Terminal

by Kathy Reichs

  The last door opened and Ben and Chance walked out, both in faded jeans and black tees. Not surprising, since that was practically all Ben owned.

  “Twinsies!” Hiram lifted his iPhone. “Stop! Let me get a pic.”

  “Do it and that’s going for a swim,” Ben warned. Chance just rolled his eyes.

  “Boo!” Hi slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Years from now you’re gonna wish we’d captured more memories.”

  Our circle became six. An awkward hush fell over the group.

  Suddenly, I didn’t know what to say. Where to start. What to avoid.

  Ben’s left eye was a mess, but at least the swelling had gone down. The purple bruise along Chance’s jaw had begun to yellow at the edges. Everyone was banged up and sore—we’d survived enough fights to last a lifetime—but those two had taken the worst of it.

  “Are you okay?” I asked them both.

  “Fine,” Ben said.

  “I’ll live,” Chance answered at the same time.

  Another long silence.

  “Those agents,” Shelton said finally, “they know where we live. How to find us.”

  “They’re gone.” Chance spoke with quiet certitude. “I convinced them I was delusional, and they only had my Brimstone records to go on. I never uploaded Karsten’s files to a Candela server. The only copies are locked away in my study.”

  I looked down at my shoes.

  The others obviously didn’t know what Buzz Cut had told me.

  Should I tell them?

  “The fat quack mentioned interviews,” Shelton pressed, oblivious to my discomfort. “They were digging through our past, like when they approached Madison. That’s bad news.”

  “We’ve always been careful,” Hi countered. “What could they learn? Some crazy stories, but those aren’t proof. When our blood came back clean, I think they pulled the plug.”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it.

  Ben tapped my shoulder. “Out with it.”

  I flinched. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re holding something back. It’s eating at you, I can tell.”

  I sighed. Why spread the misery? But Ben had asked me a direct question.

  “The younger agent,” I began, “the short-haired one with the scar on his cheek? He told me some . . . bad things.”

  Everyone tensed, but no one interrupted.

  Deep breath. “They found our empty vials. Both the one I crushed inside the van and the case Chance ditched in the woods. Worse, they found the serum we dumped out in the gym.”

  Chance grimaced. “Enough to collect a sample?”

  I nodded.

  Shelton sucked in a breath. Hi covered his face.

  “What does it matter?” Ben turned to Chance, speaking civilly to the older boy for the first time I could remember. “They still don’t have a live virus, and didn’t collect our blood before we took the cure. I thought that was the key?”

  “They can’t work backward solely from the serum,” Chance said slowly, thinking it through. “The antidote merely treats the Viral side effects—what happened to our DNA. It’s not a blueprint for reverse engineering the supervirus.”

  “Great.” Ella glanced from his face to mine. “Then they won’t be able to make more Virals.”

  I shook my head sadly. “They have all your records, Chance. Every single one. They’ll duplicate the Brimstone experiment exactly. Buzz Cut was gloating—with the antidote in hand, those monsters have both pieces in their possession. It’s just a matter of retracing your footsteps.”

  But Chance was grinning from ear to ear. “Then they’ll be frustrated a long time.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

  “Brimstone didn’t work.” Chance laughed excitedly, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not once. I had pages of methodology on file, but I couldn’t get the protein coats to hold up. The supervirus never survived insertion.”

  I stared, uncomprehending. “But you made yourself Viral, Chance. It did work.”

  “Not until I cheated,” Chance explained. “I went back through Karsten’s notes and found the trick. I doubt even he knew what did it.”

  I waved a hand, demanding he continue.

  Chance was happy to oblige. “When Karsten created Parvovirus XPB-19, he made a mistake. But that error was key.” His face scrunched in thought. “How to explain?”

  “The Cliff Notes version,” Ben requested.

  “Simply put, Karsten overcooked his sample.” Chance clicked his teeth, as if uncertain where to begin. “First, the basics. Viruses are cultivated in a lab by using bacterial cells as hosts. Being smaller, a virus is injected—or injects itself—into a bacterial cell and use the host’s nucleus and machinery to replicate. So you need a virus, a bacterial host, and a growth medium to keep the bacteria viable during the replication process. Follow me so far?”

  Nods. Of varying confidence.

  Chance formed a circle with his fingers. “I was using sixty-millimeter dishes, then heating the growth medium to Karsten’s specified temperature. But it never worked. Either the host cells or the supervirus would inevitably collapse. After weeks of failure, I was about to give up, but went back to Karsten’s records one last time. I discovered a note I’d never considered before. One day he’d run out of clean sixty-millimeter dishes, and substituted a hundred fifty–millimeter one instead. Curious, I checked his results log, and discovered that this was the sample that became infectious.”

  My eyebrows rose. “It was the freaking plate size?”

  Chance shook his head. “Curious, I followed this trial through the records, and found something else. Karsten had tried to adjust the temperature to compensate for a larger dish. But he goofed. The computer printout showed that instead of being dialed up a mere ten degrees, as his notes indicated, he’d accidentally increased the temperature by thirty degrees.”

  Chance held his hands wide. “That was it. The crucial breakthrough. A significantly warmer growth-culture environment was the golden ticket. Suddenly, the bacterial host cells held together, and the virus was able to hijack them with ease. Karsten likely never knew why his experiment succeeded that one solitary time.”

  I blinked, struck silent. Such a tiny mistake, never recognized, had changed the course of my life. Then I snapped back to the present. “But isn’t that in your notes, too?”

  Chance slapped his hands together. “Nope. It was late when I found the discrepancy, and I didn’t understand its importance. Will and I had been working all night. I didn’t even share my theory with him—I simply walked over and jacked up the heat on our current batch.”

  “This is loony tunes,” Shelton breathed. “So then what happened?”

  Chance scratched his cheek. “The next morning we both noticed a difference—our medium had practically cooked. We took it out and examined it closely. It was misting slightly, and smelled terrible. I was about to chuck the dish when Will suggested we test it anyway.”

  Then Chance started, eyes popping. “We were so close to . . . never really took care . . .”

  I grabbed his arm. “Chance, what?”

  “That’s how we got infected.” His hands found his face. “Speckman and I touched the first sample while it was still simmering. We didn’t use precautions. Maybe it got under our skin, or we inhaled hot particles somehow. But it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “This heat thing?” Ben pressed. “It never got written down?”

  Chance shook his head, still reeling. “We ran tests. The replicated virus held up. We cultivated a second generation through traditional methods. The trick to its origin was never recorded. I never explained it to Will, either.”

  I sifted the facts. Testing every possible permutation. Then I shot forward and crushed Chance in a hug. “Those thugs think they have the recipe
, but they don’t!”

  The group exploded in cheers and high-fives.

  We’d lost our powers, but at least those black-ops psychos hadn’t acquired the formula.

  No new weapon would terrorize the world.

  It was something.

  Shelton was nodding, looking relieved. “What about the Trinity guys?”

  Ella snorted. “Don’t worry about those morons. Speckman’s a bully, but he’s been declawed. Cole is just a dope. We created a cover story long ago, and I’m sure they’ll stick to it. You won’t hear from them again.”

  Hi shuffled his feet. “Has . . . has anyone tried?”

  The mood died.

  Ben looked away. Chance cringed, but shook his head. Ella and Shelton did the same.

  A funeral pall settled over the group. In a way, it was appropriate.

  My lips moved before I knew what would come out. “Why not one last time?”

  Eyes found me. Then, slowly, everyone nodded.

  I straightened, preparing myself for failure. “All together. On my count.”

  Everyone closed their eyes.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  Plunging deep into my subconscious, I strained with all my being. Struggled to find that spark lurking at my core. The fire within me.

  Nothing.

  The power was gone. The light burned out.

  My eyes opened.

  The six of us glanced at each other. No golden glow. No red fire.

  The serum had done its work.

  “For the best,” I croaked.

  Nods. Shrugs.

  What else was there to say?

  Shelton pushed Ben lightly. “Remember when you couldn’t flare without losing your temper? So Hi kicked you from behind to get you mad, and you threw him in the ocean?”

  Ben snorted. “He deserved it.”

  “I was providing a service,” Hi protested. “I recall Tory once trying to eat a mouse.”

  I pinched my nose. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

  Ella giggled. “One time Cole lost his flare while carrying a boulder. It pinned his leg for an hour.”

  Then everyone had a story. Our funeral became a wake.

  The mood lifted as we swapped flare stories. It was cathartic. A way to say good-bye.

  I caught Ben smiling at me. “I remember when Tory sniffed that mound of bird crap in the old lighthouse. I thought she’d vomit on the spot.”

  Chance laughed. “I knew she was too clever. Always with a trick up her sleeve.”

  The boys glanced at each other. Their smiles faded.

  Something passed between them.

  Abruptly, both looked at me.

  I could see a question in their eyes. A resolve to see something through.

  They talked. Oh God, they talked about me.

  They’re going to make me choose.

  In a flash of dread, I realized I could delay this no longer.

  With another jolt, I realized I didn’t need to.

  There was no point putting it off.

  There was also no decision to make.

  My eyes met a dark, intense pair staring back earnestly. Longingly. Fearfully.

  I smiled. Even as my heart pounded.

  Before anyone spoke, I stepped forward, legs shaking so badly I worried I might fall.

  But my second foot successfully followed the first.

  I walked over to Ben’s side.

  Slipped my hand inside his.

  Squeezed for dear life.

  Ben’s eyes widened. He gasped quietly, his chest rising and falling.

  I met his startled gaze. Smiled through my blushes.

  A goofy smile split Ben’s face, one I’d never seen before. His fingers crushed mine.

  No decision to make.

  Tearing my eyes from Ben, I looked at Chance, found him watching me with a glum expression. Then he sighed, a wry smile twisting his lips.

  Chance nodded slightly.

  Not one word spoken. Volumes exchanged.

  The silence stretched, like a living breathing force.

  Finally, Hi cleared his throat. “Um.”

  My face burned scarlet as I remembered our audience. Ella was gaping at me, a delighted grin on her face. Shelton looked like he might turn and run. Hi was rubbing the back of his neck, his face twisted in an uncomfortable grimace.

  Still no one said a word.

  This was the most painful moment of my life.

  “So . . .” Hi drummed his thighs, eyes fixed to the pavement. “Right. A lot just happened there. Weirdly without anyone talking, but, um, yeah. So. Are we just gonna—”

  “I should be getting home,” Chance interrupted, glancing awkwardly at his watch. “Ben, can I borrow your car? I’ll have my driver return it this afternoon.”

  “Huh? What?” Ben stuttered, staring at my hand as if he couldn’t process what was happening. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Incredibly, he dug out his keys and tossed them to the older boy.

  Chance’s eyes met mine. “Good luck with everything.”

  I could tell he wanted to say more, but didn’t, pivoting and striding for the vehicle.

  “Chance?” Ella called.

  He half turned. “Yes?”

  “Can you give me a ride?” Ella smiled sweetly, her green eyes sparkling. “I’m stuck, and we’re practically neighbors.”

  Chance puffed up, a touch of his old swagger returning. “It’d be a privilege.”

  Ella crushed me with a quick hug, grinning wickedly. “Talk later, you sly devil.” Then she hurried over to Chance. He opened the passenger door and helped her inside, then rounded the Explorer, a brighter look on his face.

  Well, well.

  “If he scratches my baby . . .” Ben tried to scowl, but it didn’t take. He seemed relieved. And still hadn’t let go of my hand.

  I heard a shoe scuff the ground. Shelton and Hi were standing across from Ben and me.

  Shelton took a deep breath. “So it’s like that, huh?”

  “Guys.” I felt my stomach lurch. “I know this is weird. Ben and I, we—”

  Hi’s face was pained. “I don’t even get a chance? No shot to say how I feel?”

  My head jerked back. “What?”

  “So it’s all decided.” Shelton sullenly kicked a rock, his voice resentful. “What does Ben have that I don’t?”

  I stared, openmouthed.

  Hi dropped to a knee and pinned me with solemn eyes. “I can’t hide it anymore, Victoria. You need to know the truth. I love you, too. Forever and ever. I want to be your sweet babushka.”

  My mind reeled. “Hi, I . . . I didn’t—”

  “I’m gonna wring your stupid necks.” Ben’s face was burning.

  Hi burst out laughing, rolling away from his kick. I glanced at Shelton, who was trying—and failing—to hold it together.

  “I love you, Tory Brennan!” Hi bounced to his feet, ready to bolt at Ben’s slightest twitch. “Let me rub your supple feet!”

  I covered my face with both hands. “Oh God.”

  “Shut up, Hiram.” But Shelton couldn’t keep the laughter from his voice. “We’re just playing, Tor. Everything’s cool. Cooler, now, honestly.”

  “I want to plan the wedding,” Hi demanded. “I’ve got strong feelings about flowers and centerpieces, plus I’m willing to DJ.”

  Ben stared daggers at Hi, at his outer limits of embarrassment.

  But he wouldn’t release my hand.

  I pulled Ben closer, suddenly comfortable doing so. “Thanks, Hi. You’re the best.”

  Hi winked, still on the balls of his feet.

  I caught movement in the corner of my eye. Glanced up.

  Kit was standing at our kitchen window.

  My face flame
d scarlet.

  Ben followed my gaze, then dropped my hand like a hot frying pan.

  As Kit was gaping in shock, Whitney appeared at his side. Seeing us, she practically jumped, then she shook a finger under my father’s nose as her mouth began working. Grabbing his arm, she dragged Kit out of sight.

  At the last instant, I swear I saw Dad smile.

  “Blargh.” I covered my eyes. “Kill me now.”

  “Good luck with that.” Hi nudged Shelton toward his garage. “Come on, hot shot. Let’s give these turtledoves some space. I got a bootleg copy of Grand Theft Auto V in my room. Let’s play before my mother finds it and kills me.”

  “My Sunday is suddenly wide open.” Shelton pushed Hi back. “You still got those mini-pizzas? My mom never buys that stuff.”

  The boys jostled toward Hi’s door, laughing and cracking jokes.

  I turned.

  Ben was right beside me, eyes scared.

  He opened his mouth, groping for words, as Hi and Shelton disappeared inside.

  I pressed a finger to his lips. “I know.”

  The tension broke. Ben leaned forward and closed his mouth on mine.

  Warmth rolled through my body.

  Everything else faded.

  ATTENTION: DIRECTOR WALSH [“EYES ONLY”]

  FILE STATUS: TOP SECRET [LEVEL 5]

  CASE: #34687 (AKA—PHOENIX INQUIRY)

  FILE TYPE: CLOSING REPORT

  DATE: JUNE 24, 2014

  PRINCIPAL INVESTIGATING AGENT(S): J. SALTMAN, B. ROGERS

  NOTE TO FILE:

  It is hereby recommended that the Phoenix Inquiry be officially closed. Investigating Agents have found no actionable evidence to support the existence of the target objective (see Weaponized Canine Parvovirus—Dr. L. K. Keegan), and no longer believe the investigation has operational merit. (See Phoenix subject lab results, Phoenix subject detention reports A-H, Brimstone Study lab trials, and Investigating Agent Field Note 31, attached to this closing report.)

  Investigating Agents have 1) dismantled and removed Operational Field HQ CHARL-14 (“OFHQC-14”); 2) disbanded Special Medical Unit Phoenix; 3) reassigned Tactical Weapons Team Bravo and Vehicle Support Unit Baker; and 4) liquidated Research Director Dr. Lester K. Keegan (“Dr. Keegan”) in accordance with Information Containment Protocol 51.A (“ICP 51.A-4.3”)1.