Page 139 of Johnny

blaring and this place would be on lockdown. I didn’t lie. I’m not lying.”

I look at Logan. He shrugs. “Too late now if he did.”

The young hazmat girl is talking. Like… a lot. “Who are these people? What’s happening? Why do

they have guns? Is this a terror attack? What are they going to do?”

Logan places one hand on her shoulder and places a finger over her faceplate where her mouth

should be. “Shhhh,” he says. “You’re pissing me off.”

The girl’s eyes dart around frantically.

The older woman says, “It’s OK, child. It’s fine. Just do what they tell you.”

“Oh, my God,” she whines. “Oh, my God. They’re going to steal it, aren’t they? They’re going to

kill people—”

That’s when I notice she’s got a little glass tube in one hand with a stopper in the top.

My heart skips. I point to the tube with my gun. “What is that?”

“Jesus Christ, child!” Darrel shouts. “You’re supposed to have that inside the hood! Secure that

tube! Right now!”

“What the hell is it?” I ask.

“That’s not regulation!” Darrel says. Still outraged.

“Sorry,” the girl pouts. “I was taking a sample for the audit.”

“Is there a problem here?” I ask Darrel. He’s breathing hard and for a moment I worry he’ll have a

heart attack. Not the youngest spring chicken in this room, is he? “Darrel? Is there a problem?”

“There’s no problem,” the girl squeaks. “I was just about to seal it up in here.”

In her other hand is a stainless steel canister.

“So do that,” I say. “Quickly.”

She nods her facemask at me, then turns her back to a desk with what I’m going to assume is the

hood Darrell was referring to, and slips her arms inside, underneath a ventilation fan.

We all watch in silence as she drops the sample into the steel container, then pushes a rubber

stopper over the top, hooks it up to a vacuum, sucks the air out, then screws a second top back onto

the canister.

“That it?” I ask. Suddenly wondering if I’ve just been infected with something I’d rather not know

about.

“I have to keep this refrigerated and—“