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  Running to her side, Claire grabbed the trash can and placed it in front of her sister. “Cindy,” she called to the nurse who stood frozen beside her. “Get me another bed—now.”

  Grabbing Haylee in her arms, Claire lowered her into a chair, and then went to Emma’s bed. She couldn’t care less what hospital protocol was. She wasn’t separating them. Leaning down, Claire unlocked the wheels to Emma’s bed and pushed it against the wall.

  Haylee looked up from the wastebasket with tears streaming down her cheeks. “What’s happening?”

  For the first time since she was sixteen years old, Claire felt useless. She couldn’t fix this.

  “I have the bed,” Cindy called from the other side of the door.

  “Bring it in,” Claire said, hoping Cindy would hear. “Push it right against Emma’s,” she instructed when the door opened to Cindy pushing in a bed three times her size, “IV, anti-nausea, fever check. Maybe we can stop this thing in its tracks.” Claire added after Cindy locked the new bed in place.

  “If speed is what you need…” Cindy smiled.

  “Then you're my girl.” Claire tried to smile back.

  “Lock it down.” A man’s voice boomed from just outside the room. “Lock the entire place down.”

  At the sound of the man’s order, Claire’s heart began to beat so fast that she feared it would break right through her sternum. She looked to Cindy for answers only to see the same panic she felt reflected back at her.

  “Get her set up.” Claire nodded to where Haylee remained slumped in her chair. “I’ll try to see what’s going on.”

  Not waiting on a reply, Claire pushed through the door, and what awaited her she swore could only exist in the movies. Dozens of people in white HAZMAT suits swarmed the halls, slamming doors and shouting orders.

  Grabbing the nearest man in white by the arm, Claire spun him to face her. “What’s going on?” she asked with authority ringing in her voice.

  “Quarantine, ma’am,” the man answered, sounding bored.

  “Doctor Calloway,” Claire corrected him.

  “Like I said, Doctor Calloway, we are closing down this hospital. No one in or out.”

  Dropping his arm, Claire looked at him in disgust. She knew there were sick patients needing to get in, loved ones waiting to see their family members. “On whose orders?”

  “The CDCs,” he replied. “Get back to your patients, Doctor Calloway.” And just like that, he was gone, back to shouting orders.

  “What’s going on?” Cindy asked the second Claire made it back into the room.

  “Quarantine,” Claire mumbled, slowly becoming numb to the world around her.

  “Just Emma and Haylee?” Cindy asked, looking to both of them and then to the door.

  “No.” Claire gulped against the ball that lodged itself in her throat. “The entire hospital.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  With her legs no longer able to bear her weight, Claire collapsed into a chair.

  “I have everything set up.” Claire could hear Cindy say from somewhere far off, “I'm going to see what’s going on out there.”

  Hours passed whilst Claire remained frozen in her chair. There wasn’t anything she could do besides watch helplessly while Emma’s and Haylee’s vitals continued to worsen.

  Not being able to stand waiting any longer, Claire kissed them both and left the room on a mission to find someone, anyone, who could give her some answers.

  Stepping into the hall, Claire entered a sea of white. Masked men and women cluttered the halls as they dashed back and forth.

  “Miss?” one called out. Choosing to ignore him, she continued on down the hall. “Miss!” He raised his voice when Claire refused to stop. “You need to get back into your room.” A strong hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her cold.

  “I'm a doctor.” She shrugged off his restraining grip. “I can help.”

  “I assure you, ma’am, there’s nothing you can do to help. We have everything under control.”

  Leveling him with a stare that should’ve burst him into flames, Claire stepped closer. “I have been with these patients for days. I can help.”

  “Days?” He took a step back. “And you feel fine?”

  “That depends on what your definition of fine is,” she answered sarcastically.

  “No symptoms: fever, nausea—”

  “No,” she cut him off mid-sentence.

  “What room are you in?”

  “I'm with my niece and sister in room 207.”

  “And you’re feeling fine?” he repeated himself.

  “Yes,” she answered with a huff. “Are you going to let me help or not?”

  “All staff on duty are being tested.” He looked her over with a shrewd eye. “Go back to your room and I will send someone in for you shortly.”

  Reluctantly, Claire returned to her room, and within five minutes of sitting, the same man she spoke to at the beginning of the lockdown came in unannounced.

  “Doctor Calloway?” he asked in an official tone.

  “Yes.” Claire nodded as she stood.

  “No, have a seat.” He stepped to her with his hand pushed away from his body. “I’ll only be a second. May I see your arm?”

  “May I ask what you’re testing me for?” she asked, mimicking his monotone.

  He blew out a breath in what could only have been annoyance and shook his head.

  “Do you see that little girl in that bed?” Claire pointed to her four-year-old niece who lay in bed—the only evidence of her life being the monitors that continued to beep a steady rhythm. “And the woman next to her? They are all I have. I need to know what they're up against.”

  He looked from Emma and then back to Claire. “Unknown Airborne Viral Hemorrhagic Fever.” He said with a bowed head.

  Claire’s breath left her lungs in a rush. “Airborne?” She shook her head, not wanting to believe him.

  With a solemn nod, he looked back at Emma. “Yes.”

  She didn’t feel it when he stuck her to draw her blood, nor did she notice when he left. There were only two things on her mind, the two halves of her heart who were fighting for their lives a few feet away.

  “How are you doing?” Cindy whispered through a barely cracked door, her head only slightly poked through.

  “Okay,” she lied, “and you?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Cindy answered with a smile as she lifted her arm. “Actually, more than fine.” She placed her hands on her hips and a smug smile took over her face. “Seems like this bug don’t want none of this.”

  Claire’s chin hit the floor. “You’re immune?”

  “That’s what they're telling me,” Cindy beamed. “It also means nothing can stand in the way of my helping Emma or Haylee.”

  Emma’s once steady heartbeat began to accelerate, snapping Claire back into reality.

  “Emma.” Fear gripped her as she raced to Emma’s side only to freeze when she saw the blood begin to pour from Emma’s nose and mouth. “She’s hemorrhaging.” Claire’s heart dropped as the words left her dry lips. Monitors started to sound one right after the other. Emma’s tiny heart was racing—her breathing so shallow the monitor hardly registered it. “What is her temperature?” Claire yelled.

  “It’s 105,” Cindy shouted back, ready to take her next order as it came.

  Claire froze when she saw a flicker of movement from Emma’s once motionless body. It was quick, lightning fast, but Claire knew good and well what was happening.

  “Get me some Lorazepam,” Claire ordered to Cindy. Emma was seizing. The screaming of monitors continued to blare as Claire watched Emma jerk a second, and then a third time, only to soon be taken over by violent convulsions. Where the hell was Cindy!

  “Here,” Cindy yelled as she came sliding into the room with a hand full of syringes. Grabbing the first one, Claire shoved the tip of the needle into Emma’s IV line and slowly administered the first dose, praying that it would stop the convul
sions.

  “It’s not working,” Claire yelled over the alarms that were sounding all around them.

  “Her heart!” Cindy shouted, causing Claire to zero in on Emma’s heart monitor.

  “Get the crash cart.” Claire demanded as she clasped her hands together over Emma’s tiny chest and began compressions.

  “Here are the paddles.” Cindy pulled Claire’s hands from Emma’s chest and shoved the paddles of the defibrillator into her shaking palms.

  After Emma’s tiny heart beat one last time, Claire screamed the words she had said so many times before, “Clear.” She slammed the paddles to Emma’s chest and waited to hear the sound of her beating heart. She cried out when the monitor continued to scream that her Emma was gone. “Clear,” she yelled out, shocking Emma’s heart again and again. “No!” She’s not dead. Claire refused to believe it. She can’t be…

  “Claire, she’s gone.” Logan’s voice sounded in her ear, “You did everything you could.”

  “No.” She fought against his hold; she wouldn’t let him keep her from saving Emma.

  “You’ve been going at it for ten minutes!” Logan yelled over her screams. “She’s gone, Claire.”

  “She can’t be.” Claire’s knees gave way and she was met with the cold, unforgiving cement floor. The last thing she saw before the darkness consumed her was Emma, covered in blood, dead in her bed.

  * * *

  “Doctor Calloway,” someone whispered. “Miss Calloway?”

  No. She tried to refuse the voice that beckoned her to wake into a consciousness that she couldn’t bear. In the darkness, there was no pain, no loss. In the darkness, Emma wasn’t dead.

  “Claire,” her name was spoken close to her ear. “We’re running out of time.”

  “No,” she mumbled.

  “Claire, we need your help. We need you to wake up.”

  “Emma.” Her niece’s name left her lips in a sob. She needed my help, Claire thought, and I failed her.

  “Haylee needs you now.”

  At the sound of her sister’s name, she shot up in bed, and she looked over the room. She saw the familiar features of a hospital room—sterile and cold, but there was no Haylee. “Where is she?” Claire asked as she tried to stand, only to be shoved back down by a man covered head-to-toe in a white plastic suit.

  “Please, Miss Calloway, give yourself a minute before standing. You took a nasty fall.”

  “I don’t have time.” She sneered at the masked man. “Where’s Haylee?”

  “Haylee is in stable condition, for now.”

  She knew that voice—it was Cindy. With her eyes locked on the tiny blonde, Claire begged, “Where?”

  “Please,” Cindy’s hand came to rest over hers, “Listen to what these men have to say.”

  Is she crazy? Claire thought. They didn’t have time, Haylee didn’t have time.

  A man wearing only a respirator mask and dressed in a tailored black suit stepped in front of her. “It seems that you are immune to this horrific illness, Miss Calloway.” He spoke in the same authoritative tone as the CDC workers. “We need your help.”

  “What can I possibly do to help you? I couldn’t even save my own niece.” Claire turned away from the newcomer.

  “With skill, no, you can’t. It’s your blood that will save her—your antibodies,” he corrected, trying to get her attention. “If we can figure out how you’re immune, we could save millions. You could save millions.”

  “You want to use me as a lab rat?” she asked, turning to face him and spearing him with a death glare.

  “Us.” Cindy stepped forward. “They want to use us. We are of no use here. You could save Haylee if you come with us.”

  “Think of your niece, Miss Calloway.” The man wearing the respirator mask stepped in front of Cindy. “Would she want you to sit back and let her mother die?”

  “Don’t you dare.” If she could have spit fire, the entire room would’ve been engulfed in flames. How dare he use her niece’s death to coerce her?

  “There are thousands of children just like Emma who will die if we don’t find some type of cure.”

  “Saving lives is what we do, Claire.” Cindy smiled next to the man dressed in black.

  With eyes shut tight, Claire nodded, knowing Cindy was right. “I need to say goodbye to my sister first.”

  “We don’t have time for that, ma’am.”

  “Then you’ll make time.” She scowled at the man. “Because I'm not going anywhere with you until I see her.”

  His eyes narrowed as he looked Claire over. “Take her to her sister,” he ordered a man in white who simply nodded his compliance.

  She followed him silently down the dimly lit hall of the ER until he stopped just outside of room 207. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see when she opened the door, but it was the empty bed where Emma once slept that ripped her to shreds. Emma was gone.

  “Would you like me to grab you some water?” the man asked from the doorway.

  “Please,” she answered quietly, willing to agree to just about anything to have a minute alone with her sister.

  He closed the door with a nod, leaving her to say her goodbyes.

  Claire slumped to her knees beside Haylee’s bed. “I'm so sorry.” A sob shook her body as guilt consumed her.

  “Claire?” She jumped at the sound of Logan’s voice. “You’re not sick?” He ran to her with open arms.

  “What are you doing here?” Shocked, Claire took a step back, refusing his embrace, still furious at the man she once loved.

  “I’m here for you, babe. We have to go.” He grabbed her arm in a tight hold. “You have no idea what we’re dealing with.”

  “Actually, I do.” She planted her feet where they were. “It’s AVHF.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” Logan’s hands dove into his hair. “These men, you have no idea how dangerous they are. We have to go.” He grabbed her arm and tugged just to be jerked back when she refused to move.

  “You can’t leave.” She pointed to the man in the HAZMAT suit making his way toward them.

  “Yes, I can.” He held up a white card with the letters PFD stamped on the front.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Claire asked as she squinted at the tiny index card.

  He flipped it over to reveal the word, Immune, on the back.

  “You’re immune?” Claire asked with suspicion lacing her voice, knowing that neither she nor Cindy was given a card.

  “Yes, and we have to go—now.” He started for the door.

  “I'm not going anywhere, and neither should you. You could help people. Don’t you get that?” She knew the old Logan would have jumped at the opportunity to be the hero, but this new Logan, he was another man entirely.

  “Miss Calloway,” the CDC agent spoke with concern as he stepped between her and Logan, “are you ready to go?”

  Logan pushed the man aside and stepped toward her with rage in his eyes. “She’s not going anywhere with you.” Logan grabbed Claire around the neck and pulled her to him, but no sooner than Logan’s hand touched her, did three men cloaked in white swarm the small room. With military-like precision, they had Logan on the ground.

  “Miss Calloway.” The first CDC agent extended his hand to her, ignoring the mess of men writhing on the floor in front of him. “Are you ready to go?” he repeated himself.

  “Y-yes,” Claire trembled as she looked from Logan to the man reaching for her. Placing her hand in his, she allowed him to guide her from the room.

  “When you learn the truth,” Logan yelled, “come find me!”

  “Where’s Cindy?” Claire asked, trying her best to push the thought of Logan to the furthest part of her mind as possible.

  “She’s already gone,” he answered her quickly. “There’s a car waiting outside.” He stopped just short of the exit and pointed to a black SUV that had the same insignia painted on it as the card Logan had: PFD.

  As she neared the truck, the man
dressed in the perfectly tailored suit, whom she had seen when she woke in the hospital bed, stepped from the passenger side and opened the back door. “Please, Miss Calloway.” He motioned to the back seat. “We don’t have much time.”

  She swallowed against the lump in her throat as she saw a second man, dressed similarly to the first, waiting in the driver’s seat. As she sat in the back of the SUV, and the door shut behind her, all the crazy Logan spouted about the government flooded into her mind. Who are these people? She couldn’t help but ask herself.

  “PFD, as in the pharmaceutical company?” she spoke up from the back of the SUV, remembering the logo on the front of Logan’s immunity card. “Is that why you came for the immune?”

  “We’re here to help put a stop to this virus,” Man in Black number one deflected her question, “that’s all you need to know.”

  “Do you have names?” Claire asked suspiciously.

  “You can call me Commander Sawyer.”

  “And I’m Lieutenant Edwards,” the driver added with a wink in his rearview.

  As they continued to drive south out of the city, Claire’s heart began to race. “Where are we going?”

  “A safe haven,” henchman number two, Lieutenant Edwards, answered with finality.

  There was something about them that didn’t sit well with her. She wanted to blame it on Logan’s crazy conspiracy theories, but there had to be more.

  “Commander Sawyer,” a brash male voice sounded over the SUVs speakers, “Do you have subject 001?”

  Claire couldn’t help but scoff at the fact she was being referred to as “Subject 001.”

  “Yes sir, en route.”

  Silence once again took over the small space, adding to her discomfort.

  “We don’t have much farther to go.” Sawyer turned in his seat and smiled.

  “I really have to use the restroom.” Claire knew, if she had any chance to escape, it was then or never.

  “You can go when we get to our destination,” GI Joe number one answered her harshly.

  “I don’t think you understand. I haven’t used the bathroom in eight hours. There is no holding it.”

  “Are you feeling sick?” Sawyer turned to face her with concern in his eyes.

  “No,” she assured him, “but if you don’t find somewhere to stop, I will use the seat.”