SIX YEARS BEFORE THE OUTBREAK

As Aaron grew closer with Jonah, Natalya, and eventually Nika, strange things were brewing elsewhere. Luckily for them, it was nowhere near London. In fact, the emerging mystery was coming to light somewhere in the Forest of Bowland.

A laboratory was being constructed in a large collection of trees far away from civilization. Half of the building was already complete, and construction workers continued building the final portion. Because of that, part of the lab was a colossal rectangular structure with silver walls and wide corridors and rose three stories high while the other half was a collection of frames and steel beams laid down for further development.

In a small room overlooking the rest of the lab, two men watched the construction through a long window that took up the whole wall in front of them. Beyond the glass was what would eventually become a kind of gymnasium for the test subjects, filled to the brim with several obstacles courses and a small army of robots to use as training dummies. That is, if the dummy provided a challenge.

"You're really gonna do this, Troy?" asked the youngest man, a gentleman in his late twenties. "I know you've been planning for a while, but I still can't comprehend the scientific and biological risks you're taking with this project."

"I've set my mind on this project a long time ago, Simon," the other man, a gruffer individual named Troy Schaefer, replied. "I've seen countless lives lost throughout my years in the army and I'd like to change that. However, I'm not afraid to sacrifice less valuable lives to save others."

"But are you willing to sacrifice your own?"

"Of course. That was the whole point of being a military man. But something as groundbreaking as the goal of this operation requires the risk of multiple lives to ensure that we can save many more." Schaefer paused to take a sip of his tea. "Ironically, despite the lethality of this project, our mission is to cheat death."

"Cheat death?" Simon repeated. "Why on Earth would you want to do that?"

"I believe that death is the only thing that makes every human equal," Schaefer replied. "Well we're about to change that, Simon."

"But the things we have to do to change that. Won't the actions we will have to commit to complete this mission seem immoral in the eyes of the public?"

Schaefer glared at Simon with a grim expression. "I'd rather risk lives in the name of science than risk science over a few worthless lives."

Simon stared at Schaefer in disbelief. "So that's how you see your test subjects?"

"I don't blame him," another voice answered, the source of the voice hidden from their view. "After witnessing so many atrocities committed by mankind, you begin losing regard for human life."

Simon looked toward the corner of the room that was shrouded in shadow. He nervously nudged his glasses back onto his nose and stepped back. Even though Simon wasn't looking forward to meeting the person the voice belonged to, Schaefer stared into the darkness of the room with a sly smirk, like if he already knew he could trust the person creeping in the shadows.

"Walter Bennington," Schaefer said with a wicked chuckle. "That's a voice I haven't heard in a while. I thought they threw you in with the other crackpots."

A man emerged from the corner of the room. He shared similar features with Schaefer, both physically and fashion-wise. They both had greying hair and fuzz on their chins, but this Walter Bennington individual had hazel, almost yellowish, eyes that provided a window into something more sinister than how he appeared on the outside. A sadistic grin stretched across his face. He wore a British Army uniform with a gun strapped to his back and everything, and Simon started wondering if he came directly from a nearby base.

"To be honest, they thought about it," Bennington replied, shaking Schaefer's hand. "Seriously, Queen Elizabeth herself approached me with her adorable little Corgis and everything. But then they realized they would've lost one of the best legalized killers in the entire United Kingdom."

"Legalized killer?" Simon repeated. "Wouldn't you prefer being called a soldier?"

Bennington raised his brow. "Who's this? Did you hire a rent-boy?"

"Piss off."

Schaefer chuckled. "No, he's my newest colleague. This is Simon Reid. He might still look like a wee lad, but he's one of the smartest men I've ever met."

Bennington extended his hand again. "Walter Bennington, at your service."

"Charmed," Simon replied sourly, leaving Bennington hanging.

"Are you ready to change the world, lad?"

"For better or worse."

Bennington chuckled. "That sums it up. So what's the plan, Schaefer?"

"Plan?" Schaefer repeated. "I need a damn laboratory first before I can do anything in it."

"Where's the meticulous Schaefer I used to know? The one who could formulate a plan for anything that came his way?"

"That was from a bloodier time, mate. I may have some decent knowledge in biology, but Simon here is the new brains of the operation."

Bennington glanced at Simon, a small shred of doubt hidden in him. "All right, lad. Schaefer clearly trusts you. Now you just need to give me a reason to trust you. Impress me."

"We'll be organizing volunteers from all over England, age sixteen and older," Simon explained. "However, our test subjects will be members both formerly and currently serving in the army since combat experience is necessary for our experiments."

"And what will we be experimenting with?" Bennington asked.

"Self-replicating nano-robotics."

"Which will do what?"

"Provide the host of these nanites superhuman healing, strength, and possibly immortality with further development."

Bennington grinned. "I'm impressed. Good work, lad." He glanced back at Schaefer. "But how long will it take for us to organize some eager test subjects?"

Schaefer shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but hopefully no less than a year or two."

A loud crackle of static emitted from Schaefer's walkie-talkie, startling the other two. He pulled it out of his pocket and held it in front of him.

"Excuse me, Mr. Schaefer," a woman inquired through the device. "Construction of the training centers are near completion, and we've begun work on the sleeping quarters. However, we weren't informed of the total capacity of occupants you wanted this facility to fit. How many people did you want this building to hold?"

"About three to four hundred, give or take. However, some of us take up residence in nearby towns."

"So how would you like the setup of the sleeping quarters?"

"Construct one hundred and fifty rooms taking up space on the second and third floors of this facility, with a mix of two or three beds per room. We'll make them fit no matter what."

"Yes, sir."

Another crackle of static occurred, signaling the end of that brief conversation. Schaefer placed the walkie-talkie back in his pocket and returned his view to the window into the training center. Several construction workers marched into the room beyond the glass escorting several pieces of tech on dollies.

"Benny," Schaefer said, glancing at Bennington. "Round up as many of your old comrades as you can. Just like Simon said, a mix of new and experienced soldiers of the British Army are required."

"Yes, sir," Bennington replied.

He then looked toward Simon. "Simon, gather as many scientists as you can. Look for specialists in nanotechnology, biology, forensic pathology, and medical research. This project requires the manmade modification of the human body, so we need to make sure it looks as safe and humane as possible."

"Where would I look, sir?" Simon asked.

"It's a little far from here, but I have some connections with the Babraham Institute and the University of Cambridge. Look for the types of scientists I requested and tell them Troy Schaefer, former army colonel and close friend of the Queen, sent you. I'll even write you a list of recommended individuals."

"Got it, sir. Thank you."

"And neither of you need to worry about a ride. There are a few guards down on the first floor who can give you a ride to the nearest town."

"Bollocks," Bennington said. "I'm not letting a cabbie escort me out of a secret laboratory, especially one as brilliantly designed as this one will be."

Schaefer smirked. "Last I checked, cabbies aren't armed with assault rifles."

Bennington formed one last grin before he and Simon disappeared out of the room, making their way toward the elevator. Schaefer stood still and continued staring through the window at his view of the training center, taking another sip of his tea.

"Hello, world," Schaefer said to himself. "Welcome to the Ambrosia Project."