brought it around and gave it to Karen, who held it against the side of the container and activated it. The image that appeared on the screen was grainy and devoid of color. As she moved it along the surface, shades of gray seemed to recede then start again.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, but whatever it is, it’s packed right up to the inside of the wall.”
When she was just a few feet from the end of the box, the screen became more black than gray.
“It’s empty right here,” she said. “I think we could probably cut through the wall and get in that way. Can you bring the case over?”
Billy retrieved the tools, and Karen pulled out a compact metal cutting torch that had been included in their kit.
“Billy? It’s Matt.”
Billy touched his earpiece. “I’m here.”
“So what have you found?”
“It’s definitely the same container. Not sure beyond that yet. One thing we do know is that it’s been modified.” He explained about the roof and the odd locking setup, then told him about the scans. “Karen’s cutting a hole in the side. Once she’s done, we should be able to see what’s going on inside.”
“All right.” Matt paused. “Billy, I have some bad news.”
Billy stepped away from the container so he could hear better. “What?”
“The student in St. Louis, the one who got sick?”
“Yeah?”
“He died an hour ago.”
That wasn’t unexpected, but Billy had hoped his prognosis had been wrong. “I’m sorry to hear that. What about the others?”
“That’s actually the bad news.”
“Oh, no. How many?”
“No other deaths yet, but the number of infected just reached one hundred percent.”
Billy’s lips parted in resignation. “All of them?”
“Yes.”
“Dear God.”
“Find us an answer there, Billy. We’re counting on you.”
A few minutes later, Karen turned off the torch and removed a two-and-a-half-foot-square section of the container’s wall. As they’d seen on the scan, there was nothing in the immediate space beyond. Karen moved right up to the opening and slowly stuck her head inside.
“Careful,” Billy said.
“There’s a wire mesh netting about a foot away from me. Goes clear across. Looks like it’s supposed to keep everything on the other side from moving into this part.”
“What’s it holding back?”
“Metal drums and hoses running between them, and….” She paused. “You know what I think?”
He was standing beside her now. “What?”
“This is
“What is it?”
“Can you hand me a flashlight?”
She held out a hand without removing her head from the hole. Billy grabbed a flashlight from the case and gave it to her. She shined the beam around for a few seconds before extracting herself from inside.
“There’s a control system mounted on the wall. I think I can hook into it with my laptop and download whatever information it might contain.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s pretty straightforward. I don’t think they ever expected anyone to get in like we did.”
Though Billy wasn’t as confident as she was, he nodded his agreement and reported to Matt, who agreed it was worth a try.
Karen retrieved a cable from the case, snipped off one end, and attached a different type of connector to it. She hooked the other end into her laptop, and motioned for Billy to stand right next to her.
“Hold the computer as close to the opening as you can, so I have as much play with the cable as possible.”
“Sure.”
Though a small woman, she was just barely able to get both her arms and head inside. She grunted a few times, her body stretching and twisting, then she let out a brief “Ha” of triumph, and pulled herself back out.
“Let’s see what we’ve got,” she said, turning the computer so she could type on the keyboard. It took several seconds, but finally she smiled. “I’m in.”
Billy touched his earpiece. “We’re linked into the container’s computer.”
“Excellent,” Matt said, sounding relieved. “And?”
“Hold on. Karen’s sorting through things right now.”
“It’s pretty bare bones,” she said. “Looks like there’s some kind of communication module. Most likely the way the Project remotely contacts the container. If we look hard enough, we’d probably find an antenna built into the roof.” She paused. “Huh. What’s this?”
Billy leaned over so he could see the screen, but it was full of unreadable code, at least to him.
She shook her head. “I think it’s just a…wait a minute…” She stared at the screen, her eyes widening in concern.
“What is it?” Billy asked.
“I…I thought it was just a normal clock. You know, to sync computers. But…” She looked at him. “It’s a countdown.”
The reality of what she said hit him immediately. “How much time?”
“No…no, this can’t be right.”
“Karen! How. Much. Time?”
She studied the readout and clicked a few keys. “Oh, shit. Run!”
Billy had left his mic on so Matt could hear everything.
“No…no, this can’t be right,” Karen said.
“Karen! How. Much. Time?”
A brief pause, then, “Oh, shit. Run!”
Before another word could be spoken, a loud rumble burst over the line, then the signal cut out.
“Billy?” Matt said. “Billy, can you hear me? What’s going on there?”
“We’ve lost the signal,” Leon said as he typed in commands on his computer, trying to reconnect the signal. “I can’t get through. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Matt threw the headphones off. “Keep trying!” he ordered as he moved to the empty station on Leon’s right.
The others in the communications room started crowding around Leon and Matt. Fearing the worst, Matt searched online for feeds from Cleveland-area radio stations. He found a news station, and pumped it through the external speakers.
For several tense minutes, there was nothing. Matt wanted to think it had just been an equipment failure, but couldn’t. Then, as if to confirm his intuition, the announcer said, “We are just receiving reports of a large explosion south of the airport. As of yet, there is no information on the cause. We have a reporter on his way to the scene, and should have more in a few minutes.”
Though there was no reason to listen any longer, Matt let the radio play. It was soon determined that the explosion did not involve any aircraft and seemed completely unconnected to the airport. According to the on-scene reporter, a two-block area of industrial-type buildings had taken the brunt of the damage. Unnamed fire department
