Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Hi,” I say, stopping to chat with the woman. “I’m battling a migraine, and it’s really making me sick. Any chance I could talk you into bringing me a Sprite before takeoff?”
The twenty-something female is quick to help. “Oh, my sister gets those, and they’re absolute hell. We’re running late, so let me give it to you now so you have time to drink it.” She motions me out of the aisle so those behind me may pass, and then pops some ice into a glass and fills it with Sprite. “Make sure it’s empty before liftoff. What seat are you in? I’ll check on you once we’re in the air.”
I reach for my ticket and show it to her before accepting the drink. “Thank you very much,” I say, and then rush after Brock, praying I get to him before he manages to open that briefcase. I arrive at my seat just as Brock buckles himself in, my case at his feet, ready to open.
With a silent prayer that my plan is going to work, I move to sit and accidentally, on purpose, dump my Sprite in his lap. He curses and jerks about in shock, ice and cold liquid all over his pants and shirt.
I, of course, react with instant shock. “Oh no! Oh, Brock, I am so very sorry. I’m a mess today, I swear.” I hand him the glass. “Put the ice in this.” I reach for the computer bag. “I stuffed some tissue in here while I was in the airport restroom in case I got sick.” I unzip the bag just enough to reach inside, fumble around, remove the hard drive, and try to conceal it with the tissue.
“Miss,” a flight attendant says, stopping beside us. “The bag needs to go under the seat for takeoff.” Her eyes widen with understanding. “Oh no. Do you need help here?”
Brock drops ice into the cup and hands it to her. “You can take this and bring us some napkins.”
While he’s busy being him, basically obnoxious, I discreetly maneuver the tissue and the stick into my lap. With the briefcase as cover, I slip the stick into my pocket. “Here you go,” I say, offering him the tissue as I zip the case closed and then slide it under the seat. “I’m really sorry, Brock.”
He accepts the tissue and starts wiping down his shirt. “It’s fine,” he grumbles, his tone saying it really isn’t fine at all. “I guess we can swap computers once we are in the air.”
“I guess so,” I agree, leaning back in my chair and closing my eyes, ridiculously pleased with myself right now. I dodged a bullet. Now, if I could get away from Brock without getting myself killed, I’ll call this a good day.
Chapter Eleven
General Lawrence
With Dr. Chin by my side, I stand in one of several private PMI labs, the location highly secret. Together, we monitor a dozen soldiers strapped to hospital beds, still several injections from completing their conversion to GTECH. All volunteers for the experiment, and all receiving the original GTECH serum—Grade 1—while Chin works to perfect a newer, faster-acting Grade 2 version. I glance at Chin. “You’re certain we cannot use the Grade 2 serum to speed up their conversion?”
“Rushing Grade 2 is dangerous. And mixing the two, deadly. No matter how much you pressure me, there’s no rushing the process.”
“How soon after conversion can we control them with Red Dart?”
“Twenty-four hours after the final serum injection. My team is quite certain we’ve found a way to overcome the immune function of the soldiers.”
But he doesn’t know for sure. That’s not good enough. “It’s time we’re certain,” I say. “A dozen soldiers ready for battle two weeks from now is no longer enough. Not with the entire GTECH population trying to stop Red Dart from happening. We have no idea what they might do to stop us. Use the Grade 2 serum. I need an army of GTECHs, and I need them now.”
Chin holds up his hand. “General, I must remind you that the Grade 2 serum is a conversion that is rapid and potentially lethal. Those that survive will not only be positive for X2, but the aggression will be magnified times ten. You are talking about a highly volatile soldier. One without a mind for anything but violence. I need time to alter this reaction.”
“Will the Grade 2 be stronger and faster as you promised?”
Chin hesitates. “Yes.”
“And at least half of those dosed will survive?”
“General—”
“I take that as a yes,” I interrupt. “Both Julian and Caleb Rain are after Red Dart. Do you wish to see our country fall to the GTECHs?”
“You know I do not,” Chin replies brusquely. “I need a human test subject.”
“You’ll have Brock West,” he replies, pleased with Chin’s agreement. “I’ve sent orders to have the several hundred recruits scheduled for next week report two days early. We’ll have hundreds of test subjects in forty-eight hours.”