Marta shook her head to clear the gray haze and squared her shoulders. “Then, let’s go.”
The man’s brow furrowed as he stared down into her eyes. “You sure?”
“Does it matter if I’m sure? Staying here means confronting men with a rocket launcher and other deadly weapons.” Marta shook her head. “I’ll take my chances in the jungle.” Although the dense foliage and dark shadows beneath the towering canopy didn’t inspire confidence, she pushed back her trepidation. She hurried alongside the man who’d freed her from the handcuffs and the compound in which she’d spent the last six weeks without access to sunshine or freedom.
As they slipped into the shadows, Crusher cast one more glance behind them. “Duck down,” he whispered, his jaw tight, his hand on her back urging her lower. “They found the wreckage.” He didn’t slow but kept moving through the underbrush, putting distance between themselves and the people who’d shot them out of the sky.
Shouts sounded behind them.
“We need to move faster,” Crusher said. “Are you up to it?”
“If I want to live, I am,” she murmured and picked up her pace.
Marta had no idea where they were going. For all she knew, they could be running in circles and might end up right back at the crash site. Though she’d wished she’d died in the helicopter crash, she knew that would have been the worst possible scenario. If she’d died, the world population could face extinction. Freed of her captors, it was her responsibility to stop that from happening.
So, she ran. Despite utter exhaustion from all-nighters conducting experiments, assessing and adjusting, she pushed on. Heat and humidity pressed down on her like a heavy weight, clutching at her legs, driving into her skull and soaking her clothing with sweat. By the time they reached a stream, she was ready to fall face-first into the water. The scientist in her knew the hazards of drinking unfiltered water, but she was so thirsty, and the water appeared clear and cool.
She stumbled and let herself fall to her knees beside the creek, tempted beyond reason to reach out, scoop up a handful of water and slake her thirst.
A hand descended on her shoulder and gently squeezed. “Don’t drink it,” Crusher said, his voice gentle, almost apologetic. “It looks clean, but you don’t know what parasites might live in it.”
“I know that,” she said, wrapping her hands around her legs. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. The muscles in her calves, thighs and hips were screaming at her first workout she’d had since arriving in Colombia six weeks ago. “Do you think they’re still following us?”
Crusher cocked his head. For a long moment, he listened.
Marta listened as well, hearing nothing but the call of birds in the trees and insects buzzing around her face.
Finally, Crusher nodded. “I think we’re okay for now.”
Marta glanced around, hoping to see through the underbrush to a road, a house or any sign of civilization. She found nothing but more trees, bushes and underbrush. “Do you have any idea where we’re heading?”
He nodded. “Generally.” Crusher glanced at his watch and back up at the surrounding underbrush. “We should find a small town in another couple of clicks.”
“And how is that going to help us get out of this country?”
Crusher’s lips twitched. “We make a phone call, line up transportation, and the next thing you know, we’ll be back in Florida, you can go back to your daily life and I’ll move on to my next assignment.”
Marta tried to wrap her head around that news. Back in Florida? “Why Florida?” she asked. “I don’t live in Florida.”
“Our contact in the State Department will meet you there and get you somewhere safe.”
She shook her head. “I can’t stay in Florida. I need to follow my work. It’s a matter of life and death.”
Crusher frowned. “What exactly were you working on? Based on your dossier, I assume it has something to do with bioterrorism. You’re not creating the next black plague, are you?”
Her chest tightened, and she bit down hard on her bottom lip. “I was researching a virus to determine the cause, gene sequence and how best to handle it so that people wouldn’t die.” She looked away. “Because of my knowledge of the virus and how it can spread, Dario Vasquez decided I would be of use in some clandestine operation he has planned. He wanted me to create a pathogen that could be used as a threat that he could hold over people to negotiate better terms for his cartel’s business.” She shook her head and stared down at her hands. “He threatened to kill me if I didn’t do it. I told them to go ahead. I’d rather die than be responsible for the potential extinction of humankind. Then he told me that he had another scientist who would do the job. The same one he’d had follow my progress to know I was giving them what they wanted. I knew that if I didn’t do it, they’d get him to complete the work.” Her voice trailed into a whisper. “I was close to finishing the job, but I pretended I had more to do, claiming I needed to stabilize it for transport. When, in fact, I was done days ago. I figured they’d kill me once they had the pathogen.”
Crusher frowned. “What kind of pathogen is it?”
Marta drew in a breath and let it out before she looked up, met his gaze and lifted her chin. “It’s a modified hemorrhagic virus, aerosolized so that it could be spread quickly. If deployed at scale, it has extinction-level potential.”
Her rescuer’s eyebrows rose up his forehead. “Holy shit.”
She nodded, her lips pressed into a tight line. “The only thing I could do to minimize the danger or buy us time was to sabotage the pathogen by integrating a flaw in the binding protein sequence.”
Crusher shook his head. “I’m not sure what that means.”
“Think of the binding protein as the key that will allow the virus to latch onto the host cell. If the key fits, the virus can quickly enter the cell. If it doesn’t fit or is a poor fit, it makes it harder for the virus to enter the cell and spread.”
