Project Apollo

Chapter 9

George Washington University Hospital

Washington, D.C. – 12AM

Catherine Mueller shifted awake as the medications began to wear off. Fluorescent light filled her blurry vision as the room slowly came into focus. She slowly pulled herself up to find her surroundings. A pulsing heart monitor beeped.

Where the hell am I? Why am I in a hospital?

Her eyes found the window, outside a busy city street bustled away. She made out a black vertical sign with white letters. After squinting them into focus, she read it: Foggy Bottom-GWU.

"I'm in DC?" she asked aloud to the window.

Her eyes found the liquid dripping from the bag and followed the IV all the way to her arm. She snatched the IV and slid it out of her vein, leaving a swelling bruise behind. She was dressed in a hospital robe, naked underneath. Her teeth bit the tape connecting the heart monitor to her finger, tearing it free from its grip. Rotating on her rear, her feet fell to the floor next to her hospital bed. Wobbly at first, they found their stance back on her heels. Her legs immediately cramped as she stepped, causing her to collapse into the chair next to her bed. Her body clenched and winced in pain as her muscles tightened from knee to hip.

"Hello?!" she yelled toward the door. No answer.

"Hello?! Can anyone hear me?" Just then two men in black suits came in a hurry. They had a coiled earpiece tucked into the back of their jackets.

"Oh thank God! Gentlemen, there has been a huge mistake... I'm not supposed to be here, nothing is wrong with me, you say there has been a terrible mis—" They approached her and didn't let her finish.

"Ms. Mueller, you shouldn't be out of bed," one of the men said.

"There is a serious issue at hand. Someone has a deadly disease—" Again cutting her off, they each grabbed an arm and forced her back onto the bed. Her limited mobility could only weakly fight their firm grip.

"Get off of me! What the hell are you doing?!" She tried to shake free but to no avail. Terror struck as one of the men produced a sedative from their jacket, while the other restrained her. Her eyes bulged as every muscle in her body convulsed in retreat.

The syringe lowered.

The needle entered her arm.

The plunger pressed.

A moment passed.

Then her vision faded to darkness.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A disconcerting silence swept the shadow covered Compound. Ezra remained subtly intense, while the Spartan's minds raced. Xander looked over Ezra. His posture was straight, his hands held each other behind his back. His eyes were direct with purpose. There was no sign of confusion or question, merely deliberate premeditation.

Ezra has the upper hand. He knows exactly what is being played out because he has planned it all. The NIH break-in, the contagion, he is only getting started.

"It appears that you may have a situation on your hands. If my suspicions are correct a bacterium has been stolen by colleagues of mine and you need my help to figure out where they are and what they are planning on doing with the disease," Ezra taunted, verbally confirming his involvement in the happenings of the day.

"Yes, we do," Xander admitted.

"I can help you find the cure to the disease. But first let us ask ,what is the disease?" Ezra ascended from the bench and paced back in forth in the cell, like a professor lecturing to a class. "The disease is lies, Xander – lies. We live a life of lies. Your government hides your identities and your service – our very existence is a lie. We don't even exist... As you know, Apollo is the God of light and knowledge, Xander. And this disease will show you the light that is why we have named it as such." The room listened intently as Ezra's words carried a disturbing parlance.

"Then what is the cure?" Xander followed, causing a grin to come over the prisoner.

"Now you are asking the right questions. The cure, Xander.... is truth. And I will show you the truth, if you do it my way..." he offered with a serpentine hiss.

"What do you want? Immunity? You're not getting it..."

"No..." his next words came slow and direct, "I want to play a game, Xander..." Xander remembered Ezra's obsession with puzzles and codes. His cryptic diction came as no surprise.

"Tell me about your game..." Xander knew he had to indulge.

"Every game has to have a time component, objectives, players and rules—"

"Why don't we just kill you right now and go home? What do you guys say?" Seamus interrupted.

"You could do that... but the game has already begun, killing me will only seal the fate of my targets," Ezra explained with candor.

"What are the targets?" Xander punched the question.

"There are four targets in the DC Metro Area and a cure that is also located somewhere in the city. I will provide a clue every four hours to the next target. It is currently 12:04AM. The first clue will be given at 4AM," Ezra noted the digital clock mounted on the Compound wall.

"The final clue will be to the location of the cure. Your objective is to contain the targets, stop the spreading of the disease and find the cure, before it spreads killing many thousands of people," Ezra explained plainly.

Five clues, one every four hours. That's 4AM, 8AM, Noon, 4PM and 8PM...

"How many players?"

"As many as you want. You can have as much help as you want. You are sure going to need it," Ezra admonished.

"What's the first clue?" Ezra's index finger raised and waved side to side.

"No, no, no... I haven't gotten to the rule yet." Everyone listened closely. His tone carried an ominous indication.

"Rule? Just one rule?" Xander asked.

"Yes, just one rule. I will only speak to your lie Xander. The one you hold closest to you..." Ezra's composed tone dropped to pure evil – his head lowered down at them. And then he spoke something that resonated through the Compound, shocking every soul before him.

"I will only speak with Fiona Whitt."