The light was off, but the door indeed was ajar.

Val began to close it and paused. He decided to go to the bas.e.m.e.nt and check on things. He knew the second he reached the bottom of the staircase that his things had been touched.

The largest of the trunks had been moved and with a groan and a chest full of worry, Val raced to the trunk and opened it. He begged in his mind that everything was fine. But it wasn't. It was apparent the side compartment, covered by the lining, had been opened.

One by one he took out the silver cases. One by one he opened them, pulled out each tube within and carefully examined each one. On the sixth case, second tube, he knew.

He just knew.

He uncapped it and pulled out the small wire.

The instant he saw it, his stomach dropped and every ounce of his being froze. Val dropped further to the floor and wept out a single heartbreaking sob of defeat as he stared at the broken gla.s.s spiral.

There was only one person who could have been down there touching the trunk.

One person with enough curiosity.

That person was his son, Roman. His only child, the only family member he had since his wife died.

G.o.d help him, Val thought, if it was Roman.

No. He closed his eyes tighter. G.o.d help everyone.

Billings, Montana

Heather wished she could rip her nose from her face and breathe a little easier. She couldn't believe how fast her nose clogged. It wasn't running, it was just stuffed.

She started getting a tickle in her throat right after they stopped for fast food, then her stomach knotted.

It was turning into the worst cold she'd ever had.

She felt horrible.

By the time she got to the hotel, she'd caught a chill she couldn't shake. Roman was already complaining he was getting a cold, too.

"Swell," she said to him. "Just swell. The first time we get away and we're both sick."

"But we aren't missing the concert," he told her. "Not this one."

They both showered. Heather lay on the bed and rested while Roman cleaned up. The shower helped a little, but not as much as the bourbon they packed.

The both did a double shot before heading to the concert hall.

The venue was so packed they had to park three blocks away. It was cold, and Heather could barely walk by the time they made it to the venue property.

Things were worse there. So many people headed toward the doors that they were packed in like sardines. Pushed and shoved, pushed and shoved. Heather tried to tell Roman she was getting worse, but he looked as if he were in a fog as well.

Finally, after her head spun, a wave of nausea hit Heather, and she broke free of the pack of people just far enough away to vomit.

Her body shook and heaved, and people groaned out, shouted, and laughed.

Knees buckling, Heather dropped to the sidewalk. Roman hurried to her.

She looked up to him. "I think I have food poisoning."

"Me, too, I'm really sick," he said. "I think we should go back to the hotel."

Heather nodded, tried to stand, and fell back down.

"Hey!" a man yelled. "Get your drunk a.s.s girlfriend out of here!"

"She's not drunk, she's sick." Roman grabbed hold of her arm. "She's sick."

Heather knew the walk to the truck would seem enormous. But she knew once she got there, it wouldn't be long before she got to the hotel and went straight to bed.

That was all Heather could think about.

Sleep.

Val called Roman nine times. Not once did he answer.

He hadn't left his office since he discovered the trunk had been opened. He physically was sweating it out, praying with everything he had that Roman was spared.

He knew what was released.

He even called Vivian.

"Do you remember, Vivian, if Roman was in the bas.e.m.e.nt?"

"Is everything okay?" she asked.

"Yes, yes, I just want to make sure it was Roman and not someone else."

"I promised him I wouldn't tell you, but yeah, they were. They ..." she paused to sneeze.

The sound of her sneeze went through Val like a bullet. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, just coming down with a cold."

After a small hesitation, he told her to take care and again he thanked her. No sooner did Val hang up, he sunk his face into his hands. Vivian was at the office all day, the bas.e.m.e.nt door open, the draft blowing from below. Not just Vivian but all the patients who came into the office after three. The waiting room was packed.

"Oh G.o.d." Val closed his eyes. He tried Roman once more. No answer. Then Val knew what he had to do.

While it wasn't even nine PM, Sheriff Lawrence Meadows was getting ready for bed. After all, he had to be at work at five AM. He had a night cap, packed his lunch for the next day, and was in the middle of turning off the lights when the steady knocking started at his door.

His immediate thought was that there was an emergency at the station, but if there was, surely someone would have called.

His Ty-Bow flannel was open around his tee shirt, and the man of fifty, in decent shape, walked to the door. "Doc."

Val took off his hat, and hurriedly stepped inside. "We have a problem, Larry."

His insides shook. Without knowing specifics, without hearing what the problem was, the sheriff was pretty certain he knew what the doctor referred to. Almost as if he waited thirty-five years for the knock at the door.

He knew the day was coming, he just hoped it wasn't in his lifetime.

Larry shut the door. "What ... what is the problem?"

Val only turned and faced him. His expression said it all.

"Jesus," Larry gasped out. "When?"

"It had to be while I was making rounds. Between one and three this afternoon."

"Oh my G.o.d." Larry swiped his hand down his face, walked to the fireplace mantel, and grabbed his bottle. He poured a drink.

"This day ... we hoped would never come."

"We knew it would." Larry downed his drink and poured another. "Who?"

"Roman."

Larry closed his eyes. "Maybe he won't get sick. You said, I remember years ago, that in a few decades it would lose potency and be nothing, and then we could get rid of it."

"Enough time has not pa.s.sed."

"Did you inoculate him?" Larry asked.

Val shook his head. "I only had four doses. I gave my wife the last one. And the three other people ...Your father, you and your nephew."

A lump formed in Larry's throat. He remembered that day, getting the shot. He was told it was a shot like teta.n.u.s. That was the day the trunks were moved into the storage compartment of his father's barn, the only heated barn in the county. Val was younger then, new to America, and gave his father fifty thousand dollars to store the case. His father was a farmer but wasn't stupid. He knew something wasn't right about the cases. But the money saved the farm, and his father never said a word. Larry later learned that out of gratefulness, Val gave his father and Larry the inoculation. He also inoculated Larry's nephew, his sister's little boy, because he knew how much Larry's father idolized and lived for the child. Just on the outside chance that anything happened with the case, Val wanted to be certain the family survived. At least some of them.

That was thirty-five years earlier. Since then, his father had pa.s.sed, the nephew moved away, and the farm since sold.

When did Larry learn the contents of the trunk?

He was in his twenties, just started working for the State Police, and, while visiting his father's farm, his curiosity, like Roman's got the best of him.

He never really knew what was in the trunk. He bluffed Val. Bluffed and blackmailed him. By doing so, Val told him the contents. Larry, by knowing the contents, was just as guilty as Val.

Over the years a friendship formed, a bond by a secret they both vowed to protect.

Val had smuggled the germ when he worked as a scientist. He didn't smuggle it for bad reasons, but to keep it out of bad hands. Val always told Larry, if they knew where it was, no one could misuse it. The world was safe as long as they protected it.

They never wanted to bury it, because they feared someone would find it.

It was a heat resistant virus; burning the liquid virus would only multiply the germ and send it into the air, making it even more of a weapon than it already was.

Instead, they watched the cases constantly. Had perfect storage for them. No extreme variations of temperatures that could cause the fragile gla.s.s that contained the virus to break.

The plan was simple; since they were both immune by the inoculation, they would protect the case. After Val's death, Larry would take the responsibility.

Eventually the virus would die.

But Larry knew and never worried about the case or something happening to them before the germ died. A part of him always feared the accidental release.

And it happened.

"How is Roman now?" Larry asked.

Val shook his head. "I don't know. I haven't heard from him. He and Heather went to Billings for a concert."

"A concert?" Larry shrieked. "Oh my G.o.d."

Val held up his hand. "They are immediate ground zero. More than likely they were feeling it by the time they left. They were to check in the hotel. My guess, they never left the room."

"The check in clerk ..."

"He is still on duty there. I called to see if they checked in and he had said that he personally checked them and they were the last ones to check in."

"Still, it's a hotel."

"Actually a motel. Not a big one nor busy, but that is not my concern. That can be handled." Val said. "This town is my concern now. Roman and Heather are immediate ground zero, but there are other ground zero patients. Anyone who came into the clinic, wave one. Any building within a one mile radius of my clinic. This thing is fast, Larry. Initial exposed will feel flu-like symptoms tomorrow. Contact victims the next day. It's Monday. By Wednesday not a person in this town will be well enough to walk down the street. Friday they'll start dying if they're not already dead."

"Jesus Christ, we have to call the authorities. Call the health department, CDC, whatever ..."

"No. We can't do that and you know it."

"What?" Larry laughed in ridicule. "Why the h.e.l.l not?"

"The people in this town may not know it, but they're already dead. Every man, woman and child. You and I will be the only ones standing. Then we'll stand trial. We will be the men that go down in history as the ones who released the world's deadliest biological weapon. Accident or not."

Larry poured another drink, downed it, and brought his hands to his head. "My G.o.d, this isn't happening. If we don't call them, we can't help the people."

"We can't help them anyhow."