I still don't own the rights to Men in Black or Bones. They still belong to their respective creators and I'm still just borrowing them for a bit of non-profit fun.
The Contagion in the Crystal
Part II
An Afternoon of Assignations and Accusations
"Anacostia, really?" Hannah suddenly found her Cobb salad very interesting. "I'm meeting my contact there this afternoon. Maybe he'll have some ideas for leads in your case." She looked up, just as the waitress stopped at the booth.
"More coffee?" The buxom, dishwater blonde shifted her weight from one foot to another.
"We're fine, Miss… uh… thanks," Booth said, suddenly sheepish that after all the years he'd been a regular at the Royal Diner, he could not recall the name of the woman who'd served him more times than not. Strange, he thought, how you could think you knew someone, but not really know them at all. He watched her walk away. When he was certain she was out of hearing distance, leaning in, he said, "Hannah, I thought we agreed—"
"No. You offered your opinion on the matter and I disagreed. I still do, in fact. So, if we agreed to disagree, then yes, we're in agreement." She stabbed a slice of hard-boiled egg.
"I don't like the idea of you going down there alone." Booth dropped one half of his untouched tuna melt on the plate. "Do you even know this 'Pegg' guy? What the hell kind of name is 'Agent P,' anyway?"
"His name is Shaun. We met at a rendezvous point last week. I told you. I think he's undercover D.E.A., C.I.A.… something like that." Hannah waved distractedly, but then, eyed a spot on the edge of Booth's plate. "Hey, are you going to eat that?" She reached for his pickle.
He shook his head. "Hannah…"
"Mm-hmm?" She slid the spear in her mouth.
"Listen to me! One body's enough. I don't want the next D.O.A. on the slab to be yours!"
"I can take care of myself." The tip of the pickle disappeared between Hannah's teeth with a 'snap' that made Seeley's stomach knot.
"I'm coming with you."
"No, Seeley, you're not. You're needed here, and besides, my contact's very skittish. He'd bolt the minute he saw you—or worse–and I want this story, Seeley! I need it!"
"Damn it, Hannah! Last time you went in there, you nearly died!"
She tossed the rest of the pickle on the table. "But I didn't!"
"Yeah, because I was there! In case you haven't noticed, we're not in the desert anymore! I can't come swooping in to save your—"
"I'm not asking you to! I've never asked you to—" She hurled herself out of the booth.
"Hannah, please!"
"In case you haven't noticed, I made concessions – sacrifices – for this relationship, too, Seeley," she said. "The least you could do is trust me! You'd do that much for your precious Tempe wouldn't you?"
"That's not the point and you –" Booth spluttered. "Oh, come one, Hannah!"
She threw her last words over her shoulder before stomping out of the diner, "Don't interfere. I mean it!"
ii.
Angela's Artistry
Cam was up to her elbows in still-unidentified victim when Booth and Angela walked into the room. "Please tell me you found something," she said.
Booth shrugged. "No prints, no dental records, no driver's license, no Social Security or credit cards – the guy was a ghost. More than a ghost–completely off the grid. It's like he never existed."
"Sure seems like somebody wants us to believe that," Cam said.
Angela brightened. "Maybe he was a spy! Or a member of an ultra-secret government agency!"
"You're starting to sound like Hodgins," said Booth. "Stop it."
"Well, this might help. Based on his x-rays, I made a preliminary sketch." Angela opened her sketchbook, revealing a striking young man with long, dark hair. "I took a few liberties–"
"Nice work, Angela," Booth said. "I'll let The Kings of Leon know their drummer's dead."
Cam snorted.
"Everyone's a critic, now?" Angela arched a shapely brow.
No one saw Hodgins slip into the room, snap a picture on his cell phone, and sneak away.
iii.
Lost and Found
The Jersey Turnpike was wall-to-wall gridlock. Sighing, K scanned the Hot Sheets in the passenger seat. Aside from the one-liner in The National Enquirer, there was nothing pertinent in the other headlines. Well, that much was a relief. He whistled through his teeth.
His cell phone buzzed. A red star hovered over 'Email' on its tiny menu screen.
It was a message from Hodgins.J , a doctor he'd met at Comic Con a couple years ago. Jack could be a little intense at times, especially when discussing aliens or conspiracy theories, but K had to admit, the guy had a knack for reading between the lines. In fact, he was dead on most of the time, which was nothing short of amazing for a scientist. Especially one affiliated with one of the government's top forensic labs. K chuckled. 'Standard Government Issue' was one thing Dr. Jack Hodgins would never be. K opened the email.
Anyone you know?
Beneath the message was a postage stamp-sized sketch.
"Aw, crap." Zed wasn't going to like this at all. K hit speed dial. "Hey, Zed, I know where Agent P is." He listened for a moment. "No, I didn't, a friend of mine at the Jeffersonian just sent me a… Yes, Zed, the Jeffersonian!" Shaking his head, he waited for the burst of expletives on the other end to subside. "I told you, it's under control. No, he's not a Federal Agent. No, he's not that, either. Of course I'm sure! Well, if he did, it certainly wasn't with—what?"
"… and that was a week ago, K, just like I told you!" Static crackled and then the line went dead.
"Well, it's just the end of the world, again." K popped Elvis in the 8-Track and threw the Crown Vic into hyper-drive.
iv.
Jack Hits a Snag
"Wow, this case just keeps getting weirder and weirder! Those powder samples you gave me?" Hodgins waved at his computer screen. "Take a look."
"Substance Unidentifiable?" Cam scowled. "Surely, Dr. Hodgins, there's been a mistake."
"Not a chance. This database indexes every known chemical compound in the world – well, in this world, anyway. You know what I think, Doctor?" Beaming, he nodded meaningfully.
First, zombies, she thought, now alien crack. Great. "I think it means you should run those samples again, Dr. Hodgins. Call me when you find something useful." She turned to leave. "In this world, please!"
While he was used to Cam's brusque demeanor and biting sarcasm, being utterly and completely flummoxed by trace evidence was a new, professional nadir. Arms crossed, Hodgins glared at his computer screen.
'Substance Unidentifiable' glared right back in big, red letters.
He still had enough of the sample left to make a tissue slide. It was a bit of a long shot, but in some cases – rare though they might be – sometimes, the human eye could see what a machine could not.
He'd been staring at the screen too long. Enigmatic as ever, 'Substance Unidentifiable' now seemed to pulse with an inner life: a force that continued to taunt and goad him with its superior inscrutability. It was the forensic equivalent of Nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah!
"We'll see about that," Hodgins muttered under his breath.
He placed a drop of the specimen on a clean slide and carefully affixed the cover slip. He clipped the slide into the microscope's stage and aligned the specimen with the aperture. Then, leaning over the eyepiece, he adjusted the magnification and fiddled with the focus.
At first, it looked like a badly dented, green golf ball. An icosahedron, if he wasn't mistaken, but spiky and with knobs on the ends of those spikes. Spiky and knobby… He scratched his chin. Structurally, it bore a striking similarity to HIV, except for its iridescent green coloration. "Okay, so you're some kind of virion," he began, but gasped when one of those supposedly immobile "knobs" inserted itself into the tissue matrix of the late John Doe, and secreted a fibrous, milky substance. As Hodgins watched in horrified fascination, the substance, which now coated the cell's organelles, began digesting—
No, not digesting, but–
"Whoa! Whatever you are," he said, "I've never seen anything like you before!"
"That's because it's not from this planet," said the man standing behind him.
v.
Covert Ops
Still fuming, Hannah stomped down the street. How dare he try to coddle her, treat her like some pet! And that crack he'd made about swooping in to save he– the one she'd grown tired of hearing during their short time together.
Stopping at an intersection, she flipped her heavy, blonde hair back and took a deep breath. Her nose immediately wrinkled in disgust. What an annoying little planet this was! Belching exhaust, cars and trucks whizzed past like flies, traffic and crossing lights blinked like baleful eyes, and crowds of people scurried around her like ants. They could've been ants, for all she cared. All of them, so earnest, so industrious, and so focused as they went about their little lives. Ah, but for all their purported might, they were insignificant specks, mere motes in the Universe's eye, and like ants, begging to be crushed.
Hannah smiled. Like that idiot, Pegg. She had special plans for him. Plans that would also soon include his busybody buddies and Seeley. Her eyes narrowed. Especially dear, sweet Seeley Booth, who was always sticking his nose in where it didn't belong; who didn't know who he was dealing with–or what.
"Oh, but you will soon enough." She gave her surroundings a wary last glance. It'd be just like him to tail her. When she was satisfied she wasn't being followed–Because it wouldn't be the first time he pulled that stunt— Hannah hailed a cab.
vi.
The Contagion in the Crystal
"K!" Hodgins said, turning to him. "So, what is our mystery material?"
"Zolanium." K removed his sunglasses. "In its inert form, it looks like a chunk of crystal meth, but when crushed into a powder and inhaled, it unleashes a deadly virus that causes rapid, systemic apoptosis in the host organism – especially in brain tissue."
"Then it should be fatal," Hodgins said, "But just now, I saw–" He waved at the microscope.
"The next stage." K nodded. "Mutation, occurring after cellular death, followed by immediate reanimation of the host body independent of the need for oxygen."
"Neurodegenerative Satiety Deficiency Syndrome!" Hodgins beamed. "Instant zombie! Oh, man! I knew that article wasn't a hoax!"
"Not just zombies," said K. "In the wrong hands, this stuff's capable of producing an army of zombies and a fairly self-sustaining one at that, provided they're not vaporized or shot in the head."
"Self-sustaining? You don't mean they make the beast with two backs?" Hodgins grimaced.
"They increase their numbers in the usual zombie way," K said, nodding. "Until last week, there was only one crystal left in the entire Universe."
"If it has to be inhaled," Hodgins scowled before continuing, "then our perp–wouldn't he be—"
"She," said K. "A female from the Zolanium Galaxy, naturally immune to the virus. But she'd need privacy and plenty of space to raise her own, personal zwammerdam. Where'd you say the remains were found?"
"Anacostia," said Hodgins. "Near an abandoned tenement called The Tombs, but if that's where the crystal is, how did it get here?"
"It was stolen from a crash site near Afghanistan."
"Afghanistan?" Hodgins paled.
K pointed at the microscope. "Agent P was investigating a possible suspect right before he died."
"Cam's never going to believe this," said Hodgins, "and Booth'll go ballistic." He shook his head.
"Then we need to find someone who will listen," said K, "because when the zombie apocalypse hits, we're going to need all the help we can get."
vii.
Fare's Fair…
"Are you sure this is it?" The driver eyed the crumbling brick building and the filthy squatters passed out in its doorway warily. "If you ask me, it doesn't look very safe, Miss."
"It is, and I didn't," Hanna said, glancing at the three men–new recruits–fresh, too, from the look of them. Nice to see the others have been busy, she thought. The more the merrier for our visit to the Jeffersonian this evening. Then, shifting in her seat, she said, "How much?"
"Ten," said the driver. "You bitch," he added under his breath.
After fumbling in her purse, Hannah handed him a bill through the slotted metal screen.
Turning, he scowled. "Hey, what about my tip, lady? Most drivers wouldn't be caught dead down here! Twenty-five percent!"
"Oh, I'm so sorry." Hannah's hand disappeared into her bag again. It reappeared clutching another ten. "Here you go." She moved closer to the screen.
The cabbie's eyes brightened. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" He leaned in to take the money, but stopped when the hand opened, and its owner blew a puff of powder in his face. "Hey, what are you—" His eyes rolled back in his head before he could finish. Choking, clawing at his throat, he lurched back against the door, and then slumped over the steering wheel.
"Here's a tip for you, 'bitch.'" Hannah pocketed the bill as she slid out of the cab. "Mind your own damned business!"
viii.
The Reluctant Recruit
"That's wonderful news!" Zack beamed at his friend across the cafeteria table. "I'm so happy for you both."
"Oh, but I have even better news," Jack said enigmatically.
"Better than a baby?" Zack scowled a moment, but then his features lit up. "You found an unsolvable theorem!"
"I found something way better!" He glanced from side to side, and then, turned to look behind him. Besides Zack and himself, the only other person in the multi-purpose room was a man in a wheelchair at the far table. He seemed to be staring out the window, but looks could be deceiving. As much as he hated to admit it, Zack was proof of that.
When they were face to face again, Zack, who'd been mimicking his friend's movements, looked very confused. "Did you lose something?"
"Just making sure no one's eavesdropping."
"Oh, that's just Henry. Hi, Henry!" Zack waved at the man, who neither moved nor blinked. Shrugging, he turned back to Hodgins. "He's catatonic."
Directing his gaze upwards, Jack scowled at the security camera in one corner of the room. "You sure there's no mic on that thing?"
"Stop it, Hodgins! You're starting to make me paranoid!" Zack leaned across the table. "Visiting hours are almost over. You said you found something. What?"
Jack whispered, "What if I told you that while working on this new murder case, I discovered a virus that's out of this world?"
"A new strain, you mean?" Zack nodded eagerly. "That's incredible! Congratu–"
"No! Not a new strain!" Jack glanced furtively about before continuing, "An actual alien virus!"
Zack's features clouded. "By 'alien,' you mean…"
"Extraterrestrial!" Jack smacked his hands on the table. "One that turns humans into zombies!"
Zack folded his arms tightly across his chest and huffed. "I'm supposed to be the crazy one, remember?"
"I'm not crazy, and neither are you!"
"Keep your voice down!" Zack glared at him.
"Oh, man!" Exasperated, Hodgins slumped in his seat and put his head in his hands. "Of all the people in the world, Zack, I thought that you…" trailing off, he looked away.
Neither spoke for a long time. Finally, Zack said, "You're really serious, aren't you?"
"Dead serious – Walking Dead serious–and we could really use your help."
"We? You mean Doctor Brennan is–"
Waving, Hodgins cut him off. "A very special friend of mine. A secret agent who polices alien activity here on Earth." Jack pulled his chair closer to Zack's. "He's busting you out of here tonight!"
Zack snorted. "That's impossible."
"You did it once before."
"For a few hours and with Dr. Sweets covering for me. What you're suggesting is…" He shook his head. "They'll catch me and put me in prison. I don't want to go to prison, Hodgins. They make you wear a jumpsuit. I don't like jumpsuits." He grimaced. "I don't like the idea of being jumped when I'm not in my jumpsuit!"
"No one's going to jump anyone!" Seizing Zack's scarred hands, Hodgins looked at him imploringly. "This will work – I promise! Just do what he says, and you'll be a free man! You'll never see the inside of this place or any place like it, ever again!"
"You know how crazy this all sounds, don't you?" Zack said quietly.
"Saving the world crazy! This case–I–we–really need your help, man. What do you say?"
Zack nodded weakly. "I just hope you know what you're doing."
ix.
Body Count
Booth poked his head in Cam's office. "Hey, glad I caught you. Metro Police just called."
Cam dropped her coat and attaché case. "Another body?"
"Our sole witness." Booth leaned against the doorframe. "Jo Constantine. She had a seizure in the holding cell."
"She tried to fake and run, you mean," said Cam. "Back when I was a cop, the pros and junkies used to pull that stunt all the time. They shoot her?"
Booth shook his head. "The officer I spoke with said it was the real deal: thrashing, eyes rolling, foaming at the mouth. He said she cracked her head open on the way down – blood everywhere."
"Sounds like a seizure, alright," said Cam.
"Here's the kicker. She bit two officers and a paramedic before they got her into the bus, and at least two members of the hospital staff. The ER Doc said her temperature was over 107 when she died."
"Bit them?" Cam's eyes widened. "Didn't she tell you she'd been bitten?"
"By none other than our John Doe."
"A bite that causes foaming at the mouth, aggressive behavior, and death – all within a few hours of exposure?" Cam winced. "Oh, I'm not liking the sound of this, Booth."
Booth shifted nervously. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Hrmm…" Cam crossed her arms and hugged herself. "If you're thinking Rabies, the symptoms are there, I'll give you that, but the pathogenesis doesn't fit. Rabies requires a much longer incubation period. Weeks, in some cases." She looked away. "Unless…"
"Some kind of super strain." Booth nodded. "Bioterrorism."
"If that's the case, we'll have to alert the C.D.C. and Homeland Security," said Cam. "If you thought the guys from the G.S.A. were territorial, just wait. What about the other bite victims?"
"All treated and released," said Booth.
"Figures," Cam grumbled, "but right now, our suspicion isn't enough to raise an alarm of that magnitude. We need hard evidence, and we won't be able to compare anything until his lab tests come back, and there's been another autopsy."
Booth chuckled. "Wow, for a minute there, you sounded just like Bones!"
"What are they doing with the girl's body?"
"They're sending her here."
"I'll let Security know." Cam picked up the phone. "We'll quarantine her overnight, pending autopsy."
"Overnight?"
Cam shrugged. "I want a better idea of what we're dealing with. In the meantime, you can watch the area hospitals for more bite victims." Seeing the dismayed look on his face, she added, "Hey, it's not like she's going to get up and run away!"
"You sure about that?" Crossing his arms, Booth leaned against the doorway. "Of course, if you had other plans for tonight…"
From years of experience, she knew that look and that tone of his. Cam sighed. "I'll sign for the remains myself and start a preliminary autopsy. Will that make you happy?"
"It's a start." He started out. "Call me when you find something."
"Oh, you know I will," she said, adding under her breath as she watched him leave, "So much for having a life."