Jamie huddled underneath an overturned table, listening as the shrieks and screams of the other customers faded or died.
"He left me," she muttered to herself, furious and terrified at the same time. She was covered with scratches, but she didn't think any of the rats had bitten her. "That bastard left me!"
He'd taken one look at the ceaseless flow of rats, screamed like a little girl, and fled.
Mitch wouldn't have run. He'd have stayed right here with her, would have pushed the table over her for shelter, and tried to come up with a plan to get them the hell out.
All her confusion about Mitch fell away. She loved him. The guy who'd rescued her not once but twice, and would do so in a heartbeat if he knew she was in trouble. Why had she agreed to have coffee with a guy like Ethan?
She knew why. She'd had good times with him, or thought she had, and wanted to try to catch those days again. But they were gone, just like the ordinary life she'd lived before. She wasn't ordinary anymore. In her head, she'd wanted to compare him to Mitch. Now she felt ashamed.
She remembered now why she'd broken up with Ethan – his refusal to accept her quest against Reiden Global. Mitch had been the same, at least in the beginning, but he'd stayed on that journey with her. He hadn't abandoned it, and he hadn't abandoned her.
Wild scrabbling against the wood. Mitch wasn't here to save her now, so she'd just have to do it herself.
A wild flap of wings filled the Parisian living room. The four humans covered their heads, desperately trying to avoid the savage beaks and claws. Chloe had grabbed her purse, and was using it to shield her face.
Jackson grabbed Chloe and dragged her through the maelstrom.
"My sister!" she yelled. "I have to get my sister out!"
Claws scored her face, making her cry out. Jackson tried to pull her close against him, but she flailed blindly through the press of feathered bodied until she found a hand. It was Jean-Michel, and he had Natalie folded against his side. Together they formed a chain that beat against the attackers, until finally they made it out of the apartment and into the hallway. Jean-Michel slammed the door behind them.
Screams and yells echoed from other apartments. The whole building was under attack.
"What – what do we do now?" Natalie asked, halting.
Chloe, breathing hard and fast, dabbed blood off her face.
"Follow me!" she commanded, slinging her purse over her neck and shoulder.
Jackson glanced at her, surprised. In that moment she was the epitome of what he imagined a French Secret Service agent should be – decisive and in control. He loved her just a little bit more. Reflexively he tapped his pocket. The box was still there.
Chloe dashed down the hall, pulling Jackson behind her. Her sister and ex-fiancé ran after her, and all the while the thud of birds' feathered bodies hitting the door echoed behind them.
Despite his great size Abe found his feet before Kazuko or her parents. He knocked the first macaque aside with his clenched fists, and was just able to grab the second as it leapt to attack him. Yelling, he threw it at the macaque that had jumped at Kazuko's parents.
Kazuko seized a nearby lamp and, knocking off the shade and pulling out the chord, she turned it into a makeshift club. One – two – three charging macaques fell to her sure blows. Abe was impressed by her grit and determination and, most of all, by the calm way she kept her head. Her terrified parents huddled behind her, Michael careful to keep his wife behind him. She was crying, great, silent tears that trickled down her barely-lined cheeks.
"We need to get back to the plane!" she yelled as another monkey came at her. She swung her club; the animal dodged, barring huge teeth and shrieking as it bounced off a wooden support.
"This could just be a one-off attack!" Abe answered, fingers buried in the thick fur of the macaque he was holding away from his face. With a wordless yell he tossed it away, ripping another great, tearing hole through the paper walls.
"You honestly believe that?" Kazuko called. Her club cracked against the head of another attacker, breaking into two uneven lengths. She snarled and whirled them at the monkeys, intimidating. Abe was impressed all over again – she knew some form of martial arts, and not just what the US Army had taught her.
Abe rushed the troop of monkeys, mouth open wide to let a great, leonine roar bellow forth. The macaques scattered from his path. Those that didn't get out of the way in time were knocked aside.
Kazuko pushed her parents after him. Hinata refused to move, staring mutely at her husband, and Michael was forced to pull her along. Kazuko brought up the rear, mindful of possible attacks from animals who were already down but not out.
Abe hustled the Wilsons out to the waiting Jeep. Kazuko fired up the engine and they roared away, the macaques bounding out of the house in mad pursuit. Kazuko put her foot down and they were left behind.
"Go back in the living room," Mitch ordered his ex-wife. "Get everyone ready. If I'm right, we have to go to leave right now."
"What? Mitch, I don't understand –"
"Now, Audra!"
Audra scurried away, Clem following her with a solemn, anxious look on her face.
Empty beer bottle in hand, raised by the neck like a club, Mitch crept along the hall toward the kitchen. He heard snuffling from behind the closed door, heard the click of heavy claws on the linoleum.
"Why does it always have to be goddamn wolves?" he grunted. Then, before he could give himself more time to think, he barrelled into the door and banged it open.
The wolf – a massive timber wolf with orange eyes and shaggy black fur – had been directly behind it. The animal was knocked over. But it righted itself quicker than Mitch could ever have anticipated, a snarl already ripping out of its throat –
Mitch brought the beer bottle down on the wolf's unprotected head. It squealed and dropped, shattered glass raining around it as it fell.
"Mitch?" It was Audra, with Clem clutched protectively behind her. Justin's parents, an elderly lady and even more elderly gent, stood behind her, and Justin stood behind them.
"Quick," he said, "get into the garage while the path is clear. Get to your truck and go."
"Go where?"
"Son, I'm not leaving my home because of a single mangy wolf!" Justin's father growled. "Let me get my shotgun –"
The howl of dozens of wolves filled the air, even louder now that the kitchen window was broken. A large, wedge-shaped head poked its nose through the gap; Mitch snatched up a skillet, left to dry on the draining board, and lunged for the wolf. It danced back, snarling and snapping.
"Let's get in the truck, honey," Justin's father said hastily, putting his arm around his wife.
They trooped past Mitch toward the garage. "Get to D.C," he urged Justin and Audra as they hurried past. "There's a protected military facility there, Fort McNair, you'll be safe there –"
"What about you?" Clem demanded, tears pricking her eyes.
"Well, someone's gotta make sure the wolves don't get to Goldilocks, right?"
"That was bears!" she shouted, indignant and terrified all at once.
"Baby, let's go," Audra said, hustling her daughter toward the garage. "Mitch will follow when he can, right?"
"Right." He hefted the skillet. One skillet, against a pack of wolves.
He was so getting eaten. He wished he'd been able to tell Jamie one last time that he loved her, and that this time he really – really – meant it.
There were rats everywhere. Everywhere. Jamie didn't have a clue how she was going to get out of the coffee shop, but she knew she couldn't just sit here and wait for the rats to eat her. She owed it to herself – owed it to Mitch – to escape.
Her desperately seeking eyes flitted across, and then came back to, a fire extinguisher behind the counter. It was only a small one, designed to put out any fires among the coffee filters, but it would do. It would have to do.
"You can do this," she said over and over again, psyching herself up, "you can do this."
With a feral yell she exploded out from behind the fallen table and made a run for the counter. People – alive or dead, she had no way of knowing – lay where they'd fallen, covered in blood and unmoving.
Hundreds of rats chittered and scampered after her. She threw herself at the counter and rolled over it, crushing several rats in the process and trying to shield her face as best she could. She landed on the floor, hard enough to make her cry out, but there was no time to feel sorry for herself.
She grabbed the fire extinguisher and brought it around in a hard arc, knocking the nearest rats aside. Her teeth were barred and she was snarling, nearly as feral as the attacking rats.
She scrambled to her feet, pulling the pin as she moved, and started squeezing the handle. Cold white foam splattered over the floor, the furniture, and any rat in her path. She swung it from side to side as she ran.
She slipped on the foam and went down hard, banging her chin against a fallen chair. Dazed, she clutched her face and rolled over, trying to get up.
A rat sank its teeth into her hand. She screamed and flailed around, dragging the rat with her as she moved, trying to shake it off. She smacked it a few times against the fire extinguisher and finally it fell off. The other rats stayed back, unwilling to cross the lake of cold foam.
Jamie snatched up the extinguisher again, holding it with both hands. They were slippery with blood and foam but she couldn't – wouldn't – let that stop her. She kept up the steady spray until she was almost at the front of the shop.
A few drops of spluttering foam signalled the end of the extinguisher. Jamie chucked it behind her and ran, the shriek of rats high and painful in her ears.
A sleek black car shrieked to a halt at a small military airstrip. Chloe, Jackson, Natalie and Jean-Michel got out, sharp eyes on the skies. There wasn't a bird in sight… for now.
"Do you think we will have to use these guns?" Abe asked, tense, as they ran into the military aircraft they'd recently vacated.
Kazuko made sure her parents were safely on board before signalling to an engineer to close the boarding ramp.
"At this point I would say anything was possible!"
Mitch defended the kitchen until he heard the sound of Justin's truck pulling out of the garage. The window, though the glass was broken and shattered, was a small one and easily defensible. He'd be OK until…
The smash of glass from the living room indicated another wolf had gained access to the house. The windows in that room were larger. Much larger. Skillet in hand, he darted out into the hall – only to come face to face with another member of the pack.
It was difficult to say which was the more startled, though the wolf certainly recovered quicker. Even while Mitch was lifting the heavy skillet, the wolf lunged forward and clamped its jaws around his calf. Mitch yelled and slammed his impromptu weapon down on the wolf's head; he had to bang again and again to get the damned animal to let go.
Mitch's pants leg was soaked with blood. This was the second wolf bite he'd had to endure, and it hurt just as badly as the first, though luckily – if any bite could be said to be lucky! – it was the other leg.
He swung again. The wolf finally dropped. Mitch limped out of the house, sweating with pain, and broke into a stumbling run as several other wolves streaked around to the front of the house.
His car was parked in the drive. Fumbling with his keys and the skillet, he lurched to the driver's door, wrenched it open, and slammed it shut – just before the lead wolf banged against it.
Mitch reversed off the drive at speed. Wolves scattered as he accelerated away.
Mitch's vehicle struggled into Fort McNair hours later. The guards took one look at him, recognised his face, and waved him through. He brought the car to a stumbling halt just inside the gate, opened the door, and fell out.
Jamie – who'd been keeping an eye on the entrance, worrying nervously at her nails – saw him on the security screen. She called for a medic and ran out to him.
When Mitch came to he was in a bed. His head felt muzzy and he was wearing one of those God-awful hospital gowns. And his leg was screaming.
Movement at his side made him look around; he saw Jamie sat in an uncomfortable looking chair. She'd dozed off, a magazine in her lap, and was now slumped in the chair. She looked exhausted –
Then he noticed her wounds.
"God, Jamie, what happened to you?"
She jerked awake so hard she dropped the magazine. She blinked and focussed on him.
"It's nothing," she said, voice still thick with sleep.
He reached out and caught her hands. There were both bandaged. He traced his fingers over the scratches on her wrists and arms. Her face was bruised.
"Rats," she sighed. "I hate rats. What's your story?" she said, nodding toward his leg.
He twitched the thin sheet aside to reveal a large dressing. "Wolves," he grimaced. "Guess I'm gonna have me a matching set of scars."
"Why is this happening?" she demanded, her expression crumbling. She looked away, but not before Mitch saw the tears she'd tried to hide. "We worked so hard to make it stop, and now…"
"Come here," he said, scooting across on the bed to give her space. She curled up next to him without reservation. He kissed her forehead, mindful of her bruises. "I don't know why it's happening again, but you know what?"
"What?" She looked up at him with all the familiar Jamie hope.
"We're gonna find out. And then we're gonna make it stop. Permanently."
"Never again," Jackson said, striding over the tarmac. "I am never getting on a plane again!"
"I second that," Chloe said. She had to lengthen her stride to keep up with him. "At least we didn't crash."
"But it was a touch and go thing, n'cest pas?" Jean-Michel said, catching up with them. Natalie lagged behind.
"You, uh, you don't need to remind me."
Abe and Kazuko ushered her parents through the endless corridors of Fort McNair.
"You do this kind of thing for a living, son?" Michael asked, holding his wife close.
"No, sir, I do not." Abe was adamant. "Before the Beast Rebellion, I was a tour guide. I led rich tourists around the wild safari. I never expected the wild safari to come and say hello."
"You handled yourself pretty well against those monkeys," Michael continued. "You ever been in the military?"
"Yes." Abe said no more.
Kazuko rushed to fill the awkward silence. "Mom, Dad, your rooms are just through here."
Mitch, Jamie, Jackson, Abe, Chloe, Kazuko, Amelia Sage – plus a group of scientists rushed in as quickly as possible from other parts of the world – all met in a large conference room.
"Mr. Jackson," Amelia opened the discussion, "we're all here with the same question – why did the vaccine stop working? You and your team were so sure it was the solution to our problem. We've spent millions – billions – developing this cure. Is it all for nothing?"
Murmurs of agreement – and discontent – met her comment. Angry discontent.
"It worked." Jackson was quick to defend his work and the work of his friends. "The animals returned to their usual behaviour. It worked!"
"So why has it stopped?"
"I have a number of theories," Mitch said. He fidgeted, uncomfortable, as every eye in the room turned to him. "One, it just plain wore off. I don't put a lot of weight behind that theory though, because stem cell treatment like this doesn't work like that. Two, and here's the theory I like the most, they've evolved a resistance to the damned cure."
"How is that even possible?"
"Reiden Global." Jamie spat the words, her voice laced with poison. "They're still using the mother cell to increase the efficiency of their products, aren't they? So the animals are still being exposed. They're still evolving."
"Ms. Campbell, that's slander!" one scientist called. "Actionable slander!"
"Of course you'd say that." She glared at him. "How much is Reiden paying you?"
"Leave Reiden to me." Amelia's voice was uncharacteristically grim. "If they're still using the mother cell, they won't be for long. What I need for you to do now is work on a way to stop what's happening now."
Mitch groaned. "How do you propose we do that?"
"I don't know, make the cure stronger or something. You're the scientist."
"Veterinary pathologist!"
"The answer has to be in my father's notes," Jackson interjected. "We still haven't had time to work through everything he left behind."
"Well, Mr. Jackson, I suggest you get on it. The world is waiting."
Chloe walked into the mess hall. There wasn't a soldier in sight. It was late at night; everyone had retired except Natalie. Good. It was only Natalie she wanted to talk to.
"I'm surprised you're still awake," Chloe said, slipping easily into French.
"I don't sleep much anymore." Natalie glanced at her once, then looked away.
"Where is Jean-Michel?"
"How should I know? I'm not his keeper."
"Nat, please…"
"Please? Please what? Please be in the same room as you? Please breathe the same air as you?"
Tears sprung to Chloe's eyes. "How many times must I beg you?"
"As many times as you like." Natalie's voice was cold, her expression hard. "You let a man come into my home and torture me, Chloe! Your own flesh and blood! Just so you could go off and be a damned hero!"
"I helped save your life. I helped save everybody's lives," Chloe cried, "and you still can't forgive me?"
"Forgive you? Forgive you? You destroyed my life, can't you understand that?" She jumped to her feet and began pacing. "The things that man did to me –"
"I know! I know exactly what he did to you, because I was made to watch every second!"
"Then you know my pain. You know how I suffered," Natalie growled. "I have terrible scars. Jean-Michel won't touch me anymore. Our relationship might as well be dead. That is your fault."
"You blame me for his actions?" Chloe said, voice trembling. "How can you sit there and judge after what you did to me? I would have sacrificed everything for you if you hadn't slept with my fiancé!"
"We're coming back to this?" Natalie was incredulous.
"Everything comes back to this!"
"If you expect me to be grateful to you for bringing me to the States, you're wrong." Natalie spat. "I would rather have died in Paris."
"I can't believe we're right back where we started," Jamie sighed. Dressed in pale pink sleep shorts and a tank, she climbed into bed beside Mitch. He was reading a sheaf of papers – copies of Robert Oz's research. She knew Jackson and dozens of scientists were also pouring over them.
"Nature has a depressing way of being circular," Mitch replied, absent. His sleepwear consisted of tartan shorts and a white tank. "Death. Life. Growth. Competition. You see it once, and then it all keeps coming back around."
Jamie leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're a barrel of laughs tonight. You taken any of those pain meds yet?"
"Nope."
"Uh oh. There was a tone there, Mitch. Why was there a tone?"
"What? There was no tone, what are you talking about?" But he didn't look at her.
"What's bothering you? Come on, talk to me."
"Nothing's bothering me. Apart from, you know, the whole 'animals trying to kill us again' thing."
"You've got a bothered face on…"
He put the sheaf of papers down on the bed beside him, took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes.
"Why did you hang up on me, Jamie?"
"What? When?"
"You know when. I called you, we were talking about Monopoly, and I was trying to tell you that I loved you. Then you hung up."
"Oh." Jamie sat back, putting a bit of space between them. She picked restlessly at the blanket. "That time."
"Audra said maybe you'd lost signal or something." Mitch slid his glasses back on, pushing them into place. "But it wasn't that at all, was it? Or you wouldn't look so guilty."
"It was nothing, honestly…"
"'Nothing' doesn't look like that."
"Alright! So I was coming out of this interview…"
"An interview?" He turned to stare at her, incredulous. "When were you going to tell me you'd been to an interview?"
"Guess it just slipped my mind when I saw that you'd been mauled by a wolf," she shot back. "Again."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright. So you were coming out of an interview, and then…?"
Jamie picked at the blanket again. "I ran into Ethan. We grabbed a coffee and, well, that's when the rats attacked."
"You hung up on me to go drink coffee with your ex-boyfriend."
"OK, so I know how that sounds, but it totally wasn't like that!"
But Mitch had heard enough. He pushed the blanket back and got out of bed, snatching up the research papers, and stalked toward the door.
"I told you that I loved you, Jamie," he growled as he walked around the edge of the bed. "I thought that meant something to you. Maybe I should just have kept my emotions shut down."
"It wasn't like that!" she called, climbing forward on the bed. The blanket fell away from her as she reached for him. "Please, Mitch! Where are you going?"
"Honestly? I don't know. Just… somewhere you're not."
"He left me," she said, sitting back on her haunches. She looked defeated, her face drawn. Tears glimmered in her eyes.
"What?"
"When the rats attacked, he left me behind to save his own skin."
"Is that supposed to make me feel sympathetic?"
"I chose you, Mitch. What Ethan did made me realise I'd made the right choice. I love you. I really do."
Mitch paused at the door. "I don't – I don't open up to people easily, Jamie. I opened up to you, showed you how I really feel. Now I feel like you've thrown it back in my face."
Then he left.
Chloe remained in the mess hall long after Natalie left, lost in her own misery. She supposed Jackson would come and find her – eventually – but his nose was buried so deeply in his father's research it could be hours before he took a break. If he even thought it necessary to take a break. She knew from experience that once Jackson had the bit between his teeth, he'd run with it.
So she sat at her table, alone, as the night aged around her. She only looked up when someone sat opposite her.
"Jean-Michel." Her voice was raspy. She knew her face must be blotchy, but right now she didn't care. "Have you talked to Natalie?"
"She's unhappy," he replied with a shrug.
"Unhappy. That's one way of putting it. She says you barely touch her anymore."
"More like she won't let me," Jean-Michel sighed. "I try, but… what's a man to do when the woman he loves turns away from him?" He met Chloe's eyes, held them. "It makes me wonder… did I choose the right sister?"
"You had the right sister." Her voice was flat. "Until you changed your mind."
Jean-Michel put his hand over hers and squeezed. "I think I made a mistake, Chloe."
"It's – it's too late," she said. "I've moved on. Jackson…"
"You're miserable, but where is he now? He should be comforting you, not losing himself in the ramblings of a madman."
"I don't believe Robert Oz was mad!"
"You can believe what you want. That doesn't mean it's true. The evidence speaks for itself."
Chloe sagged, sinking low in her chair. She ran her hands over her face.
"Did I do the right thing, Jean-Michel? I worked so hard to put this group together. I put myself in danger to find a way to stop the Beast Rebellion, put Nat in danger. I feel as if everything I've done has been a waste of time."
"You believe Natalie was tortured in vain."
She stared at him, eyes wild, and nodded.
"Listen to me, Chloe." He stroked the back of her hand. "Every action you took was because you believed, deep in your soul, your heart –" he stroked her wrist " – that what you were doing was right. Hold on to your convictions. You're stronger than you think."
Chloe smiled, her whole face lightening. "You always knew the right thing to say."
"I could say a lot more… without talking." His fingers explored the soft curve of her arm, curling around the delicate bone.
"My sister… Jackson…"
"They're not here. They're not taking care of the people they profess to love. We are here now." Jean-Michel stood and drew her up with him. Chloe let herself be led. "We understand one another, you and me, in a way the others never can."
Chloe searched his face, eyes roving over the familiar hard planes she'd once traced with her fingers… with her tongue.
She grabbed him by the back of the neck and kissed him.
Jackson, eyes burning, finally looked up from his research. The answer was in here somewhere, it just had to be. His father had devoted years of his life – decades – to this problem.
His mind kept coming back to Evan Lee Hartley and the defiant pupil. He remembered the way Hartley had just stood there, surrounded by wolves. His attitude, his bearing – well, if he'd been a wolf, Jackson would have known he was the alpha.
He remembered his conversation with Jari. That Hartley had tried to make himself evolve…
Looking around the room he shared with Chloe, he realised now that she was gone. Had been gone for some time, actually. He could really use her as a sounding board right now; she had a way of taking his problems, absorbing them into herself, and presenting them back to him as solutions. Just one more reason – one of many – why he wanted to marry her.
He stretched and stood. Time to go and find her.
He met Natalie in the corridors.
"Have you seen your sister anywhere?" Jackson asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've looked all over the place and I can't find her. This place is a real rabbit's warren."
"I have not seen her for hours." Natalie was stiff, her voice laced with repressed emotions. For all that she'd allowed Chloe and Jackson to visit them for Christmas, it was clear now more than ever that she hadn't really wanted them there.
Chloe finished fastening the buttons on her blouse. Jean-Michel leaned back in bed, lounging, tired satisfaction on his face.
"I have to go," Chloe said. Her movements were jerky, her tone unsteady. "We must tell no one of this."
"Secrets cannot remain hidden forever –"
"No one, do you understand? I will not lose Jackson over one stupid mistake!"
Jean-Michel sat up, stung. "What we did was beautiful, it was meant to be. You're trying to tell me you thought it was a mistake?"
"I know it was a mistake. Promise me you will tell no one!"
Jean-Michel shrugged, resigned. "Maybe I was wrong to choose either sister. You are both so cold."
Chloe stifled a frustrated sound and reached for her jacket. She opened the door and stopped, her world crashing around her, when she saw Jackson in the hall. And Natalie.
"Chloe, there you are! I've been looking all over the place for you!"
Of all the doors he could have stopped outside, Chloe thought, panic rising inside her. She'd deliberately brought Jean-Michel to an unassigned room.
"You should not have looked so hard," she muttered, looking away from him. She tried to leave the room and close the door before he could get a glimpse of Jean-Michel, still lying in bed. But from the way his eyes widened – from the way his mouth hung open – she knew she was too late.
"Chloe…?"
When he looked at her she was staggered by the pain in his gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed from sudden unshed tears.
"Jackson –" She reached for him, but he backed away, holding up a hand to ward her off.
"Tell me that's not what it looks like," he demanded. "Please, please tell me that's not what it looks like!"
"What is happening?" Natalie enquired, peering over Jackson's shoulder. She saw Jean-Michel – the man was out of bed and pulling on his clothes – but it was too late. Far too late.
"No," she said. Her voice was raw. "This is… too much. You bring me here," and she turned hate-filled eyes on her sister, "and steal the man I love! No! It is too much!"
"If you love him why do you keep pushing him away?" Chloe shot back, furious.
"I – I don't have time for this family crap," Jackson said, drawing a hand down over his face. He looked as if he'd aged ten years. "I've got a world to save. People who actually deserve to be saved."
Chloe flinched as if she'd been slapped. "Jackson!"
He turned and stumbled away, waving a dismissive hand at her. She couldn't see the tears trickling down his cheeks, and he was careful to keep his face turned from her.
"I wish I had left you in Paris," Chloe snarled at her sister. "Both of you!"
Hours later Chloe found herself in the military base's control room, looking at a bank of wall-mounted monitors – the security system.
"I cannot find my sister," she told the young woman working the controls. "Nor her partner." She tried to hide the urgency in her voice, but the soldier must have caught it anyway.
"Just relax, ma'am, I'll find them."
She called up military data – Homeland Security files on Natalie and Jean-Michel – to access their photos. She ran them through image recognition software that fed directly into the video feed.
"I have them, ma'am. Natalie Tousignant left the base an hour ago, Jean-Michel Lion followed. Both were on foot."
"What?" Chloe leaned over the woman's shoulder, peering desperately at the images on the monitor. She watched as Natalie – moving erratically and dabbing at her face – was waved through the base's final security point. "This is not possible! Do you people not know what is going on outside? Mon dieu!" She let out a stream of agitated French.
"Ma'am, we don't keep prisoners here." The soldier was noticeably cooler now. "We offered sanctuary to key government officials and members of the scientific community, but people are free to leave as they wish."
She manipulated the controls and the video footage sped forward. Chloe watched as Jean-Michel left For McNair, almost running, looking warily around him. Who'd have thought? Maybe he really did love her sister after all. Which made what she had done – what they had done – even more tragic.
"They are going to be killed," she whispered. "Can you track them?"
"Already on it, ma'am."
Chloe waited, tense, as the soldier pressed buttons and moved the mouse. She stopped, let the recording play.
"I picked this up on CCTV a couple blocks away," she said. She leaned back in the chair. "I'm very sorry, ma'am."
Jean-Michel had caught up to Natalie. Unfortunately, so had a pack of wolves. Chloe wondered – in a slow, detached kind of way – if it was the same pack that had chased them out of D.C.
She turned away as the first wolf lunged. She didn't – couldn't – watch any more.
"Jackson…"
Chloe knocked on the door of their new Research Room, almost a carbon copy of the one they'd had at Walker Air Force Base, guessing – correctly – that Jackson would go straight there. Out of deference she hadn't entered, needing to hear his permission for her to come in, needing to know that he forgave her enough to at least look at her.
"I can't talk to you right now, Chloe."
She leaned her forehead against the door, tears squeezing from between her closed eyed.
"They've gone," she said, voice rough. "Natalie and… Jean-Michel. They left the base."
"Not my problem."
"They're dead, Jackson!"
"Still not my problem!"
Chloe sat on the bed she'd shared with Jackson. She held a bottle of pills in her hand. Sleeping pills. She hadn't had to use them in years – not since her early days in the DGSE, when she'd been so nervous it had been impossible for her to unwind – but she still kept them in her purse, still carried them with her everywhere she went.
She toyed with the bottle, rolling it from hand to hand. Tears slid down her face, unheeded, to drip onto the bottle and into her lap.
My sister is dead. Jean-Michel is dead. I cheated on the man I love with the man I used to love. I betrayed Natalie, I betrayed Jackson…
Self-recriminations tumbled through her head, coming thick and fast, until she was unable – or unwilling – to block them out.
She unscrewed the bottle. Shook a handful of pills into her palm. Swallowed them, one… by one… by one.
I will go to sleep now, she thought, and never wake up. That would be best for everybody. Nobody needs a failure on their team… or in their family.
Outside the base, the wolves – more than there had ever been before – began to howl.