"Yes." Fencer braced for penetration. "Developing a program is a process. You find bugs in each version that must be worked out. Of course the public fails to appreciate that. They want their programs and operating systems to be perfect every time."
Waters agreed, "They do not realize the complexities involved. In my branch of medicine it is very similar. You must evolve the organism, working through the setbacks, dealing with the unwanted side effects, while trying to enhance those traits that are desirable. It is a long, difficult process."
"It is," Fencer agreed as the needle punctured his skin. "There is always more that can be done."
"We are perfectionists, you and I," Waters smiled as he pulled the syringe away and gave it to his assistant for disposal. "But perfection is a long, arduous journey, with many bumps along the road."
Fencer rubbed his arm and a jolt of pain disturbed his otherwise stoic expression.
"I don't feel so good," the young lady said and held a hand to her cheek as if feeling for heat.
"That is a side effect, yes," Waters told her.
"What was that? What was the point of that injection, Doctor?"
"The point, Mr. Fencer? First, I find it fascinating what people will do for relief after a night of terror. You spent hours hiding from what were — from your perspective — reanimated human corpses. It must have been terrifying."
The girl tried to answer, "Yes … I was so, so scared. It's getting hard to breathe."
"So I show up, promising to make everything better, and you grasp for that relief, like a drowning man grabbing for a life preserver."
Fencer wobbled and his hand reached to his head.
"I don't understand. What are you talking about?"
"I find that fascinating. A real experiment in human psychology. The willingness to blindly accept a solution if it is to escape a bad situation. So much of human history is based on that premise. How many people — individuals and even entire cultures — jumped out of the frying pan into the proverbial fire because they were so desperate to escape fear?"
The girl fell over and went silent. Fencer dropped to a knee, his legendary iron will keeping him from complete collapse, at least for the moment. Waters casually took a knee in front of him, unzipping his bio suit hood as he did.
"What is that stuff doing to me?" Fencer asked, and then began to choke.
Waters finally answered, "You should be feeling irritation in your eyes, nose, and throat. Breathing will become difficult and then impossible. Your blood is losing oxygen, Mr. Fencer. All the classic signs of sulfur dioxide poisoning."
The software giant fell over and lay still.
Waters turned to the remaining members of team six and told them, "Move these two bodies with the other survivors to the higher elevated areas on the eastern edge of the island. Give them burn marks like the others, but make sure the faces on these two are identifiable. Remember, it is critical that these bodies are found after the event."
While his men moved to do as instructed, Waters stepped away and looked up at the blue sky.
"What a beautiful day."
12
For the second time in less than a minute, a loud siren blared from the airstrip, sounding something like a tornado alert or maybe an air raid warning. Certainly the noise reached across the entire island.
Annabelle Stacy — still sitting on the ground with her back against the small airport terminal building — clutched her ears to dull the sound, but it was not the noise that sent electric shivers through her spine. No, the reality of her situation was what caused her to tremble from head to toe, despite her best efforts to hide her fear.
She thought back to twenty-four hours before, when she had insisted on going on the mission; when General Friez's support for her inclusion with the insertion team had been welcomed.
Now she cursed that decision. It seemed her first field mission with Task Force Archangel would be her last, one way or another. If a mob of zombies had not been bad enough, this goon squad dressed in hazmat suits with assault rifles was enough to drive her to the brink of insanity. Exactly what kind of world had she elected to join?
It was one thing to read the reports on alien animals crash-landing in Florida, extraterrestrial bacteria dining on bone marrow, or even homicidal lab monkeys. It was another to be out here, on the edge. Perhaps it would have been better to have turned down the general's recruitment and remained in a relatively boring world where monsters were confined to nightmares.
"Something is happening."
Major Gant spoke the obvious from his position on the ground next to her. Other than being forced to stand so that their pictures could be taken, the two had sat in the same position for nearly two hours, all the time under the watchful eyes of a pair of armed sentries.
He referred to the increased activity at the airfield. The two transport prop planes were filling up fast, mainly with metal containers holding previously animated cadavers. She had also spied a handful of other persons, possibly island survivors, boarding those planes.
Gant added more than she wanted to hear: "One of two things is going to happen now. Either we are going to be placed on one of those planes, or we will be questioned for another minute or two and then executed."
"How can you say that so calmly?" Her lungs failed to fill satisfactorily and her breathing grew fast.
"It is just a fact, Doctor. I am sorry to upset you."
"Maybe you should keep stuff like that to yourself," she shot back.
"To be honest, Dr. Stacy, I considered that, but then I think you have earned the truth. For what it is worth, you did good on this mission. I hope we have a chance to do another together."
With those words he managed to calm her, at least a little. No, everything did not seem rosy and wonderful all of a sudden, and the idea of death by firing squad still filled her with dread, but in the short time she had come to know Major Gant, she had also come to respect him. Finding that the feeling was mutual gave her a sense of value greater than any diploma or paycheck could impart.
"Thanks," she replied, sheepishly. "What do you think is going on here?"
"Waters called it an experiment. I think he was telling the truth. He had questions about our response and our tactics, so we are probably dealing with a biological warfare test. The fact that they are packing up all the affected individuals suggests a cover up. They chose a private island like this in the hope that there would be little or no response from a government, but it sounds as if they did not count on the senator's presence."
"So who are they?"
"That is a good question," he admitted. "I have my suspicions."
"Oh, do tell."
"The whole thing stinks like something The Tall Company would do, particularly their Sciences Division."
"I've heard of them. They're huge. They also give out a lot of research grants. I've been on the receiving end of a few."
She could tell by the glare in his eyes that Tall held a particularly dark place in Major Gant's heart.
"Believe me, Dr. Stacy, I have had to clean up a fair number of messes caused by The Tall Company. It would not surprise me to find them connected to Tioga in some fashion."
"I thought they were just a bunch of capitalists run amok."
"They are that, and much more."
Two Jeeps and a black Hummer rolled onto the airfield from one direction. Eight men in hazmat suits exited, grabbed gear from the luggage spaces, and marched onboard one of the transports. A moment later a trio of vehicles arrived from another direction, and more men did the same.
At that point the engines on the two CN-235s spooled to life and the boarding ramps raised to the tune of straining hydraulics. She watched as the first and then the second of the two big planes taxied and turned in preparation for liftoff.