Just when she thought the end was indeed nigh, Ezra heard something faint in the darkness that surrounded her, something that made her ask, What is that?

It sounded like a rhythmic dripping of water. Somewhere. It was the sound now pulling her from what felt like a deep, uncomfortable sleep if she could even call it that. The pounding in her head was nothing compared to the burning ache in her shoulder, which felt like someone had stabbed her with a red hot poker, or the heat in her veins, like her blood was boiling.

Perhaps this is what happens in hell.

Other than the incessant drip-drip sound, a stench of sorts cloyed at her nostrils—what is that? Rotting flesh? Mildew? Sewage? Is it coming from me...?

Ezra opened her tired, burning eyes to a dark interior where dampness lingered in the air and the cold concrete walls; phantom sounds echoed, indicating a cavernous space. She tried to push up, too weak to do so though.

To her surprise, she landed back on something soft—musty and in need of airing, but soft. An old mattress perhaps. Dust bunnies and plumes tickled her nose.

For reasons yet unknown to her, Ezra blocked her nose, to keep from sneezing, too afraid to disrupt things that lie hidden in the dark.

That's when she heard it, a familiar sound, like footsteps in the distance. Someone was out there, wherever there was. Were they approaching her or walking away?

"Hello?" she dared to call out, her voice a raspy breath from days of silence. "Anybody there?"

Where am I? She tried to scan the room—hall?—whatever it was she was in. It wasn't exactly a five-star hotel, what little of it she could make out. A small fluorescent camping light someone had placed next to her only illuminated a small portion of that space, but she could make out some sort of a platform. A train platform perhaps. Though it looked worse than the decrepit railway stations she was used to in the days she used to catch the local train to and from uni, back in her twenties. No. This was worse, far, far worse. From the rubbish and the stench, it seemed abandoned and had been for years.

Somewhere beyond her vision, air whooshed quietly through dark tunnels once busy with local trains, when locals still used the railway. There were fainter squeaks intermingled with one another, signaling a melee of rats somewhere. Ezra hated rats. And that incessant dripping of water. And those footsteps seemed to approach her but never arrive.

She tried pushing off the mattress again, to move. Maybe if she moved, she could a) figure out the extent of her injuries—she remembered well enough that Rai had shot her, the memories of it coming back to her. The searing heat as the bullet burrowed into her skin and hit her bone; the smell of gunpowder the air carried; the faint screams and sounds of her colleagues as they were slaughtered. And b) she could escape this hell-hole if she wasn't dead already. Was this her hell? It wouldn't surprise her that her version of hell would be a cesspool of potential pathogens—not after what she created.

But if she wasn't dead, a big if, then she needed to find Tehreem. Find Rai. Had they gotten out alive from that extermination? Had they made it out with Chimera 98 sample? Its vaccine? Her research? Who had access to it now that it was on Rai's private server? Questions that needed answers now.

"Come on, Ezzie," she coaxed herself, pushing up on weak arms again, or an arm that shook like jelly for the other couldn't take her weight. "We have to get out of here..."

She felt a drop of sweat land on the back of her hand. She could feel more dribbling down her back and front. And she knew then, she was running a high fever, possibly from an infection acquired at this filthy little place. A fever that was burning her up like a heater. A fever that would eventually kill her if she didn't do something to bring it down. But what could she use, in that abandoned little subway platform?

How did I end up here? Someone had to have brought me...

The last words she'd heard were, 'I'll be back. I promise.' Krish had spoken them as he'd made her play dead. Had he come back for her? Was he the one who brought her here? But why did he leave her again? Where was he now?

Maybe he's gone to get Tehreem...

But then, another train of thoughts derailed her previous one.

Or maybe he's dead and they found me, those men who'll kill anyone to get what they want? Did they get me, even if Krish and Tehreem got away with the virus they wanted? Did they get me, those men who broke into the facility that night, like they did when they got me or Archer? Is that why I'm here? So that they can force me to make it again? And this time, alone?

Faint footfalls reached her then. One pair? No, it was more than one pair. People were coming. Ezra's heart beat against her ribs and she lowered herself onto the dusky mattress again, closed her eyes, and pretended unconsciousness. The chances of them hurting her would be less if they thought she was still passed out. Right?

Who is it?

She peeked out, hoping to catch sight of them before they caught sight of her.

Their faint voices got louder and almost discernible. The closer they got, almost recognisable. Almost. If only she wasn't tired and drowsy, making concentration difficult.

She hadn't meant to but she groaned in frustration. This was not Krish's plan. Or hers. They were meant to smuggle the Chimera and vaccine samples out with him on his next mission off base, get it into the hands of WHO or CDC, and have them plan for a pandemic that was coming. That was the plan. Not their lives, not their own safety, but the smuggling out of the deadly virus and its potential demise.

Feet rushed down dark stairs then.

They heard me.

Ezra tried not to let her fear show. She had mastered it by now. No one will know she was scared of them, not now, not ever, or she wasn't her Dad's child.

Dad. Her heart wrenched wretchedly. Would she ever see him again, him and Shaki? If so, when will that be?

"I think she's still out," a female voice whispered, breaking through her drowsiness.

"This should help. Hopefully." The male moved closer. Ezra felt a knee compress the mattress near her belly and she clenched her eyes tight, hoping neither captor noticed them flutter. As far as they knew, she was still out.

But it was one thing to remain 'asleep' when someone invaded her personal space, when that someone grabbed her arm, prepping it for a needle.

What are they injecting me with?

Her eyes flew open and pulled her arm away, knocking the needle from her assailant's hands. "No!"

"Ezra, it's antibiotics!" A familiar face floated into her vision while the male clamoured to grab the needle before it rolled off into the darkness. "You have a nasty infection."

Ezra blinked at the two: Tehreem and Krishna. They were fine!

"What?" she mouthed soundlessly.

"Be glad we could get our hands on some with everything going on up there." Krish returned to a crouch next to her, flaming the needle tip with a lighter to sanitize it.

"Getting some is putting it lightly," Tehreem said as Krish rashly grabbed Ezra's arm. "You should let me take a look at that cut on your head."

"I'm fine." He gripped Ezra's hand tight and slid the sharp end into her skin. "I'm not the one about to die of sepsis."

"I don't wanna die," Ezra heard her feeble response.

"Then stop squirming and let me help you." He pressed the plunger end, injecting her with the antibiotics.

It was only then that he dropped next to her in a slouch and threw the syringe into the abyss of the dark track. Tehreem too sunk at the head of her mattress. They both looked exhausted and thinner than she remembered.

How long ago was that?

"What's happening up there?" Ezra eyed each of them, resting her heavy head on the mattress. "How long have I been out?"

"A month." Krish stared into the darkness. Ezra got a sense that he was avoiding her gaze. Why?

"More," Tehreem corrected. "The lab was breached five or so weeks ago."

"That long?" Ezra felt sick to her stomach. I've been out that long? What happened? But she knew what happened. She'd lost a lot of blood and along the way contracted some infection that was doing its best to kill her. It explained why she felt like she was on fire; why she'd had those feverish dreams.

But what if they weren't dreams? What if those were her lucid moments, escaping the lab with these two, on a jeep, across barren land and anarchy-filled streets? Streets where people were attacking one another openly for supplies.

"The desert, the shootings, the chaotic streets. They were real?" she asked, dreading the answer already.

"Yeah." Tehreem squeezed her shoulder. "It's hell up there, and to think this only began maybe three weeks ago. They released it in dense pockets within China, India, Africa... It's spread like wildfire. Governments have announced a lockdown starting midnight tonight, so people are clamoring to get their hands on supplies, food, water, medicines... It's been crazy! Unbelievably crazy. People are attacking others for toilet paper. Toilet paper! All the while the governments are pretending they are trying to locate the source, but we all know the source, don't we?"

Guilt was splashed all over Tehreem's face. "We did this, Ezzie. You and I."

"And I," Krish murmured. "This shouldn't have happened the way it did..."

"So Watergate released it? Him and his posse?"

"Who else could? They were the ones who 'hired' us, not that they were paying us..." Tehreem stared into the distance. "Why would he do this already? There were many tests we still needed to run."

"That little drama of yours," Krish said bluntly. "You yelled at the top of your lungs it was ready. What did you think was going to happen?"

"But it's untested in gen pop," Tehreem snipped.

"You think that matters to people who make killing their business?" Krish scoffed.

And Ezra felt the lingering tension between the two. This wasn't their first time arguing, that much was certain. Something had gone down between the two. Ezra wondered what? Was it her?

"You're telling me three weeks was all it took for anarchy?" Ezra looked from one to another. That couldn't be right, surely. Even the 2019 COVID pandemic had taken months to send the world into a tailspin. It had lasted a few years, but not three weeks. Nothing had happened in three weeks.

"I suspect it's mutated already." Tehreem played with the edge of her scarf.

"Who else knew about the real Chimera-98 sample?" Krish suddenly asked. "The one we were working on."

Ezra and Tehreem both shook their heads.

"No one. I was about to replace the old sample with the safer one. It was being cultured when the lab fell." Ezra felt sick to her stomach. "Most of the samples in the lab were the older ones, not the ones with the fail-safe that was working."

"So what you're saying is—" Krish began.

"That the strain in gen pop right now may not be the one we meant to release." Tehreem suddenly shot to her feet and emptied her stomach over the edge of the platform. "Oh, god. What did we do?"

Krish looked from her to Ezra. His expression was hard and cautious. "Did Watergate know?"

"Know what?" Ezra held out her hand for him to pull her up. She couldn't have this conversation laying down on that filthy mattress. "That we were making the final culture?"

Krish nodded.

"Yeah, he knew. When he came to visit us after Tehreem's drama, he pulled me aside and asked me how long before I can make enough samples for him to take to trial." Ezra shook her head, suddenly feeling nauseous herself. "I told him give or take a week or two, just to be sure that they did not mutate while replicating. Why do you ask?"

"Then it wasn't Watergate." Krish's jaw tightened as he threw a tumbler to Tehreem. Ezra could hear the slosh of water and suddenly craved a bucket of water.

"What do you mean?" Ezra caught Tehreem throw Krish a loaded look. They knew something she didn't. What was it?

Krish remained quiet, catching the tumbler Tehreem threw back to him.

"We need to find more water." Tehreem cleared her throat and sat back down near Ezra. She too was avoiding her gaze now.

What's going on? Ezra wanted to know what secret these two hid, what it was that they weren't telling her, but she figured, if they were staying silent while berating one another, there must be a reason, so she didn't press on. There would be time for that later.

(...continued in part b...)