A dusky sky shone overhead when I pulled into my parking spot. I’d put a jacket on before leaving my apartment. The warm spell over the weekend had disappeared. Since it was the end of September, the nights had grown colder. The temperature hovered just above forty when the sun crested the horizon.
Private Williams was his usual polite self when he admitted me, and Carol nodded a hello when I passed. I managed a smile for both of them.
I first went to my office to check my email. The lab below my window was dark. It seemed everyone was in the same mindset. Conference first, work later. My laptop popped to life, the screen harshly bright in the dark room. I didn’t bother to turn on the overhead fluorescents since I didn’t intend to stay.
The usual morning note from the MRI popped up at the top. I skimmed past that and pulled up Dr. Roberts’ email.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]; [email protected]
Cc:
Subject: Conference
The conference will be Monday morning in the auditorium in Unit B, second level. Start time 0800.
Unit B, second level. That was a good fifteen to sixteen minute walk from my office. It was almost 7:30. The rail system would get me there fastest. I shut down my computer without bothering to check the other emails. The lid snapped when I closed it before I hurried out.
I caught the train, wind from the tunnel blowing long strands of brown hair around my shoulders. When I stepped onto the platform in Unit B, three men were ahead of me. I followed them up the stairs from the subterranean levels. Since everyone was invited, I knew we were all going to the same place.
One of the researchers glanced at his colleagues as his hand trailed along the stair railing. “I lived in Washington a few years back, on an internship. It’s very different there. Their Director is known for being a bit radical.”
“Who’s presenting today?” another asked. “Do you know?”
The first guy shook his head. “Could be Martins or Zheng. They run the two research groups. Or if it’s big enough news, it could be the Director, Dr. Hutchinson.”
On the second level, I followed the men down the hall. Groups of people already flowed into the conference room. Scents of coffee and breakfast foods from inside the auditorium wafted out.
I stood in line and looked for Amy. We hadn’t coordinated a meeting point, but I guessed I’d sit with her, Mitch, and Charlie. For the first time in my life, I was part of a team that I actually felt like I belonged to.
But when I entered the auditorium, I faltered. The room was huge.
The dim auditorium held a large projection screen hanging above the stage. Several workers hurried around the front, getting things ready. Hundreds of researchers filled the space.
My pulse leaped. Calm down, Meg. Just find Amy and take a seat.
I searched for Amy, my palms growing damper with every second. Since I didn’t spot any red curls, I looked for a seat instead. My wandering gaze stopped when I saw the tables of food and beverages in the back. Everyone was going there first, helping themselves to generous portions of the catered breakfast. Mouthwatering scents drifted my way. I remembered my resolve to not be so glutinous and walked cautiously back to take a closer look.
“Meghan!” a voice called. “There you are!”
Amy pushed her way through a group clustered in the aisle, Mitch and Charlie on her heels. “We’ve been looking all over for you.” She stopped when she reached my side. “I waited outside the lab for you, but you never showed.”
A flush crept over my cheeks. I hadn’t considered she’d wait for me. “Oh, sorry. I should have thought to go there first.”
She shrugged, looking bright and alert. I guessed she’d spent her weekend sleeping in. “No worries. Should we grab some food?”
“Sure.” I glanced at Mitch and Charlie. “Good morning.”
Mitch grinned. “Morning, Meg.” His t-shirt read – If at first you don’t succeed, don’t try skydiving.
I bit back a smile.
“Hey, Meghan.” Charlie waved. “Have a good weekend?”
“Yes, you?”
“Well, I wasn’t here, so can’t complain.”
I laughed softly.
We all walked toward the back. The buffet was loaded with food. Eggs, bacon, sausages, pancakes, waffles, fresh fruit, muffins, donuts. The list went on. There was so much food, it easily could have fed my entire apartment building ten times over. I swallowed as I remembered the promise to myself.
I stared at everything, my stomach grumbling. Ignoring it, I scooped a small portion of eggs and a few orange wedges onto my plate. My mouth watered at the sight of fresh oranges. When did I last have these?
“That’s all you’re taking?” Amy eyed my plate.
I shrugged. “I’m not that hungry.”
She raised an eyebrow when my stomach grumbled again.
Carrying our plates, we hurried to the front. The other three had left their lab coats and bags in four seats, effectively reserving them. Mitch removed his coat from one and waved for me to sit. I settled between him and Amy.
Amy started chatting. I smiled a few times when she said something funny, but for the most part, I was too distracted to listen. The oranges were partly to blame. The sweet juice coating my tongue created a joy in me that was hard to describe. Until one lived without certain things in life, it was so easy to take them for granted. I remembered having orange juice every morning when I was a kid, never thinking anything of it.
Now, I knew better.
I finished my small meal just as the lights dimmed. A hushed silence fell over the crowd. Pale light gleamed from the sconces lining the auditorium’s walls. Above, the projector’s stream glowed like a tunnel. Everything else was dark. I checked my watch. 8:00. Right on time.
Mitch continued to eat his toast, the crunch, crunch amplified a thousand times in the quiet room. Amy gave him a pointed frown when Dr. Roberts appeared on stage. Our boss’ clomping steps echoed as he marched toward the center. He stopped when he reached the middle.
“Good morning.” His booming voice echoed in the enclosed space. He didn’t need a microphone. “We’re connecting with Washington’s Compound now. When the conference is finished, report back to your labs.” He turned a sharp ninety degrees and marched off. A hum of conversation bubbled up in the room.
A moment later, a picture flashed on the screen showing a woman sitting behind a desk. The projector was as high quality as the city’s movie theatre. The woman’s complexion was completely smooth, no pixels present. She didn’t look old, maybe in her late forties. Short blond hair was tucked behind her ears, and thick, dark-rimmed glasses adorned her eyes. Her demeanor seemed casual yet confident. Serene yet steely.
It was Dr. Hutchinson.
“Good morning, Compounds,” she began. “I hope this morning finds everyone well. We want to thank all of you for joining us today. It has been a truly exciting time here at Compounds 10 and 11.”
I didn’t realize I was sitting forward in my seat, an eager smile on my face until Mitch chuckled.
“Careful Forester, you might fall off your chair,” he whispered.
A flush crept over me. He chuckled again, but I didn’t care. I’d been waiting for this moment since I’d heard about the breakthrough.
A presentation slide filled the screen. Dr. Hutchinson started by reviewing the latest research and the most recent discoveries. From there, she moved onto what they’d found.
“As you all know, despite our efforts with the deep freezes, and keeping conditions uniform, Makanza still disintegrates too rapidly outside of a host. However, we think we may have discovered a way around that.”
Murmured whispers erupted.
“Quiet!” Dr. Roberts barked from the back.
The room stilled. Dr. Hutchinson carried on, oblivious to the reaction in our Compound, and I was sure, every Compound nationwide.
“As you a
ll know, we’ve spent years trying to find a way to stabilize the virus so that a weakened version can be used in a vaccine. All attempts have proven unsuccessful. However, no one has ever tried stabilizing the virus before samples were taken.”
Before? My brow furrowed as I leaned forward once more.
“Some of you may have heard of mind-body genomics, a relatively new field. Research has shown how emotions can affect telomeres. As you all know, telomeres act as protective caps for DNA strands. The longer the telomere, the longer a cell can survive. Mind-Body Genomics has shown that telomeres respond to behavioral and emotional cues. Negative environments, chronic stress, mental unwellness, and an entire host of psychological effectors can shorten telomere length. Whereas, stress-reducing environments and mental wellbeing can maintain telomere lengths. So we began experimenting. We started taking samples in different scenarios. We removed samples from Kazzies infected with Makanza in various conditions. We always asked those infected for their permission to remove a sample. If they said no, we didn’t. However, if they said yes, we varied the collection process. We placed them in cold rooms, hot rooms, peaceful atmospheres, chaotic atmospheres, awake, asleep, while they were happy, sad…” Her voice trailed off. “We varied the collection process as much as we could, and what we’ve discovered is astounding. The samples taken from willing participants in peaceful atmospheres, in which they rated their happiness as high, have remained stable longer than any samples we’ve previously collected. Stable enough to study at room temperature for twenty minutes.”
A commotion erupted in the room.
“No way…” Charlie murmured.
Mitch dropped his toast on his plate. “Even for twenty minutes, that’s huge.”
“If we can get the samples to last longer, a vaccine is possible,” Amy exclaimed excitedly.
I gripped the armrest of my chair so hard my knuckles turned white. A grin spread across my face. Samples collected from happy Kazzies, willingly given. Who would have thought that would make a difference?
Everything Dr. Hutchinson proposed was so opposite from everything done at our Compound. So different from how Dr. Roberts operated our labs. My mind shifted to Davin. The Chair. The absolute anger and despair I sensed in him and the other Kazzies imprisoned in our facility. Is it possible that will change? That their treatment will improve now that we have proof it’s necessary?
Dr. Hutchinson kept talking, detailing the specifics of their research. I listened to each word, while my mind leaped to the future, envisioning all of the changes that could take place. With a guaranteed vaccine, the Kazzies would no longer be a threat to others. They could be free. And without the fear of a Third Wave, society might return to the way it used to be. The borders could reopen. We could become a global community again.
I knew it was a long shot, that there was still so much work to do, possibly years of work. But for the first time since I began my job with the MRI, I felt something I’d never felt before.
Hope.
12 – CHANGES
The conference finished an hour later. The four of us hurried back to our lab.
“Can you believe this?” Amy chatted beside me as we raced down the hall. “Mind-body genomics? I’ve heard of it but always thought it more voodoo than actual science.”
“Don’t knock voodoo.” Charlie pushed through a door as a draft hit us from one of the large vents. “I happen to be a big believer in playing with dolls.”
Mitch chuckled as I bit back a smile.
We all stopped at the next access door and waited to be scanned. From the curious look the guard gave us, I felt fairly certain it was the first time he’d ever encountered giddy researchers.
The elated high coursing through me seemed to also be coursing through my colleagues. I could feel the hopeful energy bubbling around us when we entered our lab.
Study the Kazzies in positive environments. Stabilize the virus before it’s removed. I shook my head. Who would have thought?
Dr. Roberts was nowhere to be found as we all moved to our lab stations. I wasn’t surprised. He and the other department heads were probably convening. The proposed new research techniques would require significant changes in our facility.
Mitch cranked up his stereo until heavy rock music blasted around us. I couldn’t help but grin.
Things are going to change!
It was hard to concentrate for the rest of the day. My mind buzzed with the conference. The same thought kept running round and round inside my mind, like a hamster running on a wheel. Stabilize the virus before we removed it. It seemed so absurd, yet at the same time, so simple. I felt sure I wasn’t the only one kicking myself for not thinking of it.
Toward the end of the day, Dr. Roberts finally made an appearance. Mitch shut off the music as soon as our boss entered the lab. From Dr. Roberts’ dark expression, I guessed whatever he had to tell us, it wasn’t good.
My hand stilled mid-air over the test tubes I was dropping solutions into. I set my supplies down and snapped my gloves off. A pit formed in my stomach.
After all of us had gathered around our boss, Dr. Roberts put his hands on his hips. “I know you all heard from the conference what Dr. Hutchinson proposes we do.”
We all nodded.
Dr. Roberts scowled. “Dr. Sadowsky has outlined a few changes as a result of what’s been learned.”
I swallowed audibly. Dr. Sadowsky. The Director of Compound 26. Dr. Roberts’ boss.
“Dr. Sadowsky wants us applying the techniques done at Compounds 10 and 11, with one added change.” Dr. Roberts clenched his teeth. It looked like it pained him to continue. “One person from each group will be entering the cells to work with their Kazzie directly. We wish to see whether close contact has a measurable effect on the virus when samples are taken.”
“What?” Amy’s head snapped back causing her curls to shift. “Go in the cells?”
“Yes. Those are direct orders from Dr. Sadowsky.” Dr. Roberts seethed. “He wants to see if we can obtain more productive results than Compounds 10 and 11.”
Mitch shoved his hands in his pockets, a frown on his face. “That’s extremely dangerous. The risk for exposure to the virus increases dramatically out of a controlled environment. The Kazzie’s cells are completely contaminated.”
“I’m quite aware of that,” Dr. Roberts replied dryly.
“So why risk that?” Mitch persisted.
“Let’s just say that Dr. Hutchinson’s discovery has caused some sparks of competition in our Director.”
I’d never met Dr. Sadowsky. However, I imagined it wasn’t a laid-back personality that had earned him the most coveted position in our Compound.
“So who’s going in?” Charlie asked.
“And how do we know Davin won’t attack him… or her?” Mitch added.
Dr. Roberts took a deep breath. “We’ll confine Davin to the Chair, and I’ve decided Dr. Forester will go in.”
My eyes widened. “Me?”
“Meghan?” Amy said at the same time.
Dr. Roberts nodded. “Yes. Dr. Forester will be the designated researcher conducting the experiments for your group.”
My heart pounded. “Why me?”
“Dr. Sadowsky feels that females will be best for this project, since overall, women are seen as less threatening than men.”
Amy guffawed. “If that’s not sexist, I don’t know what is.”
No kidding.
“Despite your opinions on this.” Dr. Roberts gave Amy a sharp glare. “Those are my orders.”
“But why Meghan?” Mitch put his hands on his hips. “She’s the newest one here. Shouldn’t it be Amy?”
Dr. Roberts’ tone dropped. “Are you questioning my orders?”
Mitch’s nostrils flared. “Perhaps.”
As nervous as I felt, I almost pointed out the irony of the situation. Dr. Sadowsky felt women might make the Kazzies more comfortable. Considering the hostile amount of testosterone flowing between Mitch and
Dr. Roberts, I had to admit, he had a point.
“So when does this all start?” I shuffled my feet while wringing my hands. “When do I go in?”
“Tomorrow.”
THAT ONE, LITTLE word left me reeling. Tomorrow I’d be going into a cell. With Davin. Just the two of us. The thought was enough to make me sick.
At home that night, I tried to block the memories of the first time I’d seen Davin, when he’d been in a rage, throwing everything. The blindingly fast crash of his chair, the splintering of his bed frame. Everything had cracked or broke the moment it made contact with the wall or ceiling. Thinking about that was bad enough, but knowing he was powerful enough to make the glass vibrate every time he’d launched himself against it…
That made me grow cold.
Davin was so powerful, and he hated me. He hated everything about the Compound and every researcher in it. I wondered what he would do if he wasn’t restrained. As much as the Chair repulsed me, I was suddenly thankful for it.
Since I needed to be fresh and alert for the next day, I made myself go to bed early. That backfired. I had a fitful night’s sleep. Perhaps it was the smoky air floating in through my open bedroom window. A few neighbors, in the houses surrounding my apartment building, had fires going. The wood smoke was heavy and sweet. It settled around me as I tried to doze off.
Normally, I liked the coolness autumn brought, but the sickly, fiery smell was like sticky tentacles wrapping themselves around me, forcing me to plug my nose and cover my head. I eventually gave up and closed the window. It did little to help. The smell and frigidness hung in the air, refusing to dissipate.
Once I finally fell asleep, I tossed and turned. Vivid, haunting dreams of Davin and the Chair plagued me. In each of them, he broke free from his restraints and launched himself at me, wrapping his impossibly large, incredibly powerful hands around my throat, my biohazard suit nowhere to be seen.
Compound 26: Book #1 in The Makanza Series Page 10
