hot spot to hot spot all over the world. This trip would be no different than chasing an outbreak in Bangladesh. Okay, so technically, she was fleeing, but still.
She felt relatively sober when she pulled her door open a crack to check the hallway. Her plan had seemed perfectly clear half an hour ago, as she’d tottered around her room, but now that her head was clear, the mission felt a little muddled. She bolstered her confidence with a mumbled mantra. “This will work. You can do it.”
Taeya unlocked a supply closet at the end of a small hallway, telling herself that if she hit a snag she would simply return to her room and forget it. But she found everything she needed: a lab coat, a surgical mask, and a bright red carrying case with a big biohazard emblem on the side. She ripped the shrink-wrap off the clean plastic container.
The mask was a stroke of genius. Not only did it add authenticity to the container, but no one would be able to smell her breath.
Next stop, the dispensary on third floor. At this time of night, there should only be one staffer on duty. With any luck it would be someone she could intimidate.
Charlie, the night custodian, leaned over the counter carrying on a one-sided conversation with Brenda, the security officer on duty. Taeya admired the woman. She took her job seriously, but her large breasts, even when tightly harnessed, drew a lot of attention, particularly from night creatures like Charlie.
Dressed in the lab coat, Taeya strolled up to the counter and slammed the biohazard container down right next to Charlie. He backed away, his eyes bulging as though expecting something to crawl out. Like a skittering rat, he grabbed his cleaning cart and sprinted away.
“These late night emergencies have to stop.” Taeya turned to Brenda, and spoke through the gauze mask. “My head is killing me and I can’t keep my eyes open.”
She reached for the key card on the desk and Brenda rolled her chair to the far end. “I’m going to grab a couple ZeeBees. Okay with you?”
Brenda nodded, never taking her eyes off the biohazard container. With an exaggerated turn, Taeya followed the woman’s gaze.
“Oh. Sorry.” She hefted the box as though it was heavy, and took it with her into the meds room.
Her heart raced. She leaned against the door for a second to regroup before she loaded the container with vaccines, pain relievers, broad-spectrum antibiotics, morphine, even anti-depressants. No way she was going out into that madness without a full arsenal of supplies.
She mumbled a quick thanks to Brenda before lugging the heavy box down the hallway. The two people she passed along the way gave her a wide berth when they saw how she was dressed and what she was carrying. Beneath the mask, she smiled.
In the food service kitchen, she loaded a stainless steel cart with six cases of military Meals Ready to Eat. It could take days to get to Arizona — if she was lucky. She stacked two cases of bottled water on top of the MREs. On the wall, she spotted a first-aid kit and yanked it off its brackets. As an after thought, she grabbed a case of chocolate chip granola bars.
She made one last stop at her office to pack her framed pictures into her laptop bag. Those three photographs represented all that remained of her history. She would not leave them behind.
The service elevator opened to the parking garage. The first thing she saw was the Center’s delivery van, a sleek, windowless fortress the size of Rhode Island. On the front was the signature intake scoop that sucked in water vapor. Sherman had tried to explain hydrogen engines to her. How the hydrogen was separated from oxygen, then liquefied and cooled. The hydrogen was compressed and stored in a tank until something in the engine remixed it with oxygen to cause combustion. Was that right? Taeya shook her wine-addled brain. Close enough. Sherman seemed to think these new engines could travel almost limitlessly if there was enough