CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TWENTY-SIX SECONDS.

Marisol draped over my shoulder. Solution dripped from every surface. I knew exactly how many steps it took to get from any place to any other place in the lab. I knew how long it should take us to reach the greenhouse from here, at full sprint, under normal conditions. I knew we wouldn’t make it.

Yet I ran.

Part of me knew the answer, I just had to find it.

Twenty-four seconds. Blinded by solution, I tripped over something on the floor. Trying to avoid slamming Marisol’s head into the ground, I crumpled and lay back. Together we rolled onto Haru Ito’s dead body, eviscerated, cooked, drenched.

“The freezers.” We could make it to the freezers. Haru Ito, rest in peace, and forgive me.

“Go.” Marisol spit out the word.

“We’re not dead yet. Come on.” I stooped to sling her over my shoulder. “Eighteen seconds.”

She grunted. “Help me up. I can run.”

“You’re the boss.”

I yanked her up and draped her arm over my shoulder. My breath came in ragged gulps—half air, half solution. My throat and lungs burned from the alcohol. “We’ll have to climb into the freezers.”

“Will we fit?”

Fourteen seconds. “You calling me fat?”

She coughed.

“Here.” We slid, smacking into the closed door. “Hold on.” I palmed the scan. Nothing. I wiped my hand on my pants, trying it again. Nothing.

Marisol croaked out a laugh. “Technology.”

“Grease.” I ran my hand through my hair, flicked it and pressed it against the scan.

Click.

Eight seconds.

I draped Marisol over a chest freezer, opening the other. Together we heaved the metal shelves and racks of glass wafers onto the floor.

“The samples!” Momentarily I panicked.

“Get in, you idiot.” Marisol heaved herself into her half-emptied freezer, plenty of room for her slender frame.

“Goodnight.” I slammed the lid of Marisol’s freezer shut. Two seconds. I yanked out another rack of wafers from the second freezer before running out of time. A whistle blew, a yellow light strobing from the corner.

As I leapt into the half-full freezer and tried to yank down the lid, the first ultrasonic shockwave swept over me, followed quickly by the next. My muscles jerked as searing pain ruptured across every surface of my body. Glass shattered beneath me. I yanked again. Finally the lid sealed shut, stealing away the outside world with it.

In the darkness I found myself climbing El Capitan, running the routine safely in the background. My conscious mind, on the other hand, was a train wreck. The parts of the last hour I could remember were enough to convince me I’d gone mad. Plus, there was a chunk I couldn’t remember at all. And far too many questions.

I forced my awareness away from my physical pain, away from the ruptured skin cells now thawing the moisture in the cramped space and refreezing to every surface they were contacting.

Had we really found the lost gene? If so, I could be sitting on the sample at this very moment. Had we sequenced enough of it for synthesis? Hell, had Sandra even survived? Of course there was an off-site back-up, according to Marisol, but no one knew its location.

The thought of Marisol nearly made me sick. She had sacrificed herself to save the rest of us from those mercenaries—those things. Beyond that…I remembered leaving the sequencing room, firing the pistol, slamming into the wall. I remembered the feeling of being stuck, helpless. Everything else consisted of jumbled flashes, like a walking cascade. I couldn’t be sure of any of it until waking up with Marisol in my arms. For the first time, pure Marisol. No filter. No guard.

The whistle blew again. I waited several more seconds, just in case, before throwing open the lid. The other freezer was already open. “Marisol?” I stretched a leg, and every square inch of skin on my body awoke with a million pinpricks. I examined my arm, the surface blotchy and red. The effects of the sonoporation appeared to be superficial.

I heaved myself onto the floor, slipping in the dusty film left behind by the evaporating solution. “Marisol.” Nervous, I peeked inside her freezer.

“I’m still here.”

“You look like crap.”

“Always the consummate professional. Now help me out of here. There’s cleanup to do.”

“You’re the boss.” I helped her up and over the lip of the freezer. Her skin tore slightly in the places where it had adhered to the inside. For a second she allowed herself to drape over me in an odd semblance of a hug before standing on her own two feet.

“No, actually you are.” She held me at arm’s length, staring me up and down for several seconds until seemingly satisfied. “A pretty damn good one.”

I smiled, the first genuine smile I could remember in a while. “So I am.”

Cleanup, as Marisol had put it, consisted of everything from assessing damage to removing dead bodies. Both of which would result in surprisingly less work than expected. The bioclad paneling throughout the lab had been fabricated around Faraday shielding to protect electronics from static discharge and electrical surges. Apparently electromagnetic weaponry had been factored into the equation as well. I added that to the column of things your future employer doesn’t tell you when giving you the introductory tour.

“The entire facility could survive a massive nuclear EMP,” Marisol explained as we shuffled cautiously toward the greenhouse armed with nothing more than her survival knife.

Breathing silent prayers, I focused on Marisol’s voice rather than the possibility I’d lethally sterilized my entire staff. Trailing behind her, bright red drops of blood shone on the freshly cleaned floor. “You’re bleeding.” Still overwhelmed by the sum of events, I stated the obvious.

“I’ll survive. We secure the facility first. Check on the others. Then I’ll let you have a look at me.” She hesitated. “As long as you promise to keep it professional.”

“But earlier, you—”

“Blowback from the EM. I got hit pretty good. Disables bodily functions, overrides organs. I’m just glad I didn’t soil my armor.”

I realized Marisol had led us the long way round, avoiding Haru’s body. I swallowed, trying to take my mind off of the others. “Nasty stuff. Is that the effect of level five on your rifle?”

“Essentially.”

She was lying, but it didn’t seem important. I only kept the conversation going to hide my nervousness. We reached the door to the greenhouse.

Marisol tapped it with the butt of her knife. “Stand clear. Buckner and I are coming in.” She looked at me, eyes filled with her standard confidence.

As a common area, the greenhouse had no security. I flipped the lever and opened the door.