lab.
Still, he had witnessed what had transpired after the helicopter had fled the base. His entire body ached at the memory of the explosion, of the countermeasures he had managed to release as a last resort. He prayed such drastic action would contain what had escaped from the Level 4 biolab, but he couldn’t be certain. What he and his team had created in that subterranean lab was an early prototype, far too dangerous to ever be released into the real world. But someone had let it loose, a saboteur.
But why?
He pictured the faces of his colleagues.
Gone, all gone .
Another burst of gunfire echoed across the fiery hilltop.
Kendall had been left with one guard in the helicopter, but the man stared out the other window, plainly lusting to join the hunt. If only the pilot had failed to spot the fleeing truck earlier—from its logo, a park ranger vehicle—Kendall might have held out some hope, both for himself and for anyone within a hundred miles of his former lab.
Again he prayed his countermeasures held. The smoke contained a noxious concoction engineered by Hess’s team: a weapon-grade mix of VX and saxitoxin, a blend of a paralytic agent with a lethal organophosphate derivative. Nothing living could survive the slightest exposure.
Except for what I created .
His team had still not discovered a way to kill that synthetic microorganism. The engineered nerve gas was only meant to contain its spread, to kill any organism that might carry it farther afield.
As the barrage of gunfire continued out there, he pictured the unknown ranger doing his best to hold out, but the man was clearly outnumbered and outgunned. Still, the ranger kept fighting.
Can I do any less?
Kendall struggled through his drug-induced fog for clarity. He pulled at the snug plastic ties, using the pain to help him focus. One mystery occupied his full attention. The saboteurs had shot everyone at the base or left them to die with the explosion.
So why am I still alive? What do they need from me?
Kendall was determined not to cooperate, but he was also realistic enough to know that he could be broken. Anyone could be broken. There was only one way he could thwart them.
As another spate of gunfire erupted, Kendall twisted his arms enough to punch the release on his seat harness. As he was freed, he tugged the hatch open and fell sideways out of the cabin. He managed to catch one leg under him as he hit the ground. He used the support to propel himself away from the helicopter.
A shocked bellow rose from the cabin, coming from the lone guard—followed by a loud crack .
Dirt exploded near his left foot.
He ignored the threat, trusting that his captors wanted to keep him alive. He fled headlong, stumbling with his arms still tied behind him. His legs tripped on scrubby grass and ripped through snagging bushes. He aimed for the smoky darkness swirling around the lower slopes of the hill.
That path led to certain death.
He ran faster toward it.
It’s better this way .
With the hunt for the ranger occupying everyone’s attention, he grew more confident.
I can make it . . . it’s what I deserve—
Then a shadow overtook him, impossibly fast, shivering across the landscape, lit by the fires blazing on the hilltop. A hard blow struck him in the lower back, sending him sprawling facedown into the scrub brush. He rolled over, scrabbling backward on hands and feet.
A massive shape stood limned against the flames.
Kendall didn’t need to see the ragged scar to recognize the leader of the assault team. The figure stalked over to him, raised an arm, and slammed down the steel butt of a rifle.
With his hands still pinned behind him, Kendall couldn’t deflect the blow. Pain exploded in his nose and forehead. He collapsed backward, his limbs gone rubbery and limp. Darkness closed the world to a tight, agonized knot.
Before he could move, iron fingers clamped on to his ankle and dragged him back toward the helicopter. Thorns and sharp rocks
Still, he had witnessed what had transpired after the helicopter had fled the base. His entire body ached at the memory of the explosion, of the countermeasures he had managed to release as a last resort. He prayed such drastic action would contain what had escaped from the Level 4 biolab, but he couldn’t be certain. What he and his team had created in that subterranean lab was an early prototype, far too dangerous to ever be released into the real world. But someone had let it loose, a saboteur.
But why?
He pictured the faces of his colleagues.
Gone, all gone .
Another burst of gunfire echoed across the fiery hilltop.
Kendall had been left with one guard in the helicopter, but the man stared out the other window, plainly lusting to join the hunt. If only the pilot had failed to spot the fleeing truck earlier—from its logo, a park ranger vehicle—Kendall might have held out some hope, both for himself and for anyone within a hundred miles of his former lab.
Again he prayed his countermeasures held. The smoke contained a noxious concoction engineered by Hess’s team: a weapon-grade mix of VX and saxitoxin, a blend of a paralytic agent with a lethal organophosphate derivative. Nothing living could survive the slightest exposure.
Except for what I created .
His team had still not discovered a way to kill that synthetic microorganism. The engineered nerve gas was only meant to contain its spread, to kill any organism that might carry it farther afield.
As the barrage of gunfire continued out there, he pictured the unknown ranger doing his best to hold out, but the man was clearly outnumbered and outgunned. Still, the ranger kept fighting.
Can I do any less?
Kendall struggled through his drug-induced fog for clarity. He pulled at the snug plastic ties, using the pain to help him focus. One mystery occupied his full attention. The saboteurs had shot everyone at the base or left them to die with the explosion.
So why am I still alive? What do they need from me?
Kendall was determined not to cooperate, but he was also realistic enough to know that he could be broken. Anyone could be broken. There was only one way he could thwart them.
As another spate of gunfire erupted, Kendall twisted his arms enough to punch the release on his seat harness. As he was freed, he tugged the hatch open and fell sideways out of the cabin. He managed to catch one leg under him as he hit the ground. He used the support to propel himself away from the helicopter.
A shocked bellow rose from the cabin, coming from the lone guard—followed by a loud crack .
Dirt exploded near his left foot.
He ignored the threat, trusting that his captors wanted to keep him alive. He fled headlong, stumbling with his arms still tied behind him. His legs tripped on scrubby grass and ripped through snagging bushes. He aimed for the smoky darkness swirling around the lower slopes of the hill.
That path led to certain death.
He ran faster toward it.
It’s better this way .
With the hunt for the ranger occupying everyone’s attention, he grew more confident.
I can make it . . . it’s what I deserve—
Then a shadow overtook him, impossibly fast, shivering across the landscape, lit by the fires blazing on the hilltop. A hard blow struck him in the lower back, sending him sprawling facedown into the scrub brush. He rolled over, scrabbling backward on hands and feet.
A massive shape stood limned against the flames.
Kendall didn’t need to see the ragged scar to recognize the leader of the assault team. The figure stalked over to him, raised an arm, and slammed down the steel butt of a rifle.
With his hands still pinned behind him, Kendall couldn’t deflect the blow. Pain exploded in his nose and forehead. He collapsed backward, his limbs gone rubbery and limp. Darkness closed the world to a tight, agonized knot.
Before he could move, iron fingers clamped on to his ankle and dragged him back toward the helicopter. Thorns and sharp rocks
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