Still A Chance

Mara pressed herself harder into the dark shrouded corner of the room as the pounding on the heavy door intensified. The cold of the metal bar clutched tightly in her hand made her fingers ache. This had happened several times in the past two years and on each occasion the intruder had given up and left. It was not fear that made her hide in the shadows, but a wary instinct developed in the months since the world had gone to hell. Trust nothing but yourself her mother had said in the last moments they had together. Not even a thick steel security door, Mara silently mused. Her left hand fiddled with the delicate locket that hung around her neck as she stared blankly at the floor.

A sharp snapping sound made her head jerk upward, eyes now locked on the portal. With a final clang the bolt gave way and the heavy door swung inward with a grating whine. For a few moments faint shadows shifted around the opening before a head appeared clad in an environmental mask. In the dim light that her single lamp gave off she could see the reflection cast by the goggles change and knew that they were scanning. Infrared would be unfortunate as she would be easily seen, but for the time being her unwanted guest made no indication of discovering her.

A moment later the individual stepped inside, head turning first left then back to the right. A muffled grunt broke the silence as the newcomer noticed the environmental control panel on the far wall. Mara’s gaze followed, noting the 9mm high on the right leg, belt pouch with a red cross on it and three egg shaped grenades dangling from the harness across the chest. A small pack hung at the back, and she could tell the environmental suit was in good repair.

“You can come out girl,” A deep man's voice said with little emotion as he studied the data on the panel, “I’m not a threat to you.”

Mara remained still, unsure, not having encountered another human in so long. “You broke the door,” she said sourly.

“An easy fix,” he retorted as she stepped from the darkness. When he turned to regard her, his head and torso drew back as if stung. Without a word he retraced his steps to the door, pushed it closed and held it while reaching into a pocket near his right calf. Drawing out a small device he held it up to the seam near the latch and turned it on. A bright shaft of intense plasma lanced out and spot welded the door to the frame. “The filters are working I take it,” he said turning back to her.

Mara smirked, “As far as I know,” she retorted.

“It’s obvious, you're still alive.”

“Why did you do that to the door?” Mara asked irritated.

The man’s head turned toward her, “Because these Dynacon filtration systems auto stop when the rooms seal is broken. It was the only way to turn them back on.”

“Oh,” the girl chirped then turned away and fell heavily onto the well-worn couch that doubled as her bed.

“What’s your name girl?” The man asked in a commanding tone.

Mara regarded him with a deep scowl before inhaling deeply, “Mara,” she said flatly.

Silence hung thickly for nearly a full minute before he spoke again. “Not one for conversation, are you?” He said glancing at the control panel. The readout indicated the air in the room was uncontaminated, so he reached up and began to unfasten his headgear. With a hiss the seal broke, and he pulled it off.

Mara looked toward him out of the corner of her eye. His skin was dark, and his African features were chiseled, but his eyes looked weary. His bald head sported several scars with one running from his right ear across his forehead to the top of his nose. “If you're hungry there’s food in the counter to your left.”

He looked left and noted the metal cabinetry, then swung right and looked at her. “Thank you,” he replied, studying the girl as she sat on the sofa playing a game on a handheld device of some sort. She made no effort to look in his direction. With considerable effort he rose, walked to the cupboard, and pulled open two of the doors. Inside lay numerous cans. “How did you come to be here?” he asked.

“Just chance,” she said eliciting a look of exasperation from the man.

“Can opener.”

Mara rolled her eyes and exhaled sharply, “Drawer on the far left.”

“You know, it takes a code to get into these rooms,” he observed.

Mara stiffened. He seemed to know a great deal about the place, “So...”

Anger flared in the man, but he remained stoic. “You're what, sixteen maybe seventeen? Which means you weren’t an employee and I doubt you hacked the code.”

Mara’s was feeling cornered, but remained calm. “Why do you care?” she asked with obvious suspicion in her voice.

The man looked at the open can in his hand and fought down the urge to shout as his gut rumbled from hunger. “How do you heat this?” he asked trying to sound congenial.

“You don’t,” Mara replied. “It is what it is.”

He shoved a spoon in the can of chili and drew out a stiff lump of the stuff. Despite having lived on survival rations for much of the past two years he had hoped for a hot meal since gaining access to the facility, but it was not to be. He shuddered as the thick mass felt like sludge and tasted only vaguely like what it was supposed to be.

Several hours passed in silence as the man finished his meal then slumped forward and fell asleep. Mara contented herself with playing her game, but she had to redo much as her mind was feverishly trying to make sense out of the current situation. After a while she too lay down and went to sleep.

When she awoke, she sat up to find the man staring at her from his seat at the table. Her hackles rose. “What?”

“My name is Jamal, Agent Jamal Warren,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “I was one of seven tasked with finding the culprit who created this mess.”

Mara’s eyes widened slightly, but she remained silent.

“Is the name Randall Everman familiar to you?”

Mara shook her head.

“Really?” he said incredulously. “You’re still going to deny knowing anything about Phyler Pharmaceuticals?"

“I know what the place is called,” Mara said, her anxiety rising, “I can read signs.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he snapped. “How did you gain access to this room?”

“I came in after wandering around and found the door propped open and decided to stay,” Mara blurted out. “There was no one here and I saw no reason to try and find someone to ask permission.”

For a moment the agent's resolve faltered, but he just could not bring himself to buy her explanation. It was then he noticed the small locket hanging around the girl’s neck. It was not the heart-shaped item itself, but he could just make out a small, inscribed symbol near the hearts pointed end. Rage flared in his eyes. He stood, stormed to the couch, snatched the shocked girl up completely off her feet and pinned her against the wall. It all happened so fast that Mara had no chance to fend him off. She regarded him wide-eyed. “Where did you get this?” He demanded.

“I found it,” she said through clenched teeth.

The man pressed her harder against the wall making it hard for Mara to breath. “Don’t lie to me girl.”

He said it with so much vitriol that for the first time Mara found herself truly afraid. “Alright,” she screamed, “My mother gave it to me.”

Jamal’s head cocked slightly to the right. “Your mother,” he said, then looked deep into her eyes. “Your last name wouldn’t happen to be Reardon, would it?” Mara’s expression was enough to let him know he had hit the mark. With a great bellow of rage, he threw the girl to his right, and she slammed into the wall with a heavy thud then crashed to the floor. Mara raised her head weakly, touched her forehead with a trembling hand where blood flowed from a gash, then she went limp. After a moment to collect his thoughts he went to her, snatched the locket, and snapped the chain.

Several minutes passed while the man paced back and forth across the room vibrating with anger. “Your mother caused this,” he seethed. “My family is dead because of her.” He walked to where he could stand over the girl. She did not move so Jamal bent down and placed two fingers on her neck. He stood with a groan. She had no pulse.

Sitting down at the table, he cupped his face in his hands. He had not meant to kill her and yet he felt some satisfaction that the daughter of the world killer had suffered. A few moments later he returned his attention to the locket and after a time managed to open it. Inside lay a tiny chip that he had been tasked to find and return to Mr. Everman. He knew he was not supposed to mess with the chip, but he wanted to know if it gave any indication as to why the Reardon woman would do such a heinous thing.

It took hours, but Jamal finally managed to get the chip to work in the girl’s small handheld computer. With a fair amount of trepidation, he hit play. A middle-aged woman appeared on the screen.

“Marcus, I don’t have much time, but if you are seeing this then you managed to decipher my last message. The virus has been in circulation for more than a year and has mutated as Randall planned. This chip contains the information necessary to counter the outbreak, but unfortunately, he knows about it and has already set his hounds after me. I have the proof that he is the one responsible on here as well, but there is no way I can get to the authorities because of Randall’s lily-white relationship with so many people. I don’t know how he manages to fool them so easily but be assured he’s completely crazy. File 21 has a security clip of him in the lab just prior to the security breach that supposedly wiped that part of the data stream. In it you can see him adding the core strain with the carrier that was released in Indonesia. Lastly, Mara is the key to this. I discovered by accident that she’s immune and you can use her DNA to create an antidote. I have her in a secure location. The last place they will likely look. It’s a damaged room in the closed portion of Phyler. She’s scared but aware of her uniqueness. If she dies the DNA will be useless. Hurry.”

After looking through the remainder of the files, Jamal looked at the crumpled form on the floor across the room and for the first time in two years he felt defeated. “She’s immune,” he whispered, then his countenance fell, and he looked at the cuff of his sleeve for a moment before drawing it back. Dark blotches had appeared along the veins running parallel with his tendons. The girl would have her revenge even in death as he was now infected. What was worse was the knowledge that he had destroyed the only hope the world had.

Hours later, Mara sat up stiffly finding the man slumped over the table, his lifeless body stiff with rigor mortis. She removed the patch with its tiny needle from her hand. The drug had worked. Simulated death. There was still a chance.