The director of the CDC, Dr. Sarah Cavanaugh, out of Fort Collins, along with her personal analysis team, flew by helicopter out of the Colorado facility at ten-o-five. By twelve forty and 390 miles later, they arrived in Garden City, where, after loading equipment into two black SUVs, they are ushered by a police escort to the Keegan farm. At one twenty-five, the two SUVs pull onto the eastbound dirt road to a large perimeter enclosed by DO NOT CROSS police tape. Dr. Cavanaugh’s four-man team, herself included, consists of the toxicologist Norman Fielding, computer analyst Russell Draper, and veterinarian April Cooper. Immediately upon exiting the lead SUV, Dr. Cavanaugh directs her team to unload the vehicles for immediate staging. Sarah is fortuitously smug in her orders, and while Jack escorts her to the staging tent, he cannot help but notice her English accent or the lofty tone in which she speaks.
Per the doctor’s orders, Jack had the camouflage tent divided into two sections by a large canvas drape. However, it does very little to prevent the creature’s odor from drifting into the front half of the tent. As Dr. Cavanaugh ducks through the tent’s front flaps, the encroaching abhorrent scent of late decomposition assaults her senses, leaving the doctor gagging and forcing her to cover her nose with her hand. A few moments later, while the baleful stench continues to sting her eyes and nose, Sarah buries her face in the back of her coat arm; it is all she could do to prevent herself from involuntarily purging her stomach.
The front section of the tent is almost completely empty again at Sarah’s request, except for two foldout tables and corded outlets running off generators that hum softly outside the tent. The second section behind a closed off drape is where the remains of the three creatures were being exhibited, each awkwardly sprawled across EMT gurneys with their legs hanging over the ends of the stretchers. The nauseating stink in the back half of the tent was utterly unbearable, immediately forcing anyone entering the area to wear a disposable facemask, and even then, the stink was intolerable.
Already fitting herself with a pair of latex gloves, Sarah places the respirator over her lower face before addressing anyone further. She then turns to Sheriff Byrd and Jack, her arm shoots up, offering a firm handshake and brisk introduction. “Dr. Sarah Cavanaugh, director of the CDC.” Her English accent has Sheriff Byrd cocking a bushy gray eyebrow that vagrantly reviews his deputy.
Jack less reluctantly takes her hand, and although he too is at odds with her rigid disposition, he cannot help but notice Sarah’s dark brown eyes hiding behind her eyeglasses or her equally dark eye shadow and eyeliner. She looks to be no more than thirty-five but probably a year or two older. Her skin is fair, and her thin auburn hair is styled and cut with her bangs shaped to the contours of her face. Although she chooses to wear glasses instead of contact lenses, Sarah is quite attractive. Large firm bosoms hide well under a short-sleeved white satin blouse and heavy wool overcoat, the curves of her hips disguised under a pair of single-pleated black slacks that drape over a pair of two-inch black heels. Jack notices everything about her underlying mysterious sex appeal, all except for her presumptuous posture and a now torrid expression. Sarah Cavanaugh is the kind of woman that acutely upholds a principal position—that being the head of the CDC. More so, Jack can tell she is a woman of substance, as she has obviously dumbed down her attractiveness, never letting it supersede professionalism.
“Doctor,” Sheriff Byrd tips the bill of Cattleman, “Sheriff Dutch Byrd, and this here is my deputy, Jack Flag.”
“Ma’am.” Jack nods as he releases her hand.
Sarah glances at Jack with suspicion as he slouches against the table and crosses his arms. She looks as if she is uncertain about the idea of Jack calling her ma’am, even if it was with a warm Midwestern drawl. Jack was a handsome man. His hair, cut to a Caesar, complemented his unusual Roman-like facial features. Well built over a medium frame but not too well built, not like a lot of police officers who looked as if they were overcompensating from four years of high school bullying, Jack was a hardened veteran, and he took his work seriously. Before joining the force, he trained as an army ranger, spending thirteen months assisting the Green Berets in Saudi Arabia during Operation Desert Storm. He put forth a good measure of vigor and authority, and this had Sarah recoiling given her own position. Disregarding his lingering gesture, Sarah decidedly turns her attention to the tent flaps as her team ducks through, shouldering several utility bags and small silver cases, foregoing Jack’s misplaced accusation to focus on getting her team set up.
“Norman, Russell, I want you both set up here. Our initial objective will be to swab each specimen for DNA culture. I need to know if we are dealing with anything viral. It will make it easier to determine if I need to quarantine the area.”
“Will do,” Russell acknowledges her, unsnapping a silver case in front of him.
While removing a laptop computer from his own equipment case, Norman turns to Sarah, addressing the doctor, Sheriff Byrd, and Jack. “Do we at least know what we’re dealing with here? Is it nuclear, biological, or chemical?”
“We will need to check for all possibilities, Norman,” Sarah replies, turning her attention to the April Cooper. “April, I’ll require your assistance in the examination room. The way the specimens were initially described to me, and I’m just theorizing, but it is possible that at least some portion of the specimens might be related to a species of animal.”
“I’ll scrub up and get fitted, Doctor.”
“Pardon me, ma’am, but those things that you say are animals, aren’t—”
Sarah whips around, addressing Jack’s opinion of the creatures. “I think that is a question best left to both myself and my team, Officer—”
“It’s Jack, and I’m not sure you understand what it is you’re dealing with—”
“Fine, Officer Jack. Thank you for your input… both of you, really. I will certainly take it under advisement.” Sarah then nods, dismissing Jack and Sheriff Byrd’s presence. “Now if you don’t mind, I do believe we can take it from here.”
Jack sighs in light of her clamorous behavior. “Suit it yourself, ma’am.”
“Wait a cotton-pickin’ minute, missy,” Sheriff Byrd interjects.
“Dr. Cavanaugh,” She corrects the sheriff immediately.
“Doctor,” Sheriff Byrd corrects himself with another agitated sigh, “I think you might wanna let Jack explain exactly what you and your team are about to walk into. I’ll bet my bottom dollar it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen in your whole damn life.”
“And I’m sure we are quite capable of judging that for ourselves, Sheriff.”
“Just the same, I think we might be sticking around for a spell, just in case and all… and that’s if you don’t have any objections.”
“Look, Doc, what the sheriff is simply trying to get into that pretty little head of yours—”
“My pretty little head—” Sarah immediately elevates her tone, halting any further derogatory remarks. “With whom exactly do you think you’re speaking to?”
“Is that you’ve probably never experienced anything like what you’re about to see,” Jack continues speaking over her. “It’s just better that we stick around.”
Sarah furiously gawks at Jack and then snaps her insidious glare toward Sheriff Byrd, fearlessly measuring the confrontation and finds it wanton. “Fine… Suit yourselves.” She brushes past the police officers. A second later, Sarah whirls back around, crossing her arms, glowering with dissident authority. “Stay if you must, but do try to stay clear of any mischief or mayhem.”
“We’re all professionals here, Doc,” Sheriff Byrd reminds her, crossing his arms and leaning back against the table next to Jack. They then give each other a slick smile as Sarah disappears behind the canvas tarp with April fast on her heels.
Jack managed to count aloud to three before hearing April’s shriek. Another shriek follows soon after, and Russell and Norman stand up, turning toward the canvas, trying to imagine the horrors Sarah and April have encountered making the young veterinarian scream out with such blood-curdling enthusiasm. Before either can pull back the canvas tarp, April rushes out covering her mouth, giving both Russell and Norman quite a startle. She hurriedly moves past Jack and Sheriff Byrd on her way outside to empty the vomit rushing up through her throat.
Dr. Cavanaugh manages to stay inside the room for nearly a full ten count, and then she too briskly walks from behind the flaps gagging, although Sarah tries appearing subtle to maintain her dignity. She stops short of a fast dash outside, giving Jack a look of limpidity and then quickly joins April. Grinning from ear to ear, Sheriff Byrd removes his Cattleman, fanning the air in front of him. “Sure is a lot of stink accumulating around these parts?”
“Yep, ” Jack agrees with a nod and then follows Sarah outside.
He finds Sarah tensed over with one hand gripping a tent pole while rubbing her throat with the other. Jack waits by her side as she slowly regains her bearings.
“What the bloody hell are those things?” Still bent over, Sarah looks back at Jack where he stands casually with his thumbs plugged into his utility belt. “I have never… not ever.”
“Yeah, they tend to have that effect at first. After a while, they’re just like anything else around these parts.”
Sarah shakes her head from side to side and then uses her gloved hand to wipe her mouth clean. She glares back at Jack, straightening her posture. “There is no need to be facetious, Deputy, and you can certainly dispense with the idle chatter. I’ve a job to perform.”
“Look, Doc. We all have jobs to do.” Jack arches his shoulders back yet keeps his thumbs tucked behind his utility belt. “If I recall correctly, you were the one who started this by barging on to my crime scene like some sort of crack commando.”
“No offense.”
“None taken.”
“I mean, no offense, but it is highly unlikely that you or the sheriff have any inkling as to what you have here.”
“And you do? I call bullshit.”
“At least we are better qualified to deal with… with… whatever that is in there,” Sarah points to the tent and to the creatures inside the tent.
“And you’ll do what, make some scientific wild-ass guess as to what those things are?”
“No,” Sarah tries to defend herself. “I… I…”
“Look, the sooner we both stop with the stiff pleasantries and actually start working together, the faster we can both get our jobs done.”
“Fine,” she heatedly agrees.
“Great,” Jack sharply retorts.
After a short-lived awkward silence between them, Sarah lowers her head and crosses her arms, more out of frustration rather than defensiveness. She blankly stares down at her black conservative heels, wondering if she has underestimated Jack Flag—thinking him nothing more than another small-town-nowhere cop. Jack, disregarding her, looks back at the large coffee percolator sitting in the middle of a foldout table surrounded by tall stacks of Styrofoam cups. Coffee sounded very good at that point.
“So where shall we start, Deputy?”
“Please, call me, Jack.”
“You may still call me, Dr. Cavanaugh.”
“Okay, Doc,” Jack shoots back with a genuine smile, determined to ease the tension.
She smiles faintly. “Okay, Jack, where would you like to start?”
“A cup of coffee sounds good,” he offers.
“Coffee sounds bloody good.”
* * *
Both Sarah and April are not at all anxious to go back inside with the creatures and decided to remain outside the tent, allowing Jack to fill them in on the circumstances leading to their discovery. A short time later, after two cups of coffee, Russell pops his head out of the tent flaps, informing the doctor that he and Norman are ready for her to perform DNA swabs. Jack follows the reluctant doctor and her assistant back inside, toting a hot cup of Joe in each hand for Russell and Norman. Placing one cup on the table opposite from where they work, he turns placing the second cup in Russell’s outstretched and eager hand. “So… what exactly is all this equipment for anyway? If you don’t mind me asking…”
With his coffee in hand and a sip of the hot brew already on its way down his throat, Russell sighs, trying to decide if it was pertinent to engage Jack in any length of conversation. Jack can tell his presence is making the computer analyst nervous. He eludes Jack’s question altogether, turning back to his computer. Jack remains stationary, studying the caramel-colored computer analyst as he would any other perp—that’s just what good cops do.
To Jack, Russell seemed like a flimsy man—insubstantial in the sense that he probably preferred his quiet position as a DNA analyst to anything remotely adventurous. He probably thought of himself as a coward as well. Jack was getting a good sense of it as he watched Russell fidgeting in front of him, knowing Jack’s eyes were burning holes in the back of his head. Russell whips back around, either to answer Jack’s question or to stare him into submission. Norman, the heftier of the two men, beats Russell to the punch as he addresses Jack in a gruff, boisterous voice, “Basically, the Doctor is going to swab each subject for DNA. We, meaning Russell and I, will then analyze the cultures, comparing them to the numerous DNA data files we have stored on our hard drive and hopefully get a match.”
“By analyzing the DNA and comparing it to a vast catalog of samples, we can thus determine the exact species from which our specimens were derived,” Russell adds with direct eye contact but then nervously looks down into his cup as he takes a sip.
“Now that, I’d surely buy for a dollar,” Sheriff Byrd’s quip comes with a thick smile, knowing the failed prognosis.
“Suppose you don’t find a match, then what?” Jack asks.
“That is highly unlikely, Deputy,” Russell speaks assertively after Jack challenges his capabilities. “Everything comes from something. I’ve personally catalogued just about every species of animal known to man, including man himself, as well as hundreds of endangered species.”
“Every fiber and every strand that makes us who we are is locked into a genetic code of infinite mystery. We”—Norman looks to Russell, nodding with a confidence unknown to Russell, and then finishes his statement—“unravel such mysteries. Of course, we have only unlocked a fraction of those infinite possibilities, but from what we do know, we should be able to narrow these creatures down to a general species.”
“I assume everything is ready for me to begin?” Sarah asks, sipping the strong black brew cradled in her hands.
“The computers are still booting up, but yes, Doctor, we should be ready to begin in just a few more minutes.”
“Great. I’ll start the swabs.”