At least he knew he could treat combat injuries.

They came to the edge of the open space right where they expected, outside the northeast corner of the small complex. They were looking at the corner where the small northern building and the big central building almost touched. This was their ORP, their objective rally point. The helipad was to their right, next to the back of the big building. They could see the white Jeep through the gap between the buildings. Their angle blocked their view of the southernmost small building.

Zeke made a hand signal and Spooky moved off to their left, vanishing into the woods. A few minutes later Daniel saw him crouching by one of the windows at the back of the small building. He had been looking but had not even seen Spooky cross the open space from the trees to the building.

“Damn, he’s good,” he breathed.

A derisive snort from Skull was the only answer.

The wind sock at the helipad swung on its short wooden pole in the three to five knot breeze. Daniel watched the black shape against the white building move along it, looking in the windows. It slid around the corner a moment later, and they waited some more. While they waited, Skull prepped a hasty sniper position there at the ORP.

They heard a faint click, then Spooky’s voice. “North small building clear. Quarters, kitchen, office, rec room. I leave east door unsecured, advise occupy. Proceeding to south small building.”

“Acknowledged.” Zeke led them fifty yards eastward, staying inside the tree line. Then they hustled across the open space, shielded from sight by the empty small building. As they crossed the space they could hear the low grumble of a generator, well muffled, and a whining hiss that was less identifiable.

They slipped around the corner of the building to enter the door Spooky had left unlocked. Inside, they found everything as he had reported – two bedrooms with two single beds each, a shared latrine and shower, a kitchen, a recreation room with a pool table, and a small windowless office with a low-end computer, a printer combo, and not much else. They did a quick search, finding nothing of significance. The fridge held enough fresh food to indicate that they brought groceries at least weekly.

Zeke unlocked the door at the other end of the building, which if opened would face a door in the north end of the large building across an angled gap. He put an eye to the crack in the blinds of the door window, watching for anything amiss.

Daniel took the other side of the door and did the same, with Larry watching their backs.

About that time they heard Spooky report, “South building all clear. Quarters and kitchen, rest of building is general storage. Rally at north door of large building ETA one minute.”

Zeke replied, “Roger, we are inside north small building at south door, standing by.”

A moment later Daniel saw Spooky slip around the big building’s nearest corner and ghost up to the door in the near end. Spooky did something at the lock and then gently turned the handle. It looked like he had got it open. He reached into a cargo pocket and took out some kind of telescoping rod, like an old-fashioned radio aerial, and extended it. It had a little box on one end with a faint yellow LED, which he ran around the edge of the whole door frame. The light stayed yellow.

Some kind of alarm detector, Daniel thought.

Spooky collapsed it back to pen-size and slid it  into his pocket. Then very, very slowly he eased the door off its jamb the tiniest of bits, not even a crack. He stayed that way for a full minute before letting it go gently back. He then pushed his NVGs off his eyes up onto the top of his head, lay prone on the ground, to open the door enough to press a naked eye to the crack at the very bottom corner.

Daniel observed, fascinated. Watching a real pro at work was interesting.

“Hallway whole length of building. Low light,” Spooky reported. “Eight doors, some with windows and lights inside. No activity. Negative air pressure confirmed.” Daniel figured Spooky was able to feel the air rushing into the crack in the door, as the air system kept the pressure inside slightly lower than outside. This would ensure any stray organisms floating in the air were unlikely to make it outside, except through the filtration system. In fact, that was probably the strange hissing they had heard crossing the field. It was kind of the opposite of NBC overpressure systems, which were usually meant to keep bad things out.

Zeke responded, “All right, we go in. Larry, hold the door, me and DJ go first and start search and clear. Spooky, go around and watch the far door from the outside. Unlock it and be ready to come in. Skull, you got clear lines?”

“Ay-firmative,” Skull answered under his breath.

“Larry, you hold the door from the inside, watch our backs and keep the line of retreat open. Remember everyone: the civilians are non-hostile unless proven otherwise. Don’t get twitchy.” Zeke pulled the end of a sheaf of zip cuffs out of his cargo pocket, easy to grab. He then took off his gloves. So did Daniel. They were trained to shoot with gloves on, but anything delicate, such as threading a zip cuff or sticking in an IV, required tactile feedback.

“Spooky in position.”

“Skull in position.”

“Vinny in position,” came a faint sardonic voice.

Daniel strangled a laugh. He’d hate to be Vinny, just listening back at the motel, but someone had to do it. He took a deep breath, and tried to reassure himself, his twitchy conscience, that he wasn’t out for blood. A part of him felt like a total pussy for worrying about such things; a part of him was proud.

***

Elise sat staring at her screen as the machines in the lab ran more useless experiments, modeling drugs that might mitigate some of the virtue effect. She studied the data on her computer screen, the results of her latest batch. Nothing new. No progress. Part of the problem was that most of the new designer drugs were, of course, made to make the user feel good.

Durgan wanted something that made people feel evil and like it. Or feel nothing.

Something like that.

Dammit, I’m a microbiologist, not a neuroscientist. Roger is a virologist and Arthur is an epidemiologist. We need a couple of dozen specialists to do what he wants. But Durgan’s not listening.

She paced the floor absentmindedly chewing her nails then walked over to the small kitchenette in the corner of the lab and poured herself a steaming cup of coffee. Caffeine. Maybe that would help her think. Maybe she’d rather not.

As she stirred in her usual teaspoon of cream and two packs of sugar she inhaled the comforting aroma and her mind wandered back in time. Funny how scents and smells are often so vividly connected to memories.

When she was a girl the wonderful smells of coffee, bacon and toast would wake her from her slumber every morning. She would head into the kitchen to find her father sitting in his usual place at the table eating breakfast and reading the morning paper. Sneaking up from behind she’d scare him with a loud “boo.” He would always play along, clutching at his chest as if she had frightened him, then he’d scoop her up with a reassuring hug and kiss. I really miss you, Dad.

She thought about her father, a good man, solid, loving, dependable, honorable, and her thoughts turned again to Daniel. I know deep down Daniel is all of those things, too. She wondered where he was and if he was thinking of her at that moment.

***

“Execute.” Zeke pushed the door smoothly open, and Larry crossed the thirty feet or so to the unlocked door where Spooky had been so recently. They followed right behind, and Larry opened the door quickly, drawing it out of their way so all they had to do was go straight in.