Los Angeles, California

Former CIA Safe House

October 22, 20_

2:59 PST

"What you are saying is impossible."

"The proof of what I'm telling you right now is in that picture. And I truly hope you aren't going to insult both my intelligence and yours by suggesting I cooked the image. I used a piece of your technology to obtain it."

Jenna shook her head as much to order her reeling thoughts as express her doubt. What he had just finished describing to her was inconceivable. The stuff of nightmares. Human artifice used for the most cruel and horrifying ends imaginable. Knowledge that should have been used for healing and medicine perverted towards the creation of affliction and plague.

"It doesn't make logical sense," she reiterated. "You are suggesting that a group of impossibly organized conspirators not only managed to construct such a weapon, but were able to keep it hidden for over a decade and refrained from using it during that entire period of time. If this device can do what you say it can, what possible reason could they have had to wait? In human bodies, my kind are no more and no less susceptible to disease than yours. Nothing about our arrival would make it more effective for its intended purpose. Unless, of course, these humans you're speaking of are so profoundly evil that they wished to wipe out both their own race and mine."

"Physical susceptibility to the weapon may not be the reason they waited at all," Reeves responded tonelessly. "Building the delivery system would have been one thing – engineering a microbial strain virulent enough to survive an explosive force and disseminate itself through the planet's airstreams is another. Nothing like it exists in nature. Developing it from scratch would be a process taking years. There's also a very significant paradox to a doomsday device: it's built precisely to ensure that it never has to be used - that's a basic tenet of game theory. A system like this is meant to be used as a bargaining chip – or an insurance policy against the failure of something else. There could be a variety of factors at play. Your people changed a lot of things about this world when you came. There's a very significant phrase on that recording I just played for you – 'easier to control'. They may very well have waited because they thought you would be more susceptible to blackmail – 'Do our bidding and you will live. Disobey, and everyone will die.' "

The unnatural chill swept through her body again at his casual use of such words. She forced herself to look him in the eye once more.

"You truly believe that this device exists?"

"I don't think. I know. I've seen the blueprints. Ten years ago I risked my life and ended several others to ensure the safe passage of a man who participated in the design. If that man and others like him had survived the final attempts on their lives, history would remember it as the crowning achievement of Biopreparat."

Jenna knew enough of human history to recognize the significance of the last word he used. She had come across it far too many times in the more analytical portion of her training.

"Why are you telling me all of this? What is it you have to gain?"

Reeves held her gaze in silence for several seconds, weighing his answer before his spoke. "I have every reason to regard your people as my enemies. And I'm prepared to do what is necessary if and when any of them interfere with my purposes. But I have very little left to fight for that they haven't already taken. And it's impossible for even a million men – let alone one – to turn back the clock. Whatever the rights and wrongs of your coming here, it doesn't change the fact that you are here. Whoever these murderers are, whatever it really is they're trying to accomplish, it's as much a threat to you as it is to me. I have one thing to gain – the truth. And to achieve that goal, I will use the tools at hand. Right now, you and your people are the only ones available."

His words were spoken evenly and without volume. Yet the logic in them was as forceful as if he had screamed at the top of his lungs. Jenna's instinctive wariness was suddenly at war with a strange desire to trust this man. She closed her eyes, trying once again to clear her head.

"I have to get back to my Chapter." She spoke her decision aloud. "They will take action if I tell them about this. They might even allow you to retain your freedom. If you come with me -"

A hand, held palm up, suddenly stopped her in mid-sentence. Reeves was slowly shaking his head back and forth, a painful wince on his face. "I'm afraid that's going to be a bit of a problem." He held up a black remote, undoing the mute on a television screen behind her that she had never been aware was turned on.

"-breaking news that the remains of Seeker Jenna Kirkwood have been found several hours after her abduction by the human fugitive Dylan Reeves. Apparently extracted from her host, she is believed to have died from exposure –"

Jenna whipped her head violently in the direction of the screen, unable to believe the words she was hearing. The blood drained from her face as she listened to the rest of the nonsensical report. She had encountered many new concepts on Earth that had been virtually unknown in her previous lives. Falsehood was one of them. She had heard of it, even learned how to use it in her Calling as a Seeker. But she had never – ever – heard statements blatantly contrary to fact put forth by souls to be received as truth by their own. It was as if the laws of the universe itself had suddenly been reversed.

The report detailed other things. The earlier information given on Dylan Reeves was read off again, re-emphasizing his deadly tendencies and the necessity of the kill-on-sight instructions issued to the Seekers. There was even a mention of his tools of disguise, now belatedly deduced. The final item froze the blood in Jenna's veins.

"- while her host remains unaccounted for, Seekers are not ruling out the possibility that Reeves has found out how to safely perform extractions. We are therefore issuing an additional alert on the host of Jenna Kirkwood, who will also be considered armed and dangerous given the skills she would have obtained as a Seeker. If she is found alive, she would no longer be considered suitable as a host given her capacity for resistance –"

"No."

"- and would be terminated on sight-"

"NO!"

Jenna yanked forward against the ropes that held her to the chair, almost succeeded in lifting it with her off the floor. "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?! I'M ALIVE! I'M ALIVE!" The shout ripped through her lungs, echoing off the walls of the empty building around her – heard by none. The strain of everything she had gone through over the last several hours finally broke through her training. She collapsed back against the chair, sobbing uncontrollably.

Reeves pressed the mute button again on his remote, cutting off the offending report in mid-sentence. He allowed her some time to cry herself out before kneeling down behind her chair. It was only as she felt the ropes loosen that she realized what was happening.

"What are you doing?" She managed to choke out the words in a cracked voice.

"As of now, I no longer have any reason for these." He continued to speak as he untied the knots. "I don't mean to rub salt in open wounds, but you're under a death sentence now. Just like me. There's nowhere else for you to possibly go and remain alive."

"I…I don't understand." Her voice broke again as fresh tears leaked out of her eyes, fixated again on the muted screen. "Why would they…?"

"If it's any comfort at all, your people haven't betrayed you. I've observed your kind long enough to know that they don't lie. Not to each other. They're only repeating what they've been told. Someone planted that story and the evidence to go with it. The one they told about me was just as false. Based on what I've told you tonight, I think you can connect the dots."

"Those...those humans you told me about…"

"Are either very desperate or very confident." He finished undoing the ropes, helping his former captive to her feet. "Given what I saw on the Odyssey, I'm putting my money on the latter. The last time I saw tactics like this was almost a decade ago. Eventually, it will come out that those stories don't add up. But their authors apparently believe that by that time it won't matter anymore."

He handed a handkerchief to Jenna which she accepted gratefully, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose. After allowing her a moment to regain her composure, Reeves made his way back over to the table, picking up a large black object that she recognized as his Kevlar vest. Strapping it on, he began collecting the various items on the table.

"Right now, the first thing we're going to have to do is get out of Los Angeles. It would take them a long time, but eventually the Seekers will find this place. Some of the hosts they took were almost certainly CIA personnel. They would know the locations of any former safe houses. And the Seekers won't be the only ones looking for us. Whoever planted those stories quite obviously wants both of us dead. And if the Seekers don't do the job for them they're liable to take matters into their own hands."

Jenna quietly placed the handkerchief in her pocket. Feeling partially recovered from her brief breakdown, her training began to kick back in, restoring strength. She regarded him again with cautious eyes. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"I'm not asking you to trust me any more than I trust you. Catch."

A Glock was casually tossed in her direction as if it had been no more than a children's toy. Jenna caught it in the nick of time, smoothly holstering it in an instinctive reaction. The action inwardly impressed her – the handgun was not a light object to throw.

"What about the Odyssey? The bomb is still there –"

"And it will be staying there for at least the next two days, if not more. The Seekers will have impounded it to search for any signs of sabotage or explosives. Moving it at this point would look suspicious – even to your people. It's not a lot of time for us, but it's breathing room. Until then, I have a place where we won't have to worry about anyone finding us. A place where we can re-supply and plan things out. Only one other person ever knew about it besides me."

He had turned to face her right before the last statement, and she thought she saw a brief shadow of emotion, perhaps grief, flicker across his face. The hint of a painful memory that he immediately pushed back into the depths of his mind. The familiarly stoic mask dominated his face once more.

"We're going to need a vehicle," he continued, shouldering on the leather windbreaker to conceal the Kevlar vest. "That will be a challenge, but one I've dealt with before. Follow my lead, and we can both get out of here alive."

Reeves opened the door to the room and stepped into the hall of the larger building without even looking behind to see if she was following him. She followed obediently, feeling for the second time in the last several minutes that her entire world had turned upside down.

Tucson, Arizona

October 22, 20_

2:40 MST

"Healer Fords?"

Fords felt an inward release of tension as he finally heard the knock on his apartment door that he had been waiting for. The local Seekers had finally arrived. It had been little more than twenty minutes, but it had felt like hours. He rose immediately from the chair he'd been occupying since the call and made straight for the door, undoing the lock he had never before had occasion to use.

He swung it open swiftly, nearly sick with relief. "Thank goodness you're –"

The greeting died in his throat the second he saw the gun barrel aimed straight between his eyes.

A massive blond-haired hulk of a man regarded him with ice-cold eyes from behind a large pistol that still seemed almost dwarfed by his hands. Two other men stood behind him, their right hands placed upon shoulder-holstered weapons partially concealed by dark trench coats. They regarded him with gazes of steel.

The first man, keeping his weapon locked in position, spoke just above a whisper in harshly accented English. "One sound and you will die."

The terrified Healer couldn't have made any sound if he had wanted to. He backed away in automatic compliance as the three men strode noiselessly into the room, shutting the door behind them. The blond-haired one, by all appearances the leader, never moved his weapon so much as an inch while his two companions took up position on each side of their newly acquired hostage. Fords felt something cold and metallic press against his left ribcage.

"We are carrying automatic weapons. His is pointed at your heart." The blond giant indicated the man on Fords' left with a small tilt of his head. "You will accompany all of us out of this building where a vehicle will be waiting. If you attempt in any way to resist or call out for aid, your life will end tonight. Obey us and you may live to see another sunrise."

None of them waited for Fords to respond. The metal object – now unmistakably a gun barrel - pressed closer into his ribcage, a signal for him to move. His legs obediently began walking forward, his mind having entered a detached state of unreality. The leader holstered his own weapon, opening the door for the other two to hustle Fords out into the hallway and down the stairs out of the building. There was a black SUV parked just outside, another man standing guard beside its open side-door. Fords was forced into the middle of the back seat, between his two guards. The leader climbed into the front passenger seat.

The entire abduction had been completed in exactly one minute. There had been no witnesses whatsoever.

The leader passed a black cloth bag to one of the guards in the back seat, who immediately pulled it over Fords' head. Effectively blinded, the Healer felt something cold and metallic lock against both his wrists with a distinctive "click". Handcuffs.

The vehicle roared off into the darkness, its destination somewhere far outside Tucson.

South Dakota

Black Hills National Forest

October 22, 20_

2:42 MST

It was a wonder how much a man learned about himself when truly alone. Seven years he had spent in this place, always on the move, yet never venturing forth from the bounds he had imposed upon himself from the day he came. It was an existence that in a previous time he would have never wished upon his worst enemies. But companionship now meant danger. Civilization was death.

The years he had spent living off the forests and hills surrounding him had stripped away any and all illusions carried on from his previous life. The first three years had been particularly revealing. The fertile, active mind that had been his treasured companion since childhood was exposed as the double-edged sword it truly was. It had nearly driven him insane. He had found himself trapped in the most abstract and irrelevant philosophical speculations as he struggled to perform the mundane, practical tasks of survival, hunting game, gathering wood, and building fire.

But eventually the dearth of stimulation had slowly starved that portion of his thoughts into oblivion. It had been a relief to him when he finally woke up one morning to find his imagination was dead.

One less thing now divided him from the animals whose lot he had come to envy. It always left him in awe how Nature and her children had simply continued on, completely unaware of their world's change in masters. The bird continued in flight, the wolf in hunt, perpetuating a cycle ordained and unbroken from the dawn of time. A living testament to the vanity of all human works.

He had discovered other things as well. Food was luxury. The human body could survive for weeks without it. Predators in the wild did so their entire lives - daily meals were something they knew only in captivity. It was water that was truly essential. And even it could be rationed.

He had also quickly learned not to let his actions be dictated by pain or the fear of it. Pain of all sorts was inescapable. Broken or dislocated limbs had to be set back into place. Necrotic flesh had to be scraped away from healing burns. Infected wounds had to be bled out. The alternative was death.

One of the greatest illusions he had carried with him from civilization had quickly been dispelled. Almost everyone believed that there were certain things in life to which death was preferable. That a man deprived of all attachments, all possessions, all comforts both of mind and body could embrace it readily, finding rest in a sweet oblivion. Such people had never truly attempted to destroy themselves. They had never had to grapple with their own instinctive need to survive.

Even now, racked with pain and hunger, his wasted flesh remained a precious thing. In the final analysis, a life like this truly was better than no life at all.

So tired…

He could not stop. He had to continue on until he was once again deep inside the forest that had been his home for the past seven years. Safely isolated once again. Neither endangered nor endangering anyone else.

It had been a rare fit of desperation that had made him venture outside. Even now, he was inwardly cursing himself for it. What had the call to Thomas Leben – or whoever he had become – truly accomplished? It was too late already, the war lost before it had even begun. There was nothing left.

Only death.

The fevers had returned. Dormant for years, they were back with all the ferocity with which they had assaulted him in the first seven months. The foul, insidious Presence inside his body had at long last arisen one last time to devour its own abode. There was nothing that could sate its ravenous hunger. Not even a world.

Somehow he knew that the remaining hours of his life could now be counted on his fingers. Perhaps that was what driven him to such inexcusable recklessless. One final, pathetic attempt at absolution from the sin that continued to haunt his dreams.

Sin…

Perhaps, finally, all of this was meant to be. The Final Sentence handed down upon all the evil this world had seen. The door had shut. Grace was withdrawn.

He had read countless books in his life. He now remembered almost none. But a single passage - lifted from what had once been to him simply one book among many - continued to fill his mind as it had done every day for the past seven years.

And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.

And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart.

He had no more tears for the seed of Adam. Their reward was just and equal. According to their works. He would weep for them no more.

The tears he shed were for the Others. What had been their crime? Truly? That they had taken a world from the hands of unworthy stewards? Had not even the Hebrews of old – who had shown far less mercy - been justified in such?

It was his own kindred who deserved what was to come. Not them.

His feet continued to carry him forward of their own accord. He was now almost completely unaware of his surroundings, his mind consumed by the fever ravaging his body. The air was by no means warm. And yet his clothing was drenched with sweat. His eyes stared forward, unfocused and useless. The world about him was losing shape, dissolving into an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of chaos. Still he continued forward.

He no longer heard any sound but his own heartbeat, pounding in his ears. And yet he heard a voice, whispering from every direction, every shadow.

Yield unto me, and thou shalt be healed.

It was a silken voice, purring and seductive. Promising comfort, rest, relief.

Accept me, and thou shalt live.

There was a figure now, stepping out from the mist of the shadow that covered everything. His countenance beautiful, god-like, his eyes suffused with an immortal light. A hand was offered, beckoning.

Kneel before me.

The shining light within the eyes turned now to flame. The voice no longer seduced. It commanded. Its tone suffused with a cruel hatred no longer concealed.

"NO!"

A new strength surged through his weakened body, born of a primal, knowing fear. Impossibly, manically, he ran.

There was only one "god" that reigned in fire.

Time and space lost all meaning. His body all feeling. His senses all perception. He could only run. Run from the Death behind him. He did so perhaps for hours. Perhaps for years. It no longer mattered.

He never knew when or where his body finally gave out. He would have no memory of the voices that shouted out for him to identify himself. His sightless eyes never saw the armed figures that emerged from the darkness to surround him – unlike his Pursuer, clothed in flesh and blood.

Darkness fell.