Authors: Riley Barton
The chief extended his hand to the newcomer, who gripped it firmly.
“So, Tagawa is it? Can I offer you a drink?”
“No thank you, sir.”
“Suit yourself,” Landers said, refilling his glass. “So, what’s so urgent that it couldn’t wait until morning?”
Agent Tagawa produced a folder and placed it on the chief’s desk. “I’ve finished my background check on Mr. Edgard’s new secretary. A Miss Bridget Chavé. I’ve run her through Alex’s database, and everything checks out so far. But I’m still going to do a personal evaluation tomorrow night, just to be safe.”
“Does she know you’re evaluating her?”
“No, sir. She’s under the impression that we’re on a date.”
Landers chuckled and threw back another shot of scotch. “Poor girl. I hope she doesn’t get too attached to you on this “date.”
“I doubt that will be the case,” Tagawa replied. “Nonetheless, I’ll take every precaution at my disposal to keep her from getting
too attached
—as you put it, sir.”
“Good. Now is there anything else you wanted to tell me?” Landers asked, realizing that the conversation wasn’t nearly as urgent as he’d first assumed.
“No, sir.”
“Excellent. Now that business is over, are you sure you won’t join me for a drink? It’s no fun when there’s no one else around.”
Keith raised an eyebrow. “With all due respect, sir. How many of those have you had?"
“Plenty, son. Plenty. Now will you help me drain another bottle, or won’t you?”
“Sir!” Keith exclaimed in genuine surprise. “What if someone outside the office heard about this? It could ruin your reputation! I must insist that you stop this immediately, for your own good!”
“Relax, Tagawa. It’s no big deal. This day only comes around once a year. So don’t ruin it for me. It’s my day to remember … and try to forget. Besides we’re the only people here. And I’m sure you won’t repeat this to anyone.
Will
you?” Landers said, cocking an eyebrow at the young Agent standing before him.
“No, sir … I won’t tell anyone,” Keith replied hesitantly, watching his chief opening another bottle of scotch. “Sir—if you don’t mind my asking— you said that this day only comes around once a year. With respect, sir, what happened on this day that would make you want to get wasted?”
He sure is intuitive,
Landers thought, grinning slightly. The young Agent reminded him of himself, not so long ago.
“You seem like a good man, Tagawa. Sit down and I’ll tell you.”
Keith did as he was told and seated himself in front of Lander’s desk.
“It was twenty years ago, back when I was a twenty-four-year-old recruit working for Jack Anderson.” Landers said, returning to his high-backed chair. “He was the one who first got me into the security department here at Unitech. It was my job—and the job of all the other Agents—to protect him and his family, along with his research and development facilities.
He was a great boss and a good man. So, as you can imagine, it came as quite a shock to all of us when we discovered him murdered in his office. Someone had shot him. Shot him right through the heart with a forty-five automatic. And that bullet was all the evidence we ever turned up.”
“Weren’t there any security recordings?” Keith asked.
Landers shook his head. “Nope. Nothing. For some reason the boss’ office didn’t have any security cameras. He probably didn’t want anyone spying on his designs for the Cathedral reactor or one of his other inventions. But, even if there were cameras in the office, it wouldn’t have helped us any. All the other tapes were as clean as could be. Nothing was out of place whatsoever. No one went into the office except for Mr. Anderson, and he never came out.
My chief had us all go to work trying to hunt down the murderer. But even after twenty years, nothing has ever come up. I’ve been working this case for nearly half my life, Tagawa. And every year that rolls by reminds me of my own incompetence. That’s why I’m getting
wasted
today. Because I was the guard on duty that night—it was
my
fault,” he whispered, tapping his finger against the shot glass. “
I
let him get killed.”
Landers drained the last of his scotch and set the glass down on the desk while Tagawa sat in silence.
“Jack had a wife, too. Did I tell you that?”
Keith nodded, “You mentioned protecting a family. What happened to her after Mr. Anderson’s death?”
Landers shrugged, “She moved. Went to live with family in one of the other cities. But I’ve never heard anything from her since … and frankly I don’t blame her. Sorry. I bet you didn’t want to hear all that,” he said, staggering to his feet. “You know … I think you were right. I
have
had too much to drink.
Keith rose quickly and steadied the older man, then pressed the comm button. “Rosa, the Chief says you can go on home now. I’ll close up shop tonight.
“Did you just say what I
thought
you said?” Rosa called back through the comm.
“Yes, you did. I’ll take care of things here.”
“Okay … Thanks, Keith.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, handing the Chief his raincoat.
Landers fumbled around before finally managing to pull it on.
“You know … I really don’t think I should be driving tonight,” he said, surveying the coat he’d just put on inside out.
“I agree with you on that one, sir,” Keith replied, checking the security monitors to make sure Rosa was leaving her place at the reception desk.
“Come on, Chief. I’ll drive you home.”
Landers nodded, “That sounds like a good plan. Alex, shut down my office and the reception desk for the night. But keep me informed if anything unusual happens. You know where to find me.”
“As you wish, Chief. I will see you tomorrow,” Alex replied, shutting down the office lights and monitors.
“All right, Tagawa … let’s get out of here.” Landers leaned on the young Agent as he staggered out of the office and into the hallway. “Rest in peace, Jack,
old buddy. Rest in peace.
Chapter 3
Luna couldn’t believe what was happening. Her worst nightmares—her deepest fears—had become a reality. Chaos surrounded her. Sirens blaring. People running. And over it all, the sound of Alex’s voice repeated the terrible words over and over: “Containment field breach! All personnel evacuate lab twenty-nine immediately!”
Her feet pounded against the sterile white floor of the lab as she frantically ran toward the exit. She had to get out! Ahead of her she could see the other technicians running through the airlock into the hallway, the reinforced doors slowly closing behind them. The lighting panels along the ceiling and walls flashed red, bathing the laboratory in a hellish glare of light and shadow. Behind her she could hear the hiss of security doors sealing off the room containing the ruptured security field—the room she’d been in moments before. Had it been sealed quickly enough? Or had the deadly parasitic agents housed within already escaped into the rest of the lab?
Panicking, she fixed her eyes on the airlock. The doors were closing too quickly. She’d never make it!
“Please! Wait! Don’t leave me in here!” She threw herself against the transparent door as it slid into place and locked.
“No! No! Please! Someone help me!”
Luna pounded her fists against the glass, tears streaming down her face, begging the scientists on the other side of the barrier to save her—even though she knew they could not.
Then she smelled it. The dank odor of the swamp.
Spores!
Her terrified mind screamed, and she beat the door with renewed force until her knuckles bled. “Please! Help me!”
The smell grew stronger, and the air around her began to take on the sour taste of the marshlands: the taste of death and decay. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to hold her breath. It was the only thing she could do to delay the inevitable.
Her lungs burned, screaming for air. Finally, after nearly a minute and a half, she gave in and inhaled. Spores flew through her mouth and nostrils, filling her chest. A few seconds later the spores sprouted in the dampness of her body, sinking their parasitic tendrils into the neighboring tissues.
Luna gasped in pain and clutched at her chest, struggling to breathe.
This can’t be happening to me!
She coughed, spitting up mouthfuls of blood and spongy, red-orange fungus. It felt as if her lungs were on fire! She continued to cough, wheezing between spasms in a desperate—but futile— attempt to breathe.
“Please … someone … help me …” She coughed one more time and then collapsed against the door, wanting nothing more than to die and be rid of the fiery pain quickly spreading through her stricken body.
Chapter 4
Luna woke up screaming, gasping fitfully for breath amid the tangle of sweaty sheets cocooning her trembling body. She struggled through the knotted blankets and finally managed to pull them away from her face, taking in gasping breaths of cool, clean air as she fought to calm her shaken nerves.
Breathe Luna, breathe.
She told herself, placing a hand over her racing heart.
It was a dream. Just a dream. You’re all right now.
Oh how she wished that was true.
“Miss Luna, are you all right?” Ada called, materializing beside Luna’s bed.
“Yeah … it was just a bad dream,” she replied. Though she knew that wasn’t the case. Her dream was more real than anyone—even Ada—knew.
Luna brought her knees up to her chin and cradled her head in her hands.
It had been two years. Two long years since the accident in lab twenty-nine.
Back then she’d been a driven sixteen-year-old prodigy working as an intern at Unitech on a cure for the Blister Wart disease. If only she’d known what was in store for her.
She bit her lip, remembering the details of that day: the second most terrible day of her entire life. She’d gone into the back room to run a diagnostic on an especially virulent strain of the Blister Wart fungus. Everything had been going well. She’d just entered her password when a power surge tore through her console and deactivated the containment field between her and the spores she was studying. Everything else was a panicked blur in her mind.
The airlock had sealed her inside the lab, and she’d been contaminated. After that she’d passed out and been revived in the Unitech medical bay. She shuddered, remembering the excruciating pain she’d felt when she had finally come to. The doctors had told her that her chances of survival were good as long as she underwent weekly light therapy treatments to keep the fungus infecting her body from entering its fatal bloom stage.
Unfortunately, the embarrassment and pain caused by the parasitic fungus leeching off of her body’s nutrients wasn’t the worse thing to happen to her in the days following the accident.
Before she had gone to be an intern, she’d met a young man two years her senior and had fallen hopelessly in love with him. She thought that after her research was completed the two of them would be married. That had not been the case.
Though light therapy would keep her healthy and prevent the fungus from spreading airborne spores via a fungal bloom, the fungus
inside
her body would still continue to produce spores. And these spores could easily be passed from person to person through bodily fluids such as saliva and blood.
She’d thought that he had loved her enough to see past her illness. She thought he would wait for her until she—or someone else—had developed a cure. She was wrong.
Once he discovered the truth about her condition, he severed all ties with her, shattering her heart in the process. In the darkest hour of her life—when all she needed was a shoulder to cry on—he’d abandoned her.
The spiraling depression at his betrayal had driven her to the point of wanting to take her own life.
She survived, but the painful memories of her past had lost none of their potency, and she found herself fighting back sobs.
“Are you certain you are all right, Miss Luna?” Ada asked, her translucent face taking on a look of simulated concern.
AIs aren’t the best at comforting,
Luna thought, fighting to get control of herself.
She wiped her eyes on her shirt and nodded, managing to get control of her emotions. “Yes. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Do you know what time it is?”
“It is precisely 8:36 in the morning. Shall I give you a weather report today, Miss Luna?”
“No, thanks. I’m pretty sure I know what it is,” she said, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
Luna promptly undressed and climbed into the shower. The hot water running over her and the steam filling her scarred lungs helped ease the last of her dream-induced anxiety, and she was able to think clearly again.
Most of Luna’s best ideas had come to her while she was bathing. She had since decided to make the shower her unofficial thinking place. Even though she’d finished washing herself, Luna continued to stand under the stream of steaming water, watching it swirl around her feet while she mentally ran through theorems and equations from previous days in the lab. Dropping out of college after the accident had done little to dull her sharp intellect.
She remained in the shower for nearly a half hour before deciding that she’d had enough. She turned off the water, dried herself, and got dressed in a clean work suit and button-up dress top.
“There. One Unitech employee ready for service,” she said, snapping a quick salute to her reflection before heading into the kitchen. She opened the cupboards above the sink and quickly procured a box of cereal and a bowl and spoon. She then seated herself at the bar built into the kitchen’s center island.