Brian O'Grady - Hybrid

“I’m afraid so. He has a small satchel or fanny pack — I don’t know what they’re called — but inside are two vials. One is a large dose of concentrated virus, and he plans to gradually release it until everyone, not just Americans, have been infected. He sees himself as a new Moses leading the chosen people.” Amanda pointed a finger at her own chest.

“What’s in the other vial?” Greg asked.

“A vaccine. Reisch stole both vials from a man named Jaime Avanti. He created the virus and the vaccine and he was sneaking it to. .” Amanda smiled weakly. “. . to Nathan Martin.” She looked at Greg and her smile broadened.

“So he’s a part of this?” Greg said darkly, while Patton looked on confused.

Amanda looked at the new chief of police. “He’s one of the heads of the CDC; we have a history.” She turned back to Greg. “No, he’s not involved. Avanti wanted to limit the full effect of the virus and was going to give Martin the means to do it.”

“So if we catch this Reisch, we’re back in business; we’ll have the vaccine.” Amanda shook her head again and Patton wanted to scream. “There’s more!”

“A vaccine has to be administered before a person is infected. If the eleven release the virus as planned, the vaccine will be worthless; at least to us.”

Patton got up and began to pace through the wrecked ICU, cursing colorfully.

“I guess he needs a moment,” Greg said. “Are you all right, honey?”

Amanda turned to Greg. “Reisch was correct about two things: a lot of people are going to die, and no matter what happens, there’s going to be a whole new group of people like me; and some of them are going to be just like him.”

Patton returned, his face red but his voice under control. “You’re the only person who can catch Reisch, Amanda, but you are also the only hope anyone has for curing this thing.”

“I know what you need. I’m sure I can spare a pint or two.”

“Chief?” A uniformed officer approached Patton. “I think you should see this. The president is addressing the nation.”

“Don’t worry Rachel, or whatever your name is. It’s just a harmless little cocktail we give to the animals when they get too excited. Just a little Fentanyl, a little Pentobarb, and a few other mild sedatives. It shouldn’t hurt you too bad. How do you feel?” Despite his even tone, Martin was in a controlled rage. He couldn’t get at Jeser, but he certainly could take care of their spy. The military and FBI would treat her with kid gloves, and she would tell them nothing, safe in the knowledge that American law would prevent them from doing anything more uncomfortable than talking to her sternly.

Rachel’s head dropped, and she stopped straining against the handcuffs. For a moment, everyone thought that Martin had killed her. Then she gasped loudly, and her head came up. “My nose itches,” she mumbled.

“A common side effect of the narcotic,” Martin said and looked up to find that Adam Sabritas had joined the crowd of onlookers.

Adam’s hair was a mess, and he obviously hadn’t showered in days. He started to wave a sheet of paper at Martin, but then stopped when he saw Rachel.

Nathan turned to Martha as Rachel’s head lolled again. “See if you can find a cardiac monitor. I don’t want her to die on us.” “I’m not sure you should be doing this,” Martha whispered quietly.

“I’m not going to let millions of people die when she has answers in her head. Her civil rights are not more important than their lives. You know no one else will do this, no one else can do this.” It was a singular moment of opportunity, and he would not look back on this moment with regret for not having done all he could.

Martha nodded and weaved her way through the growing crowd. Adam took the opportunity to move in closer.

“Dr. Martin,” he whispered, despite the fact that everyone could hear him. “I want to show you something.” But it was obviously not the right time. “I suppose it can wait.” Rachel looked up and then around the room. A pale Larry Strickland had worked his way forward, and Rachel’s hypnotic eyes fell upon him.

“Do you want to tell him what we did on his desk?” Rachel spoke slowly and softly, each word understandable, but slurred.

Larry looked up at Martin, his face burning with humiliation and embarrassment.

“It was just—”

Martin waved him off and lifted Rachel’s chin. “I don’t care how many people you seduced, or where you seduced them. I want to know your name.” “Maria. I am Maria Belsky.” She tried to lift her head proudly, but the wobble ruined the effect. “I am from Bosnia. You remember Bosnia.” She could barely form the words.

“Who sent you here?” Martin shook her arm to rouse her. “Somebody get me some Narcan and Romazicon.” He needed to reverse some of the sedative effect. A syringe was passed up the crowd to him, and he injected a quarter of the clear fluid into her shoulder. Cardiac and respiratory monitors were wheeled in, and Martha attached the leads to the young woman’s chest.

It took a couple of minutes, then her eyes opened widely, and for a second, she looked frightened and confused. “You can’t do this to me.” She was more awake but still drugged.

“Who sent you, Maria?” Martin’s voice was softer, more inviting.

It took her half a minute to respond. “Doesn’t matter if you know.” The words were still slow and slurred, but her eyes were open. “Dr. Avanti sent me. It was all his idea. He made the virus,” she whispered.

“Who did Dr. Avanti work for?” Martin continued with his soothing tone. Her eyelids began to flutter again; the shortacting Narcan was beginning to wear off, and she was about to sink back into the depths of unconsciousness.

“He never really knew, but I did,” she smiled crookedly. “It took me five years to work it out.” Her head dropped again.

Nathan looked up, and it was Martha who tripped to it first. “Maria, honey,” she said in a sweet southern drawl, “can you tell me who you work for?” Maria tried to smile again, but the muscles in her face weren’t working well. “Lots of people. Dr. Martin is one of them.” “And then there’s Dr. Avanti,” Martha said, and Maria nodded. “Do you work for anyone else?”

Her conscious mind tried to resist, but the drugs had put most of it to sleep, and her unconscious mind felt compelled to answer. Besides, it was fun to tell secrets, especially ones that showed how clever you’d been. “The First Directorate.” Everyone in the room blinked except Martha. “ Mokete bol nonfat mehr? ” she said, and everyone in the room blinked again.

“ Da, bol robopute ha pycckom rebike xopowo .” Maria seemed to be more comfortable with Russian.

“ Caenante bol pabotaete ara Sluzhba Vnoshney Razvedki? ” Martha seemed just as comfortable.

“ Da, b teyehne debrtn net .”

“Okay, Martha, what’s she saying?” Martin whispered in her ear.

“She’s a spy, a Russian spy.”

“Why are you here? You should be miles from here.” Amanda asked the approaching Oliver, and looked accusingly at Linda. They had moved to the relative calm of the ICU waiting room. Amanda had repeated her story to the FBI, and they had started the process of shutting down the Web site. She still had a needle in her arm as the second of two bags filled with her blood.

“We heard what happened on the radio,” Oliver said sheepishly. Amanda looked at Lisa questioningly. “It’s not her fault; I made her do it.” Oliver’s meaning was clear.

“Sorry about the jaw,” Amanda said to the priest after a second. “I’m too tired to look; can you tell where he’s gone?”