Nobility

by Dana Lyons

  She nodded, expecting as much.

  The tarp was lifted, leaving her feeling oddly exposed. She saw several biohazard suited personnel ready with buckets and covered her face. The antiseptic hit her like a wave, landing cold against her back. Stringent and smelling of a lab, it washed over her and soaked her hair.

  “Stand up,” he said, motioning.

  She rose and started stripping off her clothes; they went into a bag that was sealed by another person in a suit. A shiver danced across her back, not so much from the cold, but from the even more chilling aspect of their hazmat suits.

  Once she was naked, he motioned again and she lifted her arms and hair. This time the antiseptic came in a piercing sting like needles, invading every corner of her body. The spray stopped, and someone handed her a towel.

  “Can you walk?”

  She quickly dried and dropped the towel. He handed her laboratory overalls that she slipped into. As she moved, they watched her as though expecting her to start coughing blood or having a seizure. Fear rolled off them, fear for themselves and for her. Finally, she answered. “Yes, I can walk.”

  A quick internal body check said she was fine except for the sting of the antiseptic on her abdominal cuts. In the time that she lay on the floor embracing the vial, she hadn’t prayed, hadn’t begged, hadn’t for one moment felt regret for her action. Nobility dictated her behavior, but the reality of Nobility also dictated her emotions.

  I have no fear.

  “I’ll be out of isolation by tomorrow,” she announced, startling them. She chuckled, for now they looked at her like she was insane. “Where are we going?”

  “To a military bio-containment facility.”

  “And the people who were in the airport, where are they?”

  With a hand gesture he motioned her forward through a tunnel that deposited her into a van. She turned around to demand an answer. Before he closed the door, he said, “They’re all going into quarantine at various locations.”

  He paused. “You know, what you did was extraordinary; you saved a lot of lives. Under different circumstances, I’d shake your hand.”

  She stopped him again before he closed the door. “Where’s Quinn Kingston? He’s my partner.”

  “He’s already in quarantine at the same facility you’re going to.”

  The door shut and the vehicle began moving. She rode in a plastic encased shell with no windows. She reached out to her team. I’m headed to quarantine.

  Quinn answered, Already here. Jarvis, too.

  Rhys? she called.

  I’m here. Jarvis is a busy man. He was just here and has our hit-and-run driver locked in special quarters. I’m guarding him.

  Simon?

  Yeah. Jarvis has me and Harper’s body in an abandoned military installation under guard. I’ll be doing the autopsy tomorrow.

  Together they chorused, How are you?

  I’m fine. A few cuts from the vial, but that’s all. Quinn? How about you?

  I feel fine.

  Rhys? What about Lazar?

  He’s on his way.

  6

  By the time Dreya reached the military installation for the quarantine, Jarvis was already there supervising her arrival.

  She had put on a hazmat suit over her laboratory overalls and walked clumsily through another tube into a building with the tube terminating at a steel door.

  She looked through the glass in the door to a hallway lined with glass-walled isolation cells. Quinn occupied one cell. She opened the door, leaving the tube behind, and proceeded to a cell with her name already taped on the door.

  There was an entry cubicle before the containment cell. She stepped into the cubicle and the door closed behind her with a hermetic seal. A fine mist followed, then pressurized air sucked it clear.

  She stripped out of the hazmat suit and the laboratory overalls and passed them down a chute, activating another mist dispersal. The suction cleared it away and left her chilled in her nakedness.

  Lining the hallway were five glass cells in a row, each with an airlock entry cubicle. Each cell held a bed, a toilet and sink, and no privacy. She pressed a red button on the wall and the door to her containment cell slid open.

  After she stepped in, the door closed behind her with a claustrophobic whoosh of air. She noticed a set of clothes on the bed and dressed. Unlike Fallujah, where she saw nothing beyond the fabric of her head cover, here in this sterile, glass enclosed environment, she saw everything. Oddly, she felt more alone, even more isolated.

  Quinn.

  He faced her from two cells over and placed his hands on the glass. She mirrored him with her hands.

  How are you? he asked.

  She smiled, detecting his fear and wanting to encourage him. I feel fine. Nothing to report. She cocked her head and read his face. Are you worried?

  He frowned lightly as if the question hadn’t occurred to him. Before he could respond, she asked, Quinn, do you feel it? Nobility … everyday … working.

  The fine fluctuations around his eyes gave her his answer before his words.

  I do. I sometimes speak to Nobility, as though it were an entity inside me. It’s telling me to not be afraid.

  I know. I wake up every day and I feel like a new person, she agreed. But beyond his words, her eyes told her something else bothered him.

  The hall door opened and Jarvis entered. He approached her outer cubicle and spoke through the microphone. “How are you holding up?”

  Concern laced his eyes and she smiled to ease his distress. “I’m fine, really.”

  He opened the outer door and stepped into first cubicle. “What the hell were you thinking, Love?”

  She appreciated his rebuke and realized she’d have to get used to those two questions. “My thoughts were to contain this, whatever it is, and save lives.”

  He glared at her with a fierce concentration. She read his micro-expressions and understood his unasked question. “If you knew Nobility as I do,” she offered, “then what I did isn’t so outlandish a move. All I can say is, don't worry.”

  “Huh,” he grunted. “It all comes back to Nobility. You’re giving me wrinkles, you know that?”

  “Have you seen Lazar? How long are we going to be in here?” Being cooped up and surrounded by glass made her feel like a specimen under a microscope.

  “I’ve assigned Lazar full and total control over you and Quinn, seeing as how he—” He gazed off for a moment before finishing. “Seeing as how he understands your DNA. He should be here any time.”

  She exhaled with a rush of relief knowing Lazar was coming. Hesitant, she asked, “Is anyone sick?”

  “Not yet.”

  For a moment, she allowed herself a quick gasp of relief. A wild part of her hoped this was all a hoax, that there would be no loss of lives. But her instincts didn’t agree. “What about Quinn’s prisoner and the driver of the hit-and-run?”

  He clamped his lips and she knew she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say. “Let me guess. Lawyers in shiny suits showed up and whisked them off.”

  “Even pulled the handler out of quarantine.”

  She paused, needing to share her thoughts even though speaking the words aloud left her uneasy. She whispered. “That’s not a good sign.”

  His voice dropped and went soft. “I know. But I’m holding their vehicle as evidence in a murder investigation. Forensics are going over it now.”

  “Make sure Rhys gets their report, okay?”

  “Will do.” He pulled something from his pocket, put it into an envelope and placed it in the airlock next to the cell door. “Simon wants you to look over this.”

  She activated the airlock and retrieved the envelope. It held an evidence bag containing a thumb drive and a piece of plastic. She inspected the plastic, reading 22-b stamped in red. “From Harper’s pocket?”

  He hefted another package into the airlock. “Here’s a tablet; let me know what you find.”

  Her hand went up to the
glass, feeling the isolation already—missing, if not contact, then at least sharing space with other people. “Don't forget about us,” she joked half-heartedly.

  After he left, she went to work on the thumb drive. While she found an extensive collection of messages and instructions, the bank accounts and identity held the most possibility for finding a trail.

  Quinn? I miss you.

  I miss you, too.

  Silence built, but she had to ask. If you’re not afraid of getting sick, what are you afraid of?

  He pointed an accusing finger at her and complained, You cheat.

  I have super eyes. She smiled and made the V with her fingers and pointed at him. You can’t hide something like that from me. So, what’s bothering you?

  Someone is behind this. Someone with a lot of money. And power. Enough power to make all of us disappear.

  The hall door opened and Rhys walked in. I heard that.

  “Rhys!” she cried.

  He stopped by Quinn’s cell and they fist bumped the glass walls. “You all right, dude?”

  Quinn chucked his chin like it was nothing. “Yeah. Got this. Needed a little down time, anyhow.”

  Rhys held up two hangers full of clothes. “Brought you both something to wear tomorrow,” and placed a hanger outside each of their outer cubicles.

  At Quinn’s cell, Rhys entered the cubicle and put a small bag in the airlock. “Here, toiletries, so you can keep your image up.” Quinn took them with a thumbs-up.

  Rhys came to her cell and lifted a bag. “Thought you might like a little of the same. Plus, I brought you fresh contacts.”

  She removed the bag from the airlock and set it aside. He put his hand to the glass, she placed hers opposite. I don't like being separated from you.

  We don't like it either.

  She waited for him to ask the questions she expected, but he remained silent. Aren’t you going to ask?

  Ask what?

  “What everyone else has asked, what was I thinking?” she whispered.

  His fingers spread out on the glass as if he were taking her flesh in his. He made her wait, clearing his throat roughly as his eyes glistened with tears. “You lead by example, Dreya. I would have expected nothing less of you.”

  Burning tears filled her eyes. “I really needed someone to understand.”

  He smiled. “It’s not your actions that scare me.” You know this case is going to stink all the way to the top.

  Quinn added, He’s right. We need to tread carefully and cover our asses. He gazed across the glass walls of the empty cell between them with his serious soulful eyes, the eyes of the wolf, the eyes of warning to the pack.

  Simon, are you there? she called.

  Here, and I agree. We keep this one close to the vest. No one outside Jarvis and Lazar.

  Her heart swelled with pride for her men. Even though they were separated from each other by distance and space, they maintained purpose—to see the pack survive and to find who’s responsible for Harper.

  Simon interjected, I’m doing the autopsy in the morning. While I don’t expect to find anything, I want to make sure an official document is entered into the system. Also, I hate to bring this up, but if the level of complicity is what we suspicion, you don't expect Harper was the only one with a vial, do you?

  Before they could answer, the door opened and Lazar walked in. Her immediate thought was, Something’s different about him. As usual, he surprised her with how young he looked, even though today concern dared to crinkle the corners of his eyes.

  “Dreya, Quinn, talk to me.”

  “Nothing to tell, Doc,” Quinn said.

  “Me, too,” she added. “I suppose you saw the video. I sat right on top of the vial and so far, I’m fine. Maybe there was nothing in the vial but water.” She shrugged, wanting that to be the final word on this adventure, even though she seriously doubted as much.

  Nobility kept her from worrying about herself, but there were over seven billion others to think about. With the loss of the two handlers, their lead to the top of this shit show was getting thinner and thinner.

  Rhys, did you get the attorney information on the two guys?

  I did.

  We’re going to need that. There’s got to be a trail of crumbs somewhere.

  I have someone in mind to help us.

  She motioned Lazar over to her microphone. She asked in her softest voice, “Are we secure in here?” She rolled her eyes toward the cameras.

  “Yes,” he said quickly. “I made certain the cameras and microphones were disabled from the recorders before you arrived.”

  With that clear, she asked, “Do you have access to a mass spectrometer?”

  “What do you need?”

  “I’m trying to create a lead out of next to nothing. We have this from Harper.” She put the plastic piece and the thumb drive into the evidence bag and sprayed sanitizer over it before putting the bag back in the airlock. “We got this from Harper’s pocket. Is there any way you can figure out where the plastic piece was made?”

  He peered at the plastic and squinted. “Twenty-two b. Hmm.”

  “What?” She read his face and knew he had something. For the first time since she threw herself over the vial, she had a surge of hope.

  He held the bag up to the light. “This is a blister pack delivery. Now all legally produced blister packs have to have the name of the drug printed on it. This one has no such identification, only this ’22-b’, which means it’s not US government regulated.”

  She quickly added, “Street drugs with this delivery have the name of the drug on the package, too. So, it’s not a street drug.”

  “Which means,” he said softly, “it’s privately produced.”

  Their voices had dropped to a bare whisper. Quinn and Rhys intently followed their conversation through their open mental connection.

  “Although I don't expect it to tell us anything, I’ll take a piece and run it,” Lazar said.

  His facial reads were all over the board. She saw certainty and conflict side by side, an anomaly in her experience with him; she’d never seen him show anything except utter ego. She cocked her head and squinted, seeking to see beyond his carefully held expression.

  “How long are Quinn and Dreya going to be in here?” Rhys asked.

  “It’s far too early to know anything,” Lazar said. “But I’m here to monitor their cases. I’ll be collecting blood samples as soon as I change and get set up.”

  She needed time to think about Lazar’s anomalous facial reads, but before he left, she had to ask, “What are you afraid of?”

  His face shut down and he glanced away.

  It’s something he wants to share but doesn’t want to say the words. I’ve never seen him so reticent.

  When he finally responded, he silently mouthed, ‘I may know who’s behind this’.

  That he made the gesture silent even with knowing they weren’t being recorded gave her a flash of chills between her shoulder blades.

  “We were just discussing that when you walked in,” Rhys said.

  Again, Lazar mouthed silently, ‘Speak to no one.’ “I’ll be back for blood samples in a few minutes. Rhys, stick around. I want one from you as well.”

  “But I wasn’t exposed, Doc,” Rhys complained.

  Lazar just smiled as if Rhys’ logic held no ground. “Still, I need one.” He went to the door and paused before walking out. When he looked back, his expression raised Dreya’s hackles. She had to wonder. What is he up to?

  Rhys had brought an overnight bag and opened the empty cell between her and Quinn.

  “Spending the night? That’s dedicated,” Quinn teased.

  “Where else would I go with you two in here and Simon off to who knows where?” Rhys replied.

  By the time he settled in, Lazar returned with a phlebotomy tray and two disposable hazmat suits. He set one suit in front of Quinn’s cell and one in front of Dreya’s.

  He entered Rhys’s cell first a
nd took his sample. “I need one from the raven, too.”

  Rhys tucked his chin, affronted. “Why, pray tell?” He pulled his arm back as if unwilling to supply the second sample.

  “Because I need to see what Nobility is doing in your bodies, animal and human.”

  “Call yourself doctor or vampire, this is all you get from me,” Rhys grumbled. He dropped his clothes and transitioned. With a squawk, he jumped on the table. Lazar drew the small sample, labeled it and placed the tube in his tray.

  At Quinn’s cell, he put on a suit and entered the cubicle. He sealed the cubicle and told Quinn, “Coat your arm with the sanitizer, open the airlock and put your arm through.” He drew the sample, labeled and put it in the tray. “Now, wolf blood.”

  Quinn transitioned, but gave a robust snarl with a full array of teeth as he placed his front leg on the airlock ledge.

  Lazar teased, “Good thing I also have a veterinary doctorate.” The sample was put away and the airlock closed. Lazar removed the suit and dropped it down the chute, then initiated the sanitizer mist before pumping the air from the cubicle.

  He repeated the process at Dreya’s cell. She gave him her arm through the airlock. As her blood filled the tube, she couldn’t help but wonder what he would find. Would he discover a virus or toxin? Was there even anything to find? If so, had Nobility been working against whatever was there? Could she have antibodies already?

  Lazar put the sample away, swabbed her arm and applied the bandage. “I’ll bring you a meal as soon as I get these prepped.”

  He made it as far as the door before turning around. “Can you get a message to Simon?”

  “And that is?”

  “That blister package reminded me of something. Ask Simon to draw blood from the deceased’s heart for an antibody test.”

  After he left, she settled in as best she could, trying to relax. But being locked up made her anxious, especially with a crime under way. She gazed about the small cell, wanting to pace, but it wasn’t large enough.

  Easy, princess.

  Simon!

  Just checking in. How’s everyone?