The Vampire Cure

Brad the lab mouse, whom I affectionately called Big Balls, let out an annoying squeak at his latest injection. It was a serum designed to increase testosterone, the latest in hopes of finding a cure for erectile dysfunction. While observing the mouse, I browsed through the news headlines until I came across an interesting one. A novel virus scientists called DESVID-2 had mutated from vampire bats to humans in a small Latin American country. Though the reporter tried to downplay it, I was familiar with the virus as it pertained to animals. It resembled SARS but was far more contagious and potentially deadly. If left unchecked and under the right conditions, it could easily wipe out half that country.

“Well, Big Balls, it looks like tracking your testosterone levels will have to wait.” His creepy pink eyes stared back at me, before he jumped in his wheel and started running. Like most other men in my life, he got over me fast.

I didn’t wait to be told to research the virus—my boss John would undoubtedly assign one of the senior scientists to check it out and produce a threat report. I know that sounds important, but it was nothing more than a brief analysis of how likely the problem in question would be to pose a tangible threat to the American people. Working in a private lab had its perks, but seniority was a universal thing, and John had to deal with a lot of interesting personalities here. Myself included.

I pulled my long brown hair back into a ponytail. Wearing it down was fun for a change, but I needed to concentrate, and having it push forward into my view made it hard to speed read. I cracked my knuckles and started searching.

That was when the worst squeak I ever heard came from the cage. Big Balls stumbled out of the wheel and collapsed.

I checked his vitals. No pulse.

I sighed. As a scientist, I knew the day would come. He was a research subject, and it was inevitable that we would hit the upper threshold of testosterone his poor body could tolerate. That knowledge didn’t make the whole thing sting any less. I’d have to start testing all over with a new subject.

But that could wait. I had a new virus to investigate.

***

An hour later, I was only a little more enlightened on the topic. The information on the internet was scarce, but I did find a few papers written on the animal version of the virus. It appeared to be spread by blood in animals, with vampire bats usually the culprit. A report confirmed that the transmission to humans was via a bite by a vampire bat.

I went down that rabbit hole, researching everything I could on vampire bats. To study it further, I would need some vampire bats and of course, the virus itself. I quickly typed up a feasibility report, to see if I could get approval to start a new project.

I dreaded talking to John about it, if I could even talk to him. His day was filled with meetings and random calls from the president. By president, I mean the leader of the government—our lab was founded by none other than Ronald Lamp, the commander-in-chief and president of the United States. A billionaire twice over, yet he still couldn’t get tanning quite right—his skin resembled a shade of muted orange. He treated the presidency much like one of his businesses, and fully expected everyone who worked for him to do whatever he desired: no questions asked, no independent thought required. Suffice it to say, I didn’t envy my boss’ job.

As I knocked on the door to John’s elaborate corner office, I pictured three possible outcomes: outright rejection, reassignment to someone else, or actual approval. If I could word it right, and he was distracted enough, I might have a shot at it… God knows anything had to be more interesting than turning poor unsuspecting mice into an amalgamation of everything that’s wrong with men.

My boss waved me in, as he put his hand over the phone receiver. “Yes?”

“Dr. Phillips, I have a new project proposal, and I need some resources,” I said, looking at the pages in my hand. “And of course, time to work on it,” I added, as I pushed my glasses farther up the bridge of my nose. I wasn’t exactly comfortable around people but asking for resources was the worst.

His eyebrows scrunched together, which only made it look like I gave him a headache. “What… what is this—” His attention returned to his phone call, and he motioned with a finger for me to wait. From the heavy sigh he took, I knew he was speaking with the president.

“Speaking with” was overstating it; this was clearly not a conversation. “I understand Mr. President, but—”

A vein in his forehead appeared to bulge, and I wondered if his head would soon explode. He covered the mouthpiece and said to me, “Just leave it on my desk.”

“But I’d like to explain—”

“No, Mr. President, I just can’t scientifically justify the use of household chemicals to treat the flu, it’s not—”

I couldn’t hold back a smile. President Lamp had a unique way saying the most dangerous and bizarre shit to the general public, especially in times of crisis. This flu season was the worst in a long while, and the number of people hospitalized was at an all-time high. My boss had to deal with the fallout of the president’s outrageous suggestions and was often asked to produce reports that flew in the face of known facts and usually, common sense. I took my hair out of my ponytail and combed it over, simulating the president’s hairstyle. Then I postured like him, mimicking the president’s frequent gestures during speeches.

John clamped a hand over his mouth, struggling not to audibly laugh. He put the call on speaker, and out blared President Lamp’s impatient shouts. “I never said to inject bleach! The media is filled with vipers, they’re always giving me nasty questions, setting me up. You know this, you—”

He switched it back off speaker. “Yes sir. I will look for some obscure study in which bleach was used and find a way to spin it.”

John closed his eyes, a tired smile on his face. “I understand. Thank you, sir. Goodbye.” He placed the receiver back down on his desk phone and groaned. “I’d say I don’t get paid enough for this, but that, thankfully, isn’t my problem.”

I nodded. It was the reason I took the job as well. Privately funded by one of the world’s few billionaires meant healthy paychecks. But it was my hope as well to affect real change, researching global issues that affected millions. The irony of course, is that low testosterone does affect millions, though it wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.

This virus outbreak could be big. And a cure could be even bigger. For the lab as well as for me.

“So, this new project…” he said, while flipping through my report, “…you really think there’s something to this?”

“I need to study it to be sure, but I believe it has the potential to spread quickly.”

He finished his quick perusal of the report. “Part-time only, please. You can have the funding for the test subjects and to procure the virus itself, but nothing more. President Lamp is adamant about coming out with a solution for low testosterone.”

“Did you ever wonder why that is?” I smiled a small, playful smirk.

“I think we both know why,” he said with a laugh. “Get back to work already!”

Letting me work on the new project part-time was more than I expected. I passed my lab assistant’s desk on the way to mine. A smaller laptop was opened, which I guessed was her personal one—the bling on the cover gave that away. There was an icon on the website that was open. It looked familiar but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen it before.

Amy was upbeat as ever, her black curls bouncing to the subtle swaying of her body, no doubt in time to the music of her headphones. She noticed me and took her headphones off.

“You seem to be in a good mood. Did he finally approve your COPD research project?”

My father was diagnosed with COPD ten years ago, and it was the reason I became a scientist. To study it and find a cure. But I wasn’t quite ready to get rejected on that. I figured I would do my time, make a few breakthroughs, and then when I’d become invaluable, hit them with a proposal. The truth is, if that research were denied, it would break me.

“Not quite that good. I’m going to study the new virus part time.”

Her eyes got big. “The Latin American one?” She squeezed a foam stress toy in the shape of a cat, one of her many squishies she played with throughout the course of the day. Said it helped her think. To me, it was just one of many quirky things about her.

“Yes, DESVID-2. You’ve heard of it?”

“I saw the news,” she said, her expression unusually dark. “I did a paper on the flu. Viruses are scary stuff.”

I nodded and settled down in my office chair, eager to get to work. I figured I could maybe get a couple of hours of work in before the boss kicked me out for the day. I was filling out the requisition forms, when I caught a glimpse of mocha brown skin in my peripheral vision.

“Do you need any help?” Amy asked.

“I’m, uh… still getting the forms filled out. Thanks.” I worked better alone, always have. Calculations had to be precise—timing, notes, even the tedious work required total accuracy to be of any use at all. Wondering whether others had my work ethic was a variable I didn’t want to take into consideration.

“Oh okay. Well, can I help out with little Big Balls over there?” She giggled, delighted at my pet name for Brad. Then her eyes followed over to the cage. “Oh.”

I grimaced, still annoyed by the death of the mouse.

“I can help you setup a new test subject,” she offered.

When it came down to it, my name was on the project. Any inaccuracies, inconsistencies or other errors would be my fault. Which I couldn’t tolerate, even for a project I didn’t care about. No drama, that was my policy when it came to other people. “I’m good, thanks.”

Her smile faded. “Let me know if you need anything.”

I resumed my paperwork. Though I felt a twinge of guilt at Amy’s reaction, it couldn’t be helped. I had too much work to do, to worry about other people’s feelings.

I was able to get all the paperwork filled out, emails sent, and supplies ordered for the new project before my boss gently told me to get out. I’d spent more than a couple nights there, when I was in the middle of a study. Well, that was what I always told him anyway. The truth was, I didn’t have anything better to do. The lab had become more of a home to me than my small apartment. The only reason to go there was my other lab. A lab that was big, furry and full of boisterous energy. I could hear his bark/whine combination as I approached the door to my apartment.

He jumped on me the second I entered, nearly knocking me down. “Thundarr! Did you miss me?” I kneeled to his level and he licked my face excitedly, his tail wagging so forcefully, it nearly knocked down the small entryway table.

“Calm down, baby.” His excited whimpers indicated he was not only happy to see me but needed a walk as well. I grabbed his leash and we headed for the dog park nearby. It took a few years of training to break him of the habit of barking at every stranger, but he still remained ever vigilant, growling when any men passed us.

I wish I could say it was the reason no guys ever hit on me, but my glasses, ponytail, and general antisocial tendencies were more likely to blame. It didn’t bother me much—relationships were complicated and a time suck. Of course I missed sex, but even that took some time to become worthwhile. When I felt particularly lonely, I would grab a glass of wine and indulge in a romance novel. In those, I could escape to the mythical land of lust at first sight, where all the sex was magically phenomenal, even the first time when the couple didn’t know anything about each other. I suspended my disbelief and wondered what that would feel like, to be with someone who just knew exactly what turned you on and performed it flawlessly.

At the dog park, I took my happy giant dog off the leash and watched him run. I suspected it was his favorite part, the very first sprint of freedom. He took a lap around the perimeter, running like a crazy dog. I smiled as I sat on one of the benches and watched him. This was my time to clear my head. Most workdays left me with puzzles unsolved, and without a conscious effort to stop it, my mind would ponder it all night. My mentor professor in college taught me to let it go, to give my brain a rest. Of course, thinking of nothing is harder than it sounds…

My forehead wrinkled as I experienced the strange sensation of being watched. I glanced around, but other than one other dog owner playing with his collie, no one was there. I turned around, peering into the bordering patch of woods behind me. The sun had set, but it wasn’t quite dark out yet, making visibility questionable.

For a scientist, it was bizarre that I should even have these feelings, much less act on them. But the sensation didn’t relent—if someone was in fact staring at me, they hadn’t stopped. It was freaking me out.

“Thundarr! Come on puppy!”

The dog bounded back to me, panting. I slipped the leash on before he knew what was happening. He let out a soft whimper, turning back to look at the expanse of the park. Then he plopped his ass down on the ground.

“We have to go,” I said, petting his head. “We can come back tomorrow.”

I felt a sudden chill in the air, odd for springtime weather in DC. I looked around again, still feeling like I was being observed. A branch snapped in the distance, and Thundarr’s ears perked up. He instantly made it to his feet, sniffing the air.

“It’s weird, right?” I often talked to him like he was a human, hoping one time he might answer me. He growled and practically dragged me out of the park, inching closer to the woods.

I’d seen enough horror movies to know traipsing into the woods, at night, when you think someone may be staring at you from within them, was the worst idea ever. Even with a big dog.

“Let’s go home, buddy,” I said, still eyeing the woods for some kind of movement, something to substantiate my fears and possible paranoia.

The dog complied, but he kept glancing back as we walked away. What was out there?

We made it safely back, and once inside my apartment, I engaged the deadbolt, still a little creeped out. My neighborhood wasn’t that bad, but it wasn’t that great, either. I fed Thundarr, who happily chomped down the kibble in his bowl. Then I turned my attention to the fridge, and found the meal labeled “Thursday.” It was soup, which I wasn’t really in the mood for, but I reheated it anyway. It was easier to plan out all my meals and package them on the weekend, so I could consume the optimal nutrients every day and not have to bother with meal preparation on a workday. Did a potential boyfriend run from my apartment when he saw this? Maybe. But it was a good system, and in a world full of uncertainty, it made sense to control what I could.

I grabbed the now hot soup and brought it to my small dining room table, where my Kindle sat upright. I can get in another chapter while I eat, I thought. I was just getting to the good “quivering member” part when my cell rang. I recognized the number and debated whether to answer it.

“Hi, Mom,” I said after hitting the little green accept call button.

“How’s my favorite daughter?” she said.

“I’m your only daughter.”

“What difference does that make? Still my favorite.”

I smiled, her cheerful optimism breaking me down. She had a way of brightening my day and getting under my skin in the same conversation.

“How are things at home?” I asked.

“It’s okay. We both miss you so much!”

I had only moved out about a month ago. It made more sense to live at home during college, since all of my undergraduate years occurred before I could drink. Having skipped five grades of elementary school, I went to college to study, not fraternize. When the grant for my doctoral degree fell through, I almost had to drop out. Now that I was twenty-three and had a job that paid well, I could afford to live on my own. But if I was being honest, I missed the cheerfulness, the history there. I missed home.

“Is Dad around?”

“Yes, he’s right here. I love you, baby. I’m so proud of you!”

“I love you too, Mom.”

“Hold on, here he is,” she said.

“Is that my Dizzy Lizzy?” he said, his warm laughter ringing through. It was a name he came up with when I was four and loved to spin around and fall down. It was before I was tested and labeled a genius, before my penchant for science was discovered, before I suddenly had to grow up. I remembered all those fun times with him, laughing until my sides hurt.

“How is your breathing, are you doing all right?” I asked.

“Oh, I’m fine, darling. You needn’t worry about me.” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “See? Never better.”

He must’ve known that wouldn’t fool me. I’d researched COPD for years and knew it wasn’t always a constant thing. For some people, it was the flare-ups that made life miserable.

“Fine, I’ll ask Mom about it.” Though I didn’t get along with her the same way I did with my father, I knew she wouldn’t try to bullshit me.

“Oh pet, it’s just the same. Good days and bad days. It is what it is.”

That kind of ambivalent answer only made me worry more. “Have you had an attack?”

The silence on the other end was answer enough.

“It was outpatient, so not so bad,” my mother said, taking the phone back. “The doctor’s trying a new prescription.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Trelegy something?”

“I’m familiar with it. Is he doing any better on it?” This wasn’t the first change in meds. He was previously on a drug that got him so nauseated, he barely ate.

“So far, so good, sweetie.”

“Be careful around sick people—that drug makes it easier to contract pneumonia.”

“Will do. So, how are you? Been on any dates, are you seeing someone?”

I cringed. No matter what we were discussing, somehow, she always managed to inquire about my love life.

“Too busy working,” I said, with an exhausted sigh.

“Well that’s your problem! Take some time off, go to a resort and meet a cute guy or two.”

“Uh-huh.” I remembered this conversation. We’d had it periodically throughout my college years. Sometimes I even got an anecdote from her youth which led me to believe she was one of the popular girls. My mother and I couldn’t be more opposite. Skipping five grades branded me an uber nerd for my entire public-school experience. I couldn’t find a girl that would even talk to me to be my friend, and guys… None of them even spared me a glance. They all thought I was just a kid.

“I’m serious! You need to put yourself out there, have some fun before you get old like me.”

I smiled in spite of her persistence. “You know my policy, no drama.”

“Policy, what kind of way is that to live? You’ve got to be lonely all by yourself in that tiny apartment, no one to—”

“Birdie, please,” I heard my Dad say, using his pet name for her. “She’s doing brilliant research. She doesn’t have time to be ogled!”

I giggled. My father always got me. Whether or not my research was brilliant, he always had my back when my mother pestered me about dating.

“Don’t listen to her,” he said in a whisper voice, in control of the phone once more. “You’ve got your whole life for relationships. Just out of school, on the verge of the next major scientific discovery…” He coughed with an intensity that bothered me.

“Dad, are you okay?”

The phone was dropped or placed down somewhere; I couldn’t tell. I could just make out their voices in the background.

“You need to rest now," I heard my mother say.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said after the coughing ceased. “Always looking after me, Birdie.”

“Of course, I love you,” she said. “Come on, let’s get you settled.”

“Elizabeth, are you still there?” my mother asked, back on the phone.

“Is he all right?”

“Yes, baby, he… he just needs to rest.” There was an uncertainty to her voice that unnerved me.

“I should get to bed too,” I said, though it was still pretty early. “I’ve got a new project at work.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, a novel virus,” I said, a little too exuberantly. “There was an outbreak in Latin America.”

“Hmm,” she said, and with that short syllable, I knew she thought the work was beneath me. She never approved of my working for a private company. She envisioned a loftier career for me, curing cancer or something else equally impressive.

“Beats erectile dysfunction, right?” I said.

She laughed a genuine, hearty kind of laugh. “You have a point.”

After a brief pause, she continued, “Gotta go, sweetie. Have to make sure he takes his pills. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

I ended the call and broke out my laptop. My research on COPD was an ongoing side project, fueled by my father’s condition. The available prescription drugs on the market were questionable treatments at best, most of them with several undesirable side effects. My father needed a real cure fast, before his condition worsened.

***

I felt cold. Not just my skin, but my whole body—my blood, my bones, my eyes. It was everywhere.

My father smiled at me from an unfamiliar bed, telling me not to worry. But something was wrong. Not just with me, but the whole world. Somehow, I knew thousands had died, and more were dying. I watched helplessly as people became cold, and there was nothing I could do about it.

A dark figure in the shadows stared at me. I didn’t see him as much as feel him. I ran until my lungs burned but I couldn’t get away. The most sinister laugh sounded in my ears. And then a single word: “Welcome.”

I gasped as I sat up in bed. I’d had nightmares before, but this one seemed so real. The world was so bleak, so completely devoid of hope. I shuddered. In the past, my dreams sometimes had a way of coming true, especially the vivid ones. That feeling of helplessness and dread stayed with me, haunting me as I got ready for work.

When I arrived at work, I was delighted to see my requisition forms were approved, and to speed things up a little, I made arrangements to pick up the vampire bats I needed for testing from a local reserve that housed a few colonies. My assistant Amy was bored and asked if she could come with me. I felt myself cringe automatically, though I didn’t intend to. I nodded and she practically hugged me.

“Oooh, a field trip!” Her smile was the most cheerful thing I’d seen in a week. “So nice to get out of this weird ass bunker.”

She was right about that; it did feel like a bunker. Because this was the president’s personal company and the research was top secret, the lab itself was underground. The building above the ground was leased out office space. It was predominantly occupied by startup app companies, the most ridiculous one being the cat butthole filter app, which as you may have guessed, projects a cat butthole on any image you provide. It was popular with the millennial crowd for half a minute. Needless to say, turnover was high upstairs and leases went month to month. But the dreamers above ground didn’t know about the lab—it wasn’t accessible via the elevators and there were no company signs anywhere. We had our own secret entrance, which sounds cool, but ended up feeling kinda creepy and sad, like a mistress leaving her lover’s house through the back door so the neighbors wouldn’t see. For an extrovert like Amy, it was probably unbearable. I bet she liked to people watch, just for fun. I cringed at the thought.

“I thought bats creeped you out,” I said, as I grabbed my purse.

“No more so than Charlie over there.” I glanced over my shoulder at the scientist she named and noticed him gazing longingly at her. “Didn’t even do a weave, and he’s still staring at me.”

Her hair was shorter than usual, which led me to conclude that was likely her real hair. The short, wavy curls were still lovely, and I wondered if she didn’t realize she was one of the pretty girls. That she could come in dressed in a potato sack with a baseball cap on backwards and still have men drooling over her.

“I think he’s in love.” I smiled, suppressing a laugh.

“Who Charlie? Oh, he probably just needs a release. Like everybody else here.”

I burst out laughing. And then it occurred to me she was including me in that statement when a crooked smile appeared on her face. I couldn’t deny it, she was right. Jacob in cancer research was the only one who wasn’t frustrated, and that was simply because he was newly married. The rest of us were hopelessly socially awkward, too focused on the work, or most likely, a combination of both.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go.” We checked out with the boss on our way out and left. As we emerged from the building, the sunlight hit my face and I realized it had been awhile since I last felt it. Between the late nights and early mornings at the lab, I would often go days, sometimes weeks without seeing it.

“Feels like we’re sneaking out, playing hooky,” Amy said, and smirked. “You ever do that in school?”

I think she knew the answer to that, even before I raised my eyebrow.

“Liz, one of these days you’re going to surprise me. All the little wild stories I make up about everyone, I just know that yours is going to happen.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, as we entered my small car. It was an electric model, a gift from my parents after I graduated college.

“I like to imagine secret lives for everyone. Rob, for example, is a spy working undercover. He’s into muscle cars, fast women, toy poodles and collecting ceramic plates from the 1980s.”

I cracked up. Well at least one of those may be true… “And what is my story?”

“Nope, I never tell people their own stories. But trust me, it’s a good one.” She smiled as her eyes wandered, taking in the buildings we passed as we made our way to the highway.

“You have too much time on your hands,” I said in a joking way, but her expression became serious.

“Can’t argue with that.”

It was true, I didn’t trust her with much in my experiments. But it wasn’t because I didn’t trust her in particular, it was because I didn’t trust anyone other than myself. I saw her credentials when John hired her—she was a brilliant student. Her study on environmental factors and behaviors affecting test subjects, and how it correlated to the efficacy of the drug in question was groundbreaking. I changed my testing procedures in light of her findings. There was no doubt she’d become a great scientist in her own right. But my peers had let me down so many times in the past, I just wasn’t ready to jeopardize a project on the chance of her being any different, any less distracted.

As the traffic started to get congested on the highway, I considered the situation. As far as lab techs went, she was good. If I didn’t use her, she would eventually get bored and request a different position or leave. “They’ll be more work to do with this project,” I said quietly.

“Mm hmm. Whatever you say, boss.”

She didn’t sound angry, maybe more ambivalent. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or lose her, but I couldn’t give her more. I had to get a scope on what kind of drugs we’d be testing, the trials we would run, and other details about the project before I could begin to think about giving her a part of it. And with the shaky ground I stood on, one mistake would shut the whole thing down.

“So why vampire bats?” she asked. I was delighted at the change of subject and launched into the meager information I found about the history of the first cases, and how DESVID-2 morphed from animal to human.

“Is this virus like SARS?” The dread in her voice was noticeable.

“It shares some characteristics. But if my suspicions are right, it’s going to be much worse.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That more people may have it than is known, that some people are carriers and don’t even know it.”

There was a silence for a while. I knew she was aware of the ramifications of a deadly, asymptomatic flu-like virus. Up until this point, I hadn’t said my suspicions out loud, and hearing the words made it somehow more real, more correct. If it were true, what I saw in my nightmare was only the beginning.

***

At the reserve, we met up with the contact I had spoken with, Ethan. He looked to be twenty-something and a reformed emo—still wearing all black, and with black hair but no eyeliner. When he smiled as we shook hands, I noticed his canines were sharpened. It was unusual, sure, but not unheard of. Cosmetic dentistry was a thing in some circles here.

“How long has this reserve been here?” Amy asked.

“I was able to get funding for it about a year ago,” Ethan said. “The bats were already here, it was just a matter of getting the grant and the land protected, so developers wouldn’t chase them away.”

He seemed proud of that accomplishment, and he was right to be. Getting the cooperation of politicians and past the red tape of bureaucracy in this part of the country was a damn miracle.

“How many bats would you say are here in total?” I asked.

“There’s no way to know for sure, but I suspect they number in the thousands. I’ve recorded six different varieties as well.”

“That’s amazing!” Amy said, as she focused on a small cage on the floor. A blanket partially covered it, but I could see at least one bat hanging from the bars on the top of the cage. “Is this them?”

He nodded. “The vampire bat colony has flourished, so I could spare some.”

“Thank you, Ethan,” I said. “This will go a long way in my research.”

Amy took a closer look. “Ooh they creep me out! I can handle mice all day, but bats?” She shuddered as she withdrew.

“They’re incredible creatures, actually,” Ethan said, and I swear his eyes traveled the length of Amy’s body. “They have a tremendous sense of loyalty to their family. They take care of each other.”

I wrote a check out to the reserve and handed it to him. “Thanks again.”

He grabbed the cage and followed us back to my car, relaying care information for the animals as he gently placed the cage in my back seat. Then he shook my hand once again. “Good luck with your research.”

I nodded. He waved goodbye in a cute little lovesick way to Amy on the other side of the car. She smiled and he reciprocated, grinning ear to ear.

Once the doors were shut and we were driving away, I asked, “Is it always like that?”

“What are you talking about?” Amy asked.

“With men.”

“Oh you mean how he was acting? No, just sometimes. Not everyone finds me irresistible.”

I smiled. “You seem to have that effect on them.”

“I think it’s my perfume.”

At that I laughed. “Yeah, that must be it. But have you run a trial yet? Proven your theory?”

“Perfume is too expensive. I can’t waste it on scientific curiosity.”

“Yet you wasted it on Ethan,” I pointed out.

“He could’ve been hot, you don’t know. Or he could’ve had second thoughts about selling the bats.” She cracked a smile. “It’s good to be prepared.”

“Very true.” I hadn’t really spent much time with her, but I was beginning to appreciate Amy.

***

We made it back to the lab, and everyone was standing around the big screen tv in the break lounge. Across the screen was the headline: Breaking News: Hundreds of confirmed cases of DESVID-2 virus in Latin America, and 12 fatalities. A reporter spewed more statistics about the virus, but then suddenly stopped speaking and looked down, her hand on the tiny electronics in her ear. Her jaw dropped, as she quietly said, “You’re certain?” She cleared her throat and focused back on the camera. “This just in, there’s been a case of the DESVID-2 virus confirmed in New York. More details to follow.”

“Oh my God, it’s here already?” Amy said.

The other scientists looked at us both, apparently just noticing our presence.

John rose from his chair. “Elizabeth, we need to talk.”