

“Bravo team, clear the platform,” Dom said over the comm link. “Back to the Huntress!”

“You heard him, Hector!” Renee yelled, her heart hammering against her chest like fully automatic rifle fire.

The scaffolding atop the rig crashed inward. Another deep rumble shook the platform. This time it came from beneath. Bubbles of hot air burst around them. The legs of the platform finally gave out. Water surged around to fill the void it left as it slowly sank, and the Zodiacs raced from the collapsing rig.

The outboard strained against the onslaught of waves and rushing water. Then with a jolt, the craft shot forward as it beat the unforgiving pull of the sinking behemoth. Waves washed over the gunwale. The air chamber pierced by the Skull was sunken in, but the internal valves and baffles within the bladders prevented the whole craft from turning into a useless sack of rubber. Still, the deflated chamber let gallons of water pour into the Zodiac. Renee scooped water over the side with her helmet as they surged across the waves.

Another loud crack of broken steel rolled over the ocean. Fire curled into the air behind them. Screaming Skulls leapt into the ocean. In a blink, the platform disappeared under the ocean’s surface as if it never existed. Bubbles churned the water, the only evidence of the nightmares now sinking to the ocean floor.

“Bravo team, give me a SITREP,” Dom’s voice crackled over the comm link again.

“Everyone’s accounted for,” Renee replied.

Even Brett. She stared at the man’s limp form and looked up, catching Spencer’s gaze. Through his visor, she could see his eyes filled with sorrow. He shook his head.

In her mind’s eye, Renee saw Brett tumble over the side of the platform again. Then she pictured the attack on Ivan in the generator room and the creature pouncing on Scott. She hadn’t even heard what—if anything—they’d found out about the biological agent or chemical weapon responsible for turning people aboard the oil platform into the bloodthirsty creatures. Had they done enough to help Meredith unravel this mess? Was Brett’s sacrifice worth it?

She glanced at Dom’s Zodiac skimming over the water, silhouetted against the dark horizon. And what about Scott? Would he make it?

The mechanic groaned, rolling over in his blue coveralls. His eyes fluttered open. His face went ghost-white as panic overtook him, and he fainted again. She didn’t blame him. After everything he must’ve witnessed, finding himself in the middle of the ocean surrounded by armed individuals in biohazard suits must have been too much. She hoped he would regain consciousness and be willing to talk when they took him aboard the Huntress.

She had questions. Lots of questions, but only one seemed to matter in that moment: was this mission worth the cost?

-13-

––––––––

Jay’s head pounded with all the fury of a feral cat caged for the first time. His vision swam with the pain, but he wouldn’t let it stop him. He rubbed his fingers over a one-way, first-class airline ticket to San José, Costa Rica. Even the cacophony of voices around him and the incessant announcement of “See something, say something” over the airport’s speakers couldn’t quell his buoyant optimism.

He dragged his carry-on bag behind him and joined the end of the security line. He was ready to leave Washington, DC—and the States—for good. No more idling in the congested traffic. No more paying outrageous rent for a cramped apartment. Most importantly, no more godforsaken directives from the agency.

He had once found it thrilling to travel overseas as an independent secret service contractor. But after seeing that thing in the IBSL disembowel Corey, he’d had enough. All the money he’d saved working as a mercenary would now be put to good use in his retirement, touring the beaches and tropics of Central America. He’d spent his last night in DC at his favorite bar, a small joint near Dupont Circle called St. Thomas’s. He’d drowned himself in fresh mussels and Belgian ales, and he couldn’t remember how he’d made it home at the end of the night. But it didn’t matter now. In just a few more hours, he’d be leaving it all behind.

Jay pressed a cold, half-drained water bottle against his forehead in a weak attempt to subdue his headache. He might’ve forgotten how he’d gotten back to his apartment, but the pounding in his skull wouldn’t let him forgot about his late-night revelry.

A woman with an overstuffed carry-on bag bumped into him from behind. He started to fall forward. His hand shot out instinctively to break his fall, and he accidentally scraped his fingers on the bare shoulder of another woman in line in front of him.

“Hey, watch it!” The woman’s hand flew up over the spot where Jay had scratched her.

“Sorry,” he said. “Accident.”

A furrow formed across her brow as she glared at him with her arms crossed over her chest. “Ew.” She huffed. “You need to cut your damn nails.”

Jay stretched his fingers out in front of him and looked down at them. The nails had turned yellow again. He clenched his hands into fists, hiding the nails. He was self-conscious of their appearance. Since he’d returned from the failed IBSL mission, he’d filed down the hard, yellow growth once already. He must’ve picked up some strange fungus infection from his time at sea.

As the security line slowly drew him forward, his thoughts turned to what he’d seen aboard the IBSL facility. Maybe the nail infection—or whatever it was—had come from the labs. He shuddered and nudged aside the paranoid thoughts.

“Hey, the line’s moving,” the woman behind him said.

His cheeks flared with involuntary anger, and his eyes shot open wide. “Shut up,” he snarled. Several nearby travelers in line with him gave him curious or dirty looks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—it’s my head...it’s killing me.”

The woman held up her hands in a placating gesture. Her fingernails were painted an obnoxious hot pink that irritated Jay all the more. “All right.” A grin broke across her face. “I can recognize a hangover when I see one.”

Jay nodded but kept his eyes on his shuffling feet. Just a few more people in line, and he’d be free—free to sit down, free to wait in his cushy seat for the seven-and-a-half-hour trip to Costa Rica. He could shut his eyes or get a cold Coke to chase away the hangover. Hell, maybe he should go for broke and order a Bloody Mary on the plane and pound a couple of gin and tonics afterward. It was first class, after all.

“Sir.” The TSA agent motioned him forward.

Jay dug out the fake passport from his pocket. This was one of the few not issued to him by the agency. He preferred to keep a couple on hand that the US government couldn’t easily connect with him. He handed over the forged document with the name reading Joseph Painter. The TSA agent took the passport and the ticket. For a paranoid moment, Jay thought the blue-uniformed agent raised a skeptical eyebrow at the picture and address.

Then the man handed Jay back the documents. “You’re going to have to throw your water bottle away.”

“Yes, sir,” Jay said. He trudged past the agent and dropped the bottle in a trash can. His patience waned as he joined yet another line. The bright fluorescent lights pierced his retinas and sent undulating waves of pain through his already tormented brain. He couldn’t remember a hangover like this. Not since college. Shit. Even his twenty-first birthday hadn’t been this bad. A deep, inexplicable anger welled up in him. He was stomping toward the full body scanner when an agent gestured for him to move forward.

“Sir, you’re going to need to take your shoes off.”

Jay resisted the sudden urge to hit the TSA agent. What the hell is wrong with me? he thought as he slowly bent down to untie his shoes. He stood and tossed them onto the conveyer belt.

“Sir—” The agent behind the belt started.

“What?” Jay snapped.

The agent rolled her eyes and put his shoes into a plastic tray. “You’ve got to put your shoes in one of these.” She dropped the tray with the shoes back onto the belt and into the X-ray scanner. “Go on.”

Jay went through the full body scanner and held up his arms when commanded to do so. Standing immobile for those few seconds was excruciating. His limbs shook. He didn’t want to stand still—couldn’t stand still.

“I’m going to need you to step over here, sir,” another agent said. He felt someone grab his shoulder.

Jay whipped back. “What do you want?”

“Sir, please calm down. It’s just—”

“Just what?” His nose twitched. The pain in his head swelled.

“Do you have anything in your pockets?”

“No, I—”

The agent interrupted him. “Paper, cellphone? Anything you didn’t put on the belt?”

Jay’s voice rose as his frustration boiled over. “No, I—” Then he realized he’d left the boarding pass in his pocket.

But it was too late. The agent was already patting him down. The man’s hand brushed over Jay’s leg, and the mere sensation of physical contact caused a strange explosion of pain coursing through his nerves. His limbs shuddered until he could take it no more. He backhanded the agent, and as he did, the back of his fingernails slid across the man’s face and drew blood. Another agent stepped forward and drew a Taser from her holster. Jay dodged and knocked her back. He just wanted to leave.

Just...need the plane...the beach...Costa Rica. The thought of sand, cool salty water, and a cold drink swam through his mind.

“Stop!” Two TSA agents stepped from behind the X-ray scanner. One grabbed Jay’s arm. He slashed at the first man and shoved the second into a crowd of onlookers. Flashes from cell phone cameras exploded around him. A muddle of bright lights and apprehensive faces swarmed around Jay.

“Dude’s going crazy,” someone muttered.

A woman called, “What the hell’s wrong with him?”

“He’s a terrorist!” another voice offered.

“Stop!” Jay bellowed. The voices around him stoked the fire burning beneath his skull. He hurtled past the milling people, past the raucous, concerned voices and people yelling for him to stop. Hands flailing, his fingers slashed anyone who got too close. He needed his gate. He needed to get to the airplane.

He pulled the crumpled ticket from his pocket, but the words and numbers blended together. They didn’t seem to be in English; they weren’t in any language he could understand. His vision turned red, and he yelled again. The voices around him seemed to quiet, and his head began to settle.

Then a force slammed into his back, and he crashed to the ground. He was vaguely aware of a couple of TSA agents pinning him down and trying to cuff him.

But his nose twitched with the smell of food, of meat. A hand pressed against the side of his face, pressing him into the floor. His gaze flickered to a nearby McDonald’s. Yet what he smelled was something different, something fresher.

Something alive.

A sudden jolt of strength tore through his body, and he pushed himself up. One of the agents elbowed him, but all the attack did was make him angry. Jay burst upright and shoved one of the agents away. He jabbed another in the throat then delivered a staggering punch to a third. The agents reeled as backup ran their way.

Jay held up his fingers before his face. They quivered in anticipation. For a brief moment, he wondered what the hell he was doing. Then he charged into the crowd before him. Screams and cries replaced the hushed voices. Travelers trampled one another as Jay attacked anyone within his reach. The chorus of frightened shrieks drowned out the televisions hanging from the ceiling.

One of the monitors showed a journalist standing on some beach. The sight fueled a second wave of energy that propelled him through the throng of screaming passengers.

“Out of the way!” he screeched in a voice that sounded like a stranger’s.

A burly man in fatigues suddenly stepped out of the crowd and tackled Jay to the ground.

“Hold still!” the man bellowed.

The TSA agents crowded around. The chubbiest of the group bent over, hands on his knees, panting. “Keep him down,” the man gasped.

Jay fought to free himself from his attacker, snarling and snapping.

“Hold still or I’m going to...”

Jay bit the man’s neck before he could finish his sentence. He rolled onto the floor, clutching his gushing wound. Jay jumped to a crouch and eyed the bewildered TSA agents. The plump one who was out of breath was closest. Easy prey. His eyes went wide as the beast that had once been Jay charged.

-14-

––––––––

Lauren Winters and her team stood at the entrance of the cargo hold. She fidgeted in her biohazard suit as she waited alongside Peter Mikos, the ship’s surgeon. Peter’s dark eyes were glued on the ocean. Lauren guessed he was mentally preparing himself for the emergency surgery they were about to perform.

Sean McConnelly joined them, appearing uneasy in his suit. Sean’s PhD in epidemiology gave him unique insight into the risk of bioweapons. He regularly helped Lauren in her laboratory experiments, but most of his work centered on computer simulations and statistics.

“We’re going to be okay,” Divya Karnik said to Sean as she walked up to the researchers and apparently sensed Sean’s unease. A full head shorter than the rest of them, her brown eyes still shined behind the positive pressure suit’s visor. Divya’s breadth of experience had no doubt instilled in her a professional calm that Lauren valued on her team. Divya had served abroad working with Doctors Without Borders and in the States researching how so-called tropical diseases rare in America might be used as biological weapons.

“Yes, we’ve got this,” Lauren said. “We’ve prepped for this, we’ve talked about it, and now it’s time to put all that in action.”

She and her medical crew had set up a passageway using a high-powered ventilation system and plastic sheeting made for mobile biocontainment facilities. Ideally, it would contain anything else Dom’s Hunters had come in contact with. They had also prepped two stretchers on wheels, ready to hoist Scott and Brett into the medical bay. The Hunters had radioed in that Brett was already gone, but Scott still clung to life.

The crash of waves outside the hold grabbed Lauren’s attention as she waited for the telltale signs of the thrumming Zodiac motors and the crackle of static over the comms when Dom announced their return over the radio. Lauren’s thoughts turned to the other Hunters. She hoped none of them had succumbed to whatever biological agents were present on the IBSL. Maybe she was paranoid for thinking that when they’d been equipped with their positive pressure suits. But no matter how much logic told her they should be fine, she kept picturing Glenn, hurt or turning into one of those Skulls as Dom had called the monsters over the radio.

Her last real conversation with Glenn had been about their relationship. She’d told him they couldn’t maintain anything more than a friendship when their jobs required them to be one hundred percent focused. Hell, their lives depended on them eschewing all other thoughts than the tasks at hand. He needed to be a Hunter; she needed to be a chief medical officer. There was no room for the intimacy they’d shared, physical or otherwise.

Yet she found herself missing his touch, missing the long conversations into the early morning hours. They’d only let the relationship simmer for a few weeks before calling it quits. But it had been more than long enough to burn those memories into Lauren’s mind. She shook the thoughts from her head, once again cursing herself for being distracted from her job.

Behind the protective plastic sheets, Alden Jorgenson waited by the control panel for the crane system. The cables grew taught, and Dom’s voice came over the radio. “We’re secure. Pull us up.”

The motor whined as the winch wound the cable. Sweat trickled down Lauren’s forehead as she wondered what awaited her. Dom had reported wounds across Scott’s abdomen, yet it wasn’t the injuries that worried her. She and Peter could suture his lacerations and stem the internal bleeding. It was what she couldn’t see that scared her—the microscopic viruses or bacteria potentially circulating in his bloodstream.

The first Zodiac appeared at the door to the cargo bay as the crane jolted to a stop. Alden signaled to Lauren, and she rushed toward the Hunters. Peter ran behind her with one of the stretchers. Two of the Hunters hoisted Scott’s body onto the stretcher. Then Lauren and Peter rushed him into the decontamination chamber. Overhead nozzles hissed to life in a shower of disinfectants. After a moment, the second door to the chamber unlocked and led into the isolation ward of the medical bay.

They pushed Scott past the beds they’d set up in the quarantine space. Peter tore off the rest of Scott’s biohazard suit and cut away the fatigues underneath. Dried blood clung to Scott’s chest. A deep tear in his abdomen appeared to reach the peritoneum—the lining around his abdominal cavity—but based on a cursory investigation, Lauren didn’t think any punctures or cuts had reached the Hunter’s internal organs. She dabbed a spot on Scott’s left hand with disinfectant and inserted an IV line. She then administered an anesthetic. Peter used a suction tip to clear the blood and better examine the wounds. Most of the blood he cleaned away seemed to be coagulating already.

Lauren probed Scott’s tissues with a grim fascination. The bleeding seemed to have stopped on its own, which was unusual. “Peter, what the heck is going on?” she asked, leaning in closer to see the granular tissue that had formed near the wound. It looked almost like scar tissue, but it was two or three days too early for it to be forming. To add to the mystery, the tissue was yellow, not red.

Peter held a prepackaged suture in one hand, preparing to open the seal of the sterilized pouch. “What is it?”

“Is this...scar tissue?”

“Already?”

“That doesn’t make sense, right?”

Peter shook his head. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

“Should we cut it away before proceeding?” Lauren asked, suddenly unsure.

Peter furrowed his brow and framed the question back at her. “What do you think?”

Lauren hesitated. If the scar tissue was all that was holding back the bleeding, then removing it might cause it to start again. Then again, given what they’d seen on the video from the platform...what if Scott had been exposed? She grabbed a pair of forceps and took a sample of the tissue, just in case. “I think it’s safer to remove it,” she said.

“Even at the risk of causing excess bleeding?”

“Bleeding you can fix. But those bony protrusions on those people aboard the IBSL? I’m not sure how to deal with that.”

Lauren deposited the piece of tissue in a small plastic vial to examine later. She wondered what she’d find after running it through a battery of genetic sequencing tests and microscopy, but for now her scientific endeavors would have to be put on hold.

“Shit,” Peter said. Blood began to seep from one of Scott’s wounds and poured over the man’s bare stomach.

Lauren lowered a small probe to the cut. She clicked the trigger, and the electrocauterizing device burned the ends of the vessels, effectively closing them. The bleeding ceased, and Peter returned to suturing the wound.

Divya and Sean burst through the decontamination chamber with Brett on a stretcher. Miguel followed, his biohazard suit in tatters. Lauren’s heart stopped when she saw him. She imagined the pathogens and toxins that he must’ve been exposed to aboard the IBSL. While he hadn’t suffered any serious injuries, he too had to be quarantined to ensure he didn’t spread any unknown biological agents to the rest of the crew. The Hunter sat in one of the patient examination chairs in the isolation ward, and Lauren caught his gaze. He gave her a thumbs-up and waved her off, signaling for her to focus on Scott.

Divya and Sean rushed from the quarantine room and returned with a man in blue coveralls. Renee had radioed earlier about a man they’d found barricaded aboard the rig—this must’ve been him, the man the Hunters were calling “the mechanic.” As Divya bent over the mechanic to examine his head for wounds, Lauren’s thoughts turned once again to the Skulls. She wondered how many people had been affected by whatever biological weapon the IBSL developed on the oil rig. How many more would be affected by it? How many lives would need to be saved?

“Shit,” Peter said again, trying to staunch another bleeding laceration.

Once again, Lauren used the electrocauterizing probe to stop the flow of crimson liquid. She didn’t have the answers. All that mattered right now was trying to save the life in front of her.

***

After the decon showers, Dom stepped into the main corridor of the Huntress. Jenna nodded at him as she passed, her lips drawn tight and her expression stern. Despite the foot traffic, the passage was void of the normal sounds of conversation and good-natured jokes between crew members. He’d told his Hunters they’d have half an hour to clean themselves up and gather in the mess hall. In the meantime, he would check with the communications specialists in the electronics workshop. If the data transfer had gone through before the IBSL went down, they should have a library full of data to explain what the hell he and his Hunters had just been through.

But that half hour wasn’t just for regrouping and data recovery. He needed a moment away from the demands of leadership. A moment to re-collect himself. He’d witnessed Brett die right at the mission’s start, and he’d led his men and women in anyway. Now he worried whether Lauren and Peter could fix Scott’s battered body. Miguel, too, might have been exposed to whatever had turned the rig’s inhabitants into the Skulls.

Hell, his entire crew might have been exposed to whatever unidentified agent was responsible. There was no way to know whether their positive pressure biohazard suits and decontamination procedures had been enough to keep them safe. The men and women aboard the Huntress trusted him, and he might have already led them to a fate worse than death. Dom pounded a fist against the bulkhead. The sound of thick flesh against steel resounded in the corridor.

Glenn paused outside his quarters with a book tucked under his arm. “You okay, Captain?”

“Fine,” Dom lied.

“I know you better than that. You’re not fine.”

Dom exhaled and rubbed his hand over his scalp. He shook his head. “I fucked up. We lost Brett, and we still don’t know what we encountered there.”

“But we will. We have the data now. That’s what matters. I would have made the same call. Besides, Brett knew what he was getting himself into. We all signed the same contract.”

Dom stiffened and looked his old friend in the eye. “You’re right, Glenn. Always the voice of reason.” He thought of his daughters back in Maryland. He considered the families of his crew along with the millions of others who would never know Brett or the cost he paid in a valiant effort to protect them. “We’re going to make damn sure we stop whoever was twisted enough to create those monsters on the IBSL. For Brett.”

“For Brett,” Glenn echoed.

Dom glanced at the book tucked under the former Green Beret’s arm. “What are you reading?”

“Armor.”

“Ah, yeah. John Steakley. Am I mistaken, or didn’t I see you read that before?”

Glenn nodded. “This time it’s in Cantonese. Gotta keep my language skills fresh.”

Dom smiled at that. He was lucky to have such an educated and professional crew. He nodded at Glenn and then continued to the electronics workshop. Monitors all across the room were alive with strings of code, videos, and images. All three of the communications specialists—Chao, Samantha, and Adam—paused behind their workstations. Each desk, full of computers and electronic equipment, was clearly marked by their respective personalities. Every pen, piece of paper, and wire on Chao’s desk was organized in perfect lines and kept orderly at all times. Discarded aluminum cans, most from some sort of sugary drink, lay across Samantha’s, along with crumpled pieces of paper and a tangle of cords. Adam looked up from behind a desk filled with figurines from Watchmen, the man’s favorite graphic novel.

“Please tell me you got something,” Dom said.

The looks on their faces told him everything he needed to know.

“Christ. Nothing?” Anger at the futility of their mission poured through him, and he reminded himself not to put the blame on them.

Samantha pulled a hand through her black hair. “Look, we’re digging through this garbage that came through the transmission, but most of it’s pretty well encrypted. It’s like we’re sifting through a riverbed for gold.”

“We did find...something,” Chao said. He tapped on a keyboard and brought up a document on one of the monitors. “I’m not sure how helpful it is, but this says there was a proposal that went through DARPA and the CIA, something called the Amanojaku Project.”

“When?” Dom asked.

“1958, apparently,” Adam said, his deep baritone filling the room.

“That’s when DARPA was founded,” Dom said.

“Right.” Adam scratched at his lumberjack-worthy beard. “The project abstract mentions something about a protein complex, but that’s about all we’ve uncovered so far.”

“Did this protein create those Skulls?” Dom asked.

Samantha shrugged. “Maybe. But we can’t make any solid connections yet.”

Dom scratched the back of his head and paused. “Amanojaku sounds Japanese. Any idea what it means?”

“Heavenly evil spirit,” Adam replied with one raised eyebrow, his thick-rimmed glasses going askew with the gesture. “It’s a demon or demon-like creature from Japanese folklore that gets people to act on their darkest desires. Kind of like those cartoons where a devil’s sitting on your shoulder and whispering in your ear to do the wrong thing.”

“Interesting,” said Dom. “Anything else?”

The three techies shook their heads.

“I want you to keep digging through that data to see what you can salvage,” Dom said.

“Absolutely,” Samantha replied. “One thing I can definitely tell you: Whoever was in charge of the IBSL wanted this stuff to stay hidden. The designers of the firewalls, encryption, and intrusion detection systems did a hell of a job. We’re talking top-secret-US-government-keep-the-Chinese-out type of job.”

“I remember some cocky woman with tattoos once told me she was the best in the business,” Dom said.

Samantha cracked her knuckles, and the inked serpents and rose vines rippled with her forearm muscles. “You got it.”

“I’ll report back later. Let me know the moment you find something.” Dom thought he’d already seen the darkest side of humanity when he had been fighting terrorists and foreign governments peddling anthrax, loading scud missiles with botulinum toxin, or developing new strains of bubonic plague. But the agent that had turned the people on the IBSL into those Skulls made every other engineered bioweapon appear as harmless as the common cold.

If Adam was correct and this perverse research project had been named after a demon, Dom thought they’d chosen the name wisely. He couldn’t imagine a more frightening biological agent if it had come from the deepest bowels of hell.

-15-

––––––––

Kara Holland, a first-year biology major at the University of Maryland, sat in her mother’s Volvo, staring out the passenger window. Her hand rested on the canvas bag she’d packed for the weekend. A light rain pattered on the glass and streamed off in long rivulets as they drove along Interstate 270, past the tall white cedars standing sentinel along the road. She dreamed of setting off into those woods. Just one weekend away from the University of Maryland and dilapidated College Park. One weekend out in the wilderness.

Out as far out as she could get.

In Maryland, the largest state park stretched a little over a thousand acres. It was hardly a drop in the ocean compared to the six million acres of Adirondack Park where her father used to take her and her sister hiking, camping, and fishing. On those weeklong expeditions, they sometimes went days without seeing another soul. And when she caught herself daydreaming in her Biology I or Introductory Sociology classes, she always recalled those days surrounded by the verdant foliage, songs of birds hidden in the branches, and the sweet scent of pollinating trees. Her father had been away on business trips more than she would have liked while she was growing up, and Kara treasured those wilderness trips with him.

“Thanks for coming home for the weekend,” Bethany said. “It’ll be nice having you around. Haven’t seen you since you started college.”

“That was just a few weeks ago.”

“I know, I know. But I’m your mom, right? Missing you and loving you is what I do.”

Kara chuckled and stared back out at the window. “Maybe we can go on a hike or something.”

“Sure, maybe,” Bethany said, though she didn’t sound convincing to Kara. “Are you still doing the Survivalist Club?”

“Went to their first meeting, but they weren’t going to teach me anything dad didn’t already. There’s only like ten people in the firearms club, too, and they just weren’t my type. Didn’t know as much about shooting and guns as I would’ve thought—or at least, not as much as dad knows.” She started counting off different organizations with her fingers. “Same thing with the self-defense classes, the camping groups, the one hunting organization at Maryland, and even the swing dance club. Dad taught me all that stuff.”

Bethany laughed, although it sounded forced to Kara. She was never sure whether her mother really liked talking about Dom since the divorce.

“Your father is good at excitement, huh? Student orgs can’t even compete.”

“Nope, they can’t.” Kara imagined what she’d be doing if her Dad was coming back to town, too. It had been months since she’d seen him last. Maybe he’d take her bow hunting. That’d be more interesting than sitting around the house in Frederick, but she’d never dare tell her mother.

“Still liking your bio courses?” Bethany asked, interrupting the drawn-out silence.

“Yeah, they’re good. But I wish I didn’t have to take Biology I. I feel like I know all that stuff already. I’m ready for Bio II and organic chemistry and—” The car stopped suddenly. Kara jolted forward, and her seatbelt dug into her sternum. “What the hell?”

“Sorry.” Bethany glanced in the rearview mirror, catching Kara’s eyes. “People don’t know how to drive. A little rain and everyone loses their minds.”

Red brake lights flared before them. Cars and semi-trucks snaked across the interstate. Horns blared. Another thing Kara didn’t miss when she struck off in the wilderness: traffic.

Kara saw a white-tailed deer emerging from between the trees. It stared westward along the interstate toward the origin of the highway congestion. Its tail flicked up in alarm. The deer dashed back into the forest.

“You think—” Bethany paused and leaned forward over the steering wheel. “What’s going on?”

Kara turned away from the trees to see what had caught her mother’s attention. She scooted off the seat, pressing against the seatbelt, and squinted. A man was running between the vehicles. His face was painted crimson. As he came closer, she realized blood was trickling from his scalp. He said nothing as he passed.

Kara spoke again, her voice low. “There must have been an accident.”

Bethany pressed a button on her dash. A female voice came over the speakers: “Please say your command.”

“Call 9-1-1,” Bethany said, her words stern and slow.

The dial tone from her Bluetooth-connected phone rang out. Then it stopped. “This number is disconnected.”

“Come on!” Bethany said. “Call 9-1-1.”

Again the dial tone rang for a moment before repeating the error message.

“Mom, we need to go,” Kara said. The back of her neck tingled, and she wanted nothing more than to get out of the car and escape into the safety of the woods.

A woman tugging a child rushed past. The little girl wailed, and tears streamed down her face. Another man followed. One arm hung limp by his side, and his suit jacket fluttered behind him, torn and ragged. His jaw was clenched, and his brow was deeply furrowed as if in pain. The trickle of people turned into a human stampede as more and more sprinted past. A semi-truck’s engine roared to life as it turned onto the interstate’s shoulder. It careened ahead until another car attempted to bypass the stalled traffic with the same maneuver. The truck smashed into the car, crushing the smaller vehicle.

“Mom, we need to go!” Kara yelled. Her knuckles turned white as they gripped the edge of her seat. She wasn’t sure what had happened on the road ahead, but she knew in the pit of her stomach that they needed to get away from it—and fast.

“I know! Hold on!” Bethany reversed the car and then threw it into forward and did a U-turn. She pulled the car onto the shoulder and peeled out over the gravel. Bethany dodged other SUVs and cars sticking their noses onto the shoulder. A truck pulled too far out. Bethany swerved, but it was too late. Her front bumper crumpled against the passenger side of the Ford F150. A cloud of broken plastic sprayed up, but she continued, ignoring the damage.

“You okay?” Bethany asked, turning to catch Kara’s eyes.

Kara nodded.

Bethany pressed the gas pedal to the floor, her eyes flicking back to the windshield.

Kara’s heart pounded as she turned and watched the chaos they left behind. A throng of people sprinted between cars and trucks. Several of them ran over the hoods and roofs of the vehicles, desperate to break away from the burgeoning tidal wave of panic. The Volvo’s progress became slower as more cars turned onto the shoulder.

One of the runners caught up and jumped onto the trunk of their Volvo. Kara let out a scream, more in surprise than fear. The man pounded over the roof; his footsteps resonated in the cabin. He stumbled over the hood and fell. When he stood, he tore off his suit jacket and ran off the highway toward the trees. Another woman followed. A black bra showed beneath her white T-shirt, which hung off her in tatters. Blood covered her arms.

The man turned back and saw the woman. He appeared to pick up speed, but the woman was faster. She pounced on him, and they fell together in a tumble of limbs, rolling away into the tall grass and weeds beside the road. For a moment, they disappeared under the sea of green and brown. Then the woman emerged alone from the underbrush. Her head swiveled, and her eyes focused on the highway again. Scarlet stains covered her face as fresh blood dripped down the front of her shirt and over her arms. She wiped her face clean and locked eyes with Kara.

Then the woman charged at their car.

“Go, Mom, go!”

Bethany yanked hard on the wheel and steered the car off the shoulder. Gravity pulled it down the short slope of mud, slick with rain, until they were on the flat stretch of grassland between the highway and the forest. The car bumped and jostled as it shot forward. A grinding sound emerged from under the vehicle as the suspension bottomed out and the undercarriage scraped against the ground. The woman with the black bra still followed. More screams joined the cacophony outside the car. People ran and pounced on one another. Some appeared to be the hunters, others the prey.

Without higher clearance and a four-wheel drive transmission, the Volvo struggled over the uneven ground. A line of trees blocked their exit to the right, and the stalled cars along the highway prevented them from using the road again. Going forward was their only option. The crazy woman chasing them howled and threw herself at the Volvo. Her head smacked against the rear window, and cracks splintered across it like a spider web. Bethany yelped. “Kara! Are you okay?”

“Just keep going!”

Bethany slammed on the gas, and the car shot forward. The woman’s body rolled back from the trunk. She fell to the grass but quickly shot back up as the Volvo continued to put distance between them. Seemingly bored of chasing difficult prey, the woman veered onto the highway. She leapt onto a man in a leather jacket and sunk her teeth into his neck. More people poured from their vehicles. Others streamed into the woods. The mass of humanity muddled Kara’s ability to tell predator from prey.

Kara wrapped her arms across her chest. “What’s wrong with those people?”

Her mother leaned forward over the wheel. Kara could see sweat trickle down her brow. An SUV surged past them, its wheels kicking up clods of dirt and grass. The SUV barreled forward until it hit a hidden rut. The vehicle’s front tires caught, and the SUV flipped. A cloud of dirt and dust whooshed up as its roof crumpled against the ground. Bethany steered their car around it. They reached a ramp leading to another road not yet clogged by stalled vehicles and hordes of crazed people. The Volvo bounced onto the asphalt. Bethany jerked the wheel to the left and dodged a minivan unknowingly headed into the hell they’d escaped. They honked at her, and she honked back, flailing her arms in a desperate effort to turn them around. A child pressed his chubby face to the window, sticking his tongue out.

A wave of terror coursed through Kara. “They have no idea. We have to warn them.”

Another car shot past them onto the ramp. Bethany shook her head and directed the Volvo onto a two-lane country road. “There are too many.”

Kara wasn’t sure whether her mother meant there were too many people chasing them, too many people being chased, or too many people who needed to be warned. Either way, a crushing feeling of uselessness overwhelmed her.

“We have to go home,” Bethany said and pressed the button on her steering wheel to make a call again.

This time the car’s voice system reported, “No available cellular service.”

“We’ve got to get home,” Bethany repeated. “We have to find your sister.”

***

Meredith Webb adjusted the dial on the hand-cranked radio. She heard muddled voices in the midst of static and crackling music but couldn’t make them out. She sat back against the trunk of a pine. A bed of dried brown needles rustled as she stretched her legs. She tried her burner cellphone again, reasoning that her earlier calls on the disposable phone might’ve been lost to bad cell reception on the Appalachian Trail. But still the phone reported no service.

A seed of worry had rooted within her when she’d heard the radio show covering the strange, bony bodies washing ashore on beaches along the Atlantic seafront. That initial concern had grown into a twisting snarl of thorns preventing her from focusing on anything but the possibility of an epidemic-level spread of the biological agent from the IBSL oil platform.

As Meredith twisted the radio’s knob, a woman’s voice came over the air. “All along I-270, we’ve got abandoned cars. People running.”

A man’s voice came on. “Running from what?”

“Other people. Hold on a second, we’re at the front of the traffic jam.”

“That’s WADC’s eye in the sky, reporting live from western Maryland. We’re putting a hold on our normal scheduling to cover a series of incidents caused by individuals who can best be described as enraged and malevolent.”

Meredith’s heart fluttered as she stood. She swiveled, peering into the forest and down the trail, but she saw only trees and heard nothing more than wind through their branches.

“Craig? Craig?” the reporter asked. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Julia, tell us what you see.”

“The traffic accident appears to have started with an overturned bus. There are bodies along the road. Some in the grass beside the interstate. I can’t even begin to estimate the number.”

The radio crackled, and Meredith scrounged through her hiking pack. She pulled out the satellite phone to call Dom. She’d hoped to put more distance between herself and the agency in case they were still tracking her, but there was no use in waiting to contact him now. If the biological agents the CIA had been hiding already made it into the US population, she wanted to know what they were dealing with—she needed to know what Dom had uncovered. Maybe he’d found something to clue her in on what was going on with the rest of the world.

Craig’s voice came over the radio again, surprisingly calm. “Our staff informs us similar incidents are occurring in New York and Miami. Georgia has already declared a state of emergency. The cause of these events is so far unknown, but there is speculation that this is some kind of coordinated terrorist attack.”

Meredith laughed aloud. She knew she seemed crazy, but...terrorists pulling this one off? Hell, maybe they were right. Maybe this was a terrorist attack. But based on what she knew of the IBSL facility, the terrorist group unwittingly responsible for this disaster might be the United States government.

-16-

––––––––

Dom paced in front of the metal tables bolted to the deck. The Hunters, engineers, electronic gurus, and other crew members filled the seats. All forty-odd shipmates stared at him with grim expressions.

“Brett Fielding is gone,” Dom began. “He gave his life for this mission. A Ranger in his past life, a fellow Hunter in this one, he died honorably, and we will not soon forget him.” Mixed whispers of condolences and remembrances rustled among the audience. In his mind’s eye, Dom watched Brett tumble off the platform with the Skull ripping into him. Guilt surged in him again. He shook the thoughts from his mind and continued. “What we saw aboard the IBSL is unlike anything we’ve encountered before. I want to share with you what I discussed with the Hunters and select medical and tech staff before the mission. It’s vital that we’re all on the same page.”

He detailed Meredith’s cryptic message and the video she had sent. He explained the behaviors of the Skulls and the samples they’d found in the laboratory. He’d also had Chao set up a projector to replay the gruesome footage of the Skulls aboard the rig. Dom signaled for Chao to fill in where he had left off.

“We don’t know much yet,” Chao reported, “but we do believe these things originated from a classified bioweapons research program called the Amanojaku Project.”

“Thank you, Chao,” Dom said. “The communications team will be working overtime to get to the bottom of this, as will our medical team. We’ll be relaying any and all information we find on a regular basis.” He paused and then said, “I have other news to share: besides Brett Fielding, we experienced two other casualties. Miguel Ruiz was attacked but came away with no serious bodily harm. Still, he is being quarantined for a compromised biohazard suit. Scott Ashworth is also quarantined. He faced daunting injuries, but Lauren Winters and her medical team have treated him. He’s now in stable condition. In fact, he’s already regained consciousness and appears to be in good spirits.”

The low rumble of voices erupted into applause. One life lost, one life saved, Dom thought. It didn’t seem like an even trade. Let them focus on those we saved.

“Renee’s squad recovered a worker who had barricaded himself aboard the rig. When Lauren assures us he is in stable condition, we’ll have a first-hand witness to explain what the hell was going on at the IBSL.”

An underlying current of anticipation buzzed through the small crowd as murmuring voices filled the mess hall.

“Captain, permission to speak freely,” a voice called from back. It belonged to Mark O’Malley, one of the ship’s stewards whose usual duties entailed meal preparation and general maintenance of the ship.

“Granted,” Dom said.

“You never include us”—he gestured to the small group of support staff—“in the intel briefings. Why now?”

“A valid concern.” Dom folded his arms across his chest. “I need your help—and your forgiveness.”

Voices rose, and the crew shared confused looks. Dom held up a hand to signal for silence. “Right now, we don’t know what turned the people on the IBSL platform, human beings we figured were at one time normal and healthy, into the creatures we call Skulls.” He paused, waiting for the murmurs to cease again, and steeled himself for what he had to say next to his crew. “We don’t know if we’re susceptible to whatever agent or disease turned those people into Skulls.”

Mark O’Malley stood. “We could become one of those monsters you showed us?”

“We honestly don’t know,” Dom said. “I assure you, Lauren and her team are hard at work examining the samples we recovered aboard the rig.”

“You mean that shit’s on board?” Mark cried out again, ignoring formal rank-order respect. Others clamored around him, their faces turning red with anger. Their words began to drown out Dom’s thoughts.

“Quiet!” he yelled. “Quiet! I’m being open with you because you all deserve that much. We’re in unknown territory, but each of you accepted that risk the day you boarded the Huntress.” He stretched his arms to encompass every crewman and crewwoman. “You all serve a vital role in protecting our friends and families, along with our nation, from biological and chemical weapons. And our most recent mission is a testament both to our dedication and to the frightening enemy we face each and every day. Our enemy isn’t defined by a single nation or terrorist organization; we’re fighting against the unethical, corrupt use of weapons and technologies perverted to harm those we hold dear at home and across the globe. If you would like to renege on your commitment to this ship and the rest of the crew, feel free to do so. I’ll be happy to sign your relinquishment papers after we’re done here. But not until we’re sure we aren’t carrying any biological agents.”

The crew sat in stunned silence.

Renee stood at attention. “I’m behind you, Captain.”

“Same here,” Glenn said, joining her.

The rest of the crew followed suit, their voices raised in support. Eventually Mark O’Malley did too.

Again, Dom held up his hand and drew in a breath. “Remember, the world may not know about your service, but I hope you all know that your work here could save it.” He took a second to scan individual faces and then said, “Dismissed.”

The crew filtered out of the mess hall and into the ship’s corridors. Thomas stayed behind and waited for the last crew member to leave. He approached Dom and placed a hand against the bulkhead. “You forgot to mention when we’ll be holding Brett’s burial at sea. Bad luck to delay a sailor’s funeral.”

“I didn’t forget. We haven’t scheduled services.”

Thomas raised a skeptical eyebrow. “And if I’m reading between the lines correctly, you aren’t going to.”

“Not any time soon.”

“The man’s gone,” Thomas said. “What are we waiting for?”

“I’m afraid Lauren’s going to need to observe him for a while.”

“Observe him?” Thomas’s voice rose. “KIA or not, he’s a human being, not a science experiment.”

Dom straightened, but he kept his voice calm. “I’m well aware. But we need to keep his remains quarantined. Lauren needs to determine whether or not he was exposed to the agent responsible for the Skulls.”

“You’ve got your damn samples. Isn’t that good enough?” Thomas’s brow creased. He pulled a cigar from his front pants pocket and rolled it back and forth between his fingers. “Let the poor man rest his soul.”

“He came in direct contact with the creatures,” Dom said, his voice sharp. “I get where you’re coming from, but we’re dealing with unusual circumstances.” He took a step forward and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t want to have to deal with more funerals at sea because Lauren’s team missed out on a vital piece of data.”

Thomas clenched his jaw, muscle tightening under his five o’clock shadow.

“I know it doesn’t feel right,” Dom said when Thomas didn’t respond. “But if Brett was infected with something, we’ve got to understand what it does to the human body and how we might stop it.”

The red drained from Thomas’s face, and he nodded reluctantly.

“If we can study this contagion, we might be able to ensure the rest of the crew doesn’t suffer. Hell, maybe even the rest of the world.”

“I know you’re right. I know what you’re doing is logical. But it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel okay.”

Dom waited for him to continue.

“I just wanted to let you know I don’t like it.”

Dom nodded. “I understand. That’s why I keep you around. To question me, to make me think about my actions. This time, I know what we’re doing is necessary.”

“As long as you note my objection,” Thomas said.

“Objection noted. Anything else before I head to medical bay? I want to see if the man Renee’s team recovered has anything to say.”

“Nothing currently.” Thomas tilted his head to the side, gesturing toward the mess hall exit. He stuck his unlit cigar into the corner of his mouth. “Mind if I join you for that chat?”

“Be my guest,” Dom said. They walked, side by side, into the corridor.

“Dom! Urgent call!” Chao waved, his head poking out of the electronics workshop. “Meredith’s on the line!”

***

Lauren Winters examined the round plastic dishes holding the samples of yellow tissue she’d isolated from Scott Ashworth’s wounds. In each dish, pink liquid—cell media—nourished the cells in the samples. She placed a dish under an inverted microscope and pressed her biohazard suit’s visor against the eyepiece. The tiny chunks of supposed scar tissue seemed to have grown.

“This is odd. Take a look.”

Peter took his turn on the microscope. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this looks like calcified tissue indicative of—”

“Bone growth,” Lauren finished for him. “But the strange thing is, I don’t see any osteoblasts.”

Peter pressed his visor against the scope’s eyepiece again. “You’re right. Those cells would be visible at this magnification. They’d be easy to identify. For that matter, I don’t see any cells at all.”

“So I’m not going crazy?”

“I want to say no, but maybe we both are.”

“For their sake, I want to hold onto my sanity a bit longer.” Lauren glanced through the window separating the patient quarantine chamber from the laboratory, where Miguel stood talking to Scott behind the glass.

“Jesus, I can’t believe both of their suits were compromised.” Peter shook his head. “You think they caught whatever it is?”

“I hope not, but if they did, we still have no idea what the symptoms would look like—or when they’d hit.”

“At least Miguel still looks healthy,” Peter said.

Lauren agreed; Miguel certainly appeared ruddy and animated. “But Scott’s still lethargic, and he’s complaining of joint pain along with a killer headache.”

“Yeah, I wish I knew how to explain all those symptoms.”

“Right? I didn’t find any evidence of cranial contusions or trauma. And in spite of everything he says is bothering him, he hasn’t said a word about the wounds in his abdomen we stitched up.”

Peter’s mouth dropped into a frown behind his visor. “His condition makes our work all the more important.” He pulled up the results of their virus and bacteria screening assays. “Most of the microfluidic experiments and sequencing experiments are still running. We’ve still got a slog of tests to identify what might be in the samples from the IBSL.”

Lauren glanced over Peter’s shoulder at the scrolling lists of ongoing and upcoming experiments. “It’ll take the better part of this day and the next before half the initial tests are completed.” In the cramped laboratory setup aboard the Huntress, space was at a premium, and Lauren didn’t have access to the sheer inventory of equipment like at her old job in the CDC. “And we don’t have any positive IDs yet?”

“Nope. Whatever might be in those samples doesn’t match any known bacteria or virus so far.”

“You’ve checked it against botulism, rabies, anthrax, Ebola, neurotropic drugs, everything?”

Peter shook his head again, jostling his suit. They’d already tested for a variety of contagions they hypothesized might be part of the agents from the rig. Any substances that could be used in a biological weapon or to turn people into killing machines were potential candidates.

“It’s all too strange.” Lauren looked into the scope again. The granular tissue filled her view. “This calcification isn’t just happening spontaneously. Something must be causing this growth.”

“Whatever it is, we need to identify it soon.” Peter nodded toward Scott. “Because I don’t like the way Scott’s wounds are shaping up.”

Lauren nodded. They’d found more of that granular yellow tissue in the stitched-up lacerations. She feared it might be one of the symptoms of the Skull infection. Yet the regrowth of tissue hadn’t reached nearly the extent it had when they first brought him into surgery. An idea struck her.

“When Scott first came in here, this calcified tissue had essentially healed his wounds, right?”

“I can see those wheels turning. What’s on your mind?”

“The time between Scott’s injury and the time he came into the OR was no more than an hour.”

Peter’s eyes widened.

“And it’s been several hours since we operated on him,” she continued. “Yet the tissue has only grown back to what I’d estimate as a quarter or so of what it was before.”

Peter picked up her train of thought. “So maybe, just maybe, something we’re doing, something we gave him is slowing the growth of this mystery calcification.”

“I think so,” Lauren said. A victorious grin spread across her face. If something they’d done was slowing the progress of this calcified substance, it meant they might be slowing whatever caused the abnormal bone growth. Slowing its progression meant maybe they could stop it. If Scott and Miguel were indeed infected, her team might at least be a step closer toward a cure. She glanced into the microscope again.

“Even if we did slow its progress, we still need to get to the root cause of these spontaneous formations,” she said as she twisted a knob on the side of the scope. Another lens clicked into place and increased the magnification. With another flick of a button, the image on the scope shone on a computer monitor. Across the display, branching nodules grew out of the yellow tissue-like formations. Tiny pores dotted their surface. “There’s something we’re missing.”

Peter squinted at the screen. “Up close, this looks familiar. Almost like coral.”

Lauren was ready to dismiss his statement as nothing more than a casual observation until she considered it more seriously. The vast array of colorful and intricate hard coral formations that made up reefs were not just pretty rocks. Rather, the bulk structure of coral was constructed by a colony of tiny polyps. These polyps created their own exoskeleton by secreting calcium carbonate.

“Interesting idea,” she said.

“What?” Peter asked. “You think this is some kind of mutant coral?”

“No, of course not. But maybe something living, even if we can’t find it, is responsible for what’s going on here.” She magnified the image as best as she could, but like before, she found no cells, much less polyps in the pores of the calcified granule samples.

“Nothing,” Peter said. “At least, nothing we can see yet.”

“What I would give to have an SEM for this shit.” A scanning electron microscope, or SEM, would enable her to reach a magnification of almost 250 times greater than the meager light microscope they used now.

Peter laughed. “Good luck using that at sea.”

“No kidding,” Lauren said. The bulky, sensitive hardware required for an SEM wouldn’t survive the harsh environment of an ocean-going lab. Still, the idea that something invisible to their microscope was responsible for the calcification they saw in the culture dish didn’t seem entirely unreasonable. That gave her another idea. “There are plenty of bacteria too small to see on our scope, right?”

“Yes, but we’re already running microfluidic assays to detect them.”

Lauren nodded. “Right, but we’re looking for bacteria that have previously been studied. Bacteria that scientists have documented in the lab. What if this is something different?”

Peter’s suit rustled as he walked over to the clear partition separating the lab from the isolation ward. He pressed a hand against it and stared at Miguel and Scott. “If we’re dealing with an unknown bacteria, something that creates those calcified formations, and something potentially responsible for turning people into those Skulls...” He stopped and turned around. “If that was what those people on the IBSL were developing, I hope to God it went down with the rest of that platform.”

-17-

––––––––

Dom leaned forward and strained to hear Meredith’s voice amid the static. “Meredith, this is Dom. You have a SITREP for me?”

“That’s right,” Meredith replied. She summarized the past couple days she’d spent on the run from the agency. In turn, Dom told her what they’d discovered since recovering the mangled data and biological samples from the rig.

“What did you say this project was called?” Meredith asked.

“Amanojaku,” Chao Li said.

“What exactly is a—what did you call it?”

Chao looked up for permission. Dom gestured for him to answer her.

“An amanojaku is a demon-like creature from Japanese folklore, a small oni, or spirit, that causes people to act on dark, evil desires. From what my team’s gathered, the biological agent under development at the rig is supposed to do just that.”

“So have you uncovered what this amana...amajuka”—Meredith hesitated—“Have you uncovered what this Oni Agent does biologically?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid,” Chao said. “But if the Oni Agent, to use your term, is what turned those people into Skulls, it causes rage, violence...and hunger.”

“I see. Whatever this Oni Agent is, it’s spreading,” she said. “People have found mutated bodies all along the Eastern seaboard.”

Dom wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “You mean dead Skulls?”

A crackle of static drowned out her words. Thomas and Dom shared a nervous look. Chao’s fingers tapped at his keyboard until Meredith’s smooth voice replaced the noise.

“Yes, Skulls, whatever you want to call those people-turned-monsters. Several were found washed up across the Atlantic shore.”

Samantha caught Dom’s eyes, her thin eyebrows curved upward. He understood her skepticism immediately. “Several of those things jumped into the ocean after us,” Dom said, “but there’s no way the currents carried them so quickly to shore. They couldn’t have beaten us back to the States.”

“It’s not just the States, Dom.” She paused. “But you’re right. These bodies aren’t recent. My guess is they’ve been dead for a while. I’d also be willing to bet the washed-up corpses were casualties from when the IBSL went dark. Hell, there could’ve been a lifeboat full of people trying to escape that turned into those creatures.”

“And what’s the government saying about the bodies?” Dom asked.

“They aren’t saying much. At first they tried to write it off as a hoax.”

“If someone at the CIA was keeping it under wraps from you,” Dom said, “then it goes without saying that most of the federal government probably doesn’t know the lab, much less these Skulls, even existed.”

“That’s all true. The president declared a state of emergency. It’s not just—”

Dom’s heart stopped when static jumbled her words. Chao’s fingers clacked across the keyboard as he recovered her transmission.

“—in other countries too.”

“Can you repeat that?” Dom asked.

“It’s gone worldwide. People going crazy in Mexico City. A bunch of tourists wreaking havoc in Rome. Kids attacking their parents in Brazil.”

Dom, Thomas, and the three members of the electronics workshop remained silent.

“Huntress, do you still read?” Meredith asked.

“Copy,” Dom said. “You suspect all these events are connected with the Oni Agent?”

“Seems like it. I’m looking forward to hearing more about your team’s analysis to confirm this is the case, and in the meantime, I’m headed to Fort Detrick.”

“Hold on,” Dom said. “You’re on the run, and now you’re going to jump straight back into the Feds’ grasp? You’re our landside link. If you go dark again, we lose what little ties we have to the US government.”

“Dom, we’re already shut out from the government,” she reminded him. “I think all this has gone way over our heads. I want to feel things out, see if I can’t be of some help and—”

Dom cut her off as he understood better what she planned to do. “You want to see if we can be of some help.”

“Your team is potentially the best-equipped group in the world to study the Oni Agent. You have live samples, and you’ve recovered data from the rig. You’re trained for action against biological and chemical warfare threats, and I think this is about the biggest threat we’ve faced.” She paused. “That being said, if there’s any group on US soil that can help protect the population against this threat, they’ve got to be at Fort Detrick.”

“I would assume so, but what if the Army—and not just the CIA—had a hand in keeping the IBSL secret?” Another realization sprung up in Dom’s mind as he considered the destroyed oil rig and its former inhabitants. “And let me guess: if you want us to keep studying the Oni Agent, that means you don’t think they have a cure.”

“Correct,” Meredith said.

“If there was a cure—if the CIA or anybody else who knew how to reverse the effects of the Oni Agent—we wouldn’t have needed to infiltrate an oil rig filled with monsters, would we? The chaos in the US would already be contained.”

“My thoughts exactly. Unfortunately, I think the IBSL researchers were playing with a caliber of biological weapon they had no business messing with.”

“Then you might as well get your ass to Detrick,” Dom said. “I want to know what those people started cooking to stop the damn Oni Agent.”

“That makes two of us,” Meredith said.

Once again, Dom pictured the reigning chaos as people around the world succumbed to the Oni Agent. His thoughts turned toward Kara and Sadie, hundreds of miles away. “Meredith?”

There was a pause and flicker of static that told Dom she was waiting for his question.

“In your message, you mentioned you’d owe me a favor if we took your IBSL mission.”

“Yes, yes I did.”

“Meredith, I want you to protect my girls. They’re in Frederick, too.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Dom hoped he wasn’t taking advantage of their friendship—a friendship that had threatened to blossom into more after his divorce. At last she said, “I promise, Dom. I’ll find them and keep them safe.”

“Thanks. And Meredith...be careful.”

“You too, Dom.”

Chao disconnected them.

Thomas laid a hand on Dom’s shoulder and gave him a slight nod of reassurance. “If she says she’ll help them, your daughters are probably some of the safest people on dry land.”

“I know. It takes one more worry off my mind so I can focus on business here.” But Dom knew he would be lying to Thomas and lying to his crew if he said his thoughts would solely be focused on uncovering the truth behind the Oni Agent. He strode to the exit of the electronics workshop, Thomas by his side. Lauren and her team would still be waiting for him, ideally with updates, and he wanted to interview the mechanic. But first there was something else he needed to do.

Policy aboard the Huntress was to shut down all personal communication with the mainland during a mission for the sake of security. But if Kara and Sadie were in danger, if things were as bad as Meredith said back home, what did policy matter?

“Chao, Samantha, Adam?” Dom asked.

The three techies, each at their respective bank of computer monitors, turned to him.

“Monitor all civilian news stations and track the spread of all Oni-related incidents. Also, I want you to open up secured lines so the crew can call any family they might have.”

“But—”Adam began.

Dom held up a hand. “You can be first in line. Call your parents, call your siblings. Whoever you’ve got. I don’t want anyone worrying whether their loved ones are safe or not. It’s better to know than to let our imaginations drive us crazy, wouldn’t you say?”

“Aye aye.” Adam picked up a handset for their sat-phone and handed it to Dom. “Captain, why don’t you try first? I don’t have anyone, other than an ex who’d hate to hear from me even if I was the last guy on Earth.”

Dom smiled and took the handset. “Much appreciated.” He dialed Kara’s cell. He waited with bated breath, but a message reported his call could not go through. He tried Sadie and Bethany. Still nothing. Maybe cell service had gone down. Then he recalled Bethany’s birthday was coming up this weekend. Since Kara was attending the University of Maryland, just a couple hours’ drive from Frederick, he assumed she’d be visiting her mother to celebrate. At least, he hoped so. He tried Bethany’s home number. His heart pounded as he chewed his bottom lip.

Still no luck.

“Not working,” he said. “Adam, try those numbers again when others aren’t dialing out. Let me know as soon as you make contact.”

“Sure thing, Captain.”

Dom nodded and started toward the medical bay with Thomas trailing him. Though eager to hear from his daughters, there was nothing else he could do but trust in his crew and trust in Meredith to do what he couldn’t: protect his family.

“You sure you don’t have anyone you want to call?” Dom asked Thomas.

The second-in-command opened his mouth to answer, when a scream echoed down the passageway. It had come from the medical bay.

***

Kara tried the cellphone again, but the call still didn’t go through. “I can’t get ahold of her.”

“She was babysitting the Weaver kids. Can you try their landline?”

“I don’t have their number, and my phone’s not getting data. I can’t look it up.”

“Try my phone.” Bethany passed the cell to Kara.

Kara scrolled through the contacts until she reached Nina Weaver. She hit the call button and prayed that their neighbors would pick up and tell them Sadie was safe. It wasn’t long ago that Kara babysat the two blond grade-schoolers, Zack and Leah. Now she found herself wishing it was her who was with the Weavers and Sadie was safe with their mother. The line suddenly went dead. Kara tried to call again, but she couldn’t get through. “No luck.”

Her heart raced as her mother turned the Volvo into their neighborhood outside Frederick. No one shot baskets on their driveway hoop. No lawn mowers droned, and no children raced bicycles down the sidewalk. People had evidently taken the emergency broadcast warnings to heart and stayed inside.

“Almost home,” Bethany said. She remained outwardly calm, but Kara knew her mother must be filled with worry.

“She’ll be okay,” Kara said. “Aren’t Joe and Nina usually at home by this time anyway? They probably sent Sadie home hours ago.”

“Sadie, home alone?” Her mother floored the accelerator. “That’s even worse.”

They raced down the curving street. Parked cars lined the road, and ancient trees with thick branches shaded green lawns. The speed limit of the historic neighborhood was twenty miles per hour, but Kara knew no sign could convince Bethany to pull back from the gas pedal. Rubber screeched on asphalt as they rounded a corner. The street narrowed as they approached the cul-de-sac where their house lay.

At the cul-de-sac’s entrance, black smoke filled the air. Flames licked from a four-door Honda Civic. The car’s front end was crumpled around a thick oak, and another vehicle lay abandoned and burning near it. Between the crashed vehicles and billowing smoke, the street was blocked.

“Oh my God,” Kara whispered.

“We’re going to be okay,” Bethany said, seemingly more to herself than Kara. She parked the vehicle a couple driveways down from the smoke.

Kara scanned the houses, looking for signs of life. But no one was brave or curious enough to stare at the wreckage. Then a shiver snuck down her spine as a terrible thought occurred to her: maybe there was no one around to witness the spectacle.

“Try calling her again,” Bethany said. Her eyes remained glued straight ahead.

Kara did. Still no answer. Just a recording stating the call could not be placed as dialed. She shook her head.

“Home line?”

Again Kara dialed.

Nothing.

Bethany brushed back the auburn bangs from her eyes and leaned forward. “I don’t see anyone around.” She switched the car into drive, and the vehicle bolted forward. Dodging the burning wreckage, she drove through their neighbors’ front yards. The Volvo’s tires left trails of kicked-up sod and soil. Kara gripped the handle on the side door, her fingers trembling. It wasn’t her mother’s driving that scared her as their car burst through the smoke. A body lay sprawled out in the grass before the Civic. The Volvo sped past the mangled corpse, rendered unrecognizable by scorched flesh. Kara cupped her hand over her mouth, nausea rising inside of her.

Where were the ambulances? The police?

She briefly wondered if the wreck here had been like what they’d seen on the highway. Her only hope was that Sadie had made it home before the crazies started running rampant in the streets.

Their house lay at the end of the cul-de-sac, far too close to this sickening scene for Kara’s comfort. Beige siding and black shutters decorated its front. On the first floor, a bay window jutted out from the front room. Kara loved to read in that nook with sunlight filtering in through the leaves of the elm tree just outside the window.

But now someone else was trying to get in through the bay window. It was a woman of a slender build wearing a jogging suit, her hair tied back in a ponytail.

“Who the hell is that?” The car shuddered as the anti-lock brake system reacted to the sudden shift in speed and tires screeched on concrete.

The woman pounded on the panes of the bay window, seeming not to notice the Volvo. A crack splintered the glass. It shattered as the woman punched into it. She withdrew her arm from the jagged shards, a fountain of blood spewing from the gashes in her skin. That didn’t stop the woman. She pulled the shards away and squirmed through the window.

Bethany rolled down her window. “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The woman spun, her nose twitching. Her eyes seemed to bulge at the sight of Bethany. She sprinted toward them, abandoning the window. Bethany threw the car into reverse. The crazed woman jumped, her arms extended and fingers reaching out. Even as the car backed down the driveway, the woman reached it and slapped a hand against the passenger-side window. Kara drew back from the glass as the woman drove her shoulder into it. The window shattered, and fragments of safety glass rained down as Kara undid her seatbelt to crawl farther from the woman’s grasp.

Bethany turned the car and threw it into drive. But the woman was quicker. She reached in and yanked Kara through the window by one arm. Concrete scraped against Kara’s skin as she tumbled out.

The woman leapt at her, but Kara rolled to one side. The woman in the jogging suit slid across the concrete, and fresh cuts formed along the side of her face and arms. She stood, seemingly unaware of her injuries, and charged Kara again.

“Mom!” Kara called, struggling to her feet.

Bethany jumped from the parked car and waved her arms as she ran into the front yard. “Come and get it, bitch!”

The crazed woman’s neck twisted, and she let out a growl. She barreled toward Bethany. At the last second, Bethany sidestepped her charge and jabbed an elbow into the woman’s shoulder. The woman staggered but regained her footing. Her hand swung in a quick arc and connected with Bethany’s side. Bethany fell back from the blow. Her feet slipped on the grass, and she landed on her side, crushing one arm. She yelped in pain as the woman pounced.

The crazy lady clawed at Bethany’s face. With her left hand, Bethany grabbed the woman’s wrist. She threw a knee into the woman’s pelvis and twisted to free herself. But the enraged woman didn’t let up. Even when Bethany caught her other wrist, the woman twisted her neck to bite at her face. Bethany’s head whipped left and right to avoid the chomping jaws.

Kara could see her mother’s arms shaking. Bethany couldn’t hold out much longer. Kara ran to the Volvo and tore through her bag, desperate to find a weapon, anything to aid her mother, but she found nothing of use. She popped the trunk.

“Get back in the car!” Bethany yelled, her voice strained.

Ignoring her, Kara pulled up the mat covering the car’s spare tire and the toolset for changing a flat. The glossy black X-shaped lug wrench glinted in the late afternoon sunlight. She tore it from its place above the spare and stomped toward the woman who was trying to hurt her mother.

“Get off her!” Kara yelled.

The woman whipped around, and Bethany used the momentary confusion to shove her off. Her eyelids twitching and her mouth hanging open, the woman lunged. Kara cocked back the lug wrench but froze before she struck. She’d hunted the Maryland woods with her dad before. She’d field-dressed deer and harvested her fair share of wild turkey. But she’d never hit a person.

“Kara!” Bethany called. She threw herself at the woman and took the brunt of the attack meant for her daughter.

When the woman’s scraping fingers drew blood along her mother’s face, Kara’s hesitation broke. She swung the lug wrench with all the power of a steroid-laden batter going for a grand slam. The end of the wrench smashed against the woman’s skull. Flecks of blood and flesh spattered from the blow. Bone splintered.

Yet the debilitating injury hardly fazed the woman. She snarled and let out a howl. Once again, she leapt at Kara.

This time Kara didn’t hold back. The lug wrench connected for a second time with the woman’s face. Her neck snapped backward. Momentum carried the bottom half of her body forward, and she spun before she smashed against the ground. Her feet landed on the driveway, her crushed head on the grass.

Kara drew the lug wrench back again, ready to swing should the crazy person decide she wasn’t finished. She crept toward the woman and kicked her in the ribs.

“Are you okay?” Bethany asked.

Nodding, Kara stared at the body. Crimson liquid seeped from the jumble of torn flesh and fragmented bone. The woman’s chest lay still. Kara dropped the wrench, and it clattered on the concrete. A painful knot twisted in her gut, and she threw an arm over the Volvo’s open trunk as the contents of her stomach spilled on the driveway.

“You’re okay,” her mother said, drawing an arm around Kara’s shoulder. “You’re okay,” she repeated.

Kara retched again before dry-heaving. She dragged her sleeve across her mouth and stared with grim fascination at the corpse.

“You did the right thing,” Bethany said, exhibiting an amazing calm despite the events she’d just endured.

In her mind’s eye, Kara saw the people on the highway running, pouncing, and tearing apart their hapless victims. This woman in the tracksuit must’ve been like them. Enraged. Crazy. Yet she was still a woman, and Kara had still killed her. She dry-heaved again before straightening. “She’s dead.”

“You saved my life,” Bethany countered.

Kara hardly registered the words, focused on the destruction she’d caused and the life she’d taken.

“Come on, let’s find your sister.” Bethany jogged to the front porch and opened the door. Maggie, the family’s golden retriever, bounded out to greet them. She wound between their legs, whining all the while.

Bethany stepped inside the house and called, “Sadie! Sadie, are you home?”

One hand scratching the back of Maggie’s head, Kara glanced around the street. No one other than the corpse near the car crash and the dead woman at their feet could be seen. The neighborhood appeared empty. She ran to the passenger side of the car and grabbed her bag. Kara followed her mother into the house. She locked the door and tried to flick on the light. “Power’s out,” she said.

Bethany ran up the stairs. “Sadie? Sadie, are you home?”

Kara’s heart began to climb into her throat. “Sadie!”

Breathing heavily, Bethany came back downstairs. The cut on her cheek was bleeding, and the skin around it already seemed to be turning a yellowish color like a fading bruise. “Your sister’s probably still at the Weavers’. We’ve got to go get her.”

“Mom, are you okay? Your cheek—”

“I’m okay. I’ll be fine.” Bethany went to the door and peeked out its small half-circle window. “There are more of those people out there. Those crazies.” She turned away from the window and back to Kara. “We’ve got to find your sister. Run downstairs and grab a couple guns from the safe.”

Kara plunged into the cold basement with an emergency flashlight and ran to the safe. Her eyes were wet, but she made no effort to wipe away the tears as, guided by muscle memory, she twisted the safe’s dial until it clicked open. She selected a Remington Model 860 Pump and the H&R Handi Rifle that was her mom’s. The Remington was Kara’s favorite hunting gun. Her mom had never been as into deer hunting as Kara and her dad, but he’d gotten her a basic rifle and taught her to use it, anyway. Kara sprinted back up the stairs with the weapons and handed the rifle to her mother.

Bethany gripped the weapon and looked at her daughter with haunted eyes. Kara could tell what her mother was thinking. They were so close to Sadie. But with more of those crazy people out there like the ones they had seen along the highway and the one who attacked Bethany, Sadie might as well have been a hundred miles away. Bethany wanted to venture out there alone, fighting off rabid people.

Kara shuddered. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with?”

“I’m okay,” Bethany said, repeating her mantra from earlier. She wiped the tears from Kara’s cheek with a free hand. “We’re going to be okay.”

-18-

––––––––

Meredith patted her holstered pistol beneath her jacket as her boots crunched over fallen twigs and leaves. She stepped over the rotted-out husk of a log resting across the trail. Her thoughts lingered on the promise she'd made to Dom. She would gladly help his daughters; over the years, she'd heard enough about the girls to feel that they were a part of her family. She'd never met Kara and Sadie, but Dom had regaled Meredith with his daughters' exploits in school, on camping trips with him, and their family vacations. After his divorce, the stories had become bittersweet, his time with them less frequent. But Dom had still kept her updated on his girls.

Whenever she contracted Dom for a new job or checked in on a current one, Meredith made sure to ask after them, too. They often ended up carrying on like the old friends they were, whether over the phone or in person—though in-person meetings happened far too infrequently for Meredith’s liking. He was a good man, and sometimes she wondered what would have happened if things had turned out differently between them.

She trudged along, lost in her reminiscing, until she came to a small clearing among the trees. Ahead of her, a golden-brown cedar structure greeted her: Rocky Run Shelter. It looked like a log cabin without its front wall. She checked her map to confirm her location and trudged toward the structure’s covered deck. A porch swing creaked in the wind behind a grill pit. Compared to other shelters on the Appalachian Trail, it was a veritable palace. Not only was this one of the more recently renovated structures along the trail, but the paths near it boasted scenic overlooks where, on a clear day, the verdant greens of the surrounding woods and rolling hills contrasted sharply with an azure sky.

These features also meant this particular portion of the trail was rather popular. After listening to the radio reports of spreading violence and rabid humans running amok, she feared encountering anyone. She crept toward the shelter and looked for a pump to refill her water bottles once she had ensured it was safe.

Something moved in the shadows. Slipping one hand into her jacket, she walked toward the porch. She resisted the urge to call out and instead wrapped her fingers around the pistol grip.

A wiry man emerged from the shadows. He blinked and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. Dust caked his curly brown hair. Stretching out his arms, he let out a yawn as a young woman, tall and thin as he was, joined him.

“How’s it going?” he said.

Meredith’s heart settled, and she slipped her hand out of her jacket. This was no crazy person, and he certainly didn’t look like a Skull. By his unabashed friendliness, she could tell they had no idea what was going on in the rest of the world. Maybe these two had come for a couple days’ hike. Hell, maybe they had left a car somewhere within walking distance. They were mere miles from Frederick, where Dom’s daughters lived, and she might be able to convince them to give her a ride there on her way to Fort Detrick—if the roads proved traversable.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen anyone else around these parts.”

“Me, too,” the man said. “I’m Eric, by the way. This is Shauna.”

Shauna waved but said nothing.

“We dozed off,” Eric continued. “Been taking the trail from Maine, headed all the way to Georgia. Running from the cold, as they say. You come from the south?”

So much for a ride. “Sort of. I’m not trying to make the whole hike,” Meredith said. “I take it you haven’t heard the news.”

“We’ve pretty much cut ourselves off from civilization for the past several weeks,” Shauna said.

Meredith hated to be the one to break it to them. “There’s been an outbreak.”

“Outbreak?” Eric said, stepping out from the shade of the shelter. “Like the flu?”

“Worse,” Meredith said. “There’s some disease turning people into crazed killers.”

“Whoa, lady.” Eric held his hands in a supplicating gesture. “You high or something?”

Meredith snorted. She knew nothing she said would get through to these people. She was going to have to prove it to them. She slung off her pack and rested it against one of the posts on the shelter’s porch and dug out her hand-cranked radio and started it up. Adjusting the tuning knob, she searched for a station consisting of more than static.

A panicked, low voice broke through the noise. “—now declared a national state of emergency. All listeners are urged to stay indoors and avoid all contact with persons who exhibit signs of aggression.”

Eric’s skeptical expressions faded. “This isn’t some kind of sick practical joke, is it?”

Meredith shot the man a look as though he was stupid and wondered why she was even wasting her time. But she couldn’t force herself to keep walking and leave these people completely ignorant to the events unfolding around them. “Keep listening.”

“With phone lines and cell service down across the country, it’s been difficult to reach the CDC for current information,” the announcer continued. “Several hours ago we received a wire indicating all physical contact should be avoided with, we quote, ‘aggressive persons.’”

Meredith turned the radio’s volume down.

“Are these, like, zombies?” Eric asked.

Meredith shook her head. “Not exactly...”

Eric backed away from Meredith, his eyes wide. Shauna hid behind him.

“Don’t worry,” Meredith said. “I’m not an ‘aggressive person.’”

“Why the hell are we supposed to believe you?”

Meredith recalled the images she’d seen in Jay’s video feed and from Dom’s debriefing. “If I was, you’d already be dead.”

“So what are we supposed to do?” Shauna asked, her voice shaky.

“Find shelter,” Meredith said. “Something more substantial than a lean-to.” The radio droned on, reporting power and communication outages along with estimated casualties. Meredith really couldn’t spare any more time on these two hippies, even if they were a couple of clueless kids. But they were so young, barely into their twenties. If she’d had children, they would probably be the same age. She had to focus on finding Dom’s daughters and heading to Detrick. Her attempts to contact the Army base had so far been thwarted since all normal modes of communication had failed.

Eric paced the shelter’s porch. “Maybe we’re safer on the trail, away from civilization while it explodes, man.” He locked eyes with Shauna.

Meredith glanced at their backpacks resting in the shelter. They’d made it this far on foot. They were clearly resourceful and self-sufficient. They knew how to survive a long hike, but could they survive what looked to be the crumbling, temporary or not, of civilization?

“You have weapons?” Meredith asked.

“A hatchet, a couple knives,” Shauna replied.

Meredith pictured the Skulls again. If the Oni Agent was spreading, a couple of camping tools wouldn’t cut it. “No guns?”

“No way, man.” Eric shook his head, which caused a cloud of dust to lift from his curls.

“You ever shoot one?” She reached into her pocket, wondering if they needed her pistol more than she did.

“I haven’t,” Shauna said. “But he was a Boy Scout. You did at camp, right?”

“Black powder rifles, twenty-twos, a shotgun once,” Eric said. “But that was it.”

Meredith wondered why she was even bothering. Millions stood to suffer from the spread of the Oni Agent, yet she was concerning herself with these two she’d known for all of fifteen minutes. She should move on, but then again, traveling in a group might prove to be a boon for survival. After all, they had equipment and supplies to live off the trail. “Do you have any family or friends nearby?”

“Got some in Georgia,” Eric said.

“My cousins live near Savannah,” Shauna added.

One of the Skulls that washed ashore had been discovered near Savannah. Georgia had been one of the first states to declare a state of emergency. She didn’t bother telling them; it would only make things worse.

“I’m headed to Frederick,” Meredith said. She recalled Dom’s frequent stories of camping and hunting trips with his daughters. “I’m meeting up with a friend’s family. I think they have guns, and it might not be a bad idea to see if they have anything to spare for you.”

Shauna appeared skeptical. “Strangers are just going to like, give us guns? If everything’s as bad as you say it is, why would anyone do that?”

“You’ll have to trust me on this. Either way, I’m getting off the trail and heading to Frederick. I don’t know what it’s going to be like, but you’re welcome to join me.”

Shauna toyed with a water bottle clipped to her belt. Reports of spreading violence in populated regions continued over the radio, filling up the silence between the three.

Eric gazed northward along the trail. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s safer out here.”

Shauna retreated into the shelter. She packed up her bag and spoke as she did. “Just because these crazies are in the cities now doesn’t mean they won’t be out here soon.”

“But we can hide out here,” Eric said.

Shauna returned, her pack secured. She pulled her shoulder straps taut and clipped the sternum strap across her chest. “For how long?”

Eric let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Man, maybe you’re right.” He headed into the shelter and prepped his own pack. “You asked me about weapons. Do you have any?”

Meredith slipped her pack off and lifted the corner of her jacket to reveal the pistol. “And I’ve got a Pack-Rifle, too.” She patted her hiking bag.

“You normally hike the Appalachian Trail armed, or is it because of these crazy zombie people?” Eric asked, skepticism plain on his face again.

“I just like to be prepared,” Meredith said. She checked her watch. It was almost noon. “Are you ready? If we’re lucky, we can make it to Frederick before nightfall.”

-19-

––––––––

Dom ran toward the source of the screams. Thomas dashed beside him, and they cornered into the bay. Lauren and Peter, caught in the middle of donning their positive pressure suits, stood behind the window in the BSL4 portion of the lab. Near a hospital bed in the normal bay, Divya stood frozen in one corner with her mouth agape as she stared through the window of the isolation ward. Dom swept the room until he saw what terrified her.

Scott clawed at the mechanic they’d brought aboard from the rig. The mechanic was yelling something in a language Dom couldn’t understand and held his arms up to protect his face. Each swipe of Scott’s hands drew blood. Miguel rushed Scott and swatted him with his prosthetic arm. Scott turned his attention on Miguel, leaving the mechanic a bloody mess.

“Scott!” Dom slammed his fist on the window to the isolation ward.

The Hunter turned to face Dom. Spider webs of scarlet blood vessels lit up his eyes. He held up a hand with long yellow nails. White bandages still clung to his abdomen as his muscles tensed. Before anyone could react, he smashed the clear acrylic. The window quivered but held. He threw his shoulder into it, baring his teeth. The Hunter was acting like one of the Skulls, but he didn’t quite look like one.

At least not yet.

Lauren jumped to the intercom and pushed the button. “Miguel, you’ve got to sedate him! Peter and I won’t get to you through the decon chamber in time, and we can’t risk contaminating the rest of the ship!”

Miguel half nodded and backed into a corner as Scott continued to throw himself into the window. Dom and Thomas slammed their fists against the glass in an attempt to distract the sick Hunter.

“See the drawer behind you?” Lauren said. “There are individually wrapped hypodermics.”

Miguel opened it and pulled one out. He gestured as if to ask, Now what?

“There’s liquid midazolam in a small brown glass bottle. It’s a sedative. I think it’s on the top shelf of the cabinet behind you.”

Miguel scoured the bottles. He knocked one over and reached out to catch it, but he missed and it shattered on the floor.

Scott swiveled, drawn by the noise. Dom drummed his fists on the window louder, trying to draw Scott’s attention, but it didn’t work. Scott lunged at Miguel again. The Hunter dodged and jumped to the opposite side of the room. Scott followed, and Miguel dove under one of the empty hospital beds. He came out the other side and sprinted back to the medicine cabinet. He scanned the bottles again.

Dom and Thomas pounded on the window, yelling.

“Over here!” Dom said.

Scott ignored him and shoved the hospital bed out of his way. Miguel held up his prosthetic arm to protect himself from his enraged compatriot. Then the mechanic swung his IV pole at Scott. It connected with the back of the Hunter’s skull, and he sprawled across the tiled floor. Blood dripped down the mechanic’s arms, and his chest heaved in labored breaths.

“Come on, Scott!” Dom yelled. “Look here!”

Scott’s neck twisted back and forth, his eyelids twitching. Victoriously, Miguel held up a small glass bottle and plunged the hypodermic needle into its rubber top.

“You need one milligram,” Lauren said. “The label should tell you how much volume that corresponds to.”

Miguel nodded, withdrawing the solution. When Scott drew himself up to his knees, the mechanic swung the IV pole again. This time, Scott caught it and tore it from the man’s grip. His mouth opened, and he let out an ear-splitting screech as he reared an arm back for another attack. Miguel leapt for Scott. He caught the man with his prosthetic and stabbed with the hypodermic. The needle bit into Scott’s flesh, and Miguel pressed down on the plunger as he held Scott in place. Dom flattened his palms against the glass, feeling helpless.

The oil rig worker fell back against a bed and scratched at his wounds. He shivered, his eyes on Scott. The Hunter’s movements became clumsier and slower until his body fell limp. Standing above Scott, Miguel clenched and unclenched his fists.

“Miguel, can you secure him to the bed?” Lauren said, pressing the intercom button. Her voice sounded shakier. “And when you do, make sure you do not break your skin on his nails.”

Miguel nodded. He lugged Scott’s body onto his bed and retrieved patient restraint straps with Lauren’s directions. Once Scott was secured, he moved to help the mechanic.

“Hold on,” Lauren said. “Wait until we get in there.”

Once Lauren cleared the decon chamber of the lab, Dom approached her in the main room of the medical bay. “What the hell’s going on?”

Lauren started donning a fresh positive pressure biohazard suit. “I think Scott’s becoming one of them.”

“We can see that,” Thomas said.

“But Miguel’s fine, and so is the guy from the rig.” Dom pointed to the mechanic still cradling his lacerated arms. “I want to speak with him. Maybe he can tell us what the fuck just happened.”

Lauren hesitated. “Get your own space suit and join us then.”

Dom dressed with Peter and Lauren. He helped them zip up the back of their suits and duct-taped their gloves around their cuffs. A question burned in his mind, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for an answer. He glanced at Miguel again. The man was not only an employee but also a friend. Hell, he was practically family. “Why hasn’t Miguel shown symptoms like Scott?”

“We’ve come up with a theory,” Peter said. “It’s a bit farfetched, but as long as Miguel wasn’t hurt in the scuffle, I think he’ll be okay.”

“And the other guy?” Dom stepped into the first chamber leading to the isolation ward.

Lauren’s eyes seemed to lose their brightness. “I thought he was going to be okay, but with those wounds he just sustained...”

“If our theory proves true, there might not be anything we can do for him now,” Peter finished for her.

***

An orange glow lit up the living room. Dusk settled, and the neighborhood remained unnaturally quiet. Kara clutched her shotgun and watched her mother toy with the landline in the kitchen.

“I can’t get ahold of the Weavers or your sister.” Bethany’s face was pale. The wounds on her cheek from the crazy lady seeped a yellow ooze that didn’t stop no matter how many times Kara had tried to help her mother clean it. Sweat trickled down her face.

Kara’s own flesh prickled with goosebumps, from both the chilly evening air and the fear still clinging to her bones. She watched her mother’s face wrinkle in worry before the woman steeled herself.

“I’m going to the Weavers.”

“But those people,” Kara said.

“Send a hundred of them after me—I’m still going to find Sadie.” Bethany picked up her rifle. “I want you to stay here and keep everything locked up until I get back. Okay?”

Kara nodded pathetically. She felt like a child, a six-year-old wanting to tell her mother not to leave her alone in the dark with the monsters. But she wasn’t a kid anymore, and her sister might need their mother more.

“Don’t let anyone in.” Bethany tuned the emergency radio on the kitchen counter. She tried playing with the dial for a moment but got only static. “See if you can find out what’s going on while I’m gone. I want you to tell me everything when I get back.”

Again, Kara bobbed her head. It was a menial task, an almost pointless exercise. She already knew what was going on. The world was going to shit, and her mother wanted to go out into it after her sister.

“Don’t worry.” Bethany squeezed Kara’s shoulder. “I’m just going a couple of houses away. I’ll get to the Weavers and bring back your sister in five minutes flat, okay?”

Bethany blinked her eyes as if she was trying to regain focus.

“You okay, Mom?”

“Yeah, just—” Her eyes rolled back, and her body collapsed like a tent without poles. Her rifle clattered across the tiled floor.

“Mom!” Kara set her shotgun down and rushed to Bethany’s side. She dropped to her knees and bent over her to check Bethany’s pulse. A faint throb pushed against her fingers. Maggie ran into the kitchen, her tail between her legs, and started whining.

“Not now, Maggie!” Kara pushed the dog aside. She pressed the back of her hand to Bethany’s forehead. Heat radiated into Kara’s hand. She eyed the wounds along her mother’s cheek. Again, she pictured the woman in their front yard scraping Bethany’s face. She couldn’t help wondering if that small injury, at the time insignificant, had led to her mother’s condition.

If Kara hadn’t hesitated with the lug wrench, the psycho wouldn’t have had the chance to hurt her mom.

But now was no time to dwell on regrets. She rummaged through the drawers until she found first aid supplies. Armed with a bottle of Neosporin spray, rubbing alcohol, a wash cloth, and a box full of bandages, she went to work. A quick washdown with the rubbing alcohol was followed by a dose of Neosporin before Kara bandaged the wound. She doused the washcloth with cold water and then held it over her mother’s forehead.

Bethany didn’t wake up.

Kara’s limbs shook. She knew the effort was useless, but she grabbed a phone and dialed 9-1-1. As expected, no answer. No doctors, no ambulances, no one to tell her how to help her mother. A tear rolled down her cheek as she wondered where her sister was, where her father was, where everyone else in the world was right now while she watched her mother fade in her arms.

A groan escaped Bethany’s lips, and her eyes fluttered halfway open. “Dom...Dom...”

“Mom, it’s me. Kara.”

Bethany’s lips curled slightly. “Kara. It’s so good to see you home. How’s college?”

“Mom...” Kara began, trying to pull herself together before she lost it. She mustered all the courage she could. “Mom, let’s get you to the couch. Okay? I think you need to rest.”

She offered her mother a hand and slowly lifted her to her feet. They took slow, careful steps until they reached the living room, where Bethany readily slumped onto the couch. Maggie placed one paw on the couch’s armrest while she whined.

“Leave her alone, Maggie,” Kara scolded.

Kara paced back into the bathroom to scour the cabinet for more medicine. She wasn’t sure what to get, but there had to be something else, something she could do. Finding nothing else that she thought would help her mother, she went back to the kitchen. She toyed with the radio as she deliberated what to do. Leave her mom to rest? Force her to drink a bunch of water?

As she twisted the radio dial, a voice came into focus over the static. “—more fires in Baltimore and bodies strewn along the street.” Kara’s eyes widened, and she held her breath, intent on the radio. “We’re getting reports that similar scenes are happening all over the United States. Europe, Asia, everywhere...it’s...it’s madness.”

Kara glanced outside. “What’s wrong with these people?” she asked aloud. The report on the radio seemed unreal when she looked out over their backyard. A squirrel clung to the birdfeeder, scooping sunflower seeds into its mouth. Wind rustled the trees atop the berm along the rear border of their yard. The sunset gave the whole scene a serene, warm glow.

Her mother groaned from the living room, and the sound reminded her just how real this all was. Kara filled a glass with water and grabbed the radio then hurried into the living room. She held the cup to her mother’s lips as the broadcast droned on, reporting city after city and country after country declaring a state of emergency.

Kara dabbed her mother’s forehead with the cloth. The bandages along Bethany’s cheeks had become yellowed with the oozing infection. Kara removed the dressings to replace them. Then she squinted at her mother’s wound. Grainy yellow tissue seemed to be forming where she’d expected to see dark-red scabs.

Weird, she thought, peering closer at the wound. Nothing in Bio I had prepared her for this.

A deep rumble shook the house. A pair of glass figurines toppled from the fireplace’s mantel and shattered. Another blast growled in the distance. Maggie yelped, and Kara grabbed the shotgun near the hall. She dashed to the front hall and peered out the window. A third low blast, weaker than the first two, echoed over the street. This time it didn’t shake the house.

Kara trudged into the dining room and stared toward the far end of the cul-de-sac. It seemed the blasts had originated from that direction, past the line of houses and trees. Her heart pounded as she saw the Weavers’ house on the other side of the street. Sadie must be in there, safe with their neighbors.

Muddled, confused voices blasted from the radio Kara had left in the living room. Then the loud thwack of helicopter blades filled the air—but they weren’t coming over the radio. A squadron of choppers thumped overhead.

Fort Detrick, Kara thought. The United States Army Medical Command was mere miles from where they lived. She recalled her father telling her it was where the United States had once developed biological weapons before turning its focus on defense. She wondered if they were mobilizing to quell the crazy people responsible for all the cannibalistic violence. Still, that didn’t explain the explosions she’d just heard.

As if responding to Kara’s thoughts, the radio announcer’s voice grabbed her attention once more. “A military convoy we believe was headed to Fort Detrick has been halted by wreckage along the highway. Our eye-in-the-sky reports an overwhelming number of the crazies pouring over the vehicles and attacking soldiers manning the Humvees and transport trucks. Two of the trucks and a jeep, now on fire, were apparently involved in an accident. If Fort Detrick is mustering the troops, is it possible we’re in the midst of biological warfare? Have terrorists launched a coordinated attack on United States? If so, we’re still unaware of any groups stepping forward to take responsibility.”

The announcer’s voice sped up. “Everyone in the immediate vicinity of Frederick is advised to take caution. The enraged are now pouring out of one of the trucks.” He sounded frantic now. “Soldiers are shooting people, even civilians near the scene of the accident. It’s a bloodbath!”

The crack of gunfire echoed in the distance, emphasizing the veracity of the reporter’s claims.

Kara hugged the shotgun close to her body and leaned back from the windows. She closed her eyes tight, praying Sadie was safe and her mother would recover and the world would go back to normal.

“The enraged are spreading. Please, everyone who can hear this, stay indoors.”

There was no doubt in Kara’s mind that the scene the announcer had described was near their house. I-70 and I-270 intersected close to their neighborhood. Any military convoys coming from the Baltimore or Washington metropolitan areas toward Fort Detrick would’ve come blazing past.

Amid the distant gunfire, another noise caught her attention. A chorus of guttural howls filled the air. Maggie went wild, barking and running toward the front door.

Kara peered through the front window again. A group had convened near the burned-out wreckage near the cul-de-sac’s entrance. They crouched over the corpse of the man by the car. At first, she thought they were examining him, trying to see if he was still alive. Then one heavy man stood, bloody entrails hanging from his mouth. Crimson liquid dripped from his lips over the front of his T-shirt.

Kara’s heart hammered when she realized they weren’t trying to help the man. They were eating him.

Another man in a tattered suit sprinted toward the group. He pushed a woman out of his way and bent toward the corpse. The woman shoved him back, clearing room for herself as they feasted on the remains. Shock prevented Kara from moving. She let out a whimper as they tore into the corpse.

Maggie’s whining broke Kara from her trance, and she snapped into motion to silence the dog.

“Quiet, Maggie!”

The group dispersed. As they parted, they revealed the remains of the corpse. Nothing but bits of cracked white bone lay in the grass, covered in long shadows cast by the setting sun. Kara backed away from the window. Then the man in the ragged suit turned toward her house. His gaze caught hers. Maggie, too, saw the man and started barking furiously again.

“Maggie!” Kara clamped her hands around the dog’s muzzle and ducked beneath the window.

But it was too late. The ragged-suit man let out a bellow, and Kara peeked up enough to see him sprinting down the asphalt. The others whipped around and dashed with him.

Kara shrieked and ran to the living room. “We need to go upstairs! Come on, Mom!”

Her mother groaned and struggled to sit up. Kara set the shotgun down as the dog whined. She hoisted Bethany’s arm over her shoulder. An ear-shattering chorus of yells and howls echoed outside. Adrenaline surged through Kara as she pushed up the stairs. Bethany, barely conscious, trundled along with her, lightening Kara’s load slightly. They made it to the second floor and down the hall, where Kara lowered Bethany to the floor in the master bedroom. A loud pounding sounded from below.

She dashed back downstairs and grabbed the shotgun. Maggie ran in circles near the front door, barking. “Come on, girl. Let’s go!”

Maggie snarled and barked, her eyes fixed on the front door. The pounding continued as if the things were hitting the front door with a battering ram.

“Maggie!”

The dog whipped her head around and padded toward Kara. She turned and gave a final bark at the door.

Glass crashed inside the house, and a thud sounded nearby. Kara recalled the broken bay window where the woman earlier had shattered the glass. She heard something flop into the dining room at the front of the house. Maggie cocked her head and then ran toward the noise.

“No, girl!” Kara ran after the retriever. Her feet slipped on the hardwood floor of the front hall. She smacked a hand against the wall to steady herself. Maggie whined, frozen at the end of the corridor.

A shape stood from the floor of the dining room near broken shards of glass. The man snarled, his eyes locked on Kara’s.

Maggie’s fur trembled as she growled back. Seeming to sense the man’s intent, Maggie charged as he ran toward Kara.

“No!” Kara shouldered the shotgun, aimed it at the blur of scarlet-stained flesh and fabric barreling toward her, and fired.

-20-

––––––––

Dom watched Lauren bandage the arms of the IBSL mechanic. His deep-brown eyes stared ahead vacantly, and he muttered something Dom couldn’t quite make out.

“What the hell is he babbling on about?” Miguel asked as Peter checked him over for any cuts or scrapes.

“I don’t know,” Lauren said. “This is the first time he’s talked all day. He’s been out of it for the better part of his stay with us.”

Dom listened to the mechanic for another moment. His speech’s cadence and sounds reminded him of words he’d overhead on a mission he’d completed not too long ago in Iran. “Sounds like Farsi to me.”

“Glenn knows Farsi, doesn’t he?” Peter asked.

Dom nodded. “He does.” Since Green Berets were required to learn a second language, Glenn had chosen Arabic. He’d already come into the program with fluency in Spanish, and acquiring a third language turned him into a voracious polyglot. Dom also knew he’d picked up at least conversational abilities in Cantonese, Japanese, German, French...and Farsi. The man was a natural when it came to the spoken word. Dom punched the comm button. “Thomas, can you grab Glenn? Tell him we need his language skills.”

Flashing a thumbs-up from the non-isolation side of the medical bay, Thomas strode out into the corridor.

The rig mechanic started to shake and leaned forward. Dom pressed against the man’s shoulders and prayed the Oni Agent hadn’t already taken hold of him. They needed answers, and he’d already learned enough to know Skulls weren’t interested in conversation.

Lauren hooked an IV line to the back of the mechanic’s hand and taped it into place. She prepped a solution for the line but didn’t administer it yet.

“Sedatives?” Dom asked.

Lauren nodded. “Just in case.”

“Smart,” he said, glancing at Scott’s sleeping form. “You can administer this if he acts up, right?”

“Right,” Lauren said. She joined Peter in examining Miguel.

Dom’s heart stopped as he watched them look his friend over, inch by inch.

“I don’t see anything,” Peter said.

“You positive?” Dom asked.

“No breaks in the skin whatsoever.”

“Course not,” Miguel said. “I’m practically invincible.” He cocked his head at his prosthetic arm. “Except for that, I guess. But seriously, I’m fine.”

Peter stepped back, his suit rustling. “Hell, I believe him.”

“Don’t keep it to yourself,” Dom said. “How exactly do you two think this shit spreads?”

“We think it’s possible, maybe even probable, that transmission of this so-called Oni Agent is through direct exposure,” Lauren said. “It could be the agent is passed through open wounds and blood contact.”

“So you don’t think it’s airborne?” Dom asked. “Makes sense. I mean, Miguel would’ve breathed in the Oni Agent when his suit was compromised, but he hasn’t shown a single symptom, right?”

Miguel hopped off the examination table and held out his prosthetic. “The Skull only got my fake here.” He pointed to a couple dull scratches. “Obviously, he didn’t break any skin.”

“Okay, so if that’s true,” Dom said, glancing between Lauren and Peter, “you’ve solved half the equation. The Oni Agent appears to spread through open wounds. But where the hell is it coming from? Saliva? Blood?”

“Maybe.” Lauren shook her head, which made her suit shake clumsily. “But I don’t think those are the main vectors. Peter and I thought about how you all described Scott’s attack. The Skull clawed at him, right?”

“Right,” Dom said and then eyed Scott’s hands. “It’s something in the nails.” He walked over to Scott and lifted his hand slightly to get a better look.

“Careful,” Lauren said. “Don’t cut your suit or yourself on those.”

Dom nodded before continuing, “It can’t just be in the nails. All those bony mutations in the Skulls have something to do with it, don’t they?”

“We can show you some images later, but the same stuff growing out of his nails is growing in his wounds,” Peter said.

“Of course. His torso.” Dom lowered Scott’s hand and stepped away. “Right where he first made contact with the Oni Agent.”

“Exactly,” Lauren said. “We haven’t identified what exactly is causing these strange calcifications, but it appears to be the vector for spreading the Agent.”

“And we think it might even be alive,” Peter said. He explained their coral reef analogy and how polyps formed the rocky structures to protect the tiny organisms. “We think applying antibiotics slows down whatever it is living in the calcified bone-like tissues that eventually leads to turning people into full-blown Skulls.”

“Antibiotics don’t kill it, though?” Dom asked. Before Lauren spoke, he already knew the answer to this perverse bioweapon wouldn’t be so easy. But he couldn’t help hoping they had something in their arsenal to stop it.

“No,” Lauren replied. “Antibiotics don’t completely eliminate whatever it is. It might be like a hardy strain of bacteria. While initially antibiotics will slow the progress of the strain, over time, it may develop antibiotic resistance. Whatever the coral-like things are, they’re pretty damn resilient.”

“Not the news I wanted to hear.” Dom found the coral-like explanation and antibiotic resistance strange, but it more or less made sense. And it wasn’t any stranger than the Skulls. “So let’s entertain the idea that these bony formations we saw on the Skulls are formed by this sub-microscopic Oni Agent—that the same stuff growing on Scott’s fingernails and wounds would start to grow everywhere until he looked like a Skull. That explains how it might spread. But why is it driving people mad? Why did it make Scott try to kill every living person he saw?”

“No idea yet,” Lauren said. “But we’re working on it.”

“So without a cure, you think we can at least delay the progress with antibiotics in Scott and”—he motioned to the mechanic—“our guest?”

“I hope so. If we can’t stop it, we’ll have to keep them sedated or put them in a medically induced coma to prevent them from hurting themselves or others.”

“And do I have to live in here with them?” Miguel asked.

“Once we’re positive this isn’t airborne, we’ll let you out,” Peter said.

“Sooner the better,” Miguel muttered.

“Anything else you can tell me about the Oni Agent?” Dom asked.

“I don’t know if I’ve got much more to offer, but”—Lauren’s gaze fell—“there’s something I want to show you.” She walked to the morgue drawer in the room. The space served as a storage facility for bodies that posed a biohazard threat.

They’d never needed to use it before. Dom winced as Lauren pulled it open now. A black bag. Dom knew who was in it: Brett Fielding.

Lauren began to unzip it. “Since Brett was dead on arrival, we never administered antibiotics to slow the Oni Agent.”

“And the Agent apparently had no problem with him being dead,” Peter added coldly.

When Lauren finished unzipping the bag, her brow was wrinkled and her face pale. The professional façade she normally wore was cracking. She stepped back and let Miguel and Dom see Brett’s body.

Skeletal claws protruded from his fingers. A cage of yellow bone made it appear as if his ribs had grown outside his chest. His shoulder blades had burst from his pale skin and spread like demonic wings. The man was once healthy, vibrant, and muscular. Now what remained of his skin hung around his malformed skeleton with no more shape than a plastic bag.

“His muscles have atrophied at an alarming rate,” Lauren said. “Despite his death, we think the Oni Agent was”—she corrected herself—“is still scavenging his body for proteins and minerals to continue forming this exoskeleton to protect itself.”

Dom’s stomach twisted as he stared at Brett’s emaciated and malformed corpse. Guilt welled up with the disgust.

Thomas’s voice came over the intercom, dispelling Dom’s gloomy thoughts. “Doctors, Captain, Glenn’s ready to have a chat with our friend.”

Glenn waved through the window.

“Get your ass suited up and in here,” Dom said back over the intercom. He walked away from Brett’s remains and over to Scott’s side. He placed a gloved hand on the Hunter’s shoulder. “The mechanic better have some answers, because we’re in way over our fucking heads here, Lauren.”

Lauren’s expression turned dour. “You’ll get no disagreement from me, Captain.”

-21-

––––––––

The flash from Kara’s shotgun illuminated the suited man’s chest as it broke apart in a spray of flesh and bone. Blood spattered across a painting of a serene stream in the middle of a mountainous forest—artwork Kara’s mother had created was now decorated with chunks of gore.

“Maggie!” Kara called. She could hardly hear past the ringing from the blast.

Tail between her legs and ears flat against her skull, Maggie ran to Kara. She grabbed the dog’s collar and dragged her up the stairs as fast as she could. With her hearing temporarily lost, she couldn’t tell if more of the crazies followed, and she didn’t bother to look back.

Her heart thudded against her ribcage. She barged into the master bedroom. Her mother lay in the bed, a twisted expression of worry and pain across her face. Kara pushed Maggie farther from the door. She locked it then pulled the nearby dresser toward it. Adrenaline and fear throbbed in her veins as she heaved the heavy oak dresser. An ornamental jewelry box fell and spilled pearls, necklaces, and a tangle of earrings, but Kara ignored the mess. Once she positioned the dresser against the door, she moved to a second dresser, lower and wider than the first. She ran behind it and lowered herself like a defensive lineman. She pressed her hands against the lip of the dresser and shoved. Her legs burned with the effort, but her ears began to recover. The first sounds greeting her were her own grunts and belabored breaths as she struggled to move the furniture. When the second dresser thudded against the first, she dropped to the carpet, breathing heavily.

The door suddenly rattled. More pounding and scraping joined in the cacophony. While most of the door was reinforced by the dresser, there was a foot-and-a-half gap at the top. The wood there splintered. A hand burst through, clenching and unclenching.

Another hand thrust through.

Maggie growled, the hair on her haunches standing up. She prowled to the edge of the dressers. Kara didn’t intend to let the retriever try to defend her again. She climbed over the first dresser and aimed the barrel of the shotgun into the gap where the crazies splintered the wood.

Kara pumped the shotgun. She pressed the stock against her shoulder.

The hands tore away more of the flimsy wooden door. The face of a woman greeted her like some macabre birthing. Once-blond hair had turned crimson and brown with blood, both fresh and old. Wounds along the woman’s jawline wept crimson. Her reddened eyes bulged, and her teeth chomped. She peered into Kara’s eyes. For a moment, Kara hesitated. Despite the woman’s bloodshot sclera, her irises burned an intense, intelligent green.

Another human. Sick maybe, but human.

Holding her breath, Kara closed her eyes and squeezed the trigger. The blast kicked her shoulder back. Warm blood sprayed across her face. Again, her ears rang. She pumped the shotgun as another crazy took the woman’s place.

Kara pumped and fired until the internal magazine was empty. Yet another crazy wailed and reached for her. She dug into her pocket for the extra shells she’d grabbed earlier, reloaded her weapon, and took aim. Blast after blast, she fired until the crazies’ screams stopped. For five minutes, Kara continued to aim the smoking muzzle at the door. Her arms trembled, but she didn’t dare lower the weapon. Maggie cowered in a corner. Bethany lay still, apparently unconscious.

Kara moved to the en suite bathroom and washed her face. Pink tendrils swirled in the sink until enough blood saturated the water to turn it a deep red. The sight made her heart climb into her throat until she reminded herself the blood wasn’t hers.

She peered into the mirror to check that she’d cleaned the gore from her face and gawked at herself. The full realization of what she’d done hit her. She crumpled to the tile floor and pressed her palms over her eyes. She wanted to cry, wanted to break down, but the tears didn’t come. Mostly, she felt angry. These people had tried to kill her and her family. They’d forced her to kill them. She let out a long, furious scream that made Maggie cower again.

She wanted to feel sorrow for the lives she’d taken, but each time she had pulled the trigger it had become easier. In the span of one day, she’d gone from a freshman biology major at the University of Maryland to a killer. Maybe she was more like her father than she thought.

Would the families of the people she’d killed be looking for them, wondering why they hadn’t ever come home? Would someone be out searching the city to look for their wife? Would children be waiting at their school for their parents to pick them up and tell them this nightmare would end—that they’d be safe if they just went to bed and woke in the morning to a bright new day?

Those thoughts finally summoned the tears she thought deserved to be spilled. They reminded her she was still human and still possessed a conscience.

The clamor of yelling crazies echoed down the street. With the back of her hand, she wiped at her eyes. She stepped up on the bathroom counter and peered out a small window overlooking the garage.

More of the crazies milled about beneath the streetlights. She saw a group banging their fists against the windows and door of a house down the street.

The Weavers, she realized. Sadie. She imagined Nina huddling in a closet with their two grade-schoolers, Leah, nine, and Zack, eleven. Their father, Joe, would be standing protectively before them. And Sadie—who knew if Sadie was even still there? If she was lucky, maybe the Weavers had told Sadie she couldn’t go outside until they knew it was safe to get her to her family.

The pounding on the front of the house grew louder as Kara watched. Could Joe defend his family, defend Sadie against those things trying to get in?

Kara recalled a time when she and Dom had returned from a hunting trip. Joe had meandered over for idle chitchat and expressed an interest in someday hunting with Dom. He’d also asked about their guns. He’d claimed he’d never owned one but was thinking about buying one. He wanted Kara’s father’s advice on what to look for as a new gun owner.

Had he ever actually bought one? She prayed he had. But then again, what if his interest in firearms was merely conversation? What if he’d never picked up a handgun or shotgun? She had plenty of weapons stowed in the basement. Briefly, she considered leaving the protection of her house to help the Weavers, but the sheer number of people running amok like rabid dogs sent her shivering.

There was nothing she could do, and her mother needed her here. Kara could only wait to see if Bethany’s illness would go away. It was no different with her neighbors: Wait and hope.

Her bottom lip started to quiver, and she could feel a wet sheen form over her eyes. Those things out there frightened her. She didn’t hesitate to admit it. And although they might take her life, she wouldn’t let them take her humanity. There was nothing more she could do for her mother—but maybe she could do something to help her sister.

Kara eyed the small window above the sink. She judged she was thin enough to fit through. She punched out the screen and slipped out the window with her shotgun before she could talk herself out of it. Her fingers clung to the window frame as she lowered herself to the roof above the garage.

A cool evening breeze tickled her skin as she surveyed the area.

The crazies flitted in and out of the shadows. Two prowled past Kara’s driveway, but the trio that had been pounding on the Weavers’ window was no longer in sight. But on the front porch, a puddle of broken glass shimmered in the moonlight.

They were inside. She didn’t have much time.

***

Meredith held the night-vision binoculars to her eyes. She surveyed the landscape in its dark shadows of black and contrasting bright flashes of green. Wind whistled through the trees and underbrush where she hid on a hill at the edge of town with Shauna and Eric in tow. Progress had been slower than expected as she’d led them away from major roads to avoid contact with others as much as possible. They’d also lost their sole connection to what was going on in the rest of the world when the local AM news station they’d tuned into finally went dark.

“What do you see?” Shauna whispered.

“Seems to be lots of activity near Detrick,” Meredith replied. Fires burned in the distance, flaring in the binos’ lenses. A bustle of activity near Fort Detrick drew her attention. “Something’s definitely going on there.”

“You think they’re mobilizing?” Eric asked.

Shauna spoke in a low voice again. “Maybe they’re taking out—what did you call these people, the Skulls?”

“Could be.” Meredith surveyed the scene. They were still too far for her to really gauge what was going on at Fort Detrick. In any case, the base was between her and Dom’s daughters.

Maybe she’d be able to use her CIA badge to get in and speak with someone there who might have a better handle on the situation. It could be risky if the agency was still looking to bring her in for treason, but she doubted anyone cared that much about one rogue agent, given the more pressing concerns posed by the Skulls.

“It might be worth checking out,” Meredith said. “Maybe they’ve set up a shelter. You two would be a lot safer there than out in the woods.”

She rummaged through her backpack and withdrew the components to the single-shot, bolt-action Pack-Rifle. The pistol grip clicked in place with the carbon fiber stock, and she reassembled the aluminum barrel. It took only a few seconds to put the weapon together. “One of you want this?”

Shauna gestured to Eric. “I’ve never fired one.”

Meredith thrust it out to Eric. “This works more or less like the twenty-twos you fired in Scouts.” She showed him how to cock it. “It doesn’t have a safety, so watch yourself. Got it?”

“Yeah, got it.” He nodded and took the weapon. At least he was careful enough to keep the muzzle pointed in a safe direction.

“Hopefully, you won’t have to use it.” She screwed on the suppressor to her pistol. “If we run into hostiles, let me act first. The Pack-Rifle isn’t deafening, but it’ll be louder than mine.”

They crept among the trees until the acrid scent of smoke welcomed them to Frederick. Meredith guided them through the foliage to a creek. Trees and bushes covered the edges of the muddy waterway as they followed it to Fort Detrick. Distant howls and yells rent the air. Even the buzz of crickets and cicadas came only in intermittent waves between the inhuman cries and sporadic gunfire. Shauna shrank into Eric as they marched onward.

The bushes ahead of them rustled.

Meredith motioned for them to drop. She sank to the ground, pressing herself into the mud. She trained her pistol on the spot where she thought something—or someone—would burst from the foliage.

A man, looking to be in his late twenties, crashed through. He was far enough away not to have noticed them hiding. Meredith considered calling out to him, but it was impossible to tell whether he was a victim of the Oni Agent or a normal person on the run.

The man splashed through the creek and disappeared beyond the other bank. Crouched, Meredith crept forward with her pistol at the ready. She motioned for Eric and Shauna to follow.

Another inhuman cry exploded to their left. She swiveled and trained her gun to where it had originated.

An unseen woman’s voice yelled out. “Oh, God!” Her cry of alarm devolved into gurgling yells. A brief silence preceded a sound like bones breaking and flesh tearing beyond the bushes flanking the creek. Shrieks echoed from where the woman had called out. There was no doubt the animalistic cries belonged to a pack of Skulls.

“Let’s move!” Meredith said, her command terse. She didn’t want to give Eric and Shauna—or herself—any chance to consider the violent scene beyond the vegetation.

They ran along the creek for some time without meeting other people, Skulls or otherwise. The chorus of hunting cries resounded from beyond the trees. Those howls were soon drowned out by the thwack of helicopter blades. A squadron of choppers sped low overhead, kicking up whirlwinds of leaves around Meredith, Shauna, and Eric. Meredith judged they were close to Fort Detrick. She led them out of the creek and through the forest line. They snuck toward the edge of a road littered with abandoned cars. Using the vehicles as shelter, they crossed a wide tarmac of a school bus depot. A large warehouse towered above the asphalt at the end of the depot’s parking lot.

Meredith pointed to it. “That should give us the view we need. I can scout out a safe path to the base.”

Gunfire sounded from all directions, followed by the howl of Skulls. Meredith’s heart leapt with each sound.

“Then let’s hurry, man,” Eric said, holding the Pack-Rifle close to his chest.

Meredith sprinted to the warehouse. The other two followed. On the opposite end of the lot, a couple of shapes rushed past a streetlight. She watched them until they moved beyond her line of sight and set her pack down. “You two stay here. If you have to, run back to the creek for safety, but try not to go too far. Okay?”

“Understood,” Shauna said as gunfire flashed and cracked near Detrick like distant lighting. She and Eric shrank down.

“I’ll be quick.” Meredith ran to a bus parked near the warehouse. She scrambled up its hood and jumped to the roof.

Her feet ached with the miles of hiking she’d endured, and a dull pain throbbed in her knees. She took a deep breath and ran along the roof of the bus toward the warehouse. At the end, she pushed off. Her hands gripped the edge of the warehouse’s sloping roof. She fought for purchase and pushed up with both feet.

With a grunt, she hoisted herself onto the roof. Once there, she didn’t need her night-vision binos to see the firefight at the fences of Fort Detrick, especially near the gates. But when she did raise the binos, a grisly scene unfolded before her.

Bodies lay strewn about military and civilian vehicles. People scrambled over one another. Some appeared to be trying to get into the military base, probably seeking protection. Others attacked each other, maybe influenced by the Oni Agent or maybe just crazed by desperation. She watched one person dive onto the next and tear at them with their teeth and hands.

Salvos exploded from soldiers stationed around the base. Bullets tore down civilians and what Meredith judged to be people slowly turning into Skulls. Meredith couldn’t tell from her vantage point who was who anymore. The high-caliber rounds tore down the sick and the healthy alike. Her heart sank at the sight. They were already at the point of no return. She knew any data or information the personnel at Detrick might have on the Oni Agent would be secure behind that hail of gunfire. No CIA badge would protect Meredith through that mess.

Downtown Frederick looked no safer than around the base. Fires raged in neighborhoods. Roving packs of people took to the streets.

Must be Skulls, Meredith thought. Yet as far as she could see, most of these people hadn’t suffered the same strange skeletal growths. Maybe it was just a matter of time before the Oni Agent perverted the body after altering their minds.

She shuddered as her mind turned toward Dom’s family. With the city falling apart, she wondered if they would become casualties of the unfolding chaos.

Still, she had a promise to keep. She withdrew her satellite phone and dialed the Huntress.

Chao Li answered. “What news do you have?”

“I’m in Frederick.”

“All right, I’m sending for Dom. Where exactly are you?”

“About a few miles west of Dom’s family, near Fort Detrick. The Army looks like it’s struggling.”

More helicopters swarmed the base as if to emphasize Meredith’s claim. She pressed the binos to her eyes and saw fresh reinforcements fill the tarmac.

“If I were to guess, they either know something about the science of the Oni Agent,” Meredith said, “or they’re mustering their resources at Detrick to figure something out.”

“Judging by how the Oni Agent is spreading, it doesn’t sound like they have a way to stop this, does it?” Chao Li asked.

Meredith understood what he was implying. “Right. Otherwise they wouldn’t have let it get this far.”

“Any word from my family?” Dom blurted.

“Not yet, but I’m on my way to them.”

“Understood,” Dom said. “What’s the situation at Detrick?”

“I don’t think it’s going to be possible to make contact by ground. Have you had any luck raising them on any frequency?”

“Not so far,” Dom said. “I’d assumed the worst and figured the base was lost. But if what you’re saying is true, maybe outbound communication isn’t a priority for some reason.”

“Hell, maybe the base was compromised and they’re only just now getting it back. That’d explain the incoming air support,” Meredith said. “Anyway, they’re shooting civilians, Skulls or not, on sight. What’s the range on your chopper?”

“The AW109 can travel a little less than six hundred miles in the right conditions.” He paused. “I’m not sure I like where this idea’s headed.”

“Neither do I,” Meredith said. “But we don’t have a choice. We need to get in contact with someone in charge. Detrick seems like the right place to do it, but the only way we’re getting into that base is from the air.”

Dom paused. “They’ll shoot us out of the sky.”

“Right now, I think they’re more frightened of being overrun by Skulls. They must have learned Skulls can’t drive a car, much less fly a chopper. We’ve got to try flying there. It’ll at least get their attention, and I don’t know how else to open a line of communication with them.”

“This is crazy,” Dom said. The line was silent for a moment. “But you might be right. I’m going to keep hailing them. I really don’t want to fly in there without them picking up the damn phone.” He sighed. “Regardless of what happens, if we fly out there, I can bring you and my family back to the ship. How’s that sound?”

She prayed he would be able to bring his family back safely. “If your ship isn’t on fire or overrun with monsters, it’d be a welcome change for me.”

“I can at least promise you that,” Dom said. “It’ll be good to see you again, Meredith.”

“You, too, Dom.” Meredith meant it. She realized how much she’d missed his friendship since they’d been apart. Hell, maybe it was something more...but she couldn’t worry about that now. “You, too.”

“I’ll get the Hunters together for a rescue party, and we’ll be on our way soon.”

“Great. I’ll be waiting, but I have to warn you, I’ll have a couple of guests.”

“Besides my daughters?”

“Right,” Meredith said.

“The bird can only fit eight.”

“Which makes getting into Fort Detrick all the more important,” she replied. “I’ve got to get these people somewhere safe. I can’t just leave them.”

“Always the bleeding heart, Meredith,” Dom said. “But I’m happy to help however I can. Tell me where to meet you, and we’ll be there.”

“Assuming they’re still there, how about your daughters’ home? It gives us a home base safely outside of Fort Detrick’s range and the densest population of Frederick.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll prep my team for insertion and extraction. Call back when you find Kara and Sadie. By that time, we should be near enough to the coast to fly in for a pickup. Anything else you need, don’t hesitate to call.”

They said their goodbyes, and Dom wished her luck. She slid the satellite phone back into a pocket. Maybe by the time Dom and his team reached land, the fighting would have subsided and it would be easier for them to make contact with the Army.

She held the binos up to her eyes and surveyed Detrick once more. An explosion tore apart a couple of civilian cars near a southward gate. Bodies flew into the air, and gunfire rang out.

Then again, maybe that hope was too optimistic.

Before Meredith could let her mind wander into a pit of hopelessness, a nearby gunshot echoed below the warehouse. She scrambled to the edge of the roof. As she reached it, Shauna’s scream pierced the night.

-22-

––––––––

Dom hung up the handset. A small stream of optimism trickled through him. Soon enough, he could be on the ground again, rendezvous with Meredith and his daughters, and make it to Detrick to change the deadly tide of the Oni Agent’s spread. He turned to address the tech specialists. “Where are you with the data?”

The blue glow of the computer monitors shone on Samantha, Chao, and Adam. Dom, Thomas, and Miguel stood around Chao’s desk.

“I’d love to hear what I’ve been missing out on,” Miguel said, flexing the fingers on his prosthetic. Lauren and Peter had agreed he could end his stay in isolation, given he had been asymptomatic and sustained no injuries. Besides, given Scott’s instability and the mechanic’s burgeoning infection, Dom had agreed with the doctors that Miguel would be much safer outside the confines of the ward. “How’d you nerds do?”

Samantha gave him a menacing look and shot him a one-finger gesture to convey her distaste.

Then again, Dom might’ve been wrong. Miguel might still be safer back in quarantine.

“Us nerds,” Samantha began, “used a natural language processing algorithm—”

“Sorry,” Dom cut her off. “I want to make it back into Medical to see how Glenn is getting on. So cut the computer jargon and help me understand what’s going on. If there’s anything I can ask the mechanic before Lauren induces him into a coma, better spill it fast.”

“Right,” Samantha said, rolling her eyes. Dom knew she took special pride in regaling the crew with her technical wizardry, but with so many cogs in this disaster moving at once, he didn’t have time to entertain her ego. “I think our biggest discovery is that an early iteration of the Oni Agent originated from late-1940s government research.”

Thomas scratched the stubble along his jaw. “World War II-era tech? Was this a result of Operation Paperclip?”

“The name Amanojaku is Japanese,” Dom said. “Paperclip was focused on the Germans, not the Japanese, so I’m betting this isn’t Nazi tech. Still, the US did take their fair share of doctors and scientists from Japan. Most were from Unit 731.”

“That was the chemical and biological warfare research arm of the Japanese military, right?” Thomas asked.

Dom nodded. “For some reason, it never reached the levels of infamy Josef Mengele’s human experiments in Auschwitz did, but Unit 731’s research led to the death of thousands of men, women, and children.” A twinge of disgust and anger rose up in him as he spoke. “These people served as guinea pigs for vivisections, germ-releasing bombs, radiation exposure, and bubonic plague infections, among other grotesque experiments. It wouldn’t be a far cry to assume the Oni Agent came from the same research.”

“We think so,” Samantha said, standing from behind her bank of computer monitors. “And the paper trail we’ve followed through the non-corrupted data starts with the CIA. At one point, this project was moved to another military installation, but we can’t determine where.”

“Sounds like Fort Detrick might be a top candidate.” Dom wondered if that might explain the response Meredith had witnessed at the base. “Is that all you’ve got on the historical context?”

“That’s it,” Adam said, tugging his beard and looking disappointed. Chao and Samantha both nodded. “I’m not sure anything else is salvageable. The connection between the rig and the Huntress was too short for us to bust through all their layers of firewalls and encryption.”

“Fair enough,” Dom said, leaning against Chao’s desk. “What about the science side of things?”

“Yeah, tell me what I didn’t catch,” Miguel said.

“Not much, I’m afraid. We got random numbers and tables, but we have no idea what these values mean. There aren’t any textual labels.” Samantha shook her head, her long dark braids tossing about her shoulders. “We tried some pattern analysis to see if we could identify any probable correlation between the experimental variables they could’ve been studying, but we’ve found nothing significant.”

“In English?” Thomas asked.

“We’re at a loss,” Samantha said. She lowered her gaze in defeat.

“Anything we can ask our pal from the rig to help you all out?” Dom asked. “I’m not sure how long he’s got before the Oni Agent takes hold.”

“Yeah,” Chao said. “Ask him what the hell it is.”

“Anything besides the obvious?”

“Anything that might help us analyze what little data we’ve recovered.” Adam paused his typing and looked up over his glasses for the first time. “But honestly, at this point, your guess is as good as ours.”

***

Glenn nodded at Dom through the window of the isolation ward. He and Lauren stood next to the worker from the oil rig. They no longer wore the positive pressure suits since determining that the Oni Agent wasn’t airborne.

Still, Dom had asked Lauren to keep Scott and the mechanic within the isolation ward for added protection. Not from the Oni Agent itself, but as a prison of sorts in case the sedatives and induced coma weren’t enough and Scott or the mechanic lashed out in rage under the poisonous influence of the agent.

“His name is Amir,” Glenn’s voice sound over the intercom. “He was a maintenance worker. Took care of the generator and mechanical equipment. He claims to know nothing about the labs or what they were doing aboard the platform. In fact, he was forbidden from entering that entire deck. Sounds like he was more or less kept prisoner on the generator deck.”

Disappointment welled up in Dom. He had hoped this man would be the key to filling in the cracks between the scientific studies and computer analyses his team had conducted. “Do you believe him?”

Glenn lifted his bulky shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. “I think so. My Farsi is a bit rusty, so it’s hard for me to gauge his honesty through spoken word.” He tilted his head at Amir. “And the poor guy isn’t doing too hot, so reading his body language isn’t helpful.”

Pallor had replaced the healthy brown of Amir’s face. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Dom imagined the wounds in his arms were filled with the same bone-like tissue covering Scott’s injuries and Brett’s body.

“We’re losing him fast,” Lauren said. “I’ve kept him on antibiotics to slow the progress of the Oni Agent, but Scott scraped him up good. I think the sheer number of scratches is contributing to the rate at which the agent is forming calcified tissue. Presumably, that’s linked to the spread of whatever is causing the neurological changes that led to Scott’s aggressive outburst.”

It wouldn’t be long before the Oni Agent completely took over Amir’s mind, turning him bloodthirsty like Scott. The Oni Agent would slowly ravage both their bodies until the transformation was complete and they turned into demonic Skulls.

“So in other words, we don’t have much longer to talk to this guy,” Dom said.

“Not unless we find a cure.”

“Glenn, thanks for your efforts,” Dom said. “See if you can’t get anything else useful from him. Maybe he knows something but doesn’t even realize it.”

“Understood,” Glenn said.

Waiting for Amir to magically give them something more helpful and praying his electronics team or the medical team would make a sudden breakthrough wouldn’t be enough.

But his team had come away with something interesting. The vague but telling clue regarding a military installation that had taken control of the Amanojaku Project might prove important. Coupled with Meredith’s observations at Detrick, Dom felt more convinced they urgently needed to make contact with the base. It seemed logical, judging by Detrick’s response to the Oni Agent outbreak, that someone there knew something Dom and his team didn’t.

He glanced at Scott’s rigid form. The man’s eyes were closed, and his chest rose and fell in shallow waves.

Never before in the history of the Huntress had Dom lost a man or woman, not until they’d boarded the IBSL. He didn’t intend to lose another. If a potential cure lay in the confines of Fort Detrick, Dom would take the chance to find out. By traveling to Frederick, he might save Scott and his girls in one fell swoop.

He and Meredith had agreed to meet at his family’s home, but he still hadn’t heard from his daughters. He prayed Kara and Sadie were bunkered down with Bethany watching over them, waiting for someone to sweep them away to safety. Yet he knew that it wasn’t just his family’s lives at risk as the Oni Agent spread; the entire human species was hanging in the balance.

***

Kara lowered the shotgun and let it drop in a nearby bush. She crouched on the roof and waited to see if any of the crazies flitting about the neighborhood noticed. Maybe nightfall would help conceal her.

A half dozen had run down the main road, and now only a couple meandered about the cul-de-sac. She believed at least three had invaded the Weavers’ home.

Gingerly, she slipped over the side of the roof and hung over the edge. The coarse shingles scraped her fingers, but she inched off as far as she could before letting go. She bent her knees to absorb the impact. As soon as she hit the ground, she bent and recovered her shotgun. She paused and strained her ears.

No guttural howls or charging crazies greeted her.

She steered far from the streetlights as she snuck toward the Weavers’ two-story home. She ducked behind a hydrangea. Its flowers had long since bloomed and withered away, but the branches spanned wide and dense enough to provide cover.

A crash of glass sounded from within the home. Kara knew patience and caution were virtues when it came to hunting, but that wouldn’t save Sadie or the family of four’s lives tonight. She sprinted across the front yard. Wind rushed past her as she barreled forward. She jumped and dove through the gaping hole in the window the crazies had made during their assault on the home.

Broken glass cut into her arm as she rolled across the Weavers’ carpeted floor. She ignored the pain and came to a stop on her knees. With the stock of the shotgun pressed to her shoulder, she played its barrel across the dark room. Nothing but the spindly shapes of chairs and a long dining room table stood in her way.

A mix of shuffling and scraping sounded from deeper in the house. Staying light on her feet, she hurried to the kitchen, where a cabinet lay askew. Moonlight filtered in through the windows and glimmered on shattered glasses and plates strewn across the hardwood floor.

More scraping and shuffling, along with growls, echoed up a set of stairs leading to the basement. Kara ran down them.

Without any windows and only the light filtering from upstairs to guide her path, she could hardly make out the shapes around her. She prayed it was just as hard for the crazies to see as it was for her.

The guttural grunts and scratching grew louder as she inched forward.

A muffled scream came from her left. It sounded as though it had come from a child—Leah or Zack.

She paused near a thick column. Heavy breathing and the scratch of nails against wood caught her attention. She swiveled toward the source of the noise. Darkness bathed the basement, and she squinted, desperate to see what lay before her. Then she heard the tearing of wood. A door being taken apart.

An unbridled scream filled the air.

“No!” She recognized Joe’s deep baritone.

Her finger shook near the trigger, but she couldn’t risk firing. Not now. Not with children somewhere beyond her line of sight.

More tearing and crashing and a beam of orange light burst from the darkness.

Candles burned from beyond a broken door. The glow illuminated the rabid faces of three crazies tearing at the wooden door. They’d burst through part of it and now ripped away the rest of the wood.

Screams came from beyond the door where Joe and his family cowered in a corner, just visible through the widening hole.

“Hey, assholes!” Kara yelled.

The crazies ignored her as they shoved each other, desperate to get at their cornered prey. One, a fit woman in a T-shirt and yoga pants, began to push through.

Kara dashed beside the attackers and let loose a shotgun blast. The female crazy’s chest blew apart in a burst of blood, flesh, and bone. Kara ignored the ringing in her ears and fired again and again at the other two crazies. Their bodies twisted with the spray of buckshot. Kara pumped and fired her last shot into the mutilated crazies.

All three lay still on the floor. Murky pools of blood formed underneath their bodies, appearing as innocuous as shadows in the dim lighting. But the darkness could not mask the stinging, ferrous odor of the liquid.

Kara kicked aside the bodies and peered into the room. Candlelight flickered over the shocked faces of the Weavers. Nina, her hair cropped short and blue eyes wide with fear, stood behind Joe. Leah held a teddy bear and cowered behind her mother. Zack peeked out from behind Nina’s protective arms. Joe cocked a baseball bat over his shoulder, ready to swing for his family’s lives. He wore a Baltimore Orioles shirt but didn’t appear near as athletic as his favorite baseball team. His eyes were searching Kara wildly, and sweat matted down his thinning hair.

His family was safe and accounted for, but where was Sadie?

“Kara!” The twelve-year-old, who shared the same auburn locks as Kara, rushed out of the destroyed door and threw her arms around her sister. She sobbed into Kara’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Kara said, letting the gun fall to her side and wrapping an arm around Sadie. Her voice still sounded foggy through her damaged hearing. She glanced around the office. The Weavers had nothing to protect themselves besides Joe’s bat and Leah’s teddy bear. “We can go back to my house. We’ve got guns enough for everybody.”

Joe’s muscles relaxed. Lowering the bat, he stepped forward. He nudged the remnants of the door open, an unnecessary gesture. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Nina said, one hand on each of her children’s shoulders. “Thank you.”

Kara nodded. “No, thank you for keeping Sadie safe.”

“We couldn’t let her go home,” Nina said. “Not when your mom was gone and the reports on the radio...”

“No, we didn’t want her to be alone,” Joe finished for his wife. He rubbed his fingers over his ears, evidently as deafened by the close-quarter volley of gunfire as Kara.

Kara motioned for them to follow her. For a moment, she considered leaving them and coming back with the guns. But they didn’t have much time. The gun blasts wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by the crazies she’d seen around her cul-de-sac and those traveling along the main street. She couldn’t leave the family here defenseless, especially not with their house already broken into.

Nina ushered Leah and Zack from their hiding place, and Kara led the family up the stairs. They reached the first floor. The crunch of glass caught her attention, and she spun to her left. One of the crazies climbed through the window. It locked eyes with Kara and charged.

She shouldered the shotgun, but her finger clicked the trigger uselessly. She’d forgotten to reload it.

The crazy, a larger man in a T-shirt and sweatpants, let out a gurgling cry. Kara spun the shotgun in her hands and held the barrel. Like a batter ready to swing, she brought it back over her shoulder.

With a final growl, the man leapt. Kara let loose. The stock of the shotgun connected with the man’s jaw. His neck twisted with a sickening snap. Legs locking, the man fell forward and crashed into the wall. He struggled to stand, but Kara bashed him again, and he dropped flat on the floor.

“Come on!” Kara called to Sadie and the Weavers. They followed her forward to the entrance hall.

Kara peeked out the small half-circle window in the top of the front door. Several people started toward the house. Others began to follow, caught in the fervor pulsing through the crowd of crazies.

Nina pointed toward the broken window in the connected dining room. “There’s another!”

A woman crawled through. The glass shards hanging in the window like jagged teeth tore into her arm. Blood trickled from her wounds, but her focus never wavered from her prey.

Joe threw himself between the woman and his family. He swung his metal bat once, then twice. The woman’s skull cracked, but still her teeth chattered. Another swing and her body went limp, her legs still dangling outside.

Another man, a half-crown of hair gracing his tanned scalp, squeezed between the dead woman and the window. He clawed at the glass, breaking it into more shards.

Kara dug out a couple shells from her pocket as Joe let loose with the bat.

As the crazed man’s growling and scratching ceased, another tried to push himself through the window. Sadie cried out as Leah and Zack screamed. Something else pounded and slammed against the door. Joe flipped the dining table on its side and pressed it against the two dead crazies stuck in the window. He slid a china cabinet behind it for reinforcement.

“Out the back!” Kara said. She led them to the kitchen and gestured for them to freeze. Joe crept to the sliding glass door leading to their back porch.

A couple of shapes wandered near the Weavers’ vegetable garden. They were about a dozen yards away, but Kara wasn’t sure she, Sadie, and the Weavers could make it past without being spotted.

They’d been lucky to take down three of the crazies in the brief melee. But out in the open, if one swing of Joe’s bat or a shot from her gun missed, that would be the end for them. And if she was forced to fire her weapon, she’d attract the attention of more.

“We need a distraction,” Joe said, sizing up the situation immediately.

Kara nodded. Then she remembered the candles downstairs.

“You’ve got matches? A lighter or something?” Kara asked Joe.

Joe dug into this pocket and withdrew a plastic Bic lighter. “Right here.”

Zack whimpered as more scratching and growls sounded outside their home. Leah squeezed her teddy bear tighter.

Kara wondered if she was crazy for what she was about to suggest, but she couldn’t think of a better option now. “Do you have any high-proof alcohol?”

Joe’s eyes lit up with understanding. Careful to avoid the glass and broken dishware on the kitchen floor, he retrieved a bottle of vodka from a cabinet above the stove. He pulled a washcloth from a drawer near the sink then poured enough vodka on the cloth to saturate it. “Think this will work?”

“Hollywood seems to think so,” Kara said. “Unless you’ve got a gallon of gasoline stashed away somewhere, we might as well try.”

“Stay here,” Joe said to his family.

He and Kara ran back to the dining room. He kicked over the china cabinet and pulled back the table over the broken window. Kara used the stock of her shotgun to push one of the dead crazies out. A couple others tried to take the dead one’s place, their arms reaching into the house, grasping and clawing.

Kara fired two shots as Joe lit the rag on his Molotov cocktail. When the two crazies fell, he threw the bottle onto the porch. It shattered, spilling flame. The resulting conflagration was nothing near as spectacular as Kara had seen in the movies, but the small blaze managed to catch on the fabric of the porch swing.

The orange glow cast ghoulish shadows over the faces of the people outside. They were drawn to the fire like moths. For good measure, Kara shot off two more rounds into the nearest crazies. Their warbling cries drew yells and howls from the others. She figured the noise and burning porch would be enough to attract the crazies still prowling the shadows in the backyard.

“Let’s hope we played our cards right,” Kara said, thumbing fresh shells into the shotgun. She fumbled one. Her fingers shook, and she wasn’t sure whether it was because of adrenaline or her nerves catching up to her.

She and Joe joined his family and Sadie in the kitchen. After seeing no others in the backyard, Kara slid the glass door back and pressed a finger to her lips. She darted onto the deck, followed by Joe. She paused at the stairs leading into the lawn. The smell of smoke drifting on a night breeze greeted her as she listened to the cries of the crazies. It still sounded as if they were all congregated near the front of the house.

When Kara inched off the deck and onto the grass, she signaled for the family to follow. They crouched and ran toward the hedges lining the yard.

Kara pushed through the foliage. From her vantage point, she saw the side of the Weavers’ house, along with the front of her own. Flickering flames cast the ghastly shadows of the crazies along the asphalt of the cul-de-sac.

None prowled around her house that she could see.

“Follow me,” she whispered. Again they dashed forward, sticking to the shadows.

One of the crazies howled in a high-pitched drone. Its voice raised above the rest, and Kara’s heart stopped. She motioned for the others to continue as she shouldered her shotgun, preparing to defend her sister and the Weavers against an oncoming horde.

But none of the crazies charged her.

A few fought between each other, scrambling to make it into the broken window of the Weavers’ home. Others scraped and pulled at the siding around the front door, desperately trying to burrow into the house. It seemed once they’d caught sight of something, they wouldn’t let up. Even the spreading tongues of flame didn’t dissuade them.

Once Sadie, Joe, Nina, and the children safely had passed into her backyard, Kara followed. A cool wind blew across her back, bringing with it the scent of burning wood and melting plastic. The family waited on the back deck, crouched among the outdoor chairs and table pots of overflowing plants. Even the crickets seemed to have gone silent in anticipation.

“I need to get in to unlock the back door,” she said. She considered going in through the broken window in the front, but she didn’t want to risk one of the crazies spotting her. The last thing they needed was to attract a stream of the violent people into her house after she’d liberated the Weavers from theirs.

“Joe, can you help me?” she said in a low voice.

He nodded.

“Follow me,” she whispered. “Everybody else, wait here for now.”

Kara crept to the side of her house with Joe and paused near the bush where she’d dropped down from the roof. She gestured, signaling she needed a lift up.

Joe knelt and clenched his hands together. He gestured for Kara to step into them. Kara put one foot into his cupped palms, and he pushed her up. She grasped the gutter with her right hand and tossed her shotgun on the shingles with her left. Her hands scraped against the rough surface, finding purchase through friction alone, and she dragged herself above her garage.

Once safely on the roof, she signaled to Joe to go around back and rejoin his family. He disappeared around the corner of the house.

Across the yards, the crazies still ran amok. Their intermittent cries and howls echoed across the asphalt. The fire that began on the Weavers’ porch now enveloped the first floor. Orange flames danced behind the shattered windows, giving the house the appearance of an oversized jack-o’-lantern.

The enraged people seemed to have finally lost interest in the flames. Those that hadn’t made it inside the house were beginning to wander away. It wouldn’t be long before one of them happened upon the Weavers.

Kara slid her shotgun into the small window. It clunked against the sink, and she slipped in after. She entered the bedroom and moved the dressers away from the door. Bethany seemed not to notice her daughter’s heavy lifting and grunting, evidently still in the throes of her sickness. Kara wanted to check on her, but now five more lives were at stake, waiting for her to lead them to safety as she had promised.

When she made enough room, she yanked the door open. The dead bodies from their earlier home invasion flopped before her. Blood soaked the carpet, and its coppery scent stung her nostrils.

She leapt over the corpses and dashed down the stairs. Like the Weavers’ home, the rear deck was accessed by a sliding glass door. Kara took out the wooden security pole from the door’s track and flipped the lock.

Sadie, Joe, Nina, and their children rushed in, and Kara secured the door again. Sadie threw her spindly arms around Kara and pulled her sister into a tight embrace. “I was so worried.” Tears wetted her cheeks. “I don’t ever want to be away from you and Mom again.”

The look in her sister’s eyes was too much. “Never,” Kara said. “I promise, but right now I need your help.” She directed Sadie to take the children into the living room. While Sadie kept them occupied, Joe and Nina barricaded the broken window in the front room with a heavy office desk. They worked in the dark, avoiding the use of any flashlights or candles so as not to attract any undue attention.

Nina peeked through the blinds over one of the windows. “Our house,” she said, her voice weak. “I can’t believe it’s gone.”

“From what we heard over the radio, it seems like half the United States is gone.” Joe stood still for a moment as if in a trance.

Kara figured she understood the sentiment. While they’d been terrified for their lives before, he hadn’t had time to let the full realization of the roaming crazies hit him.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around his wife.

Backing away, Kara gave them a couple of minutes to gather themselves. “I’m going to get more weapons and ammunition from downstairs.”

On her way to the basement, she grabbed a flashlight. The meager light pierced through the darkness as she crept down the bare wooden stairs. Unlike the Weavers, her basement wasn’t finished. A shiver snuck down her spine. She’d long since outgrown her irrational fear of the dark, but today’s events had brought it back. She didn’t have the luxury of being frightened. She had to load up on as much firepower as she could carry and then protect the people who were relying on her.

Another wail, distant and inhuman, drifted into the basement.

Maybe the crazies had discovered new prey. Someone else to terrorize. A fleeting thought nagged her, telling her she should investigate. She should assist whoever the hapless victim might be.

But logic won out over emotion. She couldn’t leave Sadie, and she had taken the Weavers out of their home with the promise of safety. Her mother needed her too.

And she was willing to admit that fear was the ruling factor in her decision to stay inside now that she had her sister and mother under one roof. She remembered the phone call she’d had with her mother a week ago. Bethany had offered to pick her up from the university, and Kara had almost declined, saying she had too much studying to do.

Her thoughts meandered toward her friends and classmates back on campus. She wondered how they’d fared. I almost stayed in my dorm room, Kara thought. She shuddered when she considered where her mother and sister would be right now and where she’d be if she hadn’t come home.

Tomorrow was her mother’s birthday, and Kara wasn’t even sure if any of them would live to see it. Kara’s stomach roiled, and she felt sick. She dropped the boxes of ammunition. The weapons fell from her hands and clattered on the concrete. She collapsed to her knees and pressed her hands over her eyes.

-23-

––––––––

Meredith sprinted over the warehouse roof, leapt to the top of the bus, and jumped to the ground. Pain radiated up from her ankle at the impact. In a swift movement, she rose, unholstered her pistol, and ran back toward Eric and Shauna.

A Skull was stalking them with arms outstretched. He didn’t seem to be as overgrown with bones and skeletal appendages like those Meredith had seen from the IBSL footage, but she knew it was only a matter of time before the Oni Agent finished this man’s transformation into one of those frightening beasts.

Shauna jumped back, and Eric sidestepped away from the Skull’s talon-like fingertips. Eric slammed the stock of the Pack-Rifle against the man’s face as the Skull recovered from his pounce, but the carbon fiber glanced off it. The Skull swung a hand out, and Shauna fell backwards as she dodged, barely missing the attack. She crab-crawled away and screamed again as the Skull bent over her.

Meredith ran at the Skull and pistol-whipped him. The Skull spun and backhanded her, landing a blow on her shoulder. She staggered backward, aiming her weapon at the beast as it swiped at her with his fingers splayed and his lips drawn back in a snarl, baring pointed teeth.

She retreated, drawing him away from Shauna and Eric. Steadying her arms, she leveled the pistol into his face, pulled the trigger, and winced as the gunshot echoed against the corrugated metal sides of the warehouse. His body crumpled. A bullet-hole seeped blood from his forehead as Meredith stepped around the dead Skull. If any people nearby hadn’t heard Shauna’s scream, Meredith had certainly drawn their attention now.

“We need to move,” Meredith said, keeping her voice low. She felt the spot where the Skull had hit her, relieved to find it was dry. He hadn’t even torn through her shirt. If he’d caught me with those talons instead...

A couple of howls from the nearby shadows echoed around them. Adrenaline surged through Meredith, and she hoped Eric and Shauna shared a similar response. They wouldn’t survive if they were the type to be frozen in fear. Meredith’s concerns were allayed when the two hikers followed her in a hell-bent sprint back to the creek.

One Skull burst from the dense undergrowth ahead. Two more followed. Meredith skidded to a stop. When another Skull charged from the foliage, any chance of escape through the creek was dashed.

“To the buses!” Meredith said. Shauna and Eric twisted and ran back across the parking lot with her. A cacophonous chorus of snarls and growls chased them across the bus depot.

Meredith knew their chances of making it on foot were slim, and every frenzied Skull joining the chase diminished those chances further. They needed to hide or find a way to escape. She threw herself at the folding door of the closest bus. Her heart leapt when it gave way, and she tumbled inside. Eric and Shauna jumped in behind her.

But when Meredith reached to see if a key lay in the ignition, she was met only with disappointment. Her mind raced. The bus would buy them time, but Meredith knew that wouldn’t be enough. Without a way to start the bus, they’d only be good at delaying the inevitable when the hungry Skulls eventually broke through the windows or tore open the fragile doors. They needed more substantial shelter or a vehicle that would run.

Meredith leapt out of the bus again. “Let’s go!”

“They’re gaining!” Eric called. He slipped off his hiking pack, and Shauna did likewise, shedding their encumbering gear. Eric lost the Pack-Rifle as he dropped his hiking pack. He turned to retrieve it.

“No, keep going!” Meredith yelled.

The clattering footfalls of the Skulls picked up in volume, accompanying the inhuman cries threatening to drown Meredith’s thoughts. She knew she couldn’t run forever. Her legs burned, her joints sent shivers of pain up her limbs. She hadn’t been operating in the field in almost twenty years, damn it.

Another building loomed ahead. Across its front were three retractable garage doors. One lay open. Moonlight glimmered off the grill of a bus in what appeared to be the depot’s service center.

“There!” Meredith pointed at the structure.

Neither Shauna nor Eric questioned her as they all sprinted to the left toward the open service bay. Meredith guessed all the buses on the lot would be without keys, and they would need to find the depot’s office and break in to find any. But if they were lucky, the keys for the buses in the depot would’ve been kept nearby for ease of transporting the vehicles under maintenance. She just hoped one of those buses in the service center actually worked.

Their feet pounded on the concrete floor. Three buses lay dormant, one on each of the lifts. The lifts, fortunately, were all lowered.

“Should I try closing the door?” Eric asked between breaths.

“Power’s out, but if you can find a manual override, go for it,” Meredith said.

Eric nodded and rushed to a panel with the service door controls.

Meredith ran to one of the far walls next to a computer terminal and calendar. She scoured the nearby set of drawers for the keys to the three sleeping giants. Pens, notepads, and stacks of papers filled the drawers, but she found no keys. The cries outside grew louder and closer.

Shauna was dumping the contents of the smaller boxes on a metal desk pushed against the wall. Eric joined them. Black oil stains covered his hands as he held them out. “Couldn’t get the damn door to budge.”

“If we don’t find the keys in time, you two need some weapons,” Meredith said while pushing a notepad and pencils out of a drawer labeled Service Records.

“But—” Eric started.

“Now!” Meredith said.

Eric and Shauna bolted to one of the bus lifts. Eric picked up a heavy lug wrench from a rolling toolbox. Shauna selected a foot-long pry bar. They joined Meredith’s search again.

“Found them?” Eric asked.

Meredith shook her head and upended the set of drawers with the computer terminal. “Damn it!”

Shauna’s eyes went wide. At first, Meredith thought it was a surprised reaction to her outburst. Instead Shauna pointed to a door with a plastic placard that said OFFICE. Three hooks were nailed into a two-by-four near the door, and key rings hung from each of the hooks.

Meredith cursed inwardly at her tunnel-vision focus. She should have seen that immediately. She sprinted to the other side of the service bay and snatched up all three.

Footfalls and the scratching of nails against concrete resounded from the entrance. Two of the Skulls scrambled through the gaping garage door. One slipped on the slick concrete and fell forward, crashing against the ground. Instead of standing upright again, he was so caught up in his carnivorous frenzy that he ran at Meredith on all fours.

Pulling out her handgun, Meredith stepped in front of Eric and Shauna. She took several measured shots, aiming at the center of mass of each Skull. Their limbs flailed, and their bodies went limp, sliding across the floor by pure momentum.

Meredith leapt over the fresh corpses, hot blood already pooling around them. She ran to the middle bus. On its side, she could make out the dark letters: 86. She flipped through the paper tags on the key rings and selected the matching set of keys.

The door buckled when Meredith pushed on it. She leapt up the steps of the bus and jammed the key into the ignition. Shauna and Eric followed as three more of the Skulls pounded through the open garage door.

She twisted the key, but a grinding click met her attempt to start the vehicle.

Shauna pulled the lever to close the door, but one of the Skulls threw her body between the door and the rubber lining along the frame. As Shauna leaned her body weight on the lever, refusing to lose her grip, Eric swung the lug wrench at the woman’s head. An audible crack resonated from the impact. Eric drew his foot back and landed a kick that sent the woman out.

The door snapped shut.

Meredith tried the key again as two more Skulls threw themselves at the door. Their teeth gnashed, and they scratched at the glass. The bus still wouldn’t start. Another two Skulls pounded at the front door. The four climbed over each other, desperate to get at Meredith, Shauna, and Eric.

Another jumped onto the hood. It was a young woman, no older than twenty-two or twenty-three. She clawed at the windshield and wrenched the wipers from their sockets. The skin across the woman’s forehead was bumpy, and her nails appeared talon-like. They were stained with a golden hue. A white shirt covered in dirt and blood revealed the woman’ shoulders. Already, strange nodules pressed up against her skin, stretching it taut. The Oni Agent was beginning to leave its mark on her.

“Why isn’t it starting?” Shauna’s high-pitched voice rang out.

Meredith tried the key one last time. “There’s a reason this bus was in the shop, and it looks like we found it.”

Eric pressed his hands against the door. Sweat poured down his forehead as he helped Shauna to keep it closed. “What now?”

Skulls threw themselves at the bus. Another climbed on the hood and rammed his head into the windshield. He reared back and head-butted it again.

Meredith withdrew the keys from her pocket. She held out the first one, #95, to Eric. “I want you to get on that bus.”

“Are you mad?” Eric twisted so his back was pressed against the folding door. He braced himself by pushing off the steps in the door well. His legs shook with the effort as the Skulls struggled to get in.

“I’ll cover you two.” Meredith unholstered her pistol. She gestured to the rear of the bus past the brown vinyl seats. “Take the emergency exit. I’ll hold these assholes off while you try the other bus.”

Shauna shot her a worried look but quickly steeled herself. “Okay. Be careful.” She took a deep breath. “Ready, Eric?”

A furrow creased his brow, and he nodded as though he was unsure.

Meredith didn’t give him a chance to second guess his decision. “Go!” she shouted.

Eric and Shauna shot down the aisle and yanked up the red bar for the emergency exit. They jumped off the back. Meredith ran after them partway down the aisle then stopped and turned to face the front of the bus. She needed to give them a head start and stop as many of their attackers as possible.

The front door of the bus burst open with a crash. Meredith dropped the first two Skulls, still more human than monster, charging down the aisle with several well-placed shots to their chests. Another two climbed over the corpses, shoving each other as they barreled forward.

Meredith fired four more rounds, and one of the Skulls tumbled under the feet of a second.

Taking aim, Meredith squeezed the trigger three more times. Each shot thumped against the chest of the remaining Skull. He staggered but continued forward. She expected to see a gush of blood and waited for the Skull’s life to ebb away. But the thing continued onward. She was almost to the rear exit when the man pounced.

Squeezing the trigger over and over, Meredith fired until the gun clicked and the slide locked back.

Empty.

Still, the spray of bullets had been enough. The Skull fell at Meredith’s feet, a dark hole in the middle of his forehead.

Across the Skull’s chest, she saw the rounds she’d plugged him with had torn holes in his shirt. The bullets had shorn off part of the Skull’s flesh, but beneath the holes lay hard bone. It appeared to be the beginning of the armored ribcages she’d seen from Dom’s footage of the Skulls aboard the IBSL.

The Oni Agent was acting quickly on these people. Undoubtedly it wasn’t well known to the general population that antibiotics would slow the transformation, which made the need for her to join up with Dom and make it into Fort Detrick all the more dire.

One of the two Skulls bashing in the windshield swung around and entered the passenger door. She climbed through the aisle past her downed compatriots, her claws tearing the vinyl seats.

Meredith jumped out the emergency door and slammed it shut behind her. She saw that Shauna and Eric had made it to the next bus without being noticed. The Skulls were too focused on Meredith, too hungry for her flesh to notice the other healthy humans climb into bus 95.

As she made her way to join them, she jammed a fresh magazine into the pistol. The Skull she had failed to kill pounded and ripped at the emergency exit. She threw her shoulder into the glass, lacerating her skin and leaving bloody streaks. The glass cracked and shattered, and the Skull pushed herself through just as Meredith reached the bus with Shauna and Eric.

The bus’s door opened, Meredith tumbled in, and then Shauna pulled the lever to close it again. Eric sat in the driver’s seat but relinquished it as soon as Meredith came aboard.

The pursuing Skull threw herself at the door. Her arms flailed at the glass panes, and her frustrated screams penetrated the bus’s interior. More Skulls followed the first’s wailing and piled up around the door. Others jumped on the hood as more poured in through the open garage door in front of bus 86.

The key clicked into the ignition, and Meredith twisted it.

Nothing.

One of the Skulls began ramming the windshield, leading with his shoulder. Bony nodules reinforced his physique like a football player’s shoulder pads. Cracks spider webbed across the glass when he threw himself at it again.

“What’s going on?” Shauna yelled.

Eric rotated the lug wrench in his hand as if ready to fight to the death, but the pallor of his face spoke to the fear overwhelming him.

For a moment, Meredith regretted bringing these two down from the Appalachian Trail and into a civilization torn apart by a biological weapon almost no one knew existed just days ago. She wouldn’t let herself be responsible for their deaths. Despite the madness around her, she forced her frantic thoughts from her mind and mustered all the focus she could.

With a low exhalation, she reinserted the key into its slot and turned the ignition on. The Skulls roiled outside, claws scratching, howls echoing in the service center, and bodies thumping against the bus. A Wait to Start button lit up. She hadn’t noticed it before when she was so intent on escaping. A distant memory of her training in automotives and transportation cropped up. She had never been one of those agents with any need for racing around in foreign cars in distant lands, so it was a vague recollection at best. Still, it eked back to her now. Something about some diesel engines requiring their glow plugs to heat up before they started.

The Wait to Start button’s light went off, and Meredith turned the key again. This time, the diesel engine rumbled to life, one of the most thrilling and satisfying sounds Meredith ever heard.

“Now what?” Eric asked, his voice shaky. “The door’s still closed.”

There was no way to maneuver the large bus to the locked-open service bay door. One of the Skulls screamed and lunged at the windshield again. The fracture lines in the glass spread.

“Hang on.” Meredith threw the automatic transmission into drive and pressed her foot down.

They crashed into the garage door. The Skulls on the hood flew forward. The door groaned and squealed but didn’t crumple. She threw the bus into reverse and smashed the gas pedal. She didn’t let go until the bus crashed into the back of the service center. The entire structure shuddered. A clock fell from the wall, and several spare tires bounced from their racks bolted to the metal siding.

“One more time,” she said and leaned forward across the steering wheel. The bus jolted, the behemoth gaining what speed it could in the confined space. One of the Skulls screamed as she was crushed under a wheel. Meredith ignored the crunching of bones under rubber as the bus hit the door again.

Metal screeched in resistance but bent outward. The retractable door tore off its track. The bus’s tires squealed on the concrete as Meredith revved the engine. All at once, the door gave, and the bus shot out into the depot’s parking lot. Two of the Skulls pounded away at the windshield even as the door folded over the front of the bus and obscured Meredith’s field of vision.

Without seeing where they were going, she spun the wheel to shake off the remnants of the door and the two persistent Skulls. The bus jolted to a stop, greeted by the crunch of metal.

Shauna and Eric yelped in surprise as they were thrown forward. The steering wheel caught Meredith in the sternum, knocking the air from her lungs. The two Skulls flew from the hood, and the garage door flopped over a parked bus they’d hit.

With the windshield shattered but holding, Meredith reversed the bus and turned it away from the other vehicle. Then she flicked on the headlights. One of them still worked and lit up a swathe of asphalt.

“Hell of a field trip, man,” Eric called out as the bus swung onto the road.

Meredith couldn’t help herself from laughing aloud.

Maybe too loud.

She didn’t care, because as they barged down the road, littered with abandoned cars and the occasional body, they were still alive. Each block was another they put in between themselves and the pack of Skulls that had almost ended them.

An occasional Skull ran at them as they passed. Most were left in their dust. A couple ran head on, illuminated by the headlight. The bus crushed their bodies as if it were merely going over a pothole.

“There’s...a person!” Shauna called, bracing herself between two seats as she stared out the rear exit. “Not a Skull! A woman!”

Meredith glanced back. She could vaguely see the silhouette of a person running down the middle of the street, waving her arms. It seemed like a call for help. Maybe a desperate plea for them to slow down. Most people had apparently followed the emergency broadcasts to stay inside. If this woman was risking her life for help, something must be wrong.

Meredith couldn’t leave her. Doing so would be condemning her to death. She put on the brakes and turned the bus so the folding passenger door faced the poor woman. With a pull of the lever, the door slid partway open. The woman, panicked and screaming, hit the side of the bus and half-ran, half-guided herself with her hands along the side of the bus toward the door. She appeared hysterical.

When Meredith saw the pack of Skulls running to catch up to them, she understood why.

“Quick, get on!” Meredith called and opened the door the rest of the way.

The woman scrambled on. Her eyes were wide and her face pale. Meredith pulled the lever to shut the door, and the bus started forward again. The woman opened her mouth as if to thank Meredith. But instead, the woman lunged and wrapped her hands around Meredith’s neck, crushing her windpipe and throat.

Meredith struggled to keep the bus faced forward while batting at the woman and her gnashing teeth. Footfalls down the bus’s aisle accompanied the woman’s growls.

Then the loud thump of steel rang out. The hands released, and the woman’s body crumpled. Eric stood over her with the lug wrench in his hands, blood dripping down the metal.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Meredith nodded, her throat still on fire. She gasped for a breath. While she course-corrected the bus, she glanced at the woman.

From the glow of the bus’s dashboard lights and the one above the passenger door, the woman’s body was partially illuminated. She appeared normal. Her nails were maybe a bit long, but it was otherwise impossible to tell from a distance she was anything but an average person and not a budding Skull.

Meredith now understood the Army’s response to the swarms of people outside Fort Detrick. Most of the healthy civilians would be frantic for the shelter of the military base. They’d be desperate to scale the security fences and get behind the patrolling soldiers. They would appear no different from the Skulls thirsty for warm blood and flesh.

And some of the Skulls might even appear like normal citizens.

She imagined the confusion and fear the soldiers must be experiencing despite their professionalism and training. Their mission was to defend the facility. They didn’t have time to discriminate between an aggressive Skull and a desperate civilian when hundreds, maybe thousands of them scrambled at their gates.

A distant explosion sent up plumes of smoke and orange fire. The blast scattered her thoughts. It had come from near Detrick. The base would definitely be a no-go until Dom arrived with the helicopter and the means to contact someone beyond its embattled perimeter.

“Where we headed?” Eric said as he regained his normal breathing. Shauna joined them at the front of the bus.

“We’ve got to”—Meredith coughed, her voice still raspy—“we’ve got to reach my friend’s place. We’ll pick up his family—they’re the ones with the guns—and he should be on his way to meet up with us.”

“Where’s he coming from?” Shauna asked.

“Near Annapolis.”

“Don’t know how he’ll make it through the roads if they’re all like this,” Shauna said as the bus weaved between two wrecked cars and an abandoned truck.

“My friend won’t be taking the roads,” Meredith said. “He’ll be flying.”

Shauna and Eric shared a skeptical look.

“You didn’t get hit with that crazy virus, did you?” Eric asked.

Meredith probed her neck. Besides the crushing of her windpipe, her skin hadn’t been broken by the woman’s attack. She’d be okay. “No, I’m not under the influence of the Oni Agent.”

“Oni Agent?” Shauna’s face blanched.

“Right...it’s a biological weapon,” Meredith said.

“How do you know all this?”

She exhaled slowly. “My friend more or less works for the government. As do I.”

“Do you two have anything to do with all of this?” Shauna asked. “You seem to know an awful lot about these bioweapons and Skulls and agents.”

“No, we don’t. We’re trying to stop it. I promise you.”

Neither Eric nor Shauna said anything.

“I’m sure my friend, Dominic, can find you better shelter and protection.” She jerked the wheel to the right to avoid a car that had T-boned a minivan. “But if you don’t want our help, I can drop you off somewhere.”

“No!” Shauna and Eric said in unison.

“All right, then settle in for the ride. I’m going to swing south; I want to skirt around as many of these Skulls as we can. At this pace, we should be there within an hour or so.”

Eric and Shauna sat together in the seat nearest Meredith. They wrapped their arms around each other. Meredith stared forward. The growl of the diesel engine was her only talkative companion in the night.

The bus’s single working headlight swept over the occasional mangled body and continued to attract a smattering of Skulls. She wondered if this was what the rest of America looked like. How far had the Oni Agent already spread?

If the rest of the country looked like Frederick, what hope did they have in joining up with those at Detrick to reverse the biological progress of the Oni Agent?

She pushed those questions from her mind. If she dwelled on them too long, she’d fall into a state of utter hopelessness. And right now, hope was all she had left.

-24-

––––––––

Dom sipped a cup of coffee. Its burnt taste left something to be desired, but the warm, caffeine-laden beverage reinvigorated him. Sleep hadn’t been attainable on their approach to Annapolis. This was one of the first times they had taken the Huntress so close to the populated coast of the United States. He usually preferred to leave the ship in international waters.

While the crew members had been given the opportunity to attempt contact with their family members, few reported any degree of success. As was the nature of groups like Dom’s, most had embarked on their high-seas adventures with him for a sense of purpose and a satisfying challenge to defend their nation in a unique and demanding way. Many hadn’t been tied down by a close family anyway and had made the transition to a covert contracting group like Dom’s relatively easily.

Dom had offered any who wanted the opportunity to disembark and end their service with the Huntress to go be with their loved ones.

None showed any interest. They unanimously supported the idea that their best chance at saving any of their friends, family, and the rest of the world relied on them doing what they did best: working together aboard the Huntress to eliminate biological and chemical warfare threats.

Dom took another sip of coffee. Around him sat Thomas and the Hunters he had selected for the mission: Hector Ko, Renee Boland, and Miguel Ruiz. Despite the closed invitation to these Hunters, others had joined in their eagerness to help and serve. Glenn folded his hands together, waiting next to Jenna Reed. Andris Jansons cracked his knuckles, his brow furrowed in what seemed like a permanent scowl.

Though she wouldn’t be joining them on their jaunt ashore, Lauren Winters represented the medical team at this meeting. From the communications and electronics workshop, Adam Galloway had been chosen. His training in cyber security, electronic surveillance, and communications had come from his service in the Air Force, which meant he possessed military training that Samantha and Chao did not.

Since the AW109 could only accommodate eight people, Dom needed Hunters with as many talents as possible. They also needed to be prepared for the hellish landscape they were about to enter.

The final member of their team, helicopter pilot Frank, sat next to Dom.

Dom stretched a map on the table between the group members. “Here’s the flight plan.” He traced the line from Annapolis to the outskirts of Frederick. “If all goes well, Meredith Webb will meet us here.” He circled a small spot. “This is my family’s neighborhood. She should be on her way right now, and there’s a cul-de-sac plenty wide enough for us to use as a temporary helipad.”

“I could land my bird on top of a house if you need,” Frank replied.

Dom didn’t doubt the joke was half-serious. “Hopefully, we won’t be relying on your helicopter rodeo skills to get us safely on land.”

“And we’re just going to sweet-talk the Army into letting us land in their base?” Frank asked. “I know I’m charming, but that seems a bit challenging.”

“I don’t think your pickup lines are going to work with the comm specialists in Detrick,” Adam said. “Which, either way, we still haven’t gotten into contact with anyone. Nothing, including ocean-borne UHF transmissions or satellite phones, is getting a response from them. And even if we do reach them, how do we convince them to let us land?”

“Meredith’s role—or former role—in the CIA should help us,” Dom said. “But that might be a bit tenuous with the way things worked out before the outbreak. So our second tactic is to name-drop references to the Amanojaku Project.”

“And if that doesn’t work, Chief?” Miguel asked, clenching his prosthetic fingers into a solid fist. “Are we supposed to just jump out of the bird and force our way in?”

“I know you’re itching to get back in the saddle, but I’d prefer to keep our fingers off the trigger as much as possible.” Dom gestured to Lauren. “And that’s why it’s so important our research aboard the Huntress continues while we’re away. I want to have a bargaining chip. Any details, anything you can provide on the biochemistry or the biological origins of the Oni Agent would help us establish some rapport with Detrick. The best thing would be, of course, a cure.”

“A cure?” Lauren scoffed, turning up her nose. “You want us to find a cure in a matter of days—maybe hours? Are you serious?”

“Absolutely,” Dom said. “If it can be done, your team is the one to do it. You’re smart, capable, and resourceful enough.”

“If that’s the case, I’ll need every minute I can in the lab.”

“Then go ahead,” Dom said. “Get to it.”

Lauren stood to leave, her face already adopting a serious expression. Her eyes seemed at once distant. Dom had seen the look before whenever the results of a laboratory experiment or a patient’s diagnosis were turning over in her mind.

“Just be ready when we call for you,” Dom said. “Stream any new findings at once over satellite comms, okay?”

Lauren nodded as she left. “Aye aye, Captain,” she said over her shoulder.

“Think she can actually do it?” Miguel asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Like I said, if someone’s going to find something on the Oni Agent, it’ll be Lauren.” If she couldn’t, Meredith’s connections and name-dropping the Amanojaku Project might not be sufficient. He hated flying into a mission as ill-prepared as this, but the reports of the Oni Agent’s spread meant they didn’t have time for luxuries like prolonged intelligence gathering and analysis. Action was more valuable than deliberation.

“And why do we have to stay aboard?” Jenna said, motioning to herself, Glenn, and Andris. “I’d rather be out there with you guys.”

“I appreciate it, but someone has to keep an eye out on the ship,” Dom said. “Glenn, we need you to stick around in case Amir talks again. You’re the only one who can communicate with the guy. If he has anything that might help us bridge a relationship with Fort Detrick, I want that information.”

“Understood,” Glenn said, folding his arms across his considerable chest. “If I can’t be there to protect you, you’ll keep an eye on our captain, won’t you, Renee?”

She grinned. “You know it. Plus, we’ll be streaming everything on shore back to Samantha and Chao, so if you guys miss us, you can see what we’re up to.”

“Right,” Dom said, “as long as it doesn’t distract you from your duties here. But I am glad you’re here, because there is something worrying me.”

Thomas nodded. Dom had already discussed these concerns with the man since the second-in-command would also be staying aboard during this mission.

“Being so close to shore, there’s a real possibility we’ll see survivors desperate for protection,” Dom said. “Hell, we might even see Skulls trying to get aboard the Huntress. I don’t want to tell you to ignore these people, but use caution. We all know what happened to Scott. He came aboard, an injured Hunter, and over the course of his brief stay in the isolation ward, he turned into one of those things. If we offer to protect everyone we see, we run the risk of inviting an outbreak on the ship.”

“If we lose the ship, we lose the mission.” Thomas took his traditional unlit stress cigar from the corner of his mouth. “We won’t fail you, Dom.”

“Understood, Captain. We’ll be vigilant,” Andris said, his Eastern European accent slightly tilting his words.

“Great. I don’t want to waste much more time, so can we have the bird in the air in thirty?”

Despite the short turnaround from meeting to mission, the Hunters gave no signs of trepidation. Frank gave him a thumbs-up. “Consider it done.”

“Hunters, ready?”

Miguel, Renee, and Hector responded in unison. “Aye aye, Captain.”

“Grab your gear,” Dom said. “Standard mission ops, plus any other weapons you can carry on your person. We’ve already got the AW109 equipped with emergency supplies.”

The three left for the armory with Adam, along with the Hunters who would stay aboard.

“I’ve seen the streams, I’ve heard the reports, and I’ve got to admit, I’m worried,” Thomas said. “Just a little bit.”

“I’m scared for you,” Dom said. “All aboard the ship unsupervised. Me leaving you in charge. Dangerous situation.” He forced a smile that quickly faded. “Take care of everyone while I’m gone.”

“You know I’d be happy to go with. We’ve gone on missions together before, and the Huntress didn’t sink.”

“I know, but I wouldn’t want to risk your life too,” Dom said. He knew the implications of his statement and what he had planned rang clear to Thomas. “If anything happens to me—”

“It won’t,” Thomas finished.

“If anything does, you take care of her.”

“Don’t want to hear you talk like that, Captain.” Thomas jabbed a finger at Dom. “You’re coming back in one piece, or so help me God, I’ll hunt you down and put you back together myself.”

Dom stood. When Thomas followed suit, Dom clasped the man’s hand. “I know you would. Just to save your ass, I plan on coming back alive along with everyone else on the chopper.” He then gestured toward Thomas’s cigar. “When I get back, maybe we’ll share one of those and two fingers of Scotch in celebration of a job well done, eh?”

He left the mess hall and headed toward the armory, wondering if he could indeed make good on his word. For everybody’s sake aboard the ship, for those headed to Detrick with him, and for his daughters, he would do everything in his power to keep his promise.

A few minutes later, Dom was stuffing extra magazines into his tactical vest and slinging the SCAR-H’s strap over his shoulder. He secured his NVGs to his helmet with a click.

The others counted their magazines and holstered their weapons. Hunters staying aboard helped pack extra ammunition, body armor plates, breaching charges, and grenades for Renee, Hector, Adam, and Miguel. Chao had also fitted a blade attachment to Miguel’s prosthetic. By making a fist and twisting his wrist, Miguel could activate the retractable blade, and he practiced with it now.

When the team was ready to go, they took the metal stairs to the helipad. Gusts of air batted at them as the AW109’s blades spun.

Frank waved at them from the cockpit, his voice echoing in Dom’s helmet comm link. “Today’s flight will take us from the Huntress to Fort Detrick. On our way, we’ll be making a layover in Frederick. Due to the short flight duration, beverage service will be suspended.”

Dom ducked instinctively as he led the team to the open doors in the side of the helicopter.

Once they all hopped aboard and secured their harnesses, the chopper shuddered and lifted into the air.

“Expect plenty of turbulence,” Frank said. “And as always, no smoking. Except for the captain’s smoking good looks.”

“Awful, man. Just awful.” Miguel rolled his eyes.

The Huntress grew smaller as the chopper climbed vertically. On the helipad, a small gathering of the ship’s crew waved them off before the helicopter tilted forward and sped toward the dark shore.

Normally, Annapolis would be a collage of bright lights from shop fronts, houses, and restaurants. Now it was mostly dark, lost in the shadows of the night like the rest of the Chesapeake Bay, except for the fires burning across the marina. Smoke plumed against the dark-purple sky, obscuring their view farther along the horizon.

Several ships drifted in the bay, some with red and green navigation lights to announce their presence. Smaller sailing crafts bobbed between them, their cabins glowing against the black waves. Dom figured they must’ve been people seeking the protection of the sea, fleeing from the horrors on land. The yachts and other boats unable to make it out of the bay either burned or were jammed in a mass of sea craft near the marina’s entrance.

The chopper’s blades thumped in the air, cutting over the city. The Hunters, Adam, and Frank didn’t say a word as they surveyed the scene below them.

A couple of bright flashes illuminated a patch of the historic brick road near the center of Annapolis. Shapes moved in the darkness.

More flashes. Gunfire.

Someone ran into the street. Other figures pounced on the person. Skulls, Dom thought. More poured from the neighboring alleys like ants swarming an injured insect.

Dom turned to Miguel and caught his eyes—a moment of realization passing over both of them. Things were about to get ugly, and Dom suddenly wasn’t sure how well he could actually protect his Hunters.

-25-

––––––––

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead in the medical bay. While Scott and Amir both lay still under medical sedation in the isolation room, Lauren skimmed through the tissue samples they’d fixed to glass microscope slides and stained. Each was taken from Brett Fielding, Scott Ashworth, or Amir’s wounds.

“Let me get this straight,” Peter said, lifting his eyes from the microscope. “Dom wants us to identify the Oni Agent and try to find a cure by the time they reach Detrick.”

“Right.” Lauren rotated one of the histological microscope slides they’d made of the mineralized tissue from Scott’s wound. “At least they’re landing in Frederick to pick up Meredith before going to the base.”

“That gives us, what, another hour?”

“You can take a lot of images on the microscope in one hour,” Lauren said with a grin.

“Yeah, but it’d help if we knew what we were looking for.”

Lauren deposited a slide on the microscope and pressed her face to the eyepiece. The scope illuminated bright-red splotches within the tissue. “Check this out.”

“This is an Alizarin red stain, right?” Peter asked, taking his turn with the scope.

“Right. All the positive red staining shows calcium compounds.” Lauren switched to another slide taken from Scott’s tissue samples at a later time. “This one shows a much more uniform area of positive calcium staining.”

“So the mineralized tissue is growing and calcifying.”

Lauren nodded and placed the slides back in their spots in a plastic box filled with other samples. “Let’s go over this one more time. I want to make sure we haven’t missed something. What are all the possible causes of tissue calcification you know of?”

Peter held up a finger. “First, infections causing inflammation or an immune response.”

“So maybe the Oni Agent causes a significant immune response that leads to the calcified tissue. Still, that response would normally take days to weeks before you’d get calcified tissue formation. Not minutes and hours.”

Peter pointed to the incubator where they kept their experimental cell cultures. “Plus, there were no macrophages or other immune cells in our cell cultures to cause this spontaneous calcification.”

“Very true.” Lauren leaned against one of the lab benches. “All we added to the mineralized tissue sample was basic cell media.”

“Which ended up causing the calcified tissues to spread spontaneously and quickly.”

Lauren took out one of the cell culture dishes. Normally a vibrant pink, the liquid was tinged a pale yellow. “See the color change? There’s something in these calcified formations using up all the cell media nutrients and filling the culture dish with metabolic waste products.”

“Which indicates there’s a high likelihood something’s growing in there that we can’t see,” Peter said. “That all harkens back to the coral idea. But what or where are the polyps making the coral structure?”

“My guess is bacteria. They’re usually the culprits in cell culture. They can turn a nice dish of pink media to stinking yellow in a matter of hours.” Lauren placed the culture back in the incubator and shut the door. “But we haven’t found any visible signs of bacteria.”

“None I’ve been able to confirm with microscopy, at least.” Peter pulled up images on a computer monitor. Several different pictures displayed various tissue samples. “The Gram staining didn’t show anything. No Gram-positive or -negative bacteria.

“Not to mention, we found the presence of genetic material during the sequencing results,” Peter added. “Since there was DNA, it has to be something alive.”

“Or a virus,” Lauren corrected. “Still, we didn’t find any genetic matches for the DNA present in the tissue.”

“So maybe it’s some strange virus, invading any remaining immune and inflammatory cells in the sample.”

“Yet the antibiotics somehow slowed the progress of the Oni Agent. Obviously, antibiotics wouldn’t have any effect on a viral agent.” Lauren froze. “We’re missing something.”

“You think the DNA we found is just an artifact from the samples we took? Nothing more than just remnants of inflammatory cells reacting to the Oni Agent?”

“I don’t buy it. There were practically no cells left in those culture dishes for a virus to replicate in.” Lauren’s mind spun, pressured by Dom’s demands and the sheer power of the Oni Agent. If the reports of the rapid and uncontrolled spread were true, then the answer wouldn’t be something obvious. She needed to think outside the box. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but there is such a thing as Gram-indeterminate bacteria,” she said. “There might be something there, but we aren’t using the right techniques to analyze it.”

“We need to go back and look at the genetic sequencing results,” Peter said.

“I’m not sure that’ll help. We didn’t find any matches with any identified contagions the first time, which means we’re looking at something radically different, something virtually non-existent in the scientific literature.”

Peter lifted his shoulders in a gesture of defeat.

A sudden idea sprung to life in Lauren, and she recalled something from a paper she’d read published by the National Academy of Sciences’ journal, PNAS. “You ever get a kidney stone?”

Peter cringed. “God, thankfully no. Painful enough just thinking about it.” He raised a brow in question. “You think the calcified tissue we’re seeing is somehow related to kidney stone formation?”

Lauren jumped to the computer terminal and prayed they still had satellite internet access to live servers somewhere. She searched for the paper and found it. “See? It proposes a potential mechanism for calcification.”

Peter squinted. “Nanobacteria.”

“It’s a wild idea, and if I recall correctly, the scientific community’s still divided on whether these things are actually alive or not. Some researchers posit they aren’t bacteria at all.” Lauren shrugged. “But the antibiotics seemed to have some effect on their growth, or at least the calcifications, so maybe that’s what we’re dealing with.”

Peter began sifting through other papers and medical literature. “Says here nanobacteria are responsible for using calcium and phosphate to form hydroxyapatite.”

“Exactly. The same mineral found in bone and teeth.” The images from the video streams of Skulls aboard the oil rig filtered through Lauren’s mind. She felt more and more certain they’d found the missing link. “Might explain what happened to the people Dom and the Hunters dealt with, huh?”

“I’m not sure about this,” Peter said. “There’s so much unknown about nanobacteria.” He gestured to a paper he’d pulled up on the monitor. “This claims something alive couldn’t possibly even be as small as nanobacteria. A living cell is supposed to be two hundred nanometers in diameter, but this other paper says nanobacteria are reported to be on the scale of eighty nanometers.”

“Like I said, there’s some disagreement, but what we have here might indeed be nanobacteria large enough to thrive. That might explain the government’s slow response to the outbreak. I doubt the CDC is prepared for an epidemic caused by a pathogen they didn’t even know existed.”

Peter paced the narrow lab. “So what if it is nanobacteria? How do we treat it?”

Lauren folded her arms across her chest and chewed her bottom lip. The momentary elation of identifying a possible culprit for the Oni Agent burst like a fatal aneurysm. She sank into a chair, the energy draining out of her.

“And even if we can buy the bone-like formations in the Skulls, how does the presence of nanobacteria explain the neurological and psychological changes?” He threw out a hand, gesturing toward Scott. “How did nanobacteria turn him into a would-be killer?”

Lauren had no answers. The burden of stopping a worldwide epidemic became too real, too heavy for her to bear. She pressed her palms to her eyes.

“We’re screwed,” Peter said. “The best information we’ve uncovered is that we might be dealing with the microscopic equivalent of the Loch Ness monster.”

Cursing inwardly, Lauren wondered if he was right. The despair at not finding an answer to the questions Dom had left her with loomed larger with each passing second.

She took a slow breath.

Think outside of the box, she reminded herself. Outside of the lab.

She closed her eyes and thought back to everything she knew about the Oni Agent. Everything Dom’s team had uncovered on the ship.

Then her eyes shot open, hope reigning once again. A new idea, a new link. “I’ve got to speak with Chao and Samantha.”

She stood to leave, Peter still staring at her with an open mouth. As she reached the door, Divya burst in with Sean McConnelly, the epidemiologist. The woman’s normally healthy nut-brown face was awash in pallor, and Sean appeared no less worried. In her hands, she held a pale-blue biohazard suit. “From what we know, the Oni Agent is transmissible through blood contact with the bony tissues on those Skulls, right?”

Before Lauren or Peter could confirm it, Divya threw the biohazard suit on a lab bench. She stretched it out and pointed at the chest area. There were three small holes torn through it.

“This wasn’t Scott, Brett, or Miguel’s suit,” Lauren said, rattling off the names of the only Hunters she’d known whose suits had been compromised.

“No, I already incinerated those,” Divya said. “Sean and I hung the rest of the cleaned and sterilized suits back up for later.” She patted the suit. “Almost by accident, I found this one. Someone’s suit was punctured, and they didn’t even know it.”

“Maybe it wasn’t the result of Skull contact, though,” Peter said. “Could’ve snagged it on a piece of equipment or shrapnel during the gunfight.”

“Maybe.” Lauren probed at the three holes. “But if it wasn’t, we could have someone on board infected with a trace amount of the Oni Agent. And without help, they could turn into one of those Skulls.”

Sean’s eyes widened. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Gather up all the onboard crew,” Lauren said. “And let’s get ahold of Dom, too. One of the Hunters is a ticking time bomb.”

-26-

––––––––

Maggie whined with her tail between her legs. She wedged herself between the nearby dresser and bedroom wall.

“You’re okay, girl,” Kara said as she cleaned the wound on Bethany’s cheek again. It seemed some sort of infection had taken hold. On any other day, she would take her mother to the hospital immediately to prevent sepsis or gangrene. Her basic first aid skills weren’t enough to treat such a persistent infection.

Given the state of their neighborhood, no trip to the hospital was possible. The best she could do for her mother was continue to apply the topical antibiotics and replace the bandages.

Kara brushed her mother’s matted hair from her face. Sweat beaded across her forehead.

“Mom, can you hear me?”

Her mother stared ahead vacantly, uncomprehending. Downstairs, Sadie was keeping watch with the Weavers. Kara was glad her sister wasn’t here to see their mother’s deteriorating condition. Even Maggie seemed to sense something was wrong.

When Kara left her mother and walked to the hall again, Maggie followed. Her tail wagged and tongue lolled. She appeared happy to leave Bethany’s side.

That was strange. The golden retriever usually followed Bethany everywhere. When Bethany cooked, Maggie plopped herself right in the middle of the kitchen. The lovable, loyal dog was a hazard to anyone too wrapped up in preparing a meal or setting the table to look down. More than once, Bethany had almost dropped a pan full of noodles when she took one step backward into Maggie’s furry body.

Kara reached down and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “You worried about mommy, too?”

The dog closed her eyes and leaned into Kara’s fingers. A pungent odor caught Kara’s nostrils, and she said, “Let’s go, Maggie.” Kara ushered the dog down the stairs and away from the second floor.

With Joe’s help, she’d lugged the bodies of the dead crazies into their laundry room, one door past her childhood bedroom. She still couldn’t believe this was happening, that these things had once been her neighbors and friends. They’d draped a sheet over the corpses, but she’d recognized every face. And the thin material couldn’t conceal the growing stench.

Kara went down the stairs and entered the living room, escaping the odors of decay on the second floor. Zack was lying on the loveseat with a stuffed Yoda Sadie had given him, and Leah was on the couch with her teddy bear. Both were wrapped in blankets, but neither appeared to be sleeping, despite their mother’s best efforts. Nina sat in an easy chair near them with a shotgun at her side.

A howl pierced the night. This time, no others joined it, and the sound faded.

“Do you all want something to eat?” Kara asked. She realized she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast at her dorm’s cafeteria yesterday.

“Good idea,” Nina said. “Need any help?”

Zack’s eyes bulged when his mother stood. “Don’t leave us.”

“Go ahead and stay with them,” Kara said. “I’m fine on my own.”

In the kitchen, she took a couple of cans of soup and dumped them into a pot. She rummaged through a drawer and found a matchbook. From past experience, she knew even when the power was out, the gas still ran to their stove. A twist of the knob and a struck match later, controlled blue flames circled the burner.

She shuddered at the reminder of the smoldering remains of the Weavers’ home. Shaking the thoughts from her mind, she continued heating the soup. It was simple, but she doubted any of their stomachs could handle anything more than vegetables in a beef broth.

The salty scent of the canned soup floated through the kitchen as it boiled. She reduced the heat, and her stomach rumbled. Footsteps came from the hall and into the kitchen.

“Soup’s just about ready. You can grab a—” She turned and dropped the ladle. “Mom?”

Bethany stood in the kitchen entrance. Her eyes were bloodshot and her skin pale.

Kara took a step forward. “Are you feeling better? Are you hungry?”

Instead of answering, Bethany scrunched her nose into a snarl. She rushed at Kara like a hungry wolf.

Instinctively, Kara jumped away. Bethany slammed into the stove. Scalding soup spilled over her as she caught herself on the hot burner. A sizzling sound and the smell of burning skin reached Kara. Bethany turned, her eyes bulging and teeth gnashing. She lunged again.

Kara backed up against the island counter and scrambled backward over it. “Mom! Stop!”

Clumsily, Bethany rounded the island. Kara put the kitchen table and chairs between herself and her mother.

“What’s the—” Joe stopped in the entrance to the kitchen, Sadie peeking from behind his bulky frame. “Bethany?”

Bethany twisted to face him. She ran, hands outstretched.

Frozen and confused, Joe tumbled backward with Bethany atop him. He grabbed her wrists and held her back. “Mom! Stop!” Sadie called, her face red and her eyes watery. “Mom!”

Kara dove at her mother and wrapped her arms around her in a bear hug. She pressed Bethany’s arms to her sides as Joe squeezed out from beneath her.

A deafening, blood-curdling scream escaped Bethany. She squirmed in Kara’s grip. With a sudden jolt, Bethany slammed her head back against Kara’s. Blood filled Kara’s mouth as she bit down on her tongue. Pain radiated through her jaw, and she staggered backward.

“Kara! Watch out!” Joe cried.

Bethany shoved Kara down, and her head smacked against the floor.

With a hand cocked back, Bethany prepared to maul her daughter. Kara tried to struggle out from under her mother’s body, but her weight was too much. She winced as Bethany’s hand swung at her.

Then the weight disappeared. Her mother flew against the wall. Maggie growled, her mouth around Bethany’s wrist. The hair on Maggie’s haunches stood straight as the retriever shook her head. Bethany howled and threw the dog across the kitchen. Maggie hit the counter and fell to the floor with a yelp.

Torn flesh drooped from Bethany’s wrist, and blood seeped from the wound. Her face contorted in rage, and she came after Kara again. Kara grabbed one of the kitchen chairs and threw it between herself and her mother. Bethany batted it aside.

“Stop, Mom. It’s me! Kara, your daughter.”

Bethany scrambled over another fallen chair. Her muscles tensed, and she charged without even a second of hesitation.

With a sidestep, Kara dodged. Bethany smashed against the wall, and a framed picture of her with her daughters fell and crashed to the floor. Sadie screamed. Then the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being pumped broke through Sadie’s frightened cries. Joe was aiming the gun at Bethany.

“No,” Kara screamed. Logic yelled that this wasn’t her mother; this was one of the crazies. The same as those she’d seen cannibalize fleeing victims on the highways. They’d tried to kill her and the Weavers. They’d almost killed her sister.

Yet this was her mother. Kara couldn’t let her die.

Closing one eye, Joe started to squeeze the trigger. Kara tackled him. The gun barrel pointed to the ceiling, and its blast resounded in the kitchen. Dust and drywall rained down.

“Sadie, open the basement door!” Kara yelled.

Her sister sobbed but made no move to help. Nina pushed her aside and did as Kara said. When Bethany came in for another attack, Kara danced to the side and grabbed her mother’s collar. She threw Bethany down the basement stairs, her limbs and head crashing until her body crumpled to the concrete floor below.

Kara slammed the door shut as Bethany, bloodied and bruised, righted herself and started to climb. With a metallic click, Kara secured the pin lock above the door.

“The kitchen table!” Kara shouted.

Joe understood immediately and dashed into the kitchen.

Already, her mother’s frustrated cries emanated under the door. Joe grunted and turned the kitchen table on its side. He slid it in front of the basement door. Nina grabbed the chairs and used them to brace the table. When they finished, Nina wrapped her arms around Sadie. Her children ran to her, joining the huddle.

Kara clenched her jaw and dashed to Maggie’s side. The dog’s ribs expanded and deflated in a slow rhythm. Her tail thumped the floor when Kara knelt by her. Maggie turned her head and pressed her wet snout into Kara’s open palm. The dog twisted her body to get up but fell back. She whined.

“What’s wrong, girl?” Kara asked. A wet sheen formed over her eyes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.

Then she saw Maggie’s paw. Her front leg was twisted unnaturally. Nausea gripped Kara. She clasped a hand over her mouth and gagged.

“I’m sorry, Kara.” Joe put a hand on her shoulder. “I—”

Kara brushed his hand off, anger flooding her. He’d tried to kill her mother. God, when would this nightmare end? Where was her father? And what the hell was going on with the world?

The sounds from the basement intensified. Nina’s children still sobbed, and Joe tried to blubber another apology.

Anger, despair, fear—everything crashed together in Kara. Her limbs shook, and she felt ready to collapse. She took a moment to gather herself, forcing herself to breathe slowly.

She recalled a time when she’d come home from junior high school, bullied once again for being a tomboy. Her interest in hunting and the outdoors made the prim and proper girls look at her with contempt. The boys avoided her, calling her a butch. To add to the usual insults, she’d failed a test she hadn’t studied for. She’d been too distracted by her peers’ verbal abuse to remember it was even coming up. She’d also found out she’d been bumped from her varsity spot on the cross-country team. Just everyday adolescent problems, but it had felt like the end of the world at the time.

Her father had come into her room as she screamed into her pillow. He’d placed one heavy hand on her back and waited for her to calm. She’d unloaded every fear, every complaint, every problem at him.

“How do I fix it all?” she’d asked.

“If you try to tackle everything at once, you’ll be overwhelmed.” He had looked at her, his eyes dark and serious, his hands on her thin shoulders. “One problem at a time, Kara. Just fix one problem at a time.”

Her mother’s wailing brought her back to reality. Kara steeled herself and wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye. Maggie tried to stand again.

“No!” Kara pointed at the dog. “Stay!”

Maggie whined.

“Keep her there,” Kara said to Joe.

The large man, certainly no less than two hundred twenty, maybe two hundred thirty pounds, looked like a scolded child. He crouched by Maggie and rested a meaty hand on her head. He stroked the back of her neck awkwardly, as if he hadn’t ever touched a dog.

Hell, maybe he hadn’t.

Kara turned off the still-flaming stove burner. She rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a wooden mixing spoon. From another drawer, she chose a clean washcloth. She scoured one of the kitchen cabinets and grabbed a plastic bottle rattling with antihistamine pills.

“Kara, I’m—” Joe began again.

“Please, just keep Maggie still,” Kara said. “One thing at a time.”

She glanced at the dog and estimated the appropriate dose of antihistamines to give her. The medicine would serve as a mild sedative. She crushed a couple pills, dissolved them in a small bit of water, and mixed in sugar to mask the bitterness. With an eyedropper, she drew up the solution and brought it to Maggie.

“Here, girl. Drink up.” She cradled Maggie’s head as she squeezed the medicine into the dog’s mouth. Maggie instinctively choked down the concoction. It wouldn’t be as good as a real anesthetic, but it would be better than nothing.

Kara placed the wooden mixing spoon next to Maggie’s broken front leg. She sized it up and sawed off an appropriate length with a steak knife.

“Don’t let her up,” Kara said again to Joe. She left for the desk in the dining room, where her mom had set up a makeshift office area. Rummaging through the drawers of the desk, she found a roll of duct tape.

Once again, Kara took a deep breath and knelt by Maggie’s side. Her supplies lay in front of her: the tape, dishcloth, and handle cut from the wooden spoon. Everything she needed for an emergency splint.

“She’s going to whine, she’s going to yelp, she’s going to growl, and she’ll probably try to tear our faces off,” Kara warned, “but do not let her move. Keep one hand tight around her muzzle and the other around her head.” She glanced at the hall, where Nina and the children were still gathered. “Nina or Sadie, I’m going to need one of you to help.”

Nina nodded and began to leave her children’s side, but Sadie stepped forward. “I’ll do it.” Her eyes were still red and puffy, but she was no longer crying. She knelt by Kara, and Kara showed her where to keep her hands on Maggie’s haunches to hold her secure.

“Ready?” Kara asked.

Both Joe and Sadie nodded. Kara had always wanted to be a vet, but she wouldn’t start veterinary school until she finished her undergraduate degree. She possessed no formal training other than the books she’d read for fun on animal husbandry and medicine. She wasn’t ready to put her knowledge into practice, but now she had no choice.

Biting her bottom lip and willing all the determination she could muster, she straightened Maggie’s broken limb. The dog yelped, and her feet kicked. Joe and Sadie strained to hold her still.

Kara worked quickly to secure the wooden spoon and wrap the washcloth tight around the injury. The duct tape made a ripping sound as she unwound it from the roll. As swiftly as she could, she tightened the silver tape up the length of the washcloth.

Maggie growled and tried to snap as Kara tightened the splint. Joe’s arm shook, but he held her down. Kara cut the last piece of tape, secured it, and leaned back.

“Done,” she said. “You can let her go.”

Joe shuffled back, avoiding any biting reprisal from Maggie. But the dog still lay on her side. Her tongue lolled from her mouth. She panted, exhausted by the pain.

Maggie’s eyes closed as Kara ran her hands through the wavy reddish gold fur along the retriever’s shoulder blades. “You’re a good girl. A very good girl.”

One thing at a time.

Scratching sounded at the basement door, but Kara ignored it. She cleaned up the spilled soup with Sadie’s help.

Joe stood at the end of the island, his eyes down and his hands at his side. “Kara, I’m sorry.” He shook his head, and his gaze met hers. “I didn’t mean...Bethany is my friend, but...”

Sadie appeared ready to break down again, and Kara slid her fingers into her sister’s.

“But she isn’t your mother anymore,” Joe continued. “She tried to kill you. Tried to kill me. I had to do it.”

“She’ll always be my mother. Our mother.” Kara could feel the heat in her cheeks, and she willed the anger to subside. It was impossible to ignore. In her mind, she knew he was right, but she couldn’t bring herself to forgive him or to allow the possibility that her mother might be one of them.

“I know, but—”

“Please, just stop,” Kara said. Sadie interlaced her fingers tighter with Kara’s. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She turned back to the stove. Somehow, her stomach still rumbled. She needed something to distract herself and occupy her mind. A second attempt at a meal would do that.

Through the slits in the blinds, yellow sunlight pierced the room. She twisted the plastic rod on the blinds to open them slightly enough to peek out of. More warm, glowing light flooded in from the rising sun. It instilled a sense of comfort among the confusion. She wasn’t so dense as to think the coming day would chase away the crazies and magically fix all that had transpired. But at least she could see clearly again.

Her heart caught in her throat.

She could see too clearly.

Through her backyard, a pack of crazies swarmed. Their bodies distorted as they scanned for any sign of prey; their ears perked, noses sniffing. There were at least a dozen in her backyard alone. She noticed long talons growing from the fingers of some and wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her. But the more she stared at them, the more she was mesmerized by the strange bony growths protruding from their shoulders and spikes hooking from their joints. These people were turning into goddamned monsters. This was no illusion, no hallucination.

This was reality now.

Kara closed the blinds again, using up all her self-control to prevent herself from falling apart at the dark visage of twisted, skeletal humanoids. “Everybody stay away from the windows,” she said in a low, trenchant tone. “Joe, Nina, Sadie. Keep your weapons by your side.”

“What is it?” Nina asked.

“More of them,” Kara said. “So many.”

She scrounged in her pockets for any remaining shells. Only a handful. A couple of boxes she’d retrieved earlier sat in the living room, but she wondered if it would be enough should the crazies rout them out.

Another guttural shriek escaped from the basement door. Between Kara and the ammunition in the basement waited her enraged mother.

She repeated her father’s mantra: One thing at a time.

-27-

––––––––

The heavy beat of the blades and the roar of the helicopter’s twin engines kept a steady rhythm as they crossed Maryland. Heavy plumes of smoke rose up from the urban sprawl surrounding Baltimore. Westward, the lush green of trees across rolling hills stretched beneath them.

Frank’s smooth voice came over the comm link set in Dom’s helmet. “We’re about fifteen minutes out from Detrick and just under ten from our destination in Frederick.”

“Copy that,” Dom replied. He waved to get Adam’s attention. “Still nothing from Webb?”

“Not yet.”

Dom’s heart sank, but he resolved not to show any outward sign of his dismay. The last time he’d made contact with Meredith was when she’d called from a bus depot. She’d reported the calamity at Fort Detrick, and they’d agreed to convene at his family’s—now his ex-wife’s—home. She’d insisted on honoring her vow to protect his daughters. Setting a rendezvous point in familiar territory also gave them a strategic advantage in a city overcome by Skulls.

At least, that was the idea.

The chopper began its descent, and the familiar winding streets and patchwork of colorful houses rose toward them.

“T-minus three minutes,” Frank called over the comm system.

The mechanical clicks of magazines being inserted into weapons filled the cabin. Dom’s heart beat faster. A wet film of sweat formed between his palms and his gloves.

He caught Adam’s eyes, and the communication specialist shook his head. Still no contact from Meredith. No confirmation she had found his daughters—or that she was even alive.

And nothing from Fort Detrick, either. They were on their own for now.

“Hold on,” Frank said. The chopper banked hard right. “I’m doing a second pass before we hit the LZ. We’ve got marks. Can’t tell if they’re civilians or—”

“Skulls,” Miguel said, staring at the black asphalt streets.

People wandered around the neighborhood. A small pack sprinted, riled up by something. As they followed the dashed lines in the middle of the road, more people joined the original half-dozen. They’d formed a mob, charging forward like so many hornets rocketing from their disturbed nest.

Renee pressed against her harness, straining to see out the fuselage porthole. “What the hell’s up with them?”

In front of the pack, a man and woman sprinted. They turned up a driveway and pounded on the front door of a one-story house. The Skulls, dozens of them, overwhelmed the couple and crashed against the house like waves over a rocky outcropping. Climbing over each other, the crazed people surged and tumbled.

The sheer altitude and drone of the helicopter’s engine sheltered Dom from the bloodcurdling screams and inhuman cries that would accompany the unfolding scene. In a matter of seconds, the group parted, leaving behind the torn shreds of clothes and dark pools of blood.

Adam gulped. “Of all that is holy...”

The Hunters were all glued to the tableau below.

“I think we’ve confirmed LZ is hot,” Frank said, his voice no longer the epitome of suave coolness he worked so hard to portray.

Dom considered their options. He could have Frank drop him off to meet Meredith alone. He’d have to fight the Skulls with no one to watch his back, but there was no need to waste his Hunters’ lives in a mission in which they faced insurmountable odds.

Maybe he could send Frank to wait somewhere safe with his crew. Some of the state parks were easily within range and probably wouldn’t be nearly as populated with Skulls as the city below. Frank and the Hunters could wait there until Dom radioed for a pickup to head to Fort Detrick.

Renee seemed to sense his internal dilemma. She gave him a slight nod, an indication she was ready. It was then he knew for certain his Hunters would never let him go it alone. They’d rather bail out of the chopper with him into shark-infested seas than fly away and leave him to fend for himself.

“We’re going to land as planned,” Dom said. “Our goal is the two-story house with the beige siding and black shutters, number 14 at the end of the cul-de-sac. In all likelihood, we’ll have to knock the door down.” Dom patted his pocket. “I didn’t bring my key.”

A few nervous chuckles escaped from the Hunters.

“Frank, I know you don’t want to hover long—no need to risk the helicopter by flying in the dead man’s curve—but try to stay close. At the first sign of being overwhelmed like that”—Dom gestured to the pack of Oni-fueled people rushing across manicured lawns in search of their next victims—“all of you get your asses back aboard this chopper and get the hell out of here. Don’t wait for me. One way or another, I’m finding Webb and getting into Fort Detrick.”

He felt too selfish to mention his daughters when his Hunters were about to risk their lives for what seemed like a fool’s errand.

“If you can’t get back to the chopper and anybody gets separated, hole up in a house until we can reach you.” He held up a hand to emphasize his next statement. “But I don’t want that to be a problem. We’re sticking together.”

“Got it, Chief.” Miguel saluted. “We’ll stick together tighter than my boxers and my sweaty ass in the middle of July.”

Renee grinned, and Hector rolled his eyes. Adam let out a single laugh even as he twisted one of the knobs on the UHF/VHF radio.

“It looks like you’ve got six contacts in the immediate vicinity of the LZ,” Frank said.

“Can you do another pass for an alternative?” Dom asked.

“The first and second alternatives we designated are more packed than our primary,” Frank said. “But I do see a street with low activity several blocks over. That suit you?”

“I’m up for a short walk. Let’s make this a touch and go,” Dom said. “File out and fire out if contacts are hostile.”

The Hunters responded with assenting nods.

“And Frank, Adam. If you two make contact with Detrick, let me know ASAP.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” the pilot and the comm specialist replied.

The early morning sun glinted off the cars below as they descended to the street. Dom preferred using the cover of dark when possible, but they didn’t have the luxury of waiting for nightfall. The spread of the Oni Agent wasn’t waiting for their convenience.

As they’d anticipated, the chopper drew the interest of the Skulls. Dom used his binos for one final scan before touchdown.

Talons protruded from several of the contacts’ fingers. In others whose clothes had been shredded or lost, their skin stretched taught over malformed shoulder blades threatening to pierce their flesh. They looked like the buds of skeletal wings.

Even Scott hadn’t exhibited the same progression of symptoms as these people did. The Oni Agent left unchecked and unfettered by even rudimentary medical care was undeniably potent. Dom feared where the world would be headed if there wasn’t some progress in battling the enigmatic bioweapon.

“Here we go,” Frank said.

Dom gripped his rifle. “Let’s give ’em hell, Hunters!”

Harnesses unclicked, and the Hunters grabbed the rails above their heads to steady themselves. The wheels hit the pavement hard, the doors opened, and the Hunters formed an immediate perimeter around the chopper. Dom ducked low under the blades, slammed the door on his side shut, and smacked the chopper to signal they were all clear.

Frank gave him a salute through the windshield, and the chopper lifted again. The downforce from its spinning blades sent whirlwinds of fallen leaves through the yards of nearby houses. To detract attention from Dom’s team, Frank kept the chopper low. Half a dozen of the Skulls followed the roar of the engine noise and rotors, sprinting after the AW109.

“Let’s move!” Dom yelled over the comm, waving at his team.

Several of the Skulls took notice, and their howls filled the air. They launched themselves at Dom and the Hunters. The rattle and crack of gunfire met the creatures before they could cross the street. Bullets tore apart the first three Skulls in a spray of bone fragments and blood. Another two Skulls burst from the window of a nearby house. Glass exploded across their faces, some shards stabbing into their flesh. Ropy muscle stretched beneath the skin of the first Skull as it scrambled across the grass. It lunged at Dom before he could get a bead on the creature. The Hunter twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the raking claws, and bashed the stock of his rifle into its spine, breaking pieces of the bony plates off. He plugged two bullets through the back of the creature’s head, and blood poured from the wound.

The second Skull scrambled across the driveway. It was smaller than the first. Much smaller. Miguel aimed his rifle at the creature as it ran, half-hunched over with a hand drawn back, ready to strike. Skeletal growths sprouted along its spine.

“Fire!” Dom yelled.

But Miguel instead sidestepped when the small Skull leapt at him. The Hunter backed away, lowering his rifle. “It’s a goddamn kid! I can’t!”

The other Hunters aimed their rifles at the Skull, but none fired as it charged Miguel once more. Again Miguel dodged it. Dom could see the pity in the Hunter’s eyes; he could sense it in the other Hunters as well.

But this was no child anymore. The Skull wheeled around and let out a frustrated wail as its muscles coiled, ready to pounce again. Dom shouldered his rifle, squeezed the trigger, and watched as a single bullet ended the miserable creature’s attack. A deep sadness that only a father could know welled up in him as he watched the young Skull’s life ebb away, and he fought to keep the fears that his daughters were like this, that they too were Skulls, far from his mind.

The bastard who had invented the Oni Agent, the bastard who had unleashed it on the world...Dom vowed that person, that organization, whoever was responsible, would be held accountable for their despicable sins.

An inhuman scream echoed down the street. Dom turned away from the pathetically small body and saw a pack of Skulls, twenty, maybe thirty deep, running toward them. He did a quick tally in his head and realized they’d be far too low on ammo if they stood around to fight these beasts off. They hadn’t even made it from their LZ yet.

“Move, move, move!” Dom pointed to the side of a house, behind the bushes and trees shielding the home’s backyard from the street. His Hunters ran past, and he watched their backs until they disappeared beyond the foliage. Then he followed them, pressing himself up against the side of a house and slipping beyond the line of sight of the Skulls. He rejoined his team and waved them onward to a backyard blockaded by a wooden privacy fence.

The sound of the humans-turned-demons yelling and running grew louder. They needed to get these creatures off their backs.

“Over the fence!” Dom yelled to his team. He helped push Hector over before climbing up himself.

The Hunters crept low across the backyard as the Skulls’ screams rent the air. The group positioned themselves behind a guesthouse neighboring an in-ground pool.

The clamor of a couple dozen Skulls charging just outside the fence sent shudders down Dom’s spine. He signaled for the team to stay hidden and quiet as the Hunters bristled with guns shouldered, ready for a last stand. Guttural growls and the chomp of teeth sounded from the deranged Skulls. They prowled and scratched at the fence, but their rustling footsteps in the lawn indicated they traveled along its length. Then one of them called out, mere yards away from Dom. The ear-splitting shriek made him recoil. But the creatures’ footfalls and their screams trailed off into the neighboring yards.

“Seems like they rely on sight and sound as much as we do,” Miguel whispered when the din of the Skulls faded into the distance.

Dom signaled the team forward. Quietly as they could, they climbed over the privacy fence, into another backyard. The rhythm of the chopper’s blades in the distance provided a constant companion. No other sounds rose from the two-story house before them or the hedges around its perimeter.

They crept through the yard and passed a swing set. An autumnal breeze swept through and jostled the swing’s chains. It gave rise to a light tinkling of metal against metal. Coupled with the clear blue sky, Dom couldn’t help the resurfacing memories of pushing his daughters on a swing set like that in their backyard with Bethany.

The memory served only as a bittersweet reminder of what he stood to lose. Even if he reached his daughters in time, even if Meredith was already there...he cursed inwardly at himself as he crossed the yard toward the house.

There could be no ifs. He clung to the stubborn certainty that his daughters were still healthy. That Bethany was alive and well. That Meredith had found them and was protecting them from the danger all around them.

The crackle of the comm link broke Dom’s thoughts. Frank’s voice filled his ears. “Captain, this is your eye in the sky. You’ve got contacts headed your way.”

“From which direction?” Dom asked.

“All of them.”

-28-

––––––––

It had only been a scratch. Okay. Maybe three. But Ivan Price didn’t want to see Lauren about it. He was perfectly happy sitting in his cramped room in the Huntress’s crew quarters. No war-hardened Hunter like him needed to worry about seeing the doc for something that looked no worse than a mosquito bite. Hell, he’d actually gotten insect bites in Brazil that looked worse than this.

Nah, he didn’t need to bug Lauren. And she didn’t need to worry about him. He could handle it.

He’d handled worse. A bullet through his calf. One embedded in his shoulder. Fragments probably still there.

But a couple of scratches from one of those Skulls?

Nah, he thought again.

He had taken antibiotics; he’d cleaned his own bandages. Besides, he’d heard it wasn’t airborne. So the fact the Skull had torn the biohazard suit didn’t matter.

If he was infected, if he was going to turn into one of those Skulls, he’d know it.

Still, to be safe, he’d kept himself secluded. Should be enough. People had been far too preoccupied about what was going on outside the ship, back on land, to worry about him. He’d heard their annoying chatter in the hall. It had grated on him because, damn, his head hurt.

He stood from his cot, almost losing his balance. With one hand on the bulkhead, he caught himself. Maybe the anxiety of worrying about being sick was killing his sea legs.

He was a goddamn Marine, though. He was born with sea legs.

The headache...he’d avoided the corridors and the mess hall and the medical bay and the armory...because of those lights.

God, those lights. Blinding him. Why the hell did they have to shine right in your damn eyes? Like fire pokers to the pupils.

Bending to pick up an empty bottle rolling on the floor, he toppled forward. His head slammed against the bulkhead. The impact rang out with a hollow thud.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” He punched the bulkhead. Pain shot up his arm. His knuckles bled.

He didn’t care.

Something hit his door. Something heavy. Over and over.

The pounding sent him reeling, his head screaming.

“Stop!” he bellowed.

“Hey, Ivan, Lauren wants us all to meet in the mess,” a shrill voice called.

Divya.

He groaned, the pain too much to bear.

“Ivan? You okay?”

A primal yell escaped his lips. He couldn’t hold it in. He wasn’t in control.

“Ivan?” The door swung open, and a woman stood before him. A faint memory, a feeling of distant recognition called to Ivan through the intense pangs of pain and anger coursing through his mind. But something else called louder: Hunger.

He yelled, the sound of his own voice echoing against the bulkhead, and pounced on the fresh meat.

***

Glenn jumped from the mess table, dropping his paperback copy of Le Morte d’Arthur. He pushed past his fellow Hunters and ran into the corridor before the book hit the floor.

He barreled down the passageway, his bulky frame filling most of the narrow space. Another wild scream echoed up the stairs from the crew quarters. He could hear footfalls filling in behind him, but he didn’t look back.

A metal spiral staircase spit him out on another cramped corridor. At the end of it, he saw two figures struggling. One of them was much bigger than the other.

Glenn ran at them. “Stop! Stop!”

The attacker paid him no heed as his victim struggled against his onslaught. As Glenn drew closer, he recognized Ivan Price’s hulking frame pummeling whoever lay beneath him.

A high, thin voice cried out for help. Glenn recognized it as Divya’s. Her thin arms covered her face. But the doctor’s small frame was not made to withstand an attack by a barrel-chested Marine.

With all the force of a charging rhino, Glenn threw himself at Ivan. They crashed against the bulkhead. Pain rocketed through his shoulder. He ignored it.

Glenn fought against the enraged Marine. “What the hell are you doing?”

Ivan didn’t answer but instead lashed out at Glenn. They tumbled into Ivan’s quarters and crushed his cot. Their bodies knocked against the walls. Like embattled titans, they fought, muscle against muscle, brute against brute.

At last, Glenn overpowered Ivan. He forced the man to the floor. But Ivan continued to kick, and Glenn dodged an attempted head butt. All the while, Ivan’s teeth gnashed together, snapping and grinding.

Glenn’s muscles burned as he held Ivan down. Footfalls echoed down the corridor, filling the small space. He figured he could use the backup. He stared hard into Ivan’s eyes. But the man’s brown eyes were no longer familiar. Beyond the mottled red of his bloodshot sclera, something else stared back at Glenn. Something hateful. Something hungry.

“What the—” a voice started.

“Christ!” another called.

“Get back!” said a third.

The voices were nothing but background noise. Glenn saw only the menacing eyes before him and the anger radiating from a man he’d always thought of as his friend, a fellow Hunter.

“Watch out, Glenn!”

A short zap. Ivan’s body convulsed, and his eyes bulged, and Glenn could feel the electricity of the stunner pass through Ivan’s flesh and sting his own. More footfalls.

“Let her through!”

Lauren squeezed into the quarters, already claustrophobically tight with Ivan and Glenn consuming the space. She jabbed a needle into Ivan’s arm.

As the effects of the Taser faded, Ivan struggled against Glenn again. His arm swung out and knocked Lauren backward. Glenn readjusted his grip and shoved Ivan to the floor until the sedatives kicked in.

His chest heaving, struggling for breath, Glenn loosened his grip but didn’t get up. “Is he down for the count?”

Lauren rubbed the back of her head, still wincing in pain. “God, I hope so.” She stood, almost stumbling, but righted herself. With noticeable effort, she bent over Ivan and tore off his shirt. She pointed to three yellowish scabs.

“It was him,” she said. “Those scratches match the holes we found in the suit.” With one hand still probing her wound, she pointed at a couple of Hunters. “Take Ivan up to the isolation ward.”

Spencer and Jenna stepped forward. They lugged Ivan up between them and hustled for the stairs. Peter bent over Divya. The doctor groaned as Peter cradled her head.

“Sean, grab a stretcher,” Peter said to the epidemiologist. “I don’t want to move her without one in case anything’s broken.”

Sean nodded and sprinted through the small crowd gathered along the corridor.

Peter looked up at Lauren. “So Ivan was infected.”

Lauren’s cheeks flushed crimson. “This is what happens when you don’t follow our directions,” she said to the others waiting outside. “I want to see everyone come through the medical bay by the end of the night. Everyone, and I mean everyone, needs to be checked for a potential Oni Agent infection. Now, please, give us some space.”

Most of the Hunters and crew dispersed, rushing back to their duties. Captain of the ship during Dom’s absence, Thomas Hampton approached the door to the cabin. “You want me to round people up for the meeting?”

“No, the purpose of the meeting was to find out who could have been infected by the Oni Agent and reiterate how serious this biological weapon is,” Lauren said. Glenn heard pure anger tinging her words. “I think we’ve accomplished both those things. Just make sure no one misses their appointment with me tonight. “

“I’ll go cabin to cabin with Jenna and Spencer. Everyone will get the message loud and clear,” Thomas said. “Then I’m going to see if I can reach Dom and let him know what’s happened as soon as possible.”

“Thanks,” Lauren said.

Glenn ignored the pain in his shoulder and head, reminded again of the other Hunters’ mission. “Any word from them so far?”

“Chao reports they’ve landed and they’re avoiding confrontations with hostiles as much as possible,” Thomas said. “First LZ was too hot, so they touched down a bit farther than anticipated. Anyway, you two let me know if there’s anything I can do or if you have trouble with any crew members who don’t comply with your medical instructions.”

“I have a feeling that will no longer be a problem.” Glenn took a deep breath. The expansion of his lungs sent a sharp dagger through his ribs. He clasped the spot with his hand. “Damn, that hurts.”

Sean came back to the scene with a stretcher. Thomas helped him load Divya, and they took off.

Lauren offered him a hand. He accepted the gesture, her delicate fingers dwarfed by his large palm, and grunted as he lifted himself to his feet. Despite the pain radiating through his chest, he felt a small comfort from Lauren’s touch, something he’d been missing for quite some time. But he refused to acknowledge it, determined to respect the boundaries they’d set between each other.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No, thank you. You saved Divya’s life.”

A pit formed in Glenn’s stomach. “If everything you’ve found out about the Oni Agent is true, I’m afraid I only delayed the inevitable. It looked like she received more than a few scrapes from Ivan.”

“We’ll find a way to stop the progress of the Oni Agent,” Lauren said.

Glenn could tell she wasn’t sure if she believed the words. “How close are you?”

“We’re—” She stopped. Her brow creased in concern, and she lifted the sleeve of his T-shirt.

“What is it?” He cranked his neck to see what she was looking at. Four lines of blood trickled across his dark skin.

***

Lauren placed a hand on Glenn’s shoulder and squeezed it. He had stopped Ivan from killing Divya. Glenn had thrown himself into harm’s way without deliberation, without asking others what should be done. If it weren’t for him, Divya would’ve been rendered to a bloody pulp.

And his actions had not only saved the doctor but potentially many others, too. If Glenn hadn’t responded so swiftly to her screams, others might have been attacked and infected in Ivan’s Oni-induced rage. His selfless actions reminded her of the relationship they’d once shared, and she couldn’t help feel a pang of sadness at what they’d sacrificed for their jobs, the relationship they’d lost because of their devotion to their jobs. Now she stood to lose Glenn completely.

Earlier, Peter and Divya had used blood samples from Amir and Scott to identify a set of antibodies they hypothesized were produced by the human body in response to the Oni Agent. They postulated these antibodies must have been ineffective at neutralizing the biological agent, much like the biological reasons antibodies couldn’t neutralize HIV.

From this finding, they’d developed a simple test to detect the presence of these antibodies based on a microfluidics lab-on-a-chip setup Divya had developed during her research fellowship. They needed to demonstrate that the antibodies they’d identified in Amir’s and Scott’s blood were related to the Oni Agent and not some other common pathogen.

To test this, Divya and Peter had used themselves as negative controls. The experiment they had designed showed neither of them had the purported Oni Agent antibodies.

Now, the test showed Divya did have the Oni Agent antibodies. Glenn’s blood showed similar results, as did Ivan’s. Fortunately, with Thomas’s help, they’d rounded up every other crew member aboard the ship. No one else’s blood samples demonstrated the presence of Oni antibodies, and, for that, Lauren was thankful.

Still the thought did little to ease her mind regarding Glenn’s fate. She told him as much when she came to check on him.

He patted her hand. “Not your fault.” He glanced at the medically sedated forms of Amir, Ivan, and Scott. “How long do you think before I end up like them?”

“We started you and Divya on heavy dosages of antibiotics, which we think slows the Oni Agent down drastically.”

“How long?”

Lauren withdrew her hand and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not certain. We’ve kept Amir sedated since Scott attacked him and have been pumping him full of antibiotics. He’s only just now shown outward symptoms of the agent’s progress.” She gestured to her own fingernails. “His nails are turning yellow. A calcified layer is developing over them.”

Glenn wrapped his fingers around her wrist. She recoiled at first, ashamed to have let him down. Frightened of what it meant for Glenn.

“I trust you,” he said in his deep, soothing voice. “If there’s a way to stop this, you can do it.”

Lauren squeezed Glenn’s shoulder a final time. She passed Divya, still unconscious from the beating she’d taken from Ivan, and entered the lab.

Maybe Dom was wrong. Maybe someone at Fort Detrick knew of a cure. Something they were preparing to deploy. If she could just hold back the Oni Agent from taking over Divya and Glenn until Dom made contact with Detrick...

“Nothing in the science literature points to the gene sequences we’re seeing in our samples,” Sean said. “I can’t find a match. It’s like this DNA is from an alien life-form or something.”

“Lauren’s nanobacteria theory is crazy enough,” Peter said. “There’s no need to bring extraterrestrials in this too.”

“Oh,” Lauren said, her eyes wide. A sudden realization poured into her mind—a theory no more absurd than the initial nanobacteria conjecture. The puzzle pieces of the Oni Agent started to fit together.

Both Peter and Sean stared at her, pausing from their tasks of pipetting reagents from one flask to another.

“I don’t like that look on your face,” Peter said.

“Extraterrestrials,” Lauren repeated.

Sean set down the mechanical hand pipette on the lab bench. “I mean, it’s not actually—you don’t actually think—” He stopped, nonplussed.

A grin uncoiled across Lauren’s face as she recalled a paper she’d read when researching nanobacteria. “I saw claims that nanobacteria have been found on asteroids and even fossils of them on meteorites.”

Peter held up a hand. “Lauren—”

“Listen,” she interrupted, “I’m not saying these things are from Mars. Far from it. There are some theories that nanobacteria could survive such harsh environments because of the apatite structure they build around themselves.” She jabbed a finger at Peter. “It’s just like the coral idea we talked about. The nanobacteria are protecting themselves with the bony structures they form in people.”

Deep lines creased Peter’s forehead. “I still don’t see how that helps us.”

“Don’t you?” Lauren said. “The answer’s been staring us in the face the entire time. The antibiotics have been partially effective. They do eliminate the nanobacteria. But if these tiny organisms are protecting themselves with this mineralized bony structure, the antibiotics are going to have a hard time reaching them.”

Sean rubbed his gloved hands together. “So we need to somehow disrupt the calcium formations around your invisible nanobacteria?”

“Exactly!” Lauren said, her voice rising an octave. Sean and Peter’s skepticism couldn’t pop the balloon of optimism holding her up. “And I already know how.”

Sean and Peter looked at each other.

“Seriously.” Lauren tapped away at a keyboard and brought up an abstract from a medical study. “A while back, the NIH sponsored a multi-institute trial of EDTA chelation therapy.”

“EDTA?” Sean cocked his head. “That’s the same stuff we use in cell cultures to disrupt the proteins and extracellular matrices that cells make to hold themselves to each other.”

“And the NIH tested this to see if it’s a legitimate remedy for something?” Peter asked.

“Yep.” Lauren pointed to a couple of graphs. “There’s a theory that calcification and plaques in blood vessels, the stuff that causes heart attacks, is a result of nanobacteria mineralizing the tissue. Kind of like what we’re seeing with the Oni Agent.”

Sean squinted at the monitor. “And this study showed statistically significant improvements in patients receiving the therapy.”

“This doesn’t prove anything about nanobacteria,” Peter said, his arms folded across his chest. “This is correlation, not causation.”

Lauren held up a finger. “True, but the EDTA chelation therapy did show a reduction in cardiovascular events like strokes and heart attacks. It did something.”

Neither Peter nor Sean said a word.

“Something is better than nothing, which is what we’ve got right now.” Lauren gestured to Sean. “Like you said, we use EDTA in the lab to deactivate metal-dependent enzymes. The molecule sequesters calcium ions, which means it should more or less be able to degrade the calcium apatite protecting the nanobacteria. I say we try the therapy out then administer an increased dosage of antibiotics to wipe these suckers out.”

“Okay,” Sean said. “What are the potential side effects?”

Relief spread through Lauren; she was close to gaining Sean’s support. “Most common is just a slight burning sensation at the injection site. Sometimes patients experience vomiting, nausea, fever, or headaches.”

Peter stabbed a finger at the screen. “Says here it can also cause heart failure or bone marrow depression.” He ticked off other symptoms on his fingers. “Hypocalcemia, kidney damage, a drop in blood pressure. Those are all fatal.”

“But all those incidences are low—very rare—and can be avoided if we monitor the EDTA infusion,” Lauren said.

Peter was glaring, but Sean nodded. “To be honest, the side effects are certainly not worse than the Oni Agent.” With a tilt of his head, he indicated their patients in the isolation ward. “They’re going to end up like those Skulls if we don’t do something.”

“We have to try,” Lauren said. “And as chief medical officer aboard this ship, I’m doing this with or without your approval. But I’d prefer to have you on my side, Peter.”

“Fine.” Peter held up both his hands in a placating gesture. “What’s the first step?”

-29-

––––––––

One problem at a time, Kara thought for the hundredth time. She fed more shells into the shotgun’s internal magazine as she treaded down the hallway toward the dining room. With her mom turned into one of those crazies and half a dozen more in the backyard when she last checked, she no longer knew which problem to confront first.

The distant thrum of what she thought was a helicopter sounded in the distance. She peeked out the blinds.

Now even more of the enraged, crazy-looking people prowled her front yard. She could see the silhouettes of strange growths jutting from their joints and bumps along their spines and shoulders. They peered around with squinted eyes. A squirrel ran up a tree, and a gaggle of the deformed people wailed and yelled, clamoring after the poor animal. They grappled the tree trunk and scaled the branches. Kara closed the blinds and chewed her bottom lip, fighting with everything she had to keep herself from breaking down. But she couldn’t help the tears leaving wet trails along her cheeks. She wiped them away before she joined the rest of the group. Maggie lay on the floor, her eyes closed and her splinted front leg on a pillow Sadie had placed for her.

“That was definitely a helicopter,” Joe said. Nina nodded in agreement.

“Maybe help is on its way,” Sadie added.

Zack tugged on his mother’s sleeve. “Why don’t we call the police?”

“We’ve got enough water and food to last for a few days. There’s no reason to go anywhere,” Kara said. “At the same time, if that was a helicopter we heard, maybe they’re looking for survivors.”

“The radio said to stay indoors.” Sadie played with the radio knobs again. Like their last several attempts, all she found now were stations filled with static or the same emergency broadcast on a loop.

“We need to make a sign, something for air traffic to see us,” Kara said. “Otherwise, how will they know there are survivors in the house?”

“Good idea,” Nina said. “Maybe a sheet. Do you have paint or markers or something we can write on it with?”

Sadie nodded. “We have sheets upstairs. I’ve got a bunch of paints we can use to write HELP or something.” She stood to go retrieve the sheet from the linen closet.

“Wait,” Kara said. She’d used several of their extra sheets to cover the crazies now rotting in their laundry room. Her sister didn’t need to see those corpses. “I’ll go get it.”

Kara ran upstairs. The odor of decay and death had grown more intense. She pinched her nose as she dug through the linen closet in the hall and found a clean, khaki-colored sheet. With the sheet tucked under her arm, she scoured Sadie’s room for her acrylic paints. Her sister’s desk was pressed into one corner. Framed photographs lined its shelves.

Kara dropped the folded sheet and walked to the desk. She picked up a photograph of herself, Sadie, and their mother. The three of them stood, arms around each other’s shoulders, in front of a massive building with impressive ivory pillars. They’d taken the picture when the three of them had visited the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, DC. It had been a long day of staring at folk art and portraits and sculptures. Most of the artwork had long since vanished from Kara’s memory.

The most vivid recollection from the outing was the meal they had shared in a nearby Chinatown restaurant. She and her mother had finally convinced Sadie to try unagi sushi. The face Sadie had made when she tried the freshwater eel was enough to send them snickering and laughing. Every time Kara or Bethany mimicked Sadie’s expression afterward, they’d broken out in laughter again.

And now Kara feared her mother would never laugh again. Her knees trembled, and she bent over the desk. She pressed her palms to her eyes and took deep breaths. Now was not the time to be overcome by grief. She could cry later, but if she fell into the abyss of sorrow opening before her now, she would be risking her life and the lives of the others.

With the back of her hand, she wiped the tears from her eyes. She found Sadie’s acrylic paints in one of the desk drawers and heaped the supplies onto the sheet. She took everything back down the stairs and into the living room.

“Everything okay?” Sadie asked.

Kara nodded and got to work. In a matter of minutes, she’d painted a blocky HELP on the sheet. They decided, in order to be visible both to anyone passing on the street and those in the sky, the best place for the makeshift sign was the roof above the garage.

“I’ll secure it,” Kara said. She dashed into the garage without giving them a chance to protest. It took a couple of seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dark, but she found a small toolbox along with a plastic box of nails.

After gathering up the sheet and tools, she started up the stairs. Maggie opened her eyes, grunted, and started to stand. Nina kept the dog down. Zack and Leah knelt by Maggie, petting her.

“Take care of her for me,” Kara said to the children. They nodded, seeming content to have a job.

“Need help?” Joe asked.

The man’s six-foot and two-hundred-some-pound frame certainly wouldn’t fit out the master suite bathroom window. “Not sure you’ll be able to.” But he had a point. Between the wind gusting about and the need for a lookout, she did need someone. “Sadie, can you come with me?”

Sadie’s face went a shade paler, but she nodded and followed Kara upstairs.

Kara unlocked the window. A cool breeze filtered in as she opened it, along with the unmistakable smell of a crisp autumn day. Despite everything awaiting her outside, she found herself welcoming the opportunity for fresh air. The house had become cramped and stagnant. Without power, no fans circulated the air, and the corpses of the crazies only worsened the malodorous environment.

“Do you think Mom’s going to be okay?” Sadie asked. “She stopped hitting the door. Maybe’s she’s better.”

Kara figured her mother had grown bored or thrown herself at the door until she’d exhausted herself. Or maybe the biological changes caused by whatever she’d caught from the crazy outdoors had made her forgetful and simple-minded.

She couldn’t bear to voice any of those possibilities. “Maybe,” she said. “But we still have to be careful. If Mom’s okay, we’ll probably hear her call our names through the door.” Kara gripped the bottom of the window frame. “But we can’t just open the door if we aren’t sure. If she’s still sick, we’d be risking Zack and Leah’s lives, and Joe and Nina, too.”

Her bottom lip trembling, Sadie nodded and let out a long breath. “I wish Dad were here.”

“Me, too.” Kara hoisted herself up and through the window. She lay low on the roof. The sun beat down on her, warming her skin even as a cold wind sent goose pimples along her flesh. She inched across the roof, her hands scraping on the shingles.

A couple of crazies meandered around the cul-de-sac. Almost a dozen more wandered between the neighboring yards. They seemed to be lethargic, yet she’d seen how they reacted when they had been whipped into a feeding frenzy. She didn’t intend to underestimate them now.

“Hand me the toolbox and sheet,” Kara said, keeping her voice low and fighting to restrain the panic threatening to overtake her.

Sadie passed the toolbox and then handed the sheet through the window.

Carefully, Kara situated the toolbox and the sheet next to her as she lay on the roof. “Shotgun next.” She felt naked enough being on the roof where the crazies might spot her. “Okay, when you come out, make sure to keep a low profile. These things only seem to look straight ahead unless something attracts their attention. So don’t attract their attention, got it?”

“Of course.” Sadie said as she pulled herself up through the window.

They army-crawled across the roof and spread the sheet out between them. The shingles scraped the bare skin of her arms as Kara moved to the far side. When she judged the sheet was in a good position, she gave Sadie a thumbs-up.

The distant beat of a helicopter made her heart leap. Sadie shot Kara a wide-eyed look, and Kara nodded to signal she’d heard the chopper, too. It underlined the importance of getting their distress sign in place.

Careful not to rattle the box of nails, she selected a nail and grabbed the hammer. As she drew it up, she froze.

Maybe it was her exhaustion. Maybe she wasn’t as resourceful as she thought she was.

But she realized pounding nails into the roof was most certainly going to attract the attention of the crazies below. She searched her mind for alternatives. Tape probably wouldn’t hold the sheet in place, especially if the wind grabbed hold of it. Glue was far too impractical.

Sadie seemed to sense the dilemma but remained flat on the roof, waiting for her sister to signal their next action.

The shotgun still lay within arm’s reach if all else failed. Kara hoped she wouldn’t have to resort to using the weapon, but it at least was some reassurance. She drew her leg up and slipped off her shoe. Sadie raised an eyebrow but said nothing. A perplexed look crossed her face.

Kara placed the shoe over the nail and peeled back its tongue. Cautiously, she tried one hit with the hammer. The muffled blow seemed to work, and she slowly but surely hammered in the nail. She started to feel confident. This might actually work.

A sudden gust ripped the sheet up from Sadie’s grip. It furled in the wind like a sail at full mast and whipped over Kara. She struggled to hold the sheet down without dropping the hammer.

But the wind prevailed and tugged the fabric away. It pulled the single nail straight out from the shingle. Kara lunged to grab the corner of the sheet, missed, and hit the box of nails. They skittered down the roof. Kara watched, her heart caught in her throat and her fingers splayed in one last desperate grab. The box rolled off the roof and fell onto the driveway. The unmistakable ping of metal dancing across concrete echoed across the cul-de-sac.

Kara’s pulse pounded in her ears as everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The nearest crazies whipped around to locate the disturbance. Their red eyes darted across the front of the house. Then one caught sight of Sadie and let out a grating bellow. Others followed the gaze of the first, and they rushed at the house.

“Get inside!” Kara yelled.

Sadie scrambled along the roof toward the window.

Her feet slipping from under her, Kara hurried after her and picked up the shotgun.

A crazy, black T-shirt hanging in rags from his torso, ran and jumped at the roof. His hands missed the gutter by about a foot. Another man with a tall, thin frame leapt onto Bethany’s Volvo parked in the driveway. With arms outstretched, he jumped at the roof above the garage. His hands caught on the shingles, and he carried himself up. Sadie was almost through the window when the man caught a foothold and ran at them.

Kara shouldered the shotgun, pumped, and fired.

The thin man’s chest exploded in a splatter of flesh and blood. His body was thrown backward and out of sight.

“Come on!” Sadie called from inside the bathroom.

Another two people bounded off the top of the Volvo and grappled with the roof, fighting for purchase. Their jagged teeth clicked together, and their eyes bulged as they shrieked in frantic rage.

Kara swung into the window feet first and slammed it shut behind her. She locked it as a woman with a shredded face crashed into the glass. Fingers with long, claw-like nails scratched against the glass. The woman’s muffled growls filled the bathroom. More howls and yells echoed outside.

Kara and Sadie sprinted from the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

“The mattress!” Kara pointed at the bed, and her sister launched into action. As Kara had done before, they built a barrier supported by the dressers along with the king-size mattress.

Joe pounded up the stairs and entered the bedroom, rifle in hand. “Are you two okay?”

Kara pulled a lock of sweat-matted hair out of her face. “We’re alive.”

With the makeshift wall in place, they scurried down the stairs.

“Do you hear that?” Sadie asked.

Kara paused on the bottom of the stairs and strained her ears. Between the howls and cries of the crazies, the distinct chugging of a diesel engine could be heard. “Is it the Army or something?”

The roar of the engine grew louder until it seemed as though it was directly outside the house. Kara ran to the front room, her sister in tow. Joe beat them to the door and peeked through the small window near its top. “What in God’s name...”

Sadie and Kara peered out the unbroken window, prying open the blinds. A yellow school bus had come to a stop in front of their house. Several of the crazies pounced on it, climbing on top of the hood and throwing themselves at the cracked windshield.

The female crazy that had been at the bathroom window limped across the driveway, her ankle bent at an unnatural angle. She must’ve jumped from the roof when the bus arrived, and evidently the intense agony of a broken ankle was nothing compared to the allure of fresh prey.

The emergency hatch in the bus’s roof burst open. A red-haired woman around Kara’s father’s age pushed through, wielding a pistol. She strode toward the crazies on the bus’s roof, the pistol firing all the way. Kara’s heart fluttered as she watched someone else handle a firearm against the crazies milling about. Each blast, deliberate and powerful, knocked the attackers to the ground. Blood pooled around their corpses even as the crazy with the broken ankle climbed the side of the bus.

Another man, this one no more than a few years older than Kara, came through the emergency door of the bus followed by a young woman wearing what looked to be hiking gear. The man wielded a lug wrench, and the woman held a pry bar, tools Kara was familiar with from time spent working with her dad on his classic Challenger project cars in the garage. Neither of them looked crazy, either. In fact, they seemed to be actively fighting the crazies off.

The young woman swung the pry bar at the crazy with the bent ankle and sent her sprawling across the asphalt. Several more climbed the bus, but the three people defended their turf valiantly.

None of it made sense to Kara. Why leave their vehicle and risk their lives fighting these people in the middle of a neighborhood?

One of the crazies leapt up the side of the bus. Instead of climbing to the roof, he swung out and grabbed the red-headed woman’s ankle. He jumped back from the side of the bus and dragged her with him. Her body hit the asphalt hard, and her pistol clattered away. The two younger people had no ranged weapons and were still occupied by a stream of crazies climbing toward them.

The red-headed woman tried to crawl away as the crazy coiled, preparing to pounce. She reached for her pistol, but it was too far. She wasn’t going to make it.

Without hesitation, Kara pushed Joe aside and stormed out the front door.

-30-

––––––––

Meredith reached for the pistol, but she saw she wouldn’t retrieve it in time. She rolled instead, concrete scraping her arms.

The Skull slammed against the driveway. His talons stabbed down where she’d been a moment ago. His nose scrunched in a menacing snarl, and he twisted his neck. Growling at Meredith, he drew back for a second attack, putting himself between her and the pistol.

Meredith brought herself up to her knees and rolled to her left as the man swiped out with one malformed hand. Skeletal blades protruded from his skin at his elbows. Beneath the tatters of his T-shirt, a bony cage was forming around his chest.

Eric and Shauna still defended their position valiantly. Each connecting swing sent another Skull tumbling from the bus. But no matter how well they fought, they wouldn’t make it to her in time.

A female Skull sidled up next to the one in the tattered T-shirt. She shoved him, growling and snapping. With a gut-wrenching howl, she sprang at Meredith.

A loud shotgun blast exploded to Meredith’s right. The Skull flew sideways and slid across the concrete, leaving a trail of flesh and blood. The second Skull jerked to his left, but another shotgun blast knocked him off his feet.

“Are you okay?” a young woman’s voice called.

Meredith got to her feet and sprinted toward her gun. Her savior had deep auburn locks and striking cheekbones. She appeared to be no older than twenty, yet there was a determination, a ferocity in her green eyes that Meredith remembered seeing in only one other person.

“You’re his daughter, aren’t you?” Meredith asked, chambering a round in her pistol. The young woman shouldered her shotgun again, getting a bead on the nearest Skull, and fired. Pieces of bone flew from the Skull’s chest. But the creature’s arms and bloodshot eyes didn’t stop moving. A yell sounded from its mouth that resonated in Meredith’s chest. It was as if the buckshot hadn’t bothered the creature in the slightest.

“What the hell?” The girl aimed the shotgun at the Skull’s chest again.

“Doesn’t work on all of them,” Meredith said. She leveled her pistol and sent a bullet through the Skull’s eye. “You’ve got to go for the face.” Meredith fired at another Skull. She was back in the rhythm, firing and swiveling, catching her breath. “I’m Meredith Webb, an old friend of your dad’s.”

“Kara,” the young woman said, standing side-by-side with Meredith. She readjusted her aim, and another Skull’s head exploded in a splatter of blood and bone fragments.

For as youthful as she looked, Kara appeared to be a hardened warrior. Definitely Dom’s daughter. “Where’s your sister, your mother? Are they okay?”

Kara arched the shotgun around the cul-de-sac. No other Skulls charged at them, but with the gunfire, more would be on their way.

“My sister’s fine.”

“Good,” Meredith said, ignoring the unspoken suggestion that the girls’ mother was not all right.

“Yep,” Kara said, pumping the shotgun. “She’s inside with the others.”

“Others?”

Kara nodded. “The neighbors and their kids.”

“All clear?” Meredith called to Shauna and Eric.

“Looks like it,” Eric said.

Shauna pushed a Skull’s body over the side of the bus’s roof. Its body smacked against the asphalt, and Shauna and Eric climbed down over the hood and onto the ground.

Meredith made brief introductions as they ran to Kara’s house. When Kara closed the door and locked it, Meredith felt a wave of relief, almost as if she’d come home. For the past week, she’d been on the run from the CIA, staying at temporary lodging where she could get it. Then on the Appalachian Trail in an attempt to hide in plain sight while making her way to Fort Detrick. The outbreak had made what was already a perilous race for her life all the more dangerous.

And now, she was finally in a home where a family lived normally.

Had lived normally.

The house certainly smelled lived in—a distinct odor brought on when too many people resided in a place with minimal air circulation. Meredith sniffed, thinking she could detect the scent of something similar to rotting meat. Maybe food had gone bad with the power outage.

The looks on the faces of the survivors told her spoiled food wasn’t the worst of their worries. These people, in the short time since the spread of the Oni Agent, must have their own harrowing stories to tell.

A golden retriever hobbled over. The dog’s tail wagged as she licked Meredith’s open palm. It favored one of its legs.

Meredith knelt down, eye level with the dog, and scratched behind its ears. She examined the homemade splint. “Did you do this?”

“I did,” Kara said. She introduced the other five people waiting at the edge of the front hall. There was a smaller version of her who must be Sadie. A family, too: Joe, Nina, Zack, and Leah. The children seemed too young to have to witness the atrocities in their front lawn. In turn, Meredith introduced Eric and Shauna to the group.

Now that the fighting had hit a lull and they were safely in the house, Kara’s eyebrows scrunched together, and she shot Meredith a skeptical look. “How do you know my dad? He never once mentioned your name.”

“He probably wouldn’t.” Meredith inhaled and exhaled deeply. She knew there was no point in sugarcoating the truth or keeping secrets. “I met your father when we were both at the CIA.”

Sadie and Kara shared a baffled expression. Their eyes widened in disbelief as Meredith continued the story of how she and Dom had worked together to defend the nation against both homegrown and international threats. She revealed his current status as a private covert contractor and his second home aboard the Huntress.

Meredith paused. “I’m sorry, I know this is a lot to handle.”

“I have no idea if you’re crazy or just making up this story,” Kara said, “but I guess it isn’t any crazier than what’s going on outside, huh?”

“You’ve got that right,” Meredith said. “You should ask him to show you his old CIA badge. It’s not like he’s got any reason to hide it anymore.”

“I think it’s awesome,” Sadie said. “No wonder he’s always gone. He’s like James Bond.”

“Not exactly, but he is good at what he does.” Meredith checked her watch. “He should be here with the Hunters any minute. Everyone needs to be ready to move as soon as they're here so we can go straight to Detrick.” Another thought struck her, something she’d been afraid to ask before. “Kara, where’s your mother?”

Kara chewed her bottom lip, clearly putting on a brave face. “She...turned.”

Meredith’s stomach twisted. “Is she still—”

“She’s in the basement,” Kara said. “She attacked us, but...she’s in the basement now.”

The mere thought that one of these Skulls was below them, residing in their shelter, sent a shiver crawling down Meredith’s spine. She’d been so concerned about safety from what lay outside, she hadn’t considered the dangers she might face indoors.

“But Dad’s people are working on a cure, right?” Sadie asked, her eyes alight in hope.

“They’re trying,” Meredith said. “But I haven’t heard the latest updates.”

Sadie seemed to accept the answer, jubilantly optimistic that Dom’s team would cure their mother.

But Kara frowned. “They don’t even know what this thing is. How can they even hope to cure it then? Most pharmaceutical products take years to test in the lab before they ever help a patient.”

“Correct.” Meredith nodded, impressed with the young woman’s knowledge. She recalled Dom saying Kara attended the University of Maryland and figured she must be an attentive student in some medical-related degree program. “But it’s possible the Oni Agent is composed of a pathogen or combination of pathogens we already have a cure for. If that’s the case, I believe Lauren’s lab can identify the culprit agent and use an existing therapy.”

“And if that’s not the case?” Kara raised an eyebrow.

“Then we’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

Kara’s cheeks flushed red as the others waited around the living room in silence.

“Who would make a biological weapon that does something like this to people? Why would they unleash it on us?” Kara’s nose wrinkled in indignation. “It isn’t right!”

“I completely agree. Trust me, we’re working hard on figuring out how to stop the Oni Agent and find out who or what is behind it.” Meredith reached a hand out, but Kara recoiled from her attempt at comfort. She continued, “Your dad is the best at what he does. We’re going to get out of this, and we’re going to do what we can to help your mother.” As the words left her mouth, she wondered if she was making empty promises.

“And make sure whoever is responsible for doing that to her pays,” Kara said through gritted teeth.

“Absolutely,” Meredith said.

Silence drew on between them for a moment. The unmistakable whir of a helicopter grew in the distance.

“There it is again,” Sadie said. “I knew we heard a helicopter before.”

Kara peeled back the blinds over one of the kitchen windows. “Is that the Army?”

Meredith checked her watch and then joined Kara. “If I had to guess, it’s your father.”

-31-

––––––––

Dom and his team had no cover from the Skulls except for the swing set and the hedges. One of the Skulls pushed through the greenery and howled when he spotted the team.

“Into the house!” Dom yelled.

He led the rush toward the house as more Skulls filtered in from beyond the hedges and from the front yard. Wails filled the air. Leading with his shoulder, Dom hammered the sliding glass door until it shattered. He ushered the other Hunters inside and picked off a couple of the closest Skulls. Once his team was inside, his boots crunched over the broken glass as he entered the country-style kitchen.

“We need a barricade, now!” Dom said, pointing at Renee and Hector. They hoisted up the kitchen table as a makeshift replacement for the sliding door and positioned it into place. “We’re going to need more than that!”

Miguel nodded. “Yes, sir!”

Hector and Dom laid down a stream of cover fire. Miguel and Renee disappeared out of the kitchen as bullets pierced the flesh of the Skulls. While their salvos knocked out the first wave, some continued their unabashed charge, unfazed by the rounds pounding against their freshly grown skeletal pseudo-body armor.

“Faces!” Dom yelled. “Like on the rig!”

When Miguel returned with Renee, they were carrying a leather sofa between them.

“Thought we could use a rest,” Miguel said, sweat beading out from under his helmet as they braced the table with the couch.

“Dom, this is Frank.” The pilot’s voice sounded over the comm link. “It looks like you’ve got a swarm of them. Seem to be a bit agitated by the gunfire. Coming in from the north.”

“Hector and Renee, take the front of the house,” Dom said.

“You got it,” Renee said. She and Hector ran out of the kitchen. Dom heard glass shatter as they broke windowpanes to fire out of.

The backyard was filling with Skulls. It seemed every time they brought one down, two more showed up.

“Reloading,” Miguel said, jamming in a new magazine. “There aren’t enough bullets on the Huntress to take these all out.”

“Bullets aren’t the only thing we brought,” Dom said. He pulled an M67 hand grenade from his tac vest. “Fire in the hole.”

Miguel ducked behind the makeshift barricade as Dom threw the grenade. It landed in the middle of the yard as Skulls swarmed past it. They ignored the explosive.

But not for long.

A loud blast shook the house. The Skulls nearest the detonation point tore apart, and those several yards out flew through the air like rag dolls.

The others continued to press on Dom’s position, unperturbed by those fallen around them.

Dom’s jaw clenched as he chose his marks carefully. One, two, three Skulls torn apart by a flurry of gunfire. Corpses filled the yard, and the ferrous odor of blood intermingled with the scent of gunpowder. More gunshots rang out in the front of the house, adding to the din of howling Skulls and small arms fire.

“We can’t hold them off much longer,” Renee called out.

“Hunters, I’m going to come in low, see if I can’t pull them away from your position,” Frank said over the comm link. The heavy beat of the chopper came to a roar as the AW109 buzzed over the backyard. A half dozen Skulls turned and followed the drone of the chopper, but their void was filled in by more charging the house.

Dom and Miguel cut down the ranks of Skulls, but a couple made it to the patio. They slammed against the makeshift barricade. The table tremored, but Dom and Miguel leaned against it, bracing the structure.

“Good lord, these guys are like cockroaches,” Miguel said between grunts.

Two hands reached over the table, grasping. Dom planted a bullet in the Skull’s face, and the creature dropped to the patio.

“Renee, how are you holding up in the front?” he asked over the comm link.

Shrieks and howls answered before Renee could. “I think I see an end of the swarm in sight, but these guys are relentless.”

Another three Skulls made it past Dom’s wall of gunfire. They climbed over the others, desperate to make it into the house. He considered they might just be able to hold off the Skull assault, but beating down this swarm would require every last round they’d brought. He’d hoped they could take this mission more covertly—a quick in and out.

He wasn’t prepared for a full-on siege.

An inhuman cry almost deafened him. This one wasn’t from outside.

Dom spun around in time to see a woman barreling at him. She sprang into the air, her talons outstretched and her face contorted in a vicious snarl. Dropping and rolling to the side, he dodged the woman. She crashed into the kitchen-table barricade. The wood cracked under the pressure of the Skulls outside and now inside the house.

Miguel shouldered his rifle, trying to get a bead on her. She swiped it aside. The weapon skittered across the floor. In one fluid motion, Miguel ducked her second attack and blocked a downward swing with his prosthetic arm. The woman’s claws tore into his fatigues. Vessels bulged out of the side of his neck as he strained to withstand her blow.

Dom recovered and shouldered his rifle. He plugged two rounds into the woman’s torso, sending her off Miguel and into the wall.

Chest heaving, Miguel stood and recovered his rifle. As he did, the Skull followed suit, shaking herself off. From beneath her blouse, the remnants of the bullets fell and clattered to the floor.

Miguel twisted his prosthetic arm, and the blade slid out from it. He used it to stab under the woman’s chin and through her brain. She dropped again, this time for good.

“Renee, Hector, do we have a breach?” Dom asked, panting.

“Nothing from the front,” Hector reported.

“We had a hostile inside the house,” Dom said. “Might’ve been one of the house’s occupants. Stay alert.”

Miguel continued picking off the Skulls in the backyard as more threw themselves at the barricade and windows. A harsh crack sounded as a fracture formed in one of the windows. Three more Skulls pounded against the window, their fists sending spider webs of fissures across the glass. Other Skulls rammed into each other, desperate to be the first to sink their teeth into Dom and his Hunters.

They couldn’t hold them off. Dom knew it. He glanced around the kitchen, formulating a secondary plan.

“Renee, Hector, how’s the front yard look?” Dom asked.

“We got a couple dozen Skulls clambering to get in,” Renee said.

“Is there a roof over the front porch?”

“Sure is, Captain.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Hector asked.

“When I give you the word, you run your asses up to the second floor and get on that roof. We’re going to exit from the second floor.”

“And what about the Skulls?” Hector yelled.

“Open the front door for them. Let them all in.”

“You’re crazy, Chief,” Miguel said. “If we die, I want you to know that.”

“We aren’t dying,” Dom said. “Set a plastic explosive. Doesn’t have to be big, just enough to start a small fire. Give me sixty seconds on the wire.”

Miguel inserted a blasting cap with a built-in time delay fuse into the C4. “Where do you want it?”

“I’ll take it,” Dom said. “Now get upstairs. Same with you, Renee and Hector!”

The three Hunters footfalls echoed in the halls as they pounded upstairs. Dom sprinted to the oven.

“Hold your fire!” he bellowed over the comm link.

The shrieks and cries of the Skulls filled the house as the gunfire quieted.

Dom reached behind the stove. He used the stock of his weapon to break the gas line. He placed the live explosive near the gas leak with fifty seconds to go. Noxious fumes filled his nostrils as he ran for the stairs.

One of the windows in the kitchen exploded inward, and a Skull tumbled in. He shrieked at Dom and charged. Dom threw his rifle over his back and whipped out a knife from his thigh sheath. He plunged the blade into the Skull’s face. Even as he did so, others poured in through the front door.

Firing on them now would almost certainly result in his death.

Forty seconds. Plenty of time.

Dom huffed up the stairs. Skulls filled the bottom floor of the house. The click and scrape of their skeletal appendages accompanied their terrifying bellows. As he rounded the landing toward the second floor, a Skull leapt at him from below. She stabbed her fingers at his throat. He grabbed her wrists and then kicked her back down the stairs. Her body bowled over the first couple of Skulls. It gave Dom a few extra seconds to follow the route his Hunters had taken. All the doors, except one, were open on the second floor.

“We’re right in front of you,” Miguel called over the comm link.

Dom nodded, catching sight of them through an open bedroom window. He charged for them. Then another cry sounded.

It froze Dom in his tracks.

This one was unlike the other Skulls.

It was human.

“What’s the delay, Captain?” Renee asked. “Front yard’s clear. We’re ready to go.”

“You go!” Dom yelled.

Twenty seconds to go.

There, he heard it again. The Skulls poured up the stairs as Dom searched for the source of the cry.

He ran at the only closed door on the hall and burst through. In the corner of the room, a young boy was crouched, huddled and pale. He held his small fists over his face, shielding himself from the intruder. Dom lifted the boy, no older than six or seven, under his arm.

Ten seconds to go. No time for introductions.

The boy wailed as Dom charged back down the hall. He plunged his knife into the first Skull barreling at them through the narrow corridor. He shoved its body backward, powered by adrenaline and desperation. The window lay open just yards away. He jumped through it, protecting the boy as he rolled onto the roof.

Already, Hector, Miguel, and Renee were on the other side of the street. Skulls filled the bedroom behind him, scrambling to catch their quarry.

Dom leapt from the roof, kept his legs limber, and rolled onto the grass. Pain shot up through his ankle as he rolled, still protecting the boy, and ran toward the street. The windows blew out behind him as a rumbling explosion leveled the first floor. Heat, glass, and wood fragments washed over Dom. The concussion sent him sprawling as he formed a protective barrier between the boy and the blast.

His arms and legs scraped across the asphalt. A lancing blast of heat rolled over his back. But Dom didn’t care. His team was alive; he was alive.

Bits of gore and bone rained down on them from Skulls torn apart in the blast. His ears rang as he stumbled forward, carrying the boy in his arms. Miguel, Renee, and Hector ran toward him, shouting, their mouths open but no sound seeming to come out.

Dom fell to his knees, dizziness bringing him down. He set the child on the ground before him. Blackness threatened to overtake him, but he fought against it.

The boy opened his eyes, still shivering, still frightened. He said something. Just one word. One word Dom easily read on the boy’s lips: Mom?

That was who the Skull had been in the house, the woman who had attacked him. The woman whose body was now burning with the rest of the Skulls.

-32-

––––––––

The ringing in Dom’s ears faded. The crackle of fire and the acrid scent of smoke filled the air around them. He and the Hunters ran through another yard toward a familiar street. The sight prompted a second dose of adrenaline to shoot through him. He limped faster, waving his Hunters away from the smoldering Skulls.

Renee took point as temporary squad leader. Hector carried the boy in his arms.

Dom limped along, helped by Miguel. A fierce pain throbbed through his nerves, but he pushed past it. “We’re almost there,” he grunted. Each time he breathed, agony swelled in his lungs. It felt as though the hot air had singed them, and he struggled to regain his voice. “Frank, Adam,” Dom called over the comm link. “What do you see?”

Adam answered. “You guys are looking clear to the target. Whatever mess you caused down there pretty much attracted all the Skulls in the vicinity. There are still some milling around, but they don’t look like they’re anywhere near your trail.”

“Great,” Dom said with a pained breath. The group paused for a moment near a berm in another backyard. Renee and Miguel kept watch as Hector tended to the boy, ensuring he suffered from nothing but shock. “Any word from Detrick?” Dom asked.

“We haven’t gotten any hits through UHF yet,” Adam said.

“Something’s got to be up with those boys,” Frank said. “Makes me worried we won’t have a place to land at all. If comms are down, we’re going to be hard-pressed to convince them to let us in.”

“Meredith said she saw Black Hawk activity over the base. They’ve got to be active on some channel.” Dom paused. “Though I suppose that could’ve changed.”

Frank’s voice crackled over the comm link again. “If I were guessing, worst-case scenario, their comm station is down or overrun or whatever, but there’s got to be someone on the ground monitoring a SINCGARS. Although Adam’s giving me the output power to transmit a message to them, we might not be able to receive a message until we’re within line of sight.”

“How’s your fuel?” Dom asked.

“We’re still fit for a round trip, but if we’re floating around for much longer...”

“Got it,” Dom said. “You’re going to need to land one way or another.”

Dom struggled to his feet. Miguel offered a hand, but Dom waved him off. He hoped Meredith had had better luck. They’d barely traveled a mile, and she’d had much farther to go to find his ex-wife’s place. And she didn’t have the benefit of a squad full of Hunters.

“I’ll keep to your south,” Frank said. “If you need me, give me the signal and I’ll bring this bird to you.”

With each step, pain arced up from his ankle. But it could do nothing to delay him from seeing his daughters again. Despite the odds, despite the destruction he’d seen around Maryland since they’d disembarked from the Huntress, he knew his daughters would be alive.

They had to be.

If not...he shook the thought from his mind as he bounded forward through a thin line of trees separating this row of houses from the next. He plunged through foliage and crashed through the underbrush. The other Hunters kept pace.

When a Skull looked up from a trickle of a creek, Dom rushed at it. He withdrew his suppressed HK45C and plugged two .45 caliber rounds into the Skull’s face. It dropped before it could utter a shriek.

Onward they ran into another backyard. He recognized the vegetable garden at once, along with the brick-lined fire pit. They rushed toward the house, and Dom’s heart pumped wildly in his chest. His world seemed to narrow. He almost tripped over the stake in the middle of the yard used to secure Maggie’s chain. His boots hit the deck, the pain in his ankle distant. He looked back, ensuring his Hunters were still safe, still with him.

Then the sliding glass door whooshed back. Two girls with auburn hair stood before him. He stared at them a moment.

No, not girls. No longer. The shell-shocked gaze, the bags under their eyes. Their survival had come at a cost. He could see it.

All the same, he enveloped them both in a hug. He swept them into the kitchen, twirling them around. He barely saw Meredith step forward to greet him and the Hunters, a grin plastered across her face.

“You kept your promise,” he said to her.

“Oh, it wasn’t me who saved them,” she said. “Kara rescued me.”

***

The rhythmic beep of the EKGs and low hum of biomonitoring equipment filled the isolation ward. Lauren dabbed a cotton swab doused in isopropyl alcohol over a vein in Glenn’s arm.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Still hurts like hell where you first injected me,” Glenn said.

She eyed the injection site of the EDTA chelation therapy. A red ring encircled it, bright against his dark skin. “Anything else?”

“Not really,” Glenn said. “Is that good, bad?”

“Good,” Lauren said. “No headaches? No pain?”

Glenn shrugged. “Nothing yet. Maybe a little queasy.”

“It’s probably a side effect of the antibiotics. We loaded you up a bit high to err on the side of caution.” She hoped she was right, hoped she’d found a treatment. If Glenn didn’t feel any worse, it might be a good sign. He certainly seemed to be in good spirits, and his head was screwed on right. But until she tested his blood for antibodies against the Oni Agent, she wouldn’t know if anything had changed.

“Thanks, Doc.” Glenn patted her wrist, as if he could sense her doubt. She smiled back as she drew his blood. He didn’t so much as wince. She took samples from Amir, Scott, Ivan, and Divya, too. The others remained unconscious. Divya was still out from her injuries. Amir and Scott were kept under medical sedation to protect the others from any potential aggressive outbursts.

She reached for the door when Glenn called out, “Doc, one second.”

Lauren went back to his side. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist again. For a battle-hardened Hunter, his touch was warm and soft, reminding Lauren of their more intimate past. “If I am going to turn into one of those things, will you tell me? Don’t sugarcoat it, okay?”

Lauren hesitated.

“I’m serious. I want to know before I lose my mind.”

“I promise. I will.”

But she prayed she’d never have to say those words to him. She left him again, passed the samples through a sterilization and disinfection chamber between the lab and the isolation ward, and exited into the lab. At the lab bench, she squeezed in next to Sean and Peter, both preparing solutions for the antibody assay.

They worked in silence with the blood samples, pipetting small aliquots into plastic tubes. Lauren then ran a radioimmunassay to detect the Oni Agent antibodies in each of the patients. She held her breath as they calculated the results and compared them with the initial antibody concentrations. The numbers lit up on the computer screen between them.

“Is this right?” Lauren asked.

“I think so,” Peter said.

Sean grinned behind his visor. “You did it, Lauren. You actually did it.”

Lauren couldn’t restrain the victorious grin spreading across her face. Her pulse raced with the growing sense of achievement. The Oni Agent antibody levels had dropped in all four of their patients.

“I’ll admit it, you were probably right,” Peter said.

“Probably,” Lauren said. But soon the smile vanished and her short-lived giddiness evaporated. “Of course, our treatment could be hampering their immune systems, which might be responsible for the drop in antibody levels. If that’s the case, we’re getting a false positive.”

Sean held up a finger. “I took the liberty of testing your treatment in some cell cultures, too.” He withdrew a couple of cell flasks from the incubator and examined them in the biosafety cabinet. “Take a look at this!”

Lauren and Peter crowded around him.

“The mineralization process appears to have stopped. No more calcium apatite production, which would mean the suckers causing these formations have probably died out. And look at this.” He swirled the flask around, and the mineralized tissue disintegrated into particles clouding the pink liquid media.

“The EDTA therapy actually ate away the calcium apatite like we predicted,” Lauren said. Again, she felt a mixture of satisfaction and worry. “But that means Glenn and the others will have to be careful. Their bones could be especially brittle as they recover from the treatment.”

“Definitely,” Sean said. “But I’m willing to bet they’re not going to turn now.”

“I appreciate your confidence,” Lauren said. As a doctor, she wanted her patients to recover. But in her dual role as a researcher, she knew a test population consisting of a couple of tissue culture samples and only one time point in a rushed clinical trial wouldn’t cut it. “Let’s keep an eye on them as this develops. Either way, I want to get this information to Dom. It might be useful if he’s anywhere near Detrick.”

Peter and Sean promised they’d be fine with the patients, and Lauren went through the decon chamber and into the ship’s corridor. She entered the electronics workshop. The room was alive with humming computers and the intermittent squawks of radio chatter. Chao and Samantha’s fingers tapped away at their keyboards, their eyes glued to the banks of monitors. Crumpled cans from energy drinks lay in a heap on one side of Chao’s desk. Samantha’s desk shared a similar memoriam of conquered caffeine-laden beverages.

“Can you put in word to Dom for me?” Lauren asked Chao.

He nodded, his mouth slightly agape and his gaze remaining on the screen before him. “Can do.” He clicked an icon on the monitor and handed Lauren a handset.

“Dom, this is Lauren. Dom, do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, Doc. What’s the news?” He seemed strangely happy.

“You’ve found your girls,” Lauren stated.

“I have indeed. We’ve reconnected with Meredith and several other survivors.”

“Any luck reaching Detrick?”

“Nothing on our front,” Dom said. “We haven’t had any luck over UHF. Adam is hoping there’s someone on the ground listening to chatter over a SINCGARS, but we have to get in range to make contact. I’m hoping you’ll have something for us to tell them.”

“I do,” Lauren said. Dom had already been briefed on the disastrous events resulting in Ivan’s attack on Divya, so she relayed what she and the team had found in the medical bay. She also cautioned that this was all preliminary data. There was no indication what the long-term effectiveness of the treatment might be. Whether or not Glenn, Scott, Amir, Ivan, and Divya became Skulls was yet to be determined. “But it might be a cure, Captain. We might actually be able to stop the Oni Agent.”

“Fantastic. This might be a bargaining chip if we can reach someone at Detrick. Anything else?”

“Nothing else significant to report,” Lauren said.

“Thanks for the update. Keep me abreast on all developments. Everything we can share with Detrick is worth a shot.”

She handed the headset back to Chao.

“You really think you’ve found something?” he asked, looking her in the eye for the first time.

“Maybe.”

“God, I hope so.” He pushed away from his desk and ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. “Everything we’ve picked up indicates the Oni Agent is spreading like nothing we have ever seen. Cities, nations are falling like that.” He snapped a finger.

“Have you and Samantha put together a map and timetable of the agent’s spread?”

Chao nodded. “Yep. It’s not pretty.”

“When things become a little more stable in the medical bay, I’m going to send Sean in here to take a look at your data. He can put his epidemiology background to good use.” She tugged at the lapel of her white coat. “For an agent transmissible only through direct contact, it has spread way too fast. There’s got to be something else we’re missing.”

“Maybe someone else,” Chao said. “The spread of this disease might be more than just an accident, don’t you think?”

Lauren nodded but wasn’t ready to commit further to any other conspiracy theories. The one theory she needed to focus on was the elimination of the debilitating nanobacteria swimming through her patients. “I better get back to medical.”

Chao turned back to his monitors with a headset strapped over his ears. On her way back to the medical bay, Chao’s words echoed in her mind. There was something they were missing, something about the spread of the Oni Agent that didn’t make sense. It spread faster than the Spanish flu, yet it wasn’t airborne.

The moment she pushed open the doors to the medical bay, she banished those nagging thoughts from her mind. She needed to focus on making these people better before she could dream of healing the rest of the world.

-33-

––––––––

Dom and Miguel set up flanking positions the moment the AW109 raced over the cul-de-sac. With one hand on his rifle, Dom used his other to wave Frank down. The landing wheels connected with pavement, and a draft of wind bit into Dom’s flak jacket. Adam jumped from the chopper while Frank kept the bird’s rotors going as a trio of Skulls staggered out of a nearby house. They tilted their heads, following the chopper.

Dom pointed to his eyes then to Miguel and then to the Skulls. Three short bursts from their suppressed SCARs shattered the bony frames of the creatures. They slumped to the asphalt, blood soaking from their distorted bodies.

With no other attackers in sight, Adam rushed out under the churning blades.

“Frank, keep the bird alive,” Dom said. “We won’t be long.”

The pilot saluted from the cockpit. “You got it, Captain.”

Dom brought Adam into the living room to meet up with the others. The Weavers huddled together on the couch, with Shauna and Eric seated near them. Hector and Renee kept watch for Skulls. Maggie whined when she saw the newcomers, limping over to the group. Miguel crouched beside the golden retriever and tousled the curly fur along her shoulders. The dog tried to sit and put too much weight on her splinted front leg. She yelped, and Miguel helped her lay down.

Miguel clicked his tongue at her and displayed his prosthetic. “At least you didn’t lose the whole thing.”

Maggie’s tail beat the floor as she licked his artificial fingers.

While Dom had been overjoyed to find his daughters and Meredith alive and well, he felt sickened by the fate of his ex-wife. They’d parted as amicably as they possibly could in the divorce. Dom had refused to give up his time-sucking career, and she had refused to accept a husband who wasn’t there nine months of the year. Hearing Bethany had become one of the Skulls stirred bittersweet memories of the woman he’d once loved. He pushed aside those thoughts and turned his attention back toward the task at hand. “Frank, what’s our status?”

“We’ve got contacts spread thin. No word over UHF, but I’m hoping we can strike something up when we’re in range of potential VHF comms with Fort Detrick. The bird’s got enough for a short jaunt to the base but not enough juice for any fancy flying.”

“We counted less than a dozen contacts in our direct line of sight on landing,” Adam added. “There’s far more activity—smoke, fires, apparent gunfire—closer to downtown Frederick, and from the looks of it, Detrick.”

Dom looked to Meredith next. “Anything helpful in your arsenal?”

“Lost just about everything when we were ambushed at the bus depot.” Meredith patted the holster at her side. “This is the only weapon we’ve got besides a lug wrench and pry bar.” She gestured toward Shauna and Eric.

“Sorry I lost the Pack-Rifle,” Eric said.

“A Pack-Rifle is next to useless against these guys,” Miguel said, still scratching Maggie behind her ears. “You’re probably better off walloping heads with the wrench.”

“What about transport?” Dom asked Meredith. “How’d you three get here from the depot?”

“Public transit,” Meredith said wryly. “We borrowed a school bus. I moved it down the street so you’d have room to land the chopper.”

Dom nodded. The group looked at him, waiting for direction. He counted off the civilians and then called Frank over his comm link. “Frank, how easy would it be to fit eight people into your chopper?”

“Well, it’s pretty easy if one of them is flying and Adam’s sitting out, but if you want that chopper to move with me at the helm and Adam working the comm equipment, we can realistically only take six people safely. The bird’s not made for heavy lifting, especially with the winds the way they are out here and the fuel situation getting a bit more precarious.”

“Understood.” Dom glanced at the Weavers, Eric, Shauna, and his daughters. Nina Weaver placed an arm around the boy Dom had rescued. He was still too shell-shocked to say another word, though he’d stopped shivering, and some color had returned to his face. “Frank, I want you to make contact with Detrick. Get everyone in the Army’s protection, and we’ll come after in the bus.”

“You’re not going on the chopper?” Kara asked.

Dom shook his head.

“I’m not either.”

“Not happening,” Dom said. “You’re going with the others.”

Kara’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t raise her voice. “I’ll be more useful on the ground than stuck in that chopper. I know my way around these Skulls. Ask them.” She pointed to Joe and Meredith. “I can help, Dad. I want to help.”

“Absolutely not,” Dom said. “No way in hell.”

Dom counted up the choppers’ prospective passengers, starting with the children. He considered Joe and Nina. He couldn’t separate Zack and Leah from both parents, but one would have to stay on the ground. “Joe, I’m going to need you to ride with us.”

Joe blanched, his jaw dropping and his lips quivering. “No, no, no, no. I can’t...I can’t.”

Nina grabbed Joe’s arm. “Please, don’t do this to us.”

Remorse filled Dom. He knew what it was like to have been separated from his children while the world went to hell, but he was in charge now, expected to make the tough decisions. “I’m sorry, Joe, but that’s the way it’s got to be.” He turned to Nina. “I promise I’ll get him to you safely, but we can’t waste any time. We need to go.”

“Dom, you can’t do this. We were neighbors. I lived next to your—”

Dom stood and silenced the man with a single glare. The room went cold as Dom assumed the double-edged sword of utter authority. “Joe, you’re on the bus with us.”

Joe’s face turned red, and his fists balled up, clenching tight until his knuckles turned white. But the man quieted.

“And you two.” Dom glanced at Shauna and Eric. “You’re coming with us, too.”

“Okay,” Shauna said in a meek voice. She squeezed Eric’s hand and looked at Dom.

Eric wrapped an arm around her, his bottom lip shaking, and she leaned into his shoulder. “We’ll be okay, babe. We’ll be okay.”

Dom clapped his hands together. “Let’s move out! Hunters, Meredith, everyone on the ground, we’re covering these people until they get in the air.”

“What about Maggie?” Sadie asked.

Dom met Sadie’s eyes. “She goes with us.”

“But—”

“We’ll take care of her.” Dom could see the fear in his daughter’s expression, but there was no way he could even ask Frank if they could take the dog up in the bird after he’d just told Joe, Eric, and Shauna their fates lay on the ground with the Hunters and Meredith.

“Don’t worry. You get your little butt in the air,” Miguel said to Sadie. He ruffled the dog’s fur and lifted her. “I’ll protect her.”

“Move out!” Dom said, ushering the others to the front of the house. “No time to waste.”

Kara approached him and spoke with a lowered voice. “What about Mom?”

His heart caught in his throat, but he couldn’t let emotion get in the way now. “For now, we’re going to leave her here.”

“Alive?” Kara asked.

“Of course.” He placed hand on her shoulder. “My team thinks they found a cure. And if it works, we’ll do everything we can for her.”

Kara nodded. She opened her mouth to ask another question but seemed to think better of it.

“I love you,” Dom said, squeezing her shoulder. “Take care of your sister until I get there, okay?”

“Always have, always will,” Kara said. “But I’m still going to be pissed at you for not letting me ride with you guys.”

“You wouldn’t be my daughter otherwise.” He shouldered his weapon and signaled to Renee. They both rushed out the door and led the group toward the AW109.

Frank prepared the chopper for liftoff, and the others strapped in. Miguel let Sadie pat Maggie’s head one last time before he took the dog in his arms and backed up out of the rotor wash.

“You’re clear,” Dom said to Frank over the comm link. The pilot saluted through the cockpit, and the chopper took off. “Keep me patched in to all your transmissions so I know what’s going on.”

“Will do, Captain,” Frank said.

Dom stole a quick glance at the helicopter as it moved northwest toward Fort Detrick. His reunion with his daughters had been all too short, and he prayed he’d see them again in due time.

“Godspeed,” he whispered as the helicopter sped away.

The Hunters gathered around Dom, along with Meredith, Joe, Eric, and Shauna. They moved through the neighborhood toward the bus.

Dom wondered how many of the houses they passed were filled with families entrenched until the Oni Agent outbreak subsided. But another thought lingered in his mind, one he’d tried to ignore for the purpose of fulfilling this mission and preventing his conscience from destroying him.

If Lauren and his team did discover a cure, if they could reverse the effects of the Oni Agent...was every Skull he killed nothing more than a sick person who could have been healed? Instead of eliminating enemy threats, were he and his team actually killing civilians whose only crime was succumbing to a biological agent?

He shuddered at the thought and almost keeled over where he stood.

Miguel caught up to him and laid a gloved hand on his shoulder. “You okay, Chief?”

“Just my ankle acting up,” he lied. The cognitive dissonance of it all threatened to crush him if he dwelled on it too long. He wanted Lauren to find a cure, to prove they could reverse the drastic changes the Oni Agent had caused and save his daughters’ mother. But a darker, more selfish part of him wanted her to say that there was nothing they could do. That these people turning into Skulls were truthfully no longer people—they were monsters, and their deaths were justified. Wrestling with these thoughts did nothing to ease his worries as they boarded the damaged bus.

“Moving out,” Meredith announced over the bus’s PA system as the diesel engine rumbled to life.

The Army better have some answers. He just hoped they would hold their fire long enough to allow them through the gates, but as the bus charged down the road, Dom wasn’t so sure he was going to like what he found at Detrick.

-34-

––––––––

Dom watched the once-picturesque streets of Frederick pass by. A few were nothing but smoldering ruins and ashes. Empty cars littered the road, making their trip long and tedious. The rumble of the diesel engine attracted a bevy of wandering Skulls, now screeching and following the bus.

Dom spotted a van with doors ajar and a couple suitcases, ripped and torn, spilling from the vehicle. He wondered what had happened to the family that must’ve been trying to get the hell out of Dodge. Then a sick feeling overtook him when he saw the white bones, picked clean of flesh, scattered along the sidewalk near the van. A single Skull chewed on one of the larger bones, sucking the marrow dry. It looked up from the remains as the bus trundled past and joined the herd, thirty or forty deep now, of Skulls chasing after Dom and the Hunters.

The skeletal growths protruding from their spines and shoulder blades appeared almost as large as those of the Skulls they’d seen aboard the IBSL. Crimson saliva dripped from their mouths. A thin, lean beast with ropey muscles led the pack, scrambling over wrecked sedans and pickups. A couple of other larger Skulls shoved each other in their desperate attempt to reach the bus. One tumbled to the asphalt, and Dom watched as the others trampled it, caught up in their frenzy for live prey.

One wrong turn, one accident, and the creatures would be on them in seconds.

“How long until we reach Detrick?” Dom asked, his hand on one of the brown vinyl seats to brace himself as he stood by Meredith.

Meredith had chosen to backtrack over the path she’d taken to get to Dom’s family’s home. It was a long route, but she’d said she’d encountered fewer hostiles by sticking to the outskirts of the city. “An hour or so, I hope.”

Dom sat in the seat near her and pressed on his comm link. “Frank, this is Dom. How’s air traffic?”

“I don’t see any of the Black Hawks Webb reported before,” Frank responded. “But there’s certainly ground activity around Detrick. I’m guessing we’re almost in range. I’ll keep you patched in.”

There was a moment of silence over the line. Dom imagined Adam adjusting their radio aboard the AW109.

Then Frank’s line came over the comm link again, relaying their current attempt to reach the Army base. “Fort Detrick, Fort Detrick. This is Frank Battaglia, pilot of an unregistered aircraft approaching your airspace. I’ve got eight souls aboard, none infected, and we’re looking to land. Fort Detrick, do you copy?”

Silence, followed by a flurry of white noise.

Dom waited with bated breath.

“Anything?” Meredith asked.

“Nothing yet.”

Frank repeated the call. “Fort Detrick, do you copy?”

“Civilian aircraft, we copy. This is Second Lieutenant James Mendelson. You’re not authorized to approach our airspace. I repeat, you are not authorized.”

Dom clicked on the private line to Frank. “Time to play our hand. Let them know what we’ve found.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” Frank said before switching from the private line. “Fort Detrick, we think we’ve found a potential cure to the biological agent causing this mess. Get one of your superiors on the line so we can talk.”

“Civilian aircraft, you do not have permission to enter our airspace,” the man repeated.

“A cure, Mendelson. If you don’t let us land, we can’t help you.”

“Civilian aircraft, you do not—”

Another voice interrupted. “Civilian aircraft, who do you represent?”

Dom clicked on the private line. “Go ahead and tell him, Frank.”

“I’m flying out from the Huntress, a Visby-class corvette anchored near Annapolis. We’re with a private covert contracting agency.”

“And who has contracted you to approach Detrick?”

“No one, sir,” Frank said. “We’re just looking to lend a hand.”

There was a pause and then, “I’m sorry, but you are not authorized to land at this time.”

“Patch me in,” Dom said through the private line.

“You’re good to go, Captain,” Adam said.

“Fort Detrick, this is Dominic Holland, captain of the Huntress. With me is Meredith Webb, representing the Biological and Chemical Warfare Defense division of the Central Intelligence Agency.”

There was a pause before the voice said, “I’m sorry, Captain Holland, but I have to deny your request. We can’t—”

“Who am I speaking to?”

“You’re speaking to Deputy Commander Shepherd, currently acting Commander in place of Colonel Steven White. I’m requesting you turn your aircraft around. We aren’t allowing civilians into the base.”

“I’m not sure you’re understanding, Deputy Commander. My researchers may have found a cure. We’re looking to make sure this cure finds its way into the right hands.”

“I’m sorry, Captain Holland, but there’s no way for me to authorize your landing. For all I know, you’re bullshitting us. Hell, you could be in league with the bastards responsible for this mess. If your bird enters our airspace, we will shoot it down.”

Dom’s pulse quickened as he pictured his daughters, all the people he’d sworn to protect. All of them shot out of the sky before they could reach safety. “Deputy Commander, you are allowing that bird to land. I realize you’re in a desperate situation, but we’re equipped to help. My group specializes in bioweapons. Commander, we’re ready to take down this Amanojaku Project bullshit. Let my chopper land.”

The line was silent for a moment. Dom had played his cards, and it wasn’t a particularly good hand. But now was time to see whether it was enough. “Captain, can you repeat that last part?”

“We’re ready to blow this whole Amanojaku Project to hell.”

“Where did you get that name?”

“I told you, Deputy Commander. We’re covert ops.” He was ready to press his luck a bit more. It was all he had left. “If I’m not mistaken, the Amanojaku Project originated from World War II technology developed by the Japanese that made its home at Fort Detrick for a time.” He let his words sink in for a beat. “I’m going to repeat this once more, Deputy Commander, and I want you to deeply consider how many lives are at stake if you don’t believe me: We may have found a treatment, a cure, something to help people suffering from the results of this weapon. You can put us in cuffs once we touch down if it makes you feel better, but we’re here to help.”

The radio chatter went silent for a moment.

“Captain Holland, your aircraft has permission to land.”

“Roger that, Detrick.” Dom fought to withhold the deep sigh of relief. “Just one more request. We also have a school bus with the rest of my crew. We’re going to need clearance for that, too.”

“I’ll make you a deal, Captain. If you can get your bus to the base, we can let it in. But I can’t make any promises of clearing the contacts outside.”

“Deal, Deputy Commander,” Dom said.

Once the conversation ended, Frank’s voice crackled back over the comm link. “Thanks, Captain. It should be smooth sailing from here.”

“Be safe, and get the bird on the ground,” Dom said.

“They’re in?” Meredith asked. The rest of the Hunters, Joe, Shauna, and Eric were listening in. Even Maggie seemed to perk her ears, her furry head cocked in attention.

Dom turned to address the group. “We’ve got clearance for the chopper.”

The crew cheered and clapped. A brief flutter of hope buoyed Dom’s spirits. Miguel pounded his fist on the seat and then hugged Maggie. The golden retriever’s tail beat the seat next to her. Then the bus jerked hard right. Dom slammed against the window, unprepared for the sudden shift in direction. Meredith offered no explanation as the diesel engine roared.

Dom caught himself and leaned over the seat. “Meredith, you okay?”

The vessels in her neck bulged as she strained to control the wheel. Her brow wrinkled in concentration. Then he saw the swarm of Skulls she’d avoided. Bodies with warped appendages ran at the bus, pure bloodlust radiating from their faces. Their voices called out, signaling that the hunt was on. The hundreds of surging bodies made the smaller group that had been chasing them seem suddenly trivial.

“They came out of nowhere,” Meredith said, her eyes glued straight ahead.

Back in the neighborhood, Dom and his team had been lucky to fend off a good forty or fifty of them. But the sheer mass of Skulls now sprinting after the bus numbered in the hundreds. Bodies swarmed like a tidal wave. They leapt over the wrecked cars and corpses littering the street and pounded along the sidewalk past strewn garbage and the chewed bones of humans unlucky enough to be caught outside.

“Holy shit,” Hector said. “We don’t have enough rounds for that.”

“Can everybody keep their comments to themselves while I concentrate on the goddamned road?” Meredith’s tone was venomous.

Dom didn’t blame her as she wound the clumsy bus between the husks of burned-out cars. The bus jostled when it crunched over a half-eaten carcass. The Skulls chased after them as if each individual were a single cell contributing to a massive creature with an insatiable appetite. Their voices rose up like a choir from hell as Maggie barked back, her tail between her legs.

“I hate to state the obvious, but we need to go faster,” Miguel said.

“Don’t I know it.” Meredith cranked hard on the wheel.

Dom pulled the second grenade from his vest. He steadied himself on the seats as he made his way to the back of the bus. Yanking up the red lever on the rear emergency exit, he pushed open the door. Cool air rushed past him, rustling through his hair as he brought his throwing arm back and held onto a bus seat with the other. He launched the grenade, and it soared over the snarling creatures, landing amid them and lost under their feet.

A second passed before fire and chunks of flesh and asphalt exploded upward. The explosion took out at least a dozen of the monsters, but the resulting void was quickly filled with jostling, rabid Skulls. The creatures seemed not to even notice the flames as the remnants of their clothes burned.

Dom shut the rear door. “Well, anybody else got any bright ideas?”

Joe set down the machine pistol Renee had loaned him. He closed his eyes and crossed himself, mumbling a prayer. Eric and Shauna leaned into each other as if saying a final goodbye.

“Bigger explosives?” Hector offered.

“I’ve still got some C4. You didn’t use it all back at the house,” Miguel said.

Dom propelled himself back up the aisle. The howls of the encroaching Skulls penetrated the bus, threatening to drown out the words shared among his team. A plan began to coalesce in his mind. “Perfect. Get it ready for me. Meredith, we going near a bridge anytime?”

“Wasn’t planning on it, but I’m up for the detour,” she called back. The bus swung hard to the left as she barreled down another street lined with empty storefronts. “There’s a river that runs through downtown Frederick.”

“I’m familiar,” Dom said. “Quite scenic. Hope the city doesn’t mind if we do some remodeling.”

“I can head that way. It’ll put us en route to Detrick, too.”

“Perfect. Let’s lose these bastards.” With so many threatening to overtake them, Dom found himself no longer caring about whether these Skulls might be saved with Lauren’s cure. Survive now, guilt later.

The bus rumbled down the street, crushing the occasional Skull in its way. Ahead, Dom could see the red-brick buildings of downtown Frederick and the faux antique–styled streetlights lining the riverwalk.

Miguel worked quickly to secure the blasting cap in the C4. Perspiration trickled down his forehead. “How long?”

“Give it five seconds after I toss it.”

Miguel’s eyes widened, but he cut the fuse to Dom’s specifications. He handed the explosive device over. “Don’t kill us, all right?”

After taking the explosive, Dom hobbled to the back of the bus and tore open the emergency door again. He braced himself as the wind hissing over the bus threatened to pull him out and feed him to the voracious crowd following them.

The bus jumped slightly as they hit the bridge. Dom almost lost his grip but braced himself. He ignited the fuse and dropped it out the back. Almost immediately, it disappeared under the swarming Skulls.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

The explosion rocked the bus. A wave of Skulls lifted into the air. Chunks of concrete and twisted metal flew upward as blood and flesh rained down.

An enormous rumble heralded the complete collapse of the bridge. The rear tires of the bus lost their hold as the concrete fell away beneath them, but the engine roared as the bus pushed forward.

They barely made it to the other side. Like lemmings, the Skulls continued their pursuit, straight over the opposite bank and into the river. The ones that survived the blast swam through water now running crimson with blood and clogged with corpses.

But at least the risky move might’ve given them an extra couple minutes or so as the Skulls struggled to swim across the river.

“Oh, shit,” Meredith said.

Ahead of them, another horde of Skulls rushed straight at the bus. So much for an extra minute, Dom thought. Surrounded on both sides by brick buildings several stories high, there was nowhere to turn. Meredith leaned forward in her seat, pressing her foot down on the pedal.

The Skulls charged, their cries and shrieks drowning out the diesel engine as it struggled to keep up with Meredith’s demand.

Dom threw himself in the seat directly behind her. He clenched his rifle hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Like some macabre jousting match, the bus closed in on a Skull leading the pack’s charge. The monster bellowed as it threw itself at the bus’s cracked windshield, straight at Meredith.

-35-

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Kara held her sister's hand as the AW109 lowered to the tarmac behind the tall fences surrounding Fort Detrick. Beside her, Zack and Leah whimpered, their mother doing the best she could to comfort the children. Her other hand held the tiny fingers of the boy her father had rescued. He'd finally spoken, only to tell them his name was Tyler before he asked where his mother was again.

Tyler looked up at Kara now. “Is Mommy mad at me?”

The tears Kara had fought to restrain trickled from under her eyelids. “No, Tyler. Mommy wasn’t mad at you.” She tightened her grip around his fingers to reassure him. “Mommy was just sick.”

“Like a tummy ache?”

“Different from that.” Kara thought back to her own mother still suffering from the Oni Agent. She knew this boy's mother was dead, and she wondered who was luckier.

“Prepare for landing,” Frank said.

The chopper's wheels hit the asphalt, and Frank clicked a series of switches. The thrum of the rotors started to wind down as Adam helped open the cabin doors. Bright sunlight filtered in. Kara held up a hand to shield her eyes and gulped hard at the sight before her. Men in green fatigues surrounded the chopper. They held black rifles aimed at the passengers of the chopper. One man stood a couple of steps behind the line of soldiers, his brow creased and gray hair tousled by the wind. Kara could tell he was important by the way he carried himself.

The leader held a bullhorn to his lips and directed it at the chopper. “Come out with your hands up.”

“Are we in trouble?” Tyler asked.

“No, no,” Kara said, even as she stood with shaky knees. “Just do what the man says.”

Nina helped her children down. The trio stood with their arms in the air. Adam and Frank did likewise as Sadie leapt down from the chopper's fuselage. Kara followed her sister and lifted Tyler from his seat to the ground.

“On your knees!” the leader barked.

As everyone sank to the asphalt, Tyler started to cry.

“Come on, Tyler,” Kara said in a cooing voice. “Just do what the man says.”

“I don't want to! I want Mommy!” Tyler twisted from her grip and started to sprint across the tarmac.

“No!” Kara heard the mechanical click of guns being shouldered and aimed. She could practically feel the soldiers tensing, ready to fire on what they clearly thought must be a young Skull loose in their base. She threw herself in front of the boy, shielding him with her body, and closed her eyes. She waited with bated breath, anticipating the crack of gunfire, the hot pang of bullets tearing through her flesh. But it didn’t come.

Tyler cried into her shoulder.

“Hold your fire!” the leader yelled, his voice booming over the tarmac.

Kara opened her eyes, holding Tyler tight against her chest, and gazed down the gun barrels. She’d done plenty of target shooting, she’d hunted with her dad, and she’d taken down those Skulls—but she’d never been on this end of a gun, much less the couple dozen that bore down on her now. Her limbs shook, and she felt like collapsing. It was all too much.

The head of the frightening welcome squad stepped past his soldiers. “Stand down,” he said.

“He’s not...I’m not...we’re people.” The words flew from her mouth. “We’re not Skulls or crazies or whatever.” Another tear rolled down her cheek. “We’re not, I swear.”

Tyler peeked out from Kara’s embrace. His face was red and wet from bawling. “I’ll be good. I will. I promise.”

Kara thought she saw a crack in the commander’s stolid face, a single moment of pity quickly swallowed up by rote duty.

He turned back to his men. “Round them up and send them to quarantine for processing.”

Boots beat across the ground as the soldiers surrounded Sadie, Frank, and the others. Shivers rippled across Kara’s flesh at his words. They’d escaped the hell outside only to be at the whim of this man. Tyler sniffled as Kara rubbed his back. “It’s okay,” she said, not sure if it would be.

Then the commander bent down to her, kneeling by her side. He locked eyes with Kara. “You’re safe here.” His tone was stern, but his eyes were kind, reassuring. “We just have to make sure you’re not carrying the disease that all those”—he gestured to the outer fences of Detrick, where Skulls clambered over one another—“things are carrying.”

The man held out a gloved hand to Kara. She took it, and he said, “I’m Deputy Commander Shepherd.”

“Kara. This is Tyler.”

“Tyler, Kara. I’m pleased to meet you. Now please follow my men. We just need to be safe, but if all goes well, I promise everything will be okay.”

Kara repeated the words in her head. Everything will be okay. Just one thing at a time. She wanted to believe Shepherd, but her mom had told her everything was okay too, and now...Kara shuddered as she stood. She took Tyler’s small, clammy hand. She had to be strong. If not for herself, for Tyler. For Sadie.

She glanced at her sister. Sadie’s face was ashen, and her lower lip trembled as a couple of soldiers escorted her away. Against every fiber of her being telling her she couldn’t, she shouldn’t, Kara smiled. A simple gesture. It was all she could offer.

“Don’t worry, Sadie. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She hated herself for saying it, but what else could she do?

***

Lauren examined the latest results of the Oni Agent antibody study. Scott, Amir, Divya, Ivan, and Glenn all showed levels indicating the agent was all but eliminated from their bodies.

“Final test,” Peter said, “is seeing how they feel. If their anger issues are gone, we’ve hit pay dirt.”

Lauren nodded and entered the isolation chamber, followed by Peter.

“How’s it going, Doc and Doc?” Glenn greeted them.

“The real question is how are you doing?” Peter asked.

“Any pain, headaches, nausea?” Lauren checked his vitals and recorded his temperature.

“Negative, negative, and negative.” Glenn exhibited none of the symptoms associated with the Oni Agent and, as far as Lauren could tell, was perfectly healthy. He gave her a warm grin that Lauren couldn’t help but return one of her own. A wave of giddiness spread through her. She refrained from wrapping her arms around him, an instinct she found hard to resist. She wasn’t completely victorious yet, and Glenn wasn’t her only patient.

She and Peter moved to Divya’s bedside. The invalid doctor forced a smile. Bandages covered her arms and face, yet she too seemed in good humor. “I’m not used to being in this bed. I’d rather be up in the lab again. What do you say?”

Lauren rubbed the top of Divya’s hand. “Hey, you deserve a couple days of rest before I send you back to monitoring cell cultures.”

Divya chuckled, her brown eyes glimmering in the overhead lights. “Boy, I can’t wait.”

Giving the doctor one more smile, Lauren moved on to their other patients, who were still medically sedated. She held her breath as she took each of them off their sedatives in turn. The first to come around was Amir. His eyes widened, and he almost jumped from his bed before Peter restrained him. His words came out in jumbled Farsi.

“What’s he saying?” Lauren asked Glenn.

The former Green Beret cocked his head, straining to understand. “I think he’s asking for his whereabouts and who you all are. He’s saying something about danger and monsters.”

Glenn spoke some words in Farsi and tried to calm Amir down. Soon the rescued IBSL mechanic’s breathing regained a normal rhythm, and he peered around cautiously at the lab.

“Maybe I’ll finally continue the conversation he owes me,” Glenn said.

“I hope so,” Lauren replied. “It’d be nice if now that he’s stabilized, he’s a bit more helpful.”

Ivan’s eyelids began to flutter open. Peter and Lauren rushed to his side.

“Ivan,” Lauren started, “how are you feeling?”

His dark pupils met hers. His mouth opened as if to respond. Instead, his head jolted forward, his teeth grinding together. He struggled against his restraints. The entire hospital bed jumped as he thrashed. The only thing to escape his lips was a shrieking howl.

“Ivan Price,” Lauren said, willing her voice to remain calm. “You’re okay. You’re in the medical bay of the Huntress. Do you understand me?”

Ivan’s broad nose wrinkled as he growled at them. His chin jutted out, and he struggled to bite at Lauren with all the ferocity of a great white shark churned on by blood. A deep pit formed in Lauren’s stomach. Maybe the Oni Agent antibody levels were a false positive, a red herring in their attempt to discover a way to reverse the biological weapon’s effects.

“Sedate him again?” Peter asked.

Lauren gave him a weak nod.

Seconds later, Scott awoke. His howls filled the isolation ward. Divya clapped her hands over their ears as Lauren rushed to put Scott under once more. She clenched her jaw as Scott slowly succumbed to the sedatives and fell into a deep slumber. What had she gotten wrong? What had she missed?

Peter shook his head. “We tried,” he said. “We tried.”

Then Lauren glanced at Amir, Divya, and Glenn again. She went to Amir first, checking his fingernails. Underneath his bandages, his wounds were no longer laced with the calcified tissue left by the nanobacteria. She repeated the examination on Glenn and Divya. They too were free from the outward signs of the infection.

An idea struck her. She moved to a corner of the room with Peter, out of earshot from the rest their patients. “None of them have any sign of a nanobacteria-induced mineralization.”

“So? It might not have hit them yet.”

“No, that’s not it. It took Scott only a few hours to show outward symptoms of the Oni Agent. Amir has been with us much longer, and even after an almost certain infection from Scott, he’s fine.”

“What are you saying then?” Peter arched an eyebrow.

“The nanobacteria themselves might not be responsible for the neurological changes leading to the violent outbursts. There’s something else at work. Think about it.”

“Go on.”

“Maybe the nanobacteria are producing a molecule, a drug, something that causes the neurological changes we haven’t been able to fix in Ivan and Scott. The nanobacteria act like little factories, doing what they naturally do by reproducing and forming the protective bony mineralized tissues around them. But they’re also making a byproduct, something we didn’t catch before. Something that affects the brain.” She paced around the ward. “If we catch the Oni Agent soon enough, we can eliminate the side effects and prevent the brain from succumbing to the agent’s long-term effects. But if we let it go...” She let her words hang in the air.

“So we need to find out what these little nanofactories are producing when we don’t kill them fast enough, don’t we?” Peter asked.

“Right,” Lauren said. She walked toward the morgue drawer in the isolation ward, where they’d stored Brett’s body. She pulled the heavy drawer open. “We’re going to need to perform an autopsy.”

Once they’d prepped the body, Lauren used the T-shaped skull key to remove Brett’s skullcap. The surgical lights beat down in the lab where she and Peter had set up the makeshift autopsy room. She leaned in, peering through her visor. Before her, Brett’s brain lay exposed. She didn’t need an MRI to confirm what she saw in the grey, wrinkled organ. White plaques, almost glaringly pale, were everywhere. Holes perforated the tissue like an aerated lawn. A large volume of Brett’s brain had been eaten away.

The brain was a plastic organ, capable of adaption. But nothing could adapt to the voids left in this tissue. What she and Peter were looking at was nothing less than irreversible brain damage.

“What the hell are those?” Peter pointed one gloved finger toward the white plaques.

Lauren gulped. “Didn’t Samantha and Chao report something about protein complexes potentially associated with the Amanojaku Project? Wasn’t that in the original project description?”

“I think you’re right.”

“Then I believe what we’re looking at is the result of a prion infection. Spongiform encephalopathy.”

“Prions? Infectious proteins? Like the ones that cause mad cow disease?”

“Right,” Lauren said. “I’m almost one hundred percent positive we can prove that in any number of HPLC, immunohistochemistry, and histology experiments, but I believe we’re looking at what happens when these prions decimate the human brain.”

“Good God,” Peter said. “So if you’re right, someone genetically engineered these infectious nanobacteria to produce the protein complexes—the prions. And those prions are turning people into killing machines.”

“This is one of those rare times when I desperately wish I was wrong,” Lauren said. “But I’m afraid that’s not the case.”

“So there’s no cure at all? Nothing we can do to reverse these changes?”

Lauren shook her head. “There’s only one potential way to stop prions, and that’s something the agricultural industry practices whenever they fear an outbreak of bovine spongiform encephalopathy—mad cow disease—has set in.”

“What is it?”

Lauren met his eyes. “Mass extermination.”

She felt a surge of helplessness, wondering if she and her medical team stood even a hair of a chance at helping those who’d suffered the Oni Agent for too long, like Ivan and Scott.

As if sensing her despair, Peter spoke up again. “Lauren, we’ll find a way. We’ll find something. In a matter of days, you made an incredible breakthrough. I know I was skeptical, but I’m behind you now. If anyone can scrounge up a better way to combat the Oni Agent, it’s you.”

“Thanks,” Lauren said. She appreciated the doctor’s confidence, but confidence wouldn’t be enough in the coming days. She took a final glance at the damage the Oni Agent had caused on Brett’s emaciated body. Her eyes traced over the jagged bones stabbing out from his joints and the plates wrapping around his ribs, along with the talon-like fingernails, yellowed and sharp. From everything they’d learned about the Amanojaku Project so far, it had taken over half a century for some misguided scientists to develop this terrifying bioweapon.

And she was expected to unravel its mysteries, to delve into its biological intricacies, and develop a way to combat it. Even if they did have all the time in the world, she wondered if her medical team aboard the Huntress was up to the challenge. If Dom got Fort Detrick on their side, would that be enough?

It would have to be, she decided. Dom’s Hunters would fight the Skulls in the streets, and she vowed to fight in the labs every waking hour available to her. For Scott. For Ivan. For Brett. For the millions upon millions of others still suffering the Oni Agent. She held her head high.

They would stop the spread of this bioweapon. Their only other choice was to let humanity wipe itself out. And she couldn’t let that happen.

“I guess it’s back to the lab for us,” Lauren said. “We’ve got some work to do.”

-36-

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The Skull slammed against the windshield, shattering the already fractured glass. His body rolled into the aisle, and the beast stood, lashing out with its talons, eyes bulging and bloodshot. Dom kicked it into the doorwell and fired three shots, ending the monster’s life. He wouldn’t let the bastard get to his Hunters or the people they were protecting.

The bus shuddered as Meredith propelled it through the Skulls. The endless, sickening crunch of bodies under the fourteen-ton vehicle accompanied the constant jostling of the bus as if they were off-roading in a Jeep. Bright-red blood trickled out of the cuts in Meredith’s face where the shattered windshield had struck her. She didn’t so much as wipe it out of her eyes as she steered the vehicle through the Skulls.

Several more of the creatures climbed up the hood. Dom picked them off as fast he could, with Miguel and Renee assisting. There wasn’t enough room for anyone else to join in the desperate shooting gallery for survival.

“Holy shit!” Joe yelled out. “They’re hanging off the sides.”

Adding to the chaos, Skulls dug their claws into the rubber seals of the passenger windows. They hung precariously from these positions, smashing their fists and foreheads against the glass. The sea of bodies in front of the bus slowed it despite Meredith’s commitment to keeping the pedal pressed tight to the floor.

Another Skull managed to climb onto the hood. It lunged for Renee. Miguel fired at it, but his shots went wide, and Dom couldn’t react soon enough. As the Skull swiped at her, Renee flew backward into the aisle. Miguel pulled the Skull off her with his prosthetic and plugged several rounds into its face. Its body went slack, and it slumped onto the floor.

Dom helped Renee up. “You okay?”

She nodded, but even Dom could see the tears in her fatigues and the blood soaking her shirt. His stomach twisted at the sight, but Renee seemed to ignore her own fate, retaking her place beside the others at the front of the bus. They did their best to clear a swath from the masses before them. It didn’t take Dom long to realize they were fighting a losing battle. He clipped in another magazine. The constant rattle of gunfire almost seemed hypnotic, pushed to the background of his senses as adrenaline overtook him.

The basic instinct of fight or flight had kicked in. With nowhere to run, all they could do was fight. The crash of a broken window in the rear of the bus drew Dom’s attention for a moment. Shauna shrieked, but Dom turned back to the front, sending salvo after salvo into the onslaught of mutated humans as Eric protected his girlfriend from an invading Skull.

The end of the Skulls was in sight. A brief glimmer of hope fluttered through Dom.

Then the bus slammed into something solid. Dom flew forward, and the lip of the bus’s dashboard caught him under his ribs. He recovered enough to see the burned-out husk of a car they’d hit. It had been obscured by the tidal wave of Skulls surging over it.

The rear of the bus was propelled forward even as the front of it caught on the cars blocking their path. As if in slow motion, the rear of the bus continued forward until the vehicle was sideways in the street. Meredith twisted the wheel hard, trying to correct the bus’s path, but their inertia was too strong. It carried the bus forward. Meredith tried to hold the wheel tight, but physics fought against her.

The bus toppled sideways and slid along the street, crushing the cars trapped beneath it. Skulls stuck between the cars and the bus burst like blood-filled balloons.

Dom and the rest of the crew tumbled, no longer in control of their own bodies. Screams and cries filled Dom’s ears. The gunfire had ceased, but the Skulls’ throaty roars had not. Metal scraped and screeched against asphalt. A cloud of dust filled the air as the vehicle groaned to a halt, overturned.

Dom’s ears rang, and he fought against the disorientation threatening to halt him. He picked up Meredith’s unconscious form. Her chest still rose and fell with each belabored breath. Miguel, his face contorted in pain, climbed over the seats and shoved the emergency exit in the roof open. Maggie followed close at his heels as he jumped through it and reached back through to help Joe, then Shauna, and then Eric exit. One of Eric’s arms hung at his side, bleeding and bent at an unnatural angle. But there was no time for first aid.

Renee helped Dom hoist Meredith over the seats. They passed her unconscious form out to Shauna. Hector followed them out as the dust cloud around the bus settled.

Dom lifted Meredith’s body over his back in a fireman’s carry. He and the Hunters sprinted down the street. Sheer agony coursed up his leg from his injured ankle, but he pushed forward. When he stumbled, Renee caught him, her own wounds bleeding profusely.

The bus lay on its side behind them. It was no more than a hulking mess of shorn metal blocking the street. Skulls poured over the top of it, spending no time mourning for their lost brethren.

Dom surveyed his wounded compatriots. The fastest among them seemed to be Maggie, and the dog was still hobbling with her injured paw. They would never outrun the beasts chasing them. They didn’t stand a chance on the ground. He fumbled with his tac vest and pulled off an incendiary grenade. He lobbed it behind them. The fiery blast was lost in the mob of Skulls. Flames caught on several of the creatures, yet they still charged forward. Pain was no obstacle to them.

There was only one chance, one escape.

“We need to go up!” Dom yelled. He pointed toward a four–story building.

Unquestioning, Miguel veered off to his right and burst through the glass door. The impact sent him rolling on the floor. He recovered and charged to the rear of the antique store. The others followed, knocking over old lamps and vases, desks and bookshelves.

“This way!” Miguel called, leading them up a set of stairs.

The Skulls flooded the bottom floor, hot on their trail.

Dom twisted his body with Meredith still over his shoulders. He fired off a spray of gunfire, sending the first row of Skulls tumbling into a mess of destroyed antiques.

Renee pulled the pin on an incendiary grenade and tossed it into the remnants of the Skulls. The resulting fire devoured the varnished wood and flowery fabric of mid-century couches and kitchen sets. Flames engulfed the first floor. Still the beasts charged through the conflagration like demons from hell.

Pounding up the stairs, Dom brought up the rear of the crew. The footfalls of the Skulls chased up after them. At the third floor, Miguel waited at the landing. He shoved a bookcase filled with old tomes down the stairs. It was heavy and bulky enough to clog most of the stairwell, yet it didn’t even slow the Skulls down.

“Worth a try,” Miguel said. He sent a volley of bullets into the creatures before continuing on after Dom.

They finally reached the door to the roof of the building. Hector and Renee had already taken positions facing the doorway, their weapons shouldered and ready to destroy the Skulls in pursuit.

Dom set Meredith on the far side of the flat rooftop. He clicked on his comm link, activating the private link to Frank and Adam. “This is Dom. Frank, Adam, do you read? We need an immediate evac.”

Static.

Hector and Renee’s weapons burst to life. Miguel joined them. Shauna tended to Eric, helping him to sit next to Meredith. She chambered a round into her borrowed handgun. The young woman appeared ready to defend her injured boyfriend to the death.

If Dom had it his way, that wouldn’t have to happen.

“Frank, Adam, do you copy? Answer, damn it!” He fought to contain the panic welling up within him.

More static. He thought he heard voices beyond the wall of white noise, but he couldn’t be sure.

Renee lobbed another grenade into the stairwell. Billowing fire and plumes of smoke poured forth, as did the Skulls, hardly perturbed by the relentless hail of bullets and explosives. The beasts were hell-bent on bringing down their fresh prey.

“Help!” Joe cried, firing his pistol at a Skull charging across the roof. The creature hadn’t come from the stairwell.

Dom fired several rounds into the Skull’s body. Bone fragments and flesh splattered as the rounds tore through the creature’s head. For a second, Dom was confused, uncertain where the beast had come from. Then he saw others climbing over the edge of the building. Their bone-plated bodies twisted and scraped against the brick walls, their bloodshot eyes seeking out prey.

While Renee and Hector continued their struggle against the onslaught from the stairwell, Miguel joined Dom in picking off the creatures hoisting themselves over the knee-high lip of brick surrounding them.

Joe’s machine pistol clicked, empty. He jammed in another magazine. One of the Skulls took advantage of his temporary helplessness. Dom adjusted his aim and fired at the charging Skull.

He missed.

The Skull leapt and stabbed at Joe with a clawed hand. The skeletal fingers pierced Joe’s chest, exiting out his back. The creature dug its teeth into Joe’s neck and tore away a chunk of flesh.

“Motherfucker!” Dom cried, charging the Skull. He fired at it, bullets clattering against the bony cage around the beast’s chest. A round smashed through the creature’s sinus cavity, ending its existence.

Joe grasped at his chest, his lips quivering. Dom ran to his side and caught the man before he fell.

“Tell—” he coughed, blood bubbling up from his throat. He opened his mouth again to speak, but his tongue pressed against the top of his mouth, crimson liquid seeping from the corners of his lips. His eyes rolled back. He fell limp in Dom’s arms, unable to finish the unspoken thought, the words Dom never wanted to have to hear.

“I know,” Dom said. “I will.”

Another Skull swung its legs onto the roof and pounced at Eric. Shauna threw herself between the beast and her boyfriend. She pistol-whipped the creature and threw her heel into its chest, sending it plummeting off the roof.

Still more creatures hoisted themselves onto the roof. The temporary effects of the adrenaline were fading. The pure desperation to survive and see his daughters once more was the only fuel Dom had left. He patted his tac vest. No more magazines. He fired his rifle until it was empty then pulled out his pistol.

Eric used his one good hand, firing haphazardly at the Skulls. He was hardly able to control the recoil from the handgun, yet he still fought against the pain from his injury. Maggie barked as Miguel butted a Skull with the stock of his rifle. He caught Dom’s eyes.

Dom understood at once. Miguel, too, was empty. Empty of ammunition, empty of energy reserves, empty of hope.

The meager group continued to fire until the blasts from their weapons became more sporadic. They circled together, Dom dragging Meredith’s body closer to the center of the roof.

They lashed out with the stocks of their weapons, with blades, with everything they had.

But it wasn’t enough.

Dom had let them all down. His only comfort was that he hadn’t let Kara come with them. The Skulls slashed at them, raking the group with crooked talons. The warm spray of blood splashed on Dom’s face. He couldn’t tell whether it was his or a Hunter’s or a Skull’s. But it didn’t matter. He’d take down as many of these demented bastards as he could before he let them devour him. He’d go down fighting, go down killing one last Skull. One less monster for his daughters to worry about.

Another Skull lashed out. Dom caught its wrist, but the beast bore down on him, throwing the weight of its bony plates at the Hunter. The Skull pushed Dom down until he was on his knees. The creature’s fanged teeth snapped, and saliva flew from its cracked lips. The Skull drew back an emaciated arm riddled with bony growths, its knifelike talons glistening. Dom dodged under the creature’s swipe and plunged his knife into the flesh beneath the creature’s chin. He twisted the blade until he saw the anger and hatred and hunger leave the beast’s bone-rimmed, reddened eyes. The Skull dropped, but another took its place. Another adversary in an endless line of twisted abominations with only one instinct: kill.

Then the distant thump of helicopter blades sounded above the jarring din of Skulls.

Frank, Dom thought. But the pilot was too late and too ill equipped. The damn AW109 was never fitted with a weapons system. What could he possibly do?

As if in answer, dust kicked up around them. The chatter of machine guns filled the air, sounding more like saw blades than gunfire. High-caliber rounds tore into the Skulls, rendering them nothing more than bags of ground meat. Skulls continued to climb over their dead brethren, unafraid of the hail of bullets cracking through their natural body armor. Splinters of the skeletal overgrowths and splashes of dark blood burst all over the roof as the piles of Skulls grew.

Dom looked to the sky. Three black choppers encircled the building, their sliding doors open. They strafed near, and Dom could see the men in their ACUs manning their M240s.

Black Hawks. Fucking Black Hawks.

Door gunners raked their weapons back and forth, kicking up concrete and shattering the waves of Skulls swarming over the building. The fire and smoke stung Dom’s eyes as he hugged Meredith’s unconscious body close.

Bending toward Meredith, he whispered into her ear, wondering if she could even hear him. “We’re going to make it, Meredith. The cavalry is here.”

Another Skull squeezed itself from under the throngs of dead beasts littering the roof. It pulled itself toward Dom with its claws, its belly scraping against the ground. What remained of its legs was little more than pulped sinew and flesh. Yet the fire in its eyes hadn’t been extinguished; it came at Dom with single-minded purpose.

Maggie barked, her ears pressed tight against her head and the fur along the back of her neck and shoulders standing on end. She snarled at the approaching Skull.

“Stay, Maggie.” Dom strode forward, his knife glistening in the blood of the Skulls he’d already brought down. The creature before him stretched out its arm, all muscle and bone. It tried to stand as if it didn’t know its legs were gone. With a flick of his blade, Dom ended the creature’s misery and kicked it backward.

Whirlwinds of air gusted around the Hunters as the Black Hawks closed in. Their blades kicked up the scent of fresh death, blood, and gunpowder. The choppers hovered precariously near the edge of the roof. Soldiers along the open cabin motioned at Dom and the Hunters to move. Hector managed to extricate Joe’s battered body from a pile of Skulls and lift it into a chopper. Dom hoisted Meredith. Beside him, Miguel picked up the dog as they followed the others rushing toward the helicopters.

A soldier offered a hand out to help Dom and Meredith. A dark visor obscured his eyes. He took Meredith into the hovering Black Hawk, and Dom climbed in after her. A medic had already begun tending to Renee’s wounds.

“Give her antibiotics. Everything you’ve got!” Dom said, desperate to be heard over the thrum of the chopper’s engines. He only hoped he could get Renee back to Detrick on time, back to real medical help where they could administer the cure Lauren thought she’d found. He couldn’t stand to lose anybody else.

The chopper lifted away as orange tongues of fire licked out of the windows of the antique store. Skulls still scaled the building, but the door gunners quit firing on the masses of roiling creatures. There were far too many swarming the streets of the once-picturesque downtown.

Dom faintly recalled a dinner with Bethany at Tersiguel’s, a fancy French restaurant overlooking the river running through the city. The restaurant was gone now, overrun by monsters, but he prayed that Bethany could still be saved. He hated the thought of leaving her locked up in her own basement, but he told himself that he had done it for her own good. He’d go back for her when he could, either with the cure or a bullet to end her suffering.

He cradled Meredith’s head in his lap. The chopper’s medic had disinfected and bandaged her wounds. Dom thought most of the cuts came from the broken glass of the bus’s windshield and not from the Skulls’ claws, but he couldn’t be sure. They’d probably all have to be quarantined. He combed his fingers through her red hair. This was a woman who’d risked her life to fulfill a promise to him. She’d been a colleague and friend for longer than he remembered. From their first days in the CIA until these moments spent fleeing in the face of a hellish tableau, she’d supported him, trusted him. Hell, she was more than a friend—to call her just a friend was to discount the bond they shared. He prayed she too wouldn’t be taken away from him by the indiscriminate clutches of death.

Beneath them, the city turned into a distant image of blocks laid among green splotches of trees and parks. It was almost as if the earth below no longer existed, as if they’d escaped the horrors overtaking the world.

Miguel made his way over to Dom. “My God, am I glad these assholes came when they did. Did you tell them where we were?”

One of the door gunners, overhearing their conversation, bent in to be heard over the chopper’s roar. He nudged up his visor to reveal his face. It was Frank. “Deputy Commander Shepherd didn’t want to expend too many of his men, so Adam and I volunteered to come on as gunners.” Frank nodded toward one of the other choppers flying in formation. “He’s over there. Shepherd was a bit pissed when he realized you and Meredith weren’t on the AW109. He didn’t want to send out a rescue squad since that wasn’t part of the deal. But I told him if we were going to get anywhere with this Amanojaku business, we needed to bring your sorry asses back to base.”

“Fucking Frank,” Miguel said. “Goddamned man of the hour.” Then Miguel’s expression turned dour as he peered back at the smoking buildings, growing ever smaller, where they’d made their last stand. “Damn it. How are we gonna break it to Joe’s wife and kids?”

“I’ll tell them,” Dom said, still holding onto Meredith. He calmed himself, willing the storm of emotions to subside. He was the captain of the Huntress and a seasoned covert operative. Yet in that moment, he felt as flimsy and helpless as a cardboard box caught in a typhoon. “I promised Joe I’d do it.”

Miguel nodded, satisfied with Dom’s assurance.

The squadron of Black Hawks slowed and descended toward Fort Detrick. As if to remind Dom of the reality of the situation, the cries of the Skulls encircling the military base rose up to greet them. Sporadic gunfire called out to meet those inhuman shrieks. He could see why Shepherd had been reluctant to send out a rescue party. He probably didn’t expect there to be anyone to rescue by the time he risked his men’s lives sending them outside of the meager safety their base provided.

The Black Hawk hit the tarmac hard, and soldiers piled out. Four medics ran toward the chopper. Each pair carried a stretcher, one meant for Meredith, the other for Eric. A grizzled man with a halo of white hair ducked under the rotor wash and headed toward Dom. He held out his hand, and Dom shook it.

“Deputy Commander Shepherd,” he said.

“You need to start my crew member, Renee Boland, on EDTA chelation therapy, followed by tetracyclin, immediately.”

“Don’t worry,” Shepherd said. “We got a complete rundown of the treatment from your ship’s chief medical officer.”

“Then I hope you do exactly as she says,” Dom said as they ran across the tarmac toward a low-lying building. Around them, soldiers carried other bodies on stretchers. “I take it you ran into a little trouble on the base.”

“That’s right,” Shepherd said. “Your boy Frank said you’ve been trying to reach us for a while.”

“That’s right.”

Shepherd paused as he glanced back at the soldiers and medical personnel carting the injured around. “When the outbreak happened, some of our people were infected. It took us a while before we could regain control of the base.”

“And your commander?”

Shepherd let out a breath. “He’s no longer with us. This virus or bacteria or whatever it is got him.”

From that statement, Dom realized Shepherd and the rest of Fort Detrick were as ill-prepared for this disaster as he was. “So I take it you were also in the dark about the Amanojaku Project until recently.”

Shepherd opened the door to the building for Dom when they reached it. “Some of my men dug through our old files. I probably don’t need to tell you this, but before the global decision to cease research and development in bioweapons, Fort Detrick served as a facility for the design and testing of biological and chemical weapons.” The Deputy Commander’s eyes swept the floor as if ashamed for a past he wasn’t actually responsible for. “According the files we found, scientists were working on the Amanojaku Project here during the 1950s. To make matters worse, the objectives of this classified project almost perfectly match the results of the outbreak we’re seeing today.”

Dom stopped in the hall, and Shepherd paused with him. “They wanted to create monsters? What in the hell were they thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Shepherd said. “But I want to reassure you that we’re absolutely committed to doing whatever we can to halt the spread of this biological agent.” He opened another door to a larger room filled with cots and people—a makeshift shelter. “Welcome to Fort Detrick, Captain Holland. You’ll be placed in the civilian quarantine shelter until we can be sure you and your group are clear. And after you have a chance to take care of your family and men, you and I need to have a long chat.”

“You got that absolutely right,” Dom said.

“Dad!” Sadie ran across the room. Dom turned to catch his daughter as she leapt into his arms. Kara sprinted after her and embraced them both.

A long road lay ahead of them. They still didn’t know who’d first sent Meredith the memo that sent them on this wild-goose chase, nor had they found out why IBSL had failed. Who was responsible? Had someone deliberately sabotaged it? Was there a larger conspiracy at work—or was it just the CIA that had blundered?

All those questions swam in his mind as the world seemed to crumble around him, but at least he had found something to hold onto. He had his daughters. He had a crew willing to put their lives against the terror of the unleashed Oni Agent and the brightest scientific minds in the world working on a cure.

And, above all, he had hope.

Thank you for reading.

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Dear Reader,

Thank you for reading The Tide. I hope you enjoyed Dom and the Hunters’ adventure as much as I enjoyed writing it. Dom’s journey has just begun, and the Skulls are still hungry. The Tide continues with the second book in the series here: http://amzn.to/1FxMprN

If you’re interested in future releases in this series and other works of mine, please consider joining my mailing list. I won’t spam you and I won’t share your email: http://bit.ly/ajmlist. As a thank you for signing up, I’ll send you a copy of Fatal Injection for free. Fatal Injection is a novella featuring Officer Ana Dellaporta from my Black Market DNA series.

In any case, as an independent writer, your feedback and support is crucial to my craft. If you’ve enjoyed the story, please consider writing a review (as long or short as you like) on Amazon at http://bit.ly/thetidenovel. Reviews help independent authors like me spread the word so others might experience our stories. I greatly appreciate any and all honest feedback. Every review is important!

I love to hear from readers. Keep in touch through a number of places:

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Email: ajm@anthonyjmelchiorri.com

The Tide Series Continues...

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Breakwater (The Tide, Book #2)

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The Oni Agent outbreak has devastated countries across the globe. Despite this apocalyptic new world, Captain Dominic Holland and the Hunters are determined to save the survivors and develop a cure. New threats and discoveries challenge them every step of the way. But they soon find potential help from an unlikely source...if they can survive long enough to receive it.

Find it here: http://amzn.to/1FxMprN

Also by Anthony J Melchiorri

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Enhancement (Black Market DNA #1)

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In the year 2058, Baltimore’s latest crime epidemic is illegal genetic enhancements. Convicted dealer Christopher Morgan finds himself on a hit-list before he’s even released from prison. In a race for survival, he must uncover a shocking conspiracy involving organized crime and genetic engineering.

Find it here: http://amzn.to/1rhSboa

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Malignant (Black Market DNA #2)

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A genetically engineered and unstoppable cancer is spreading through Baltimore’s citizens. Christopher Morgan eagerly joins Doctor Robin Haynes on a quest to engineer a cure. As the cancer spreads across the country, they discover the disease may be connected to a criminal organization. With the body count rising, they find themselves embroiled in something deeper than they ever imagined—an underground world of scientific intrigue, organized crime, and medical conspiracies.

Find it here: http://amzn.to/1xkBiyh

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Variant (Black Market DNA #3)

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While treating a patient, Robin discovers a dangerous pathogen long-since thought to be eradicated. Her investigations lead to a startling and terrifying revelation. Now, Chris Morgan may be the only one that can help her uncover the truth. 

A powerful adversary from Chris’s past has returned. The lives of thousands, maybe millions, are at stake. 

Find it here: http://amzn.to/1NgIti3

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Fatal Injection (A Black Market DNA Novella)

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Baltimore PD Officer Ana Dellaporta must unravel a sinister plot involving missing persons, murder, and genetic experimentation. And when one of her close friends goes missing, she must uncover the gruesome truth before the trail goes cold and her friend becomes the next victim.

Find it here: http://amzn.to/1BRcAEf

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The God Organ

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Brilliant biomedical scientist Preston Carter introduces an implantable artificial organ designed to grant its recipients near-immortality. But many of those recipients are suddenly dying. With the organ already implanted in his own body, Carter must uncover the truth before he’s killed by his own invention.

Find it here: http://amzn.to/1yjmMGF

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The Human Forged

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Former Army Specialist Nick Corrigan is abducted and unwittingly becomes embroiled in a biotechnological nightmare. He embarks on a dangerous adventure to return home. The only person that might be able to help him is a man Nick never knew existed—his clone. 

Back in Washington, CIA analyst Sara Monahan makes a startling discovery while tracking the use of biological weapons in an ongoing war in Africa. She races to uncover a global conspiracy that may shake the very essence of what it means to be human. 

Find it here: http://bit.ly/thf14

About the Author

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Anthony J Melchiorri is a scientist with a PhD in bioengineering. Originally from the Midwest, he now lives in Texas. By day, he develops cellular therapies and 3D-printable artificial organs. By night, he writes apocalyptic, medical, and science-fiction thrillers that blend real-world research with other-worldly possibility. When he isn't in the lab or at the keyboard, he spends his time running, reading, hiking, and traveling in search of new story ideas.

Read more at http://anthonyjmelchiorri.com and sign up for his mailing list at http://bit.ly/ajmlist to hear about his latest releases and news.