August

July 23

Late in the night, during a hot week in late July, the Woodacre compound burst, spun out into slivers in the darkness, came back to earth, and burned to the ground. Six were dead, no carriers or children among them. Five were wounded. Twenty-seven were missing.

~:~

Aaron Soyinka looked up at the clock again. One hand of it ticked over onto the 4. Twenty minutes left until visiting hours started. He glanced over his shoulder at the nurses' station - would they let him go in early? Probably not. He turned his attention back to the newspaper and kicked the box between his feet idly.

Across the room from him, elevators opened and a man in a gray suit stepped out, a simple red notepad clasped in his left hand. He looked up at Aaron Soyinka and smiled genially.
"Waiting for a patient?"
Aaron nodded uncertainly - was this man a doctor?
The man gave a tilt of his head, then moved on to the nurses' station, briefly consulting his little red notepad. Curious, Aaron listened in on the conversation. There had been something about the man...
"I'm looking for a patient here, one with criminal charges?" his quiet voice drifted across the room. "Last name Witterbaum, first name James?"
The older nurse at the desk shook his head.
"Sorry, sir. That patient's no longer with us."
"Really?" The man in the gray suit asked casually, pulling something from his pocket and showing it to the nurse, "He's been moved?"
The nurse shook his head helplessly.
"No, sir. Dead."
Even from across the room, Soyinka could see the man's shoulders tense.
"I see." he said, slowly. "And there are no other Witterbaums here? No James Wetterbaums or Stephen James Witterbaums or other men by...similar names?"
The nurse frowned, confused.
"I'm not sure, sir -"
"It's just that this particular gentleman has been very difficult to get a hold of. He has a habit of changing his name."
"Well, I assure you, sir, James Witterbaum is deceased, and if you - "
"You know, I think," the man said, interrupting the nurse but smiling broadly, "I think I'd just like to take a look at your files."

~:~

"First things first. We told you to wait. We told you no action until we had results on the serum. We told you that we would not authorize an attack unless it was absolutely necessary." A fist struck the heavy wooden desktop. "Never, ever, ever are you to ever again act on behalf of Wafra without the Firm's express, written approval."
Al-Aera barely refrained from rolling his eyes.
"Naturally not. This incident was...an aberration."
"Of course it was. How much of Dothan did your men destroy?"
Anthony was speaking, leaning one hip against the large wooden desk, arms crossed over his chest. His motions were quick, solid - he was a man in charge. On matters of science, Henrik might take the lead, but on matters of security, Anthony was captain.
Al-Aera glanced towards Mahir and Phidias.
"Might I have some tea?" he asked Mahir, who looked immediately affronted.
"The carriers are not here to bring you tea." Anthony snapped. "Answer the question. How much of Dothan was destroyed?"
Al-Aera gave the two carriers one last, hopeful look, and then turned his full attention to Anthony.
"Six compounds, including the one that your interloper came from."
Henrik swore under his breath. Anthony continued to stare at Al-Aera.
"Casualties. How many dead?"
"Thirty-three."
"Wounded?"
"Fifteen."
"Missing?"
A small smile graced Al-Aera's face.
"Twenty-three from Woodacre, seventeen from Cape Fortune, twenty from Middletown, seven from Nine Points, eighteen from Lincoln, and four from the Southern Peninsula. All healthy, all viable. And their children, forty-one in all."
Comprehension dawned on all five men at once.
"Son of a bitch." Anthony said, shaking his head. "You goddamn liar, you were always going to attack."
Al-Aera folded a corner of his robes, then unfolded it.
"It was not a part of my plan from the beginning. But when the opportunity arose..." he raised an eyebrow at Anthony. "And although I did not make a full disclosure, it seems I was in good company." he looked specifically at Henrik this time. "I had my own scientists review your files on the Phantom - the possibility of success was far lower than you led me to believe. The danger to Wafra was immense, and so I felt it was necessary to ensure our survival by taking preemptive action against Dothan."
Anthony leaned forward, his crossed arms making his muscles bulge.
"And you lined your own pockets in the meantime."
Al-Aera turned his gaze to Anthony calmly.
"You agreed to a deal, Mr. Duke. I provide the bodies, and you provide the serum. You never placed any stipulations on which bodies those were. The Dothan carriers are healthy, stable, and raised into a culture which will make it far easier for them to adapt to our lifestyle." Al-Aera looked amused for a moment. "There have been...difficulties with attempting to adapt one of our own into a proper carrier's position."
Mahir looked up, suddenly, realizing that he was speaking about Ghali.
"What did you do to him?" he demanded, in fear and anger.
Al-Aera held up his hands and shook his head.
"Ghali is fine." he paused. "But there is a fire in him which will not go out, even though he endeavors to please me." Al-Aera made a face of deep thought. "You trained him well, Mahir - have no fear of that. But I believe he was too long a man of the desert, and there is a spirit in him which cannot be contained." Coming out of his musing, he shrugged. "Ghali suits me well. But my men may not be so patient. Better for them to have the Dothan carriers, who come more easily to our ways."
Anthony shook his head in amazement.
"I expect you've already made arrangements for their transport."
Al-Aera smiled fully this time.
"They should arrive at Wafra within the week."
"And security?"
Al-Aera lifted his hands.
"All is well, Mr. Duke. All is well."

Anthony shook his head again, but Henrik, already having overcome his surprise at Al-Aera's underhandedness, was taking a scientific interest in the case.
"So how many are changed already? How many not? How old are the unchanged ones? I'll need to prepare the serum accordingly, and to ensure - "
Al-Aera raised a hand and cut him off.
"These are not for your experimentation, Mr. Angstrom. These carriers are my own." he said, firmly. "There are eighty-nine altogether; fifty-seven of those are the young, unchanged. You may examine them when they arrive. The thirty-two others are viable now, and will be placed accordingly."
"What about the kids?" Phidias asked, suddenly, in a quiet voice. "What will you do with the kids?"
Al-Aera looked sympathetically at the pregnant carrier.
"I will not separate a mother and child. The little ones go with their birthers."
Phidias nodded, and looked away, to Henrik, who looked to Anthony and Everett.
"Then I suppose - "
"Ah, yes, and more than that," Al-Aera interrupted, turning to face Mahir again, "Ghali should arrive by then."

~:~

Aaron was just about to enter Harley's room when the curious man in the gray suit appeared again. Coming down the hallway, he spied Aaron Soyinka, raised and arm, and waved cordially.
"Hello again!"
Aaron waved shortly, uneasy for some reason.
"Hello."
The gray man drew closer and it became apparent that he was headed for Harley's room. Aaron met him at the door, and they stood awkwardly for a moment.
"Sorry, do you mind if I just - "
And with just a brief nod to Soyinka, the man slipped inside and shut the door. Aaron made to go after him, but it was locked. Uneasiness rose even further from his belly. He wished Sheridan were here, Sheridan with his better senses, his natural carrier awareness.
Shortly, the door unlocked and opened, and the man stepped out, looking as jovial as before. He nodded politely to Aaron, then disappeared down the hall.

Dreading doing it, but knowing it had to be done, Soyinka stepped forward and opened the door to the room. Harley was sitting up in bed, same as he ever was, looking out the window, and the worry dissipated from Soyinka's stomach.
"Brought some of your things." he said, indicating the box as he entered the room. "But there was a very strange man in the hall - he came in here? The one in a gray suit? Do you know him?"
Soyinka set the box on one of the rolling tables and began to scoot it across the floor towards the bed. Harley had given no answer.
"Harley?" he repeated himself, gently - his friend had taken to wild mood swings lately, and Aaron did not want to upset him by pressing too much. "Harley?"
Wheeling the cart closer, Aaron Soyinka got a glimpse of blood on the front of Harley's hospital gown. The dread fell back into his belly, full force, and he rushed to the other side of the bed, to his friend's face, shouting for a nurse.

Naturally, none of this made any difference. Harley Witterbaum was already dead.

~:~