Ross answered the reporter's questions and dodged any regarding Dr. Mason, his best-kept secret, or so he thought. After he trudged back up the hill he whacked his mud packed shoes against the front tire, crawled back into the SUV and found his phone.

Duty urged him to call his boss, but others needed to be checked on first. The thought of losing the twins scared him to death. His heart ached for his girls. But he had a job to do and they'd gone to his ex-wife's, sister's farm. Trills only attacked densely populated areas. They probably couldn't have gone anywhere safer.

Doc Mason had somehow drilled her way to the front of his mind. Now he wanted to give her the news himself. Why? To make her proud? Maybe show off a little? Never hurt before when he'd tried to get with a random non-committal after his divorce. One acronym either worked or had him drying gin off with a towel. But this woman, she'd see through his F.B.I. bullshit. She wasn't out for a good time or a one night stand. This woman, she was...No way in hell. Not this obnoxious know it all. Not now. Not her. "Shit. That's all I need."

By the time he'd texted and received a smiley face from his oldest, he knew what had gripped him about the insufferable woman. One small attribute sucked at him like a magnet to a steel mill. They weren't the hypnotic, gorgeous, bedroom eyes which usually made his heart thump in the southern region of his body. He'd have to categorize them as pretty, stoic most of the time-but when she looked at him, they twinkled. That's what got him. Now he felt responsible for her as well. Once he'd confirmed her safety, he'd badger her for answers. Hopefully, she had some because the shit had hit the fan hard. Not just any fan, a wind prop from the movies, covering the entire world with little piles of crap.

His thumb fumbled across the screen of his phone, landing on the wrong number. He ended the call to Pizza House and clicked on Alexa's name.

"This is Dr. Mason."

Her quick answer startled him. "Ms. Mason, er...Dr...this is Ross." His heart sank and he smacked his forehead.

"I know who you are. How may I help you, Agent Harris?"

She sounded upset if you could call it that? He'd have to spend more time with her before the subtle tones meant anything to him. He figured he'd keep it all business.

"Sorry to call and interrupt you, Dr. Mason." Crap. Too formal.

"That's quite all right. Have you procured a specimen?"

"No, but we've got a line on the Staten Trill. Are there any results from your tests yet?"

"The tests haven't revealed anything conclusive at this time but I may be on the right track here."

"Well, that's a start. You wouldn't happen to know any way of killing one of these things?"

"There's nothing I can do at this point to put a proverbial chink in their armor. Give me some time and a live specimen and we may find a way. However, there's some good news that comes from this." She paused.

"Which is?"

"If I can break the foreign gene down, I may be able to stop the transformation in a fetus, but it's going to take some time."

"Do whatever you can." Every couple of seconds the world became more deadly for humans. The babies alone would kill millions. Now it seemed as though the adolescent Trills would ravage and kill anyone in their paths. A shiver ran down his spine.

She sighed. "Have you made contact with one of the tri-alleles yet?"

"No. But, you know what this one did?"

"Um...I'm at the lab, remember? So, no."

"Right." He chuckled under his breath. She'd actually made a joke. He imagined her smile.

"So? What did it do?"

Or a scowl. "She jumped over the Willamette River."

"How far?"

"We think somewhere near fifty yards."

"Muscle density, strength, speed, enhanced senses. All of these could be traits of the third allele."

"How's that possible?" He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "Do they have some super leaping ability?"

"Usually proteins are the major functional end-points of the DNA template and account for the majority of the dry weight of a cell. Research shows we can ..."

"Time out." Even though she couldn't see him, he made the time-out signal with his hands. "Gonna have to slow down just a bit."

"Short answer?"

"Yes please."

"I don't know what their molecular structure is like or how their internal anatomy works. We do know that they thrive on human flesh, mainly the heart."

"Why would their eating habits have anything to do with their molecular structure?"

She sighed and he could imagine her pinching the bridge of her nose. "Well...cardiac tissue is the densest muscle in the human body. There could be a correlation between their eating habits and their molecular structure."

He laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"Gives a whole new meaning to the saying, 'eat your heart out'."

She humphed. "Very funny."

"Agent Harris? Come in. You there?" the sheriff's deep voice boomed over the receiver, causing radio static.

"Dr. Mason, the sheriff's on the line. I need to go."

"I should be able to form a better hypothesis before you return. Do you know when you'll be arriving?"

"Depends on what the sheriff wants."

"I'll probably be here all night. I need to call Teagan and see how she's doing. I'll talk to you later."

"See you when I get there." He picked up the hand-held radio. "This is Agent Harris ... over."

"'Bout damn time!" The sheriff panted, which couldn't be anything new for him. With his size, he probably got winded from eating a donut.

"What's going on, Sheriff?"

"We just got a call from a family in Independence. Most of 'em were...wiped out by what the survivors are calling, 'one of those things'. They described the creature as an eleven-year-old girl with black eyeballs."

Black eyeballs? Ross didn't know the significance of those, but he did know one thing ..."That's our patient zero. Baby Staten." Good. Maybe they could bag her and the nightmare would be over.

"Not a fuckin' baby no more. She killed a boy and his mother."

Ross knew what he had to do. "How'd the others get away?"

"That's the pickle of the whole damn thing, now. The dad and little girl say she slaughtered the mom and boy and then just watched them walk out of the house. They're trying to say if you stare one in the eye and back away, they'll leave you alone. Like a goddamn grizzly."

Ross didn't believe it for a second. "I'll get a chopper out there and whoever else I can get headquarters to send.

The sheriff cleared his throat. "I'm headed to the Independence police station to talk with the family. I sent several deputies, the state police, and a SWAT team out to the house. 771 First Street Independence."

"Got it." Ross keyed the address into his dashboard GPS.

"Get your ass out there, but be careful."

Maybe this sheriff does have a heart? Hopefully, he'll get to keep it. "Aww, Sheriff ... you do care."

"Now don't go buying me flowers or a ring. Just get your ass out here."

Ross laughed. "You got it. Be there in ten minutes."

"And where the hell is the goddamn National Guard?"

"President's got them rounding up pregnant women. I'll check out the house. Let me know if you learn anything else from the witnesses." The sound of tires locking against pavement blared over the radio.

"Sonofabitch ... there's a ... holy mother of God!"

Ross flinched and pulled the radio away from his ear as the blast from the sheriff's hip cannon crackled over the line.

"Sheriff? Sheriff?" Ross clicked the mic over and over. With his emergency lights flipped on, the SUV jumped back onto Highway 22 West, toward Independence, and whatever waited for him at the police station.

Shit's hitting the fan now.

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