"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Angela Fallow growled, her heart pounding as Halt turned to face her.
"My job." Halt's eyes flashed, and Angela took an involuntary step backwards.
Silently cursing her weakness, Angela drew herself up. "Your job is to oversee this facility, Halt. Mine is to ensure we have the right candidates for the project." Her eyes flickered to the boy at Halt's feet, and her stomach swirled.
He lay unconscious on the ground, an angry red rash spreading out from beneath the collar at his throat. He gave the odd twitch as his muscles spasmed, but otherwise he was still, the only sign of life the dull rattling of his breath. It looked like she had arrived just in time. One of the doctors had alerted her to Halt's interference with their e-tablet, but she had been on the other side of the facility.
Halt took a step towards her, his fists clenched. "Need I remind you, Fallow, you answer to me."
This time Angela did not back down. She lifted her head, facing the taller doctor. "Not in this, Halt. The trials are mine to oversee. The framework was designed by all of us; we all agreed to follow it while vetting the candidates." She twisted her lips. "However distasteful some of us may consider the methods."
Taking another step, Halt towered over her. His eyes burned, and for a long moment, he did not speak. She stared him down, unwilling to break, to give in. Halt had gone too far, stepped a mile past the lines of human decency. Whoever their prisoners were, they did not deserve to be treated like this.
The breath went from Halt in a rush. He waved a hand and turned away. "Very well, Fallow." He said the words lightly, but she did not miss the warning beneath them. He glanced at the watching doctors. "We shall do things your way. But we cannot wait. I want the next round of trials started tomorrow. The final batch of candidates are needed by the week's end."
Swallowing, Angela glanced at her coworkers. They hovered in a group, a mixture of fear and disdain in their eyes. She knew some would support her, eager to do things by the book. But others she was not so sure about. They were more willing to take risks, to press on without concern for the candidates brought to the facility. Or they were just plain terrified of Halt.
Angela could not blame them for their fear. She had once regarded the man with respect, but since his elevation to head doctor, he had revealed a darker side. Doctors who crossed him were terminated without cause, safety procedures had been cut, and with the subjects, there were no limits to his cruelty.
She eyed him now, silently calculating the population of subjects still to be vetted. There were two hundred prisoners in the facility, with roughly half of them already processed. That left a hundred candidates still to vet—of which fifty would hopefully survive to begin the experiment. It would take a mammoth effort to have them ready by the end of the week.
And that wasn't even accounting for the final touches she needed to make on the virus.
"A week's not enough time," she said.
Halt shrugged. "I'm sorry, Fallow, that's out of my hands. The Director wants results. The population is growing restless. They want answers, protection, and if the government doesn't provide them…" He trailed off.
Angela eyes travelled over the prisoners in their orange jumpsuits. She shivered as she caught the boy from San Francisco watching at her. She quickly looked away again, seeing the accusation written across his face, hearing again the screams of his mother as they took her.
Biting her lip, Angela faced Halt. "We'll have to skip the resting period. It may result in a sub-optimal outcome."
Halt waved a hand. He was already moving towards the doorway, leaving his victim lying facedown in the dust. "You will find a solution, Fallow." Their eyes met. "I know you will."
Angela's breath caught in her throat, but she held his gaze until he turned away. She shuddered as he disappeared through the iron doors, the fight falling from her like water. A muffled groan slipped from her lips, but she bit it back and turned towards the gathered doctors.
They stared back at her, awaiting instruction.
Angela straightened. "Okay, you heard Halt. We need to get these candidates classified. You know the drill." She clapped her hands and smiled as the other doctors broke from their silent reverie.
One by one, they moved away, each taking one of the orange-garbed candidates with them. Doctor Radly took the boy, Christopher, by the arm, but the boy's eyes were fixed in her direction. Looking away, Angela studied a cloud overhead. Her mind drifted, remembering again the way Margaret Sanders had fought. The woman had downed a highly-trained Marine—had almost killed him, in fact.
A mother's love.
Idly, she remembered her own mother, the way she had fussed over their little family. Despite the wide expanse of the property on which they'd lived, they had always struggled, making do with what rations the landowner left for them. But her mother had suffered their poverty with good grace, stewing rabbit bones and baking hard bread in the coal oven.
She imagined that Margaret Sanders possessed a similar resolve, a determination to do whatever it took to protect her family.
So why, then, had she been so foolish? Her treason had doomed herself and her son. Only by the grace of the government had Chris not been tossed into an interrogation cell alongside her. She shuddered, thinking of those dark places, imagining the woman's pretty face bruised and beaten.
Out on the field, Chris was running as he had been instructed, while Doctor Radly studied readings on his tablet. The collars transmitted a constant stream of data: heartbeat, blood pressure, oxygen levels, and a range of other readings. That information would be used to rank them later.
Watching the candidates, Angela turned her thoughts to what lay ahead. She shuddered as a darkness settled on her soul. Again, she reminded herself what was at stake, of the necessity of these trials. Again, she could not quite convince herself.