Page 6 of Glass Rose
It happens so fast. One second, Fisher is standing there, the next, he’s on the ground screaming as Peter’s teeth crunch into his shoulder. Blood spurts in rhythmic pulses, and Fisher’s gun skitters across the floor, unfired.
The speakers crackle to life. “Attention all personnel. Facility-wide containment breach in progress. Lockdown protocols initiated.”
“Sofia.” Alex tugs at my arm, eyes wild. “What’s the protocol?”
I tear my gaze from the window, nodding mechanically. “Emergency exit. This way. We have twenty minutes before they gas the sublevel.”
“Gas?” Mia’s voice rises. “What kind of gas?”
“Nerve agent. It’ll kill everything organic.”
We run through corridors I’ve walked a thousand times, transformed into something alien by the strobing emergency lights and blaring alarms.
“Hey, wait up.” Mia trails several steps back, her breathing shallow and uneven. “I need a minute.”
I glance back and stop cold. She’s leaning against the wall, face slick with sweat, fingers clutching her forearm.
“Let me see that.” I reach for it.
“It’s fine.” She retreats. “Just grazed me when I fell.”
I pry her fingers loose.
Teeth marks. Not a graze. Not even close.
An angry crescent of torn flesh, the wound’s edges black.
I know what this means. I know the progression charts…
“When?” My voice sounds distant like it belongs to someone else. “When did this happen?”
Mia yanks her arm back, tucking it against her chest. “It’s nothing.”
“Fucking when Mia?” Alex asks.
“When I went for the camera.” Her eyes dart between him and me, her shoulders hunched. “It barely broke the skin.”
“Sofia.” Alex steps away from her, subtle but unmistakable. “She’s turning, isn’t she?”
“Let me see it again.” I reach for her arm.
“Don’t touch me.” She backs up, shoulders hitting the wall. “I’m fine.”
But she’s not. Her skin has taken on a grayish undertone, perspiration beading along her hairline despite the facility’sarctic air conditioning. The bite mark pulses with each heartbeat, veins around it darkening like spilled ink through tissue paper.
“You’re burning up.” I press my palm to her forehead, feeling heat radiating through her clammy skin.
“How long?” Alex asks, keeping his distance. “How long before she turns?”
“I don’t—” My throat closes around the words. “The lab data suggested twelve to twenty-four hours, but?—”
“But what?” Mia’s voice cracks, higher than before.
“Those were controlled conditions.” I swallow hard. “Smaller doses, different vectors.”
Mia slides down the wall until she’s sitting, knees pulled to her chest. “I don’t feel right.” Her breathing comes in short, sharp bursts. “My head… everything’s too bright.”
“The virus attacks the brain stem first,” I say. “Then spreads to the limbic system, frontal cortex?—”
