The Shift: Book II of the Wildfire Saga (55 page)

“You mean you know about this secret program she was talking about?" asked Chad.
 

“Secret program?”
 
Brenda slapped her clipboard on the counter.
 
“Maurice, what the hell is going on?” she demanded.

Boatner gestured at her to calm down.
 
“The program was called
 
Project Sanguine.
 
We were tasked with many things but our most important role was in defeating The Pandemic.”
 

“So it’s true,” muttered Chad.
 

Boatner nodded.
 
“I was the one who came up with the idea in the first place.
 
It's been going on for, oh, close to 20 years now.
 
We’ve been identifying and cataloging people with unique genetic properties as pertains to immunities and other natural abilities.”

“‘Cataloging people’?
 
Maurice, is this some sort of black ops thing or…?”
 

“For the most part," Boatner said as he crossed his arms, "it's just a mildly curious, extremely expensive academic pursuit.
 
You won't find Superman or any X-Men in this group.
 
Present company excluded, of course."
 

Brenda moved to Chad’s side and checked the IV machine.
 
She removed the IV needle and put a cotton ball on the insertion point.
 
“Here, hold this.”

Chad laughed as he applied pressure to the cotton ball.
 
"I'm hardly what you would call superhuman, Dr. Boatner.”
 

"
You
may not be superhuman," Boatner said, "but your immune system
is
—and you're not the only one.
 
13 told you Sanguine included twenty participants, but the true number was far greater than that.
 
We just weeded out the ones not likely to have any usable genetic material.
 
Only the top tier were given numerical assignations.”
 

Brenda strapped a bandage on Chad’s arm.
 
“So all these people you ‘cataloged’ had special blood?” she asked.
 

Chad examined the bandage and flexed his elbow.
 
The old, familiar ache from the needle’s bite was back.
 

“Not all of them, no.
 
There were a few,” Boatner continued, “who had exceptional eyesight or hearing…we discovered many different abilities.”
 

“I don’t know what to think about this,” Brenda said as she placed the sample in a secure container.
 
“What happened to all these people?”

"In the end, nothing—all their abilities and genetic makeups were unique to the individual and completely unreproducible in a laboratory setting.”
 
Boatner looked at Chad.
 
“All except for you and the other Nineteen.
 
Your body's immune system has the ability to prevent or destroy infection from any source—”

“So I’ve heard,” said Chad, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.
   

“I was able to replicate those processes in the lab,” Boatner said.
 
He pointed to his own chest.
 
“In me.”

“Jesus, that’s how you made yourself immune…” muttered Brenda.
 
“Maurice, how did—”
 

“I volunteered to be the first test subject.
 
I had to see if your blood could be the basis for a serum that might destroy the Great Pandemic.
 
And it
worked
.”
 

“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” asked Brenda in a tone that suggested more than her professional pride had been hurt.
 

Boatner’s face fell. “Unfortunately, we couldn’t replicate the success with other patients.”

“What do you mean?” Chad asked.
 
“You just said you were able to put my antibodies in you.
 
That mean you’re immune to the flu now, right?”

Boatner nodded.
 
“Yes—but the process only worked on me.”
 
He looked at Brenda.
 
“We tried dozens of volunteers—each one ended up contracting The Pandemic.
 
Almost half the volunteers died before Albert convinced me to stop the trials.”

Brenda sat down on a stool and sighed.
 
“To be so close…”

Boatner nodded, the pain evident on his face.
 
“It turns out that I happened to have a unique genetic trait of my own—my body was able to duplicate your immune properties.
 
Try as we might, we couldn’t figure out
why
.”
 
He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
 
“I saved myself and killed fifteen people in the process.”

“Maurice, if it had worked—” Brenda began.

Boatner grunted.
 
“I would have been Subject 21 if I hadn’t already been running the show,” he said.
 
He put his glasses back on and adjusted them.
 
“At any rate, here we are, ten years later, right back at square one—still trying to figure out how to duplicate your immune response.
 
But this time, I think we might be getting close—”

The door to the exam room opened and a man in a biohazard suit walked in, leading 13.
 
Chad felt a rush when he saw her, despite the bulbous suit she wore.

Brenda jumped to her feet.
 
“Sir—”

“Relax, Major,” said the stern-looking man.
 
He stepped away from 13’s side and moved closer to Chad and reached out a hand.
 
“I don't know if you remember me or not, son.
 
I was a doctor in the Army—I worked with Maurice ten years ago.”

“Chad, this is General Albert Daniels,” offered Boatner.

“Oh yeah…I think remember you…” said Chad as he shook hands and looked at the General’s face.
 
You were one of the worst with the IV needles.
 
“Weren’t you like, a lieutenant or something?"

Daniels laughed.
 
“Yes, yes I was.
 
The work we did—” he glanced at Brenda.

“I told her, Albert.
 
What?
 
She needed to know.”

“That was classified—”

“Then give her clearance.
 
She can’t help me if she’s not given all the tools—that includes Sanguine,” Boatner said.
 
His voice held more steel than Brenda heard before.
 
She looked at the General.

“Very well.”
 
Daniels looked at her.
 
“You understand this is all Top Secret and above, Major?”

Brenda stiffened.
 
“Yes, sir.”

He nodded.
 
“Fair enough.
 
I’ll have your clearance upped when I leave here.
 
Do you have a copy of the Program files?”

“No…I just found out about the Program.”

“Fine, I have Records get you up to speed.
 
You’ve got some interesting reading ahead of you, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”
 

Daniels nodded and turned back to Chad.
 
“The work we did raised a lot of eyebrows at the Pentagon.”
 
He motioned 13 forward.
 

“And here we are…” Boatner said with a smile.
 
“It's like we’re getting the band back together.”

13 rushed to Chad’s side and they embraced.
 
He was so happy he wanted to kiss her.
 
Abruptly, he realized what he was doing and cleared his throat.
 
She stepped back and looked away, her hands fidgeting with the bulky suit she wore.
 

“Does she still need to be in that suit?
 
She's immune like me, right?"

Boatner pursed his lips, a concerned look on his face.
 
“We've run the tests, but we still have to wait for the results.
 
She’s remarkably similar to you, yes—but her immune system is not
nearly
as robust as yours.
 
In all likelihood, even though she's been exposed, she's not infected.”
 
Boatner smiled politely at 13.
 

“In fact,” he said, “I would bet my life we can take her suit off right now and none of us would get sick.
 
She doesn’t have the genetic markers that indicate she’s a suitable carrier for the virus.
 
However, despite the fact that I’m perfectly safe—”

“Says you,” snorted the General.
 
“I never would have had myself injected like that, Maurice.
 
That was ten years ago—is the gene manipulation still valid?
 
I’m not entirely convinced by the updated data you sent me,” remarked General Daniels.

Boatner nodded.
 
“It is.
 
I’m immune like Mr. Huntley—I’ve got the bloodwork to prove it now thanks to Brenda.”

Chad watched as Brenda shook her head.
 
“I was just following protocol.
 
No one in this base has even 10% the strength of his immune system,” she said, gesturing at Chad.

“Or hers for that matter,” Boatner added, looking at 13.
 

The General frowned.
 
“Even if what you’re saying is true, Maurice—we can't take the risk.
 
This facility is too important.
 
Don’t look at me like that—
w
e’re already pushing our luck just letting the two of them walk around.”

"For that, I thank you," said 13, her voice muffled through the plastic helmet.
 
She reached for Chad with gloved hands, ignoring the men arguing behind her.
 
"Are you okay?
 
Have they hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine," said Chad.
 
He blocked out the three doctors to focus on her.
 
"Dr. Boatner is the best.”
 
He raised his arm, showing her the bandage inside his elbow.
 
"He already took eight samples and I didn't feel a thing."

A slight smile curled the corner of 13’s mouth.
 
Chad felt suddenly guilty standing there in clean clothes, with a full belly and freshly showered.
 
He’d been treated like royalty.
 
Despite the tear tracks carved out of dried blood and dirt encrusted on 13's face, her blue eyes held nothing but relief.

Chad noticed the three doctors had paused in their conversation.
 
They were all looking at him.
 
"Now what happens?" Chad asked.

Dr. Boatner smiled.
 
He nodded at General Daniels.
 
"Now, we leave the room and let you two talk.
 
I can’t take any more samples until I’ve analyzed the first batch, so you’ve earned some downtime,” he said, a twinkle in his eye.
 

Boatner and the General headed out, followed by Brenda.
 
When the door shut behind her, 13 sat heavily on the exam table.
 
Chad helped her lay back and lifted her legs as gently as he could so she could stretch out.
 
He looked down at her and frowned.
 
"I wish there was something I could get you.
 
Food, drink—even a pillow…"

13 flashed a wan smile—she looked tired more than anything.
 
"It’s fine—thank you.
 
I’m just happy that you’re—we’re—safe.”

Chad's fingers found her hand and squeezed the PVC-layered fabric of her glove.
 
"Dr. Boatner was telling me… I mean, he told me about how you were part of the Program…"

Her eyes were closed and she nodded inside the helmet.
 
She sucked air in through her mouth, making a sound like someone sucking on a mint.

“Uh…you okay?”

She kept her eyes closed and smiled.
 
“That sound means ‘yes’, in my homeland.
 
Well, parts of it.”

Chad tried to mimic the sound and ended up with something close to
schwoop
.

13 laughed.
 
“That’s it.
 
I’ll have you speaking Swedish in no time…”
 
The moment passed and she sighed.
 
She turned her head and regarded Chad, a somber look on her face.
 
“Everything I told you is true…”

 
Chad let go of her hand and stepped away from the table to examine the machines and equipment at the workstation.
 
“Dr. Boatner confirmed everything you said on the plane before we were shot down."
 
He couldn’t look at her, yet he found he couldn’t look away.
 
The conflicting feelings made him want to do something—anything—but stay trapped in an underground bunker.
 

Boatner had taken the blood samples with him to begin running tests, so Chad idly fingered the empty machine and rotated one of the cylinders with a
click
.
 
"How did you know that guy back at the church was with the CIA?"
 
He turned and looked at 13 as she lay on the exam table.

The bubble-helmet didn't move, but Chad could see her head as it rotated inside.
 
“I’m not who you think I am.”
 

Chad leaned against the workstation and folded his arms across his chest.
 
"I think you're a good person.
 
Am I wrong?"

13 closed her eyes..
 
“I’m
not
a good person.
 
I’ve done…some very
 
bad things.
 
Very bad.”
 
Her voice was almost a whisper.
 
Chad took a hesitant step, but she raised her arm and kept him where he was.
 
“I’m not who you think I am, ok?
 
I can see what’s happening and I don’t want you thinking there can be anything between us.
 
I’m sorry.”