Page 116 of Deadly Strain

He turned to Grace. “Does this setup seem weird to you?”

“As opposed to working in a lab free of dust and contaminants, with good ventilation and a sterile work area?” She grunted and apologized. “Sorry. Yes, it’s weird and wrong and I’d like to kick the ass of the idiot who decided he could play weekend microbiologist and create the next deadly plague on earth.”

That wasn’t what he’d meant.

“Would you work in here? Would it even be possible to do the work required to weaponize anthrax in here?” There were conditions and situations where certain pieces of equipment just didn’t function well. Underwater, high winds, long distances.

“Yes, I would, if I didn’t care about safety. You don’t need clean when you’re trying to manipulate a bacteria or virus. In fact, an environment where random factors might be introduced to the bacteria might even help the process. Anthrax isn’t any more difficult to work with than any other bacteria, it’s just more deadly than most.”

“No generator,” he said.

“If I wasn’t actively working on something, I’d shut it off to save fuel.”

“He could be out scouting his next target or firing on his next target. We don’t know his timeline.”

Clark searched the other side of the crates for unfriendlies and gave the all-clear.

Sharp nodded to Grace, and she darted around him to investigate the equipment. He nodded at Clark, who moved forward, following the rock wall of the cave. There was too much air movement for there to be only one entrance and exit.

Hernandez, Runnel, and March took up watch positions, facing the way they’d come in, their rifles tucked into their shoulders, ready to fire.

Sharp surveyed the room at the same time as keeping watch on Grace. Her movements were quick and excited, like a predator on the trail of prey. Somethingsnapped, a rubber-bandy sound. She’d put on gloves.

The microscope was given a quick investigation, but she moved on in seconds. The lid of one crate came off and she peered inside. The lid was placed back. Another was opened.

Silence.

Sharp glanced at her. She stared into the box with a horrified expression on her face.

“Grace?”

“It’s full of grenades,” she whispered.

It took him all of two seconds to reach her. The grenades looked completely normal...for individual devices with the power to tear a person’s legs off. If the whole crate detonated, every person within thirty feet would be ripped to shreds.

He reached in with one hand to pick one up for inspection, but Grace stopped him with a softly worded, “No. I’m wearing the gloves.” She pointed at the surfaces in clear view. “There’s a fine layer of dust.”

He withdrew his hand, and she plucked one of the grenades out and showed it to him, turning it this way and that so he could see all sides of it.

“It looks undisturbed.” He nodded at her to put it back. “Can you tell if he’s in the middle of something or what he’s doing with all this stuff?”

“No. Aside from the microscope, there’s nothing else here to indicate he’s actively using this site as a lab.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope.”

Men moving munitions. Crates of more munitions and a microscope left where it could draw attention.

“Fuck me,” he said as he flashed the get the hell out of Dodge signal. He grabbed Grace by the arm and pulled her into a fast trot toward the way they had come in.

An explosion threw them all on their asses in the dirt.

Sharp’s head rang like a church bell on Sunday. He staggered to his feet and bumped into Grace, who’d gotten as far as her knees.

Where were Clark, Runnel, and March?

A rock hit his shoulder. From above. One glance told him the ceiling of the cave was in the process of collapsing.

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