Infection Runs Deep

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX: MEDICAL EMERGENCY

I balked when they led me to a car the next morning. Warner and I had been locked in a room the night before, outfitted with an air mattress and a set of guards just outside our door.

After that show of hospitality, I was not excited for the day ahead of us.

The mercenaries walked in a tight formation, working effortless to maintain a team dynamic. Like they'd worked together before. Maybe I was just speculating, but they seemed too organized.

Senator Siles slid into the backseat of a black SUV, beckoning for me to follow. With one hesitating glance back at the house, I stepped in the car.

"Now," said Siles, "I think we have much to discuss."

My lips were pressed tightly together, my leg bouncing up and down against the floor. He put a hand on my knee to stop the incessant bouncing, and I flinched, pressing my body into the cold glass window, as far away from the man as I could get.

He raised his hands in surrender and backed off. "You don't need to worry, Dr. Hunter. Nor be nervous. We are heading to the nearest hospital after all. It should be like old times."

"Old times?" My words were barely audible. "How is any of this like old times?" I spit the last two words, putting a bit of venom in them. I was done with this little charade. It failed anyways.

"Ahh, a bit of fire." He winked, like we were in on the same joke. "Old times. Treating patients, making rounds, working with the virus." My face remained impassive. "We have state of the art equipment for you to use. Even staff at your disposal."

I raised an eyebrow at that. "There will be others there?"

"Yes," he said simply. No clarification of what that meant.

"These patients," I began, but Siles cut me off.

"Ah-ah, my dear. You'll see when we arrive. Our operation is under the utmost secrecy at the moment."

I bit back my retort and stared out the window instead, the Georgia skyline blurring by in patches of evergreen and vibrant blue.

Atlanta rose in the distance, a patchwork of big and small buildings clustered together like mountain peaks. A glass building, beautiful in the sunlight, glimmering with a kaleidoscope of a million colors, seemed to call out to us. The black SUV followed its beacon.

"You're kidding," I said when I recognized the glass building. It was famous in Atlanta, easily recognizable. The hospital was the CDC. It wasn't even really a hosipta, it had more offices and labs than anything else.

Despite living in Georgia, I had never been inside. It wasn't open to the public. They could have secret experiments or an underground village of conspiracy in there and we'd been none the wiser.

The problem with conspiracy theories: You never knew how close you were to the truth. There were too many implications of what they meant. I had a nagging feeling that I wasn't too far from the mark at this point.

A US senator kidnapping a doctor who had made a discovery about a viral epidemic and bringing her to the CDC to treat patients? There had to be something up.

"Is your incredulity a good sign or a bad one?" Siles asked me, curiosity in his tone. It was the subtly triumphant curiosity that let me know that what I said didn't matter. He wanted to know to serve his purpose, not because it would change his course of action.

I didn't answer, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back in my seat.

The driver, one of the mercs, pulled to a stop outside the big glass building. Normally, the Atlanta streets would be bustling with people and cars, many honking drivers speeding up our dropoff. The roads were silent.