by C. E. Glines
I nodded. “Olivia it is, and please, call me Macy.”
After rounding yet another corner, we stopped in front of another set of double doors, only they were wooden this time. The name plate said Dr. Heathrow Hollins. Catchy.
Her knock on Dr. Hollins door was immediately followed by, “Come in.”
Once again, I noticed that she didn’t open the door until given permission to. Awfully polite she was.
“Dr. Hollins, this is Dr. Greer,” Olivia said, introducing me. “We’ve had a bit of a schedule change, but I’m sure you’ll have no problem accommodating Dr. Greer.”
Well, well. She’d whipped out her steel again. Wrapped in a seemingly innocent statement, she managed to hide both a command and a threat. Man, she was good.
I lacked the finesse or subtlety to pull off such a thing. By the look on his face as he regarded her, he’d picked up on it too and didn’t care for it.
He made no move to greet either of us and, rather stupidly I thought, sat there looking me over. I didn’t think he seemed appropriately impressed with my superheroness.
He was cute in a boyish kind of way. His hair was unkempt, and he had stubble that looked to be a few days old. In general, he looked tired. Great, now I was starting to feel sorry for him. Until he stood up with a sneer on his face and extended his hand.
“Greer,” he said through clenched teeth.
I was surprised any sound could escape. I couldn’t resist. I took his hand and mimicking him, I gritted out, “Hollins.”
It was harder than I thought to say that without moving my jaws, and it certainly wasn’t what I was saying in my head. But I refrained from using foul language whenever possible.
His eyes narrowed at my obvious mockery, and his hand tightened around mine.
I smiled at his display, and he let go of my hand. I wiped it on my pants while I continued to stare at him. I intensely disliked this man.
Olivia cleared her throat, signaling her disapproval and putting an end to our show. She needed to get some throat lozenges.
“Well, I’ll just leave you to it then,” she said, not trying to hide the hastiness of her retreat.
Before the door had fully closed, Hollins had retaken his seat and was viewing something on his computer. I took the seat in front of his desk, which he did not offer or acknowledge. He seriously wasn’t going to sit here and try to ignore me? I’d had enough of that with the Clones.
I was about to enlighten him regarding his rudeness when his phone rang. He took the call, looking me straight in the eyes the whole time. If he was going for intimidation, he failed. I returned his glare but added a smile just to annoy him.
I wasn’t normally so antagonistic. I didn’t know if all the waiting had finally gotten to me or if it was him, but I felt like fighting. Being confronted with his attitude only increased that feeling.
Whoever he was talking to was loud, and the sour look on his face indicated he didn’t like what he was hearing. He said a lot of “Yes, Sirs” and “No, Sirs”, and then he puffed up like he was going to say more and just held it. One “Understood, Sir” later, and he hung up the phone and glared at it as if it had betrayed him.
He lifted his eyes to mine. “I understand you have an all access pass.”
I flashed him a grin. “That’s what they tell me.”
He yanked open a drawer and pulled out a flash drive. “Follow me,” he barked as he stood and left the office.
He walked really fast, and I quickened my pace to match his. He stopped at the end of the hallway and opened a door that led to another nondescript office.
“This will be your office,” he said, waving me in.
I stepped inside, but turned to face him when he remained in the doorway.
Indicating the flash drive, he said, “This has everything that we know about the current situation.” He held it out to me. “I have a meeting to get to. I should be back in an hour or so. We’ll talk then.” With no further explanation, he executed quite a nice pivot and left, slamming the door behind him.
I stared at the door still rattling from the collision with the frame. My phrasing of Hollins’ personality was way more accurate than Olivia’s.
Cataloging the room didn’t take long. There was a desk with a computer and a phone. The usual shelves and file cabinets were present, and a coat rack with a lone lab coat stood in the corner.
My thoughts turned to the phone. I wondered if this one would let me dial out. I sat down at the desk and picked up the phone. Crossing my fingers, I dialed Miranda’s cell.
As was her custom, she picked up on the third ring. “Macy Greer, about time you called!” she exclaimed. “Where are you?”
She was way too chipper for this early in the morning. Something was up. “Where’s the sour Miranda I know and love?” I falsely demanded. “And how did you know it was me?”
“Who else would call me this early in the morning?” she accused.
Right. She was referring to my propensity to not respect the dourness of the rising sun which, as she frequently informed me, led to her propensity for despising mornings in general.
“Only madmen,” I suggested. “Where and how are you?”
“Home and I’m fine. Just twiddling my thumbs till you get back.”
I heard what sounded like a muffled man’s voice in the background. Surely not. “Twiddling your thumbs, huh? So you weren’t just putting your hand over your company’s mouth in an effort to prevent me from hearing him?” I was met with silence. “Miranda?”
“You are too dang smart for your own good, you know that?” she scolded.
“And noisy too. I’m the complete package. So, do I get the whole story?”
“Only cliff notes for you.”
I chuckled. She was fine. “Let me guess,” I offered, “the couch has a starring role in this episode.”
“Naturally. I couldn’t let him sleep on my couch. You know how uncomfortable it is.”
Unfortunately, I did. It was one of those modern numbers that wasn’t even comfy for watching television. I think the afore mentioned situation was exactly why she kept the awful thing.
“The horrendousness of your couch is complete justification for your actions,” I mockingly agreed.
“Exactly. It was the only hospitable thing I could have done, seeing as he drove me all the way home.”
I wasn’t sure hospitality ought to be the first thing on your mind when dealing with a kidnapper, no matter how southern you were. Considering she wasn’t from the South at all, hospitality was a weak argument at best.
“You do know you’re not from the South?” I asked.
“Be that as it may,” she reasoned, “there was no call to be rude.”
“Sure, it’s not like you were kidnapped.”
“You were kidnapped,” she corrected, “I was chauffeured.”
I grumbled my disagreement. That was quite a distinction she was making.
“So, how are you? Where are you?” she asked more earnestly.
I glanced around the office. For the umpteenth time since this whole thing started, I had no clue where I was.
“I don’t know where I am. Apparently, I’ve been hijacked to head off a still unknown dire situation. The lead scientist, a Dr. Heathrow Hollins, seems like a real piece of work. He just handed me a flash drive, claiming it had everything I needed and left me in this office. I don’t even know what’s going on yet or why they want me.”
Which brought to mind something Director Garrison had said about proximity to their hybrids. “Miranda, just how hospitable were you with your…chauffeur?”
“I know he looks good in blue satin.”
What? When I didn’t respond, she explained.
“My new sheets are blue satin.”
Against my better judgment, I asked for clarification. “As in blue satin and only blue satin?”
“And coffee colored skin.”
Alrighty then. As hospitable as you could be and too much
info.
“Why?” she asked.
“Maybe nothing, I hope.” I let the telephone cord I’d been coiling around my finger bounce back. “Is your companion still in the room?”
“In the shower. Again, why?” she asked more firmly.
“Without him knowing, can you look for anything you can find on a Director Garrison and a quasi-government agency responsible for hybrid development?”
“You mean other than HCF?”
“I’m not sure. Could be an extension of or not related at all.”
“Ok, will do. How do I get in touch with you?”
“I don’t know.” I checked the phone and desk for a number, but couldn’t find anything. “I’ll just contact you when I can.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
I could hear the worry creeping back into her voice. “I’m fine for the time being,” I assured her. “I need to get started on my reading, so I’ll call you soon.”
“Okay. Go get’em or save’em. You know what I mean. Talk to you soon.”
“Miranda, be careful.”
“Back at ya.”
I placed the phone back in its receiver. Hearing Miranda’s voice and knowing she was okay, soothed away a little of the anxiety I’d been feeling. I hoped finding out what was going on would take away the rest.
I started up the computer and plugged in the flash drive, only to discover that the computer was password protected. I stared at the screen in disbelief. I bet that prick Hollins knew this would happen.
Growing angrier by the second, I determined that I was not going to sit here and do nothing until he came back. I removed the flash drive and put it in my pocket. Grabbing the lab coat, I slipped it on and headed for the door.
Right before my hand reached the door knob, I had a brief moment of panic when I considered that the door could be locked. I did not relish the idea of escaping through an air vent. To my relief, it wasn’t locked, and I swung the door open wide.
Peering out, I didn’t see or hear anyone in the hallway. I stepped out and pulled the door shut behind me. With my hands in the pockets of the borrowed lab coat, I headed out in search of a computer I could actually use, possibly to never be seen again. Crazy Macy had a certain ring to it, didn’t it?
I thought I might be stopped once I left the office, but I just walked down the halls like I belonged there and no one bothered me.
My search led me past several highly occupied computer labs, but not seeking to draw attention to myself, I kept looking. I didn’t even bother to try and remember the way back to the office. If I was as important to them as they were saying, they’d find me soon enough.
I finally found a suitable lab that had only two other occupants. It was quite large and would allow me to use the end opposite the two already there. Quietly, I entered and seated myself at a bench in the back of the room. The two scientists, who were furiously working on their own projects, never even lifted their heads at my arrival. Nor did they notice my two moves down the bench before I found a computer that didn’t require a password.
As I waited for the file to load, I thought about Hollins again. He had disliked me from the first moment we met. Was he upset because they brought someone else in or because I was a female? Or was it just me in particular?
He had to know I wouldn’t be able to get on the computer and therefore not be able to read the file. Other than preventing me from gaining access to the situation, what would that accomplish? Was he intentionally trying to keep me off the case, and if so, why?
The file directory appeared on my screen, and simply the titles of the files sent chills through me. The first few read, Physical Aspects of Hybridization Achieved through Nanobot Infusion and Temporal Effects of Nanobot Morphism.
Nanobots and Temporal Effects? Ooh, this was going to be good, like juicy ribeye steak good. I pushed the sleeves of the lab coat up and eagerly began to read.
CHAPTER 8
AN HOUR AND A HALF later, I sat, staring off into space and drumming my fingers on the table. “I don’t understand,” I said to myself. Thankfully, the other scientists had already vacated the lab, and I was alone with my muttering.
Alone and stunned on many levels.
I shrugged the lab coat off and threw it over the chair next to me. Lacing my fingers together behind my head, I leaned back against my seat and began to sort through what I had read.
Part of the report contained information I already knew. I was already familiar with the new RNA discovered that was responsible for the cellular machinery allowing for the seamless insertion of animal DNA into the human DNA strand. That was how all the hybrids I had been studying were created.
What was new to me was the introduction of nanobots into the process. The inclusion of nanobots revolutionized the creation of hybrids. It allowed for rapid bodily transformations in both directions. Changes such as eye re-contouring and bone reconstruction happened in a matter of seconds or minutes, depending on what was being transformed. It was shape shifting in a purely mechanical definition but on an astronomical cellular scale.
There was also a brief mention of nanobots altering brain wavelengths which allowed for hybrids bearing the same nanobots to establish an as yet undefined mental connection. Hollins had not seen fit to include any in depth explanation beyond the results achieved, an oversight I would have to correct.
But in general, the sheer scope of the strides they had made in this area were truly staggering, and to me, as a scientist, breathtaking. I presumed this was not the part the Director had a problem with. That was probably the last file outlining the impending epidemic of hybrid change about to sweep the earth.
I also thought it odd that I had to wade through all of the other reports before getting to the one report I was supposedly brought here for. It appeared to be another delaying tactic imposed by Hollins. I had yet to conclude that Hollins wanted the crisis to develop to its full potential, but it sure was looking that way.
According to the report, the crisis owed its origin to bacteria’s prolific skill at horizontal gene transfer having combined with the carelessness of the Agency’s scientists. Every hybrid gene the Agency had created had been transplanted into bacteria for study and experimentation. That in and of itself was not unusual. What did not compute was that the scientists working with them had been so careless as to spread every single strain of the altered bacteria outside of the lab environment.
Now, the bacteria had taken on a life of their own and begun to acquire even more abilities. The hybrid combinations that could possibly be produced as a result were truly horrifying to consider.
This crisis was serious enough to warrant any and all attempts at stopping it. But by the Agency’s own account, the bacteria had surpassed all attempts at containment. Since the attempts made were not described, I couldn’t attest to the legitimacy of their efforts.
In any case, the failure of their efforts spoke for itself. Most of the scientists working here and some of their family members were testing positive for one or more bacteria containing the hybrid traits. It was only a matter of time before the traits started manifesting.
What I didn’t understand was why they needed me. The scientists working on this would have been as familiar, if not more so than me, with this material.
“They should have known how to fix this,” I grumbled. “It’s not even that hard.”
They only needed to construct a nanobot kill switch. The nanobots could be reprogrammed with a chemical sensitivity or vulnerability to a certain radio frequency so that when they came into contact with it, they would self-destruct. The nanobots were already Wi-Fi enabled, so reprogramming wouldn’t be that hard.
Hollins ought to have been able to end this crisis before it even got started. A protocol for just such an occurrence should have already existed. It would have existed if I were running the show.
But, beyond that, the likelihood of scientists not following protocol and that every hybrid gene had somehow escaped
the lab had to fall somewhere below zero. It simply did not add up.
Spotting a telephone, I pulled Olivia’s card from my pocket. She needed to know about this ASAP.
I slid from my chair and started towards the phone. Before I had made it three steps, I was plunged into total darkness.
“What now,” I moaned softly.
I waited for a backup generator to kick on, but no orange emergency lights appeared. I was alone, in absolute darkness, in a top secret lab for hybrid development, from which mutant bacteria had escaped containment. That wasn’t scary at all.
“Get out of the dark and creepy lab, Macy,” I hummed softly to myself.
Why was it that whenever the lights went out, when there was no apparent reason for the outage, horror films started scrolling through your brain? I didn’t even watch horror movies, regardless of the inclusion of food, and even I knew what happened to the lone girl when the lights went out. I was not going to be that girl.
Forcing myself to act, I reached back, making contact with the lab table. I grasped it and began inching my way backwards. As soon as my back pressed against the table, I turned and crouched behind it. I didn’t know why. It seemed like the thing to do, to make myself as small a target as possible.
Once the momentary panic subsided, my mind kicked into overdrive. It was only ten in the morning, so it couldn’t be an automatic lights out situation. It couldn’t be a motion sensor scenario because I had moved, and the lights were out in the hall too. The backup generator was offline, which to me said this was not a glitch in the system. It was a darkness initiated with purpose.
Whatever the purpose, I really hoped it didn’t concern me. I wasn’t conceited enough to think that everything revolved around me, but lately, it seemed like the off the wall, movie quality stuff kept happening to me.
I never knew my life as a scientist would lead me from one terrifying episode to the next. But since I’d joined the HCF, that was exactly how it had been.
Seriously rethinking that decision right now.
Crouching underneath the desk, I realized I had another decision to make. My choices were walking into the unknown or sitting duck. Seemed sort of familiar, except the last time would have been walking into a bullet.
