—but the layout of the building didn’t make any sense to me. Hallways joined and split according to no logical pattern, sometimes leading into large open spaces that then proceeded to blend seamlessly back into more hallways. I hurried to keep up with my father’s longer steps, unwilling to let myself be separated from him in those endless halls. I would never have been able to find my own way out.
Finally, we reached a somewhat familiar door, which he opened with a swipe of his key card to reveal the antechamber connecting the male and female changing rooms. He walked to the female changing-room door, unlocking it with another swipe. “I’ll wait here for you,” he said.
I ducked straight into the room, quietly unsurprised when I opened the locker holding my clothes and saw that everything had been neatly folded. Someone had been through my things, probably while I was unconscious in the lab. I stripped off my scrubs, trying not to be disturbed by the invasion of my privacy. It wasn’t like there was anything for them to find.
My clothes wouldn’t lead them to Dr. Cale, or tell them about Tansy and Adam. We were still okay. I kept that thought firmly in mind as I got dressed. There was a bruise on the side of my neck, where the needle had been shoved in a bit too hard in the process of sedating me. I touched the spot and hissed between my teeth, wondering why they hadn’t bothered with a gauze pad.
Oh, well. That was the least of my problems. I checked my reflection in the locker’s built-in mirror, making sure that I looked at least halfway presentable. Then I turned to go back to where my father was waiting.
He’d been joined by one of the two soldiers from earlier, who looked up almost guiltily when I emerged. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Miss Mitchell, your ride is here.”
“Oh, good.” I looked to my father. “I just need to get my stuff from the car, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, still sounding like he wasn’t entirely happy about the idea. “Private Dowell, you may return to your post.”
“Sir, yes sir,” said the soldier, saluting him. My father saluted back, and Private Dowell turned to head for the door, his duty discharged.
“Come along, Sal,” said my father, starting for the exit.
I followed him to the front door and out into the dim light of the evening. The sun was setting over the San Francisco Bay, turning everything the same red as the emergency lights in the lab, and Nathan’s car was cozied up to the sidewalk, with Nathan himself standing in front of it.
He started to move when he saw us, and I motioned for him to stay where he was. He stopped, light glinting off his glasses and masking the confusion that I knew was there. I made a “wait” sign with my hand, and followed my father to his car. He unlocked the doors, and I retrieved my bag from under the seat. I didn’t realize until my fingers found the strap just how afraid I’d been that it wasn’t going to be there. The staff at USAMRIID had gone through my locker. There was nothing to stop them from going through the car.
Nothing, except maybe for a father who really did want what was best for me, even if he didn’t know what that was. I slung the bag over my shoulder as I straightened, and turned to throw my arms around his neck.
“I love you, Dad,” I said.
He sighed. “I love you, too, Sal.”
I let go and ran toward Nathan’s car, so anxious to be out of there that I almost didn’t stop when I heard my father shouting, “Wait!” behind me. But he was letting me go, and so I owed it to him to at least pause. I stopped, turning, and waited to hear what he had to say.
He just looked at me for a long moment. Then, barely loud enough for me to hear, he said, “Goodbye, Sally.”
“Bye, Dad,” I said, and turned away, walking to the car where Nathan waited. He opened the door for me. I got in, and watched through the windshield as he walked around to the driver’s side. Then he took his own seat, and together, we drove away into the bloody sunset.
INTERLUDE III: JUDGES
The world is out of order. It’s been broken since you came.
Let’s party.
[The recording quality has improved over the past three years, as has the lab. The equipment is still mismatched, but it is better maintained: the scanners and terminals are newer. A hospital bed dominates the frame. Its occupant is a young woman, head shaved, eyes closed. She does not move. A blonde woman in a wheelchair is positioned next to the bed.]
DR.CALE: Doctor Shanti Cale, third status report of subject eight, iteration two. The host remains unresponsive, but blood tests present hopeful signs: the
[She pauses, and smiles brightly into the camera.]
DR.CALE: I think I’m going to call her “Tansy.”
[The woman on the bed opens her eyes and groans. There is a sudden shakiness to the scene, as if whoever was holding the camera put it abruptly down. Dr. Cale turns, waving to someone out of frame.]
[The recording stops.]
[End report.]
STAGE III: INTEGRATION
SymboGen: turning problems into solutions since 2015.
This isn’t going to end well for anyone.
-
I always knew the truth would come out eventually; truth has a tendency to do that, especially when all of the parties involved want it to stay hidden. I knew the truth would come out on the day I ingested the samples of
