4

Harper could hear voices around her as she slowly began to wake. The voices sounded distant at first, but they grew closer as she lifted her head. Her neck hurt from supporting the weight of her slumped head. That was when Harper realized; she was tied down to a narrow steel testing table that had been stood upright. There were thick leather straps with buckles across her waist and chest. With matching restraints around both her wrists and her ankles. She could not move.

She looked up, but there was a bright white blinding light in her eyes, and she could not see anything past the light, but she could hear voices. So, she knew she was not alone. “Where is he?” A female voice with a British accent asked impatiently.

“Relax, he will be here. Terrance went to find him,” a woman answered in a Russian accent. “Was it hard to get her out of the city?”

“It was a breeze,” a woman with a French accent answered.

“In and out, no hiccups,” a man with a Canadian accent chuckled. “This in and out of the city is almost too easy now.”

“Ellis, are you sure you can mask the signal? We do not want the Shadow Army tracking our location,” the Russian asked.

“Trust me; I know what I am doing. They will be chasing the signal all over the globe; they will never figure out where we are,” a man with a muddled British accent answered.

“Is this her?” A deep Russian male voice asked as someone joined them in the room.

“That is her,” an American male answered. “It is a shame to have to kill something so pretty.”

Kill! Harper’s pulse sped up. Were they going to kill her? She did not know where she was or who had taken her. All she knew was she was in great peril.

“Demi, move the light. You are blinding the poor thing,” the Russian male ordered.

“Sorry,” the British woman said, and then the bright light was out of Harper’s eyes as a woman moved a lamp and turned it so it was not in Harper’s face. She could now see everyone. The woman who had moved the lamp was maybe in her late twenties, a light-skinned black woman with a fit build and her long dark hair tied back in a thick braid.

Harper also saw the pretty, thin, dark-haired woman from the car standing a few feet away still in her dress. Next to her, the blond male driver she had been with. To the right of her was a tall, dark-skinned black man, his head and jaw clean-shaven. He looked powerful and had an air of authority about him. Next to him, a blond, fit woman who was surprisingly tall for a female. Standing behind a camera and a laptop was a young brunette male who was smaller than the other men.

Standing dead center in front of Harper was a large man with pale blond hair and stunning blue eyes that stared back at her with stern malice. He was taller than most of them and build broad and strong. He looked extremely fit and older than the rest of them. He had to be in his mid to late thirties. His jaw was stubbled from not shaving that morning. He was an imposing figure. The very sight of him could strike fear into the hearts of any sensible person.

The young brunette typed something into his laptop and then looked up at the large man glaring at her. “I am ready when you are, Dimitri.”

Dimitri… fear gripped Harper turning her blood to ice. Was this the Immortal Dimitri Petrov, the blood-hungry leader of the Red Hand Militia? Oh, good lord, she was in some serious trouble. The man squared his shoulders and stepped closer to Harper. “Do you know who we are?”

“You are the Red Hand Militia,” she said, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. She did not want to let this man know she was terrified.

“Then, you know who I am?”

“You are the Immortal Dimitri Petrov.”

“That is right; you are a smart woman. As a smart woman, I assume the gravity of your present situation is not lost on you,” he held out his hand, and the blond female handed him a plain white plastic mask. He pulled it on, leaving it atop his head like a hat and then he held out his hand to the black woman that had moved the lamp. “Demi, the needle.”

The woman took a bottle of red fluid from the table and then punctured the lid with a needle. She drew the fluid up into the syringe. She then handed the needle to Dimitri. “That should be more than enough,” Demi said.

Dimitri then pulled the mask down to cover his face. No one knew just what Dimitri looked like because he always hid his face when making threatening broadcasts. The GUN knew his name and that he was Russian, but besides that, his identity was a well-kept secret which concerned Harper greatly. She had seen his face; did that mean he intended to kill her?

“Alright, Ellis, let’s do this,” Dimitri said as he stood next to Harper.

The young brunette typed a few things into his laptop, and then the red light on the camera lit up. The man he referred to as Ellis pointed at Dimitri to indicate that they were live. “Good evening Novaro. This is a public service announcement brought to you by courtesy of the Red Hand. Tonight’s message goes out to one man, Dr. Curtis Holton, saviour of the new world. Dr. Holton, you may have noticed recently that your inventory does not quite add up. No worries because we have what you are missing.”

He reached for the bottle and held it up for the camera to see.

“A bottle of the mythical DT-124. Now you may have convinced the rest of those guppies that DT-124 was not real. That the Red Death was merely an unfortunate act of God, but you and I know better… do not we, Doctor?” He then gestured to Harper. “We have a special guest tonight. Someone near and dear to your heart, Doctor… your pride and joy, your baby girl,” he then held up the needle filled with the fluid from the bottle. “Now, let’s perform a little experiment, shall we? This needle is filled with my favourite and yours… DT-124.”

He then turned to face her and punctured the skin of the bend of Harper’s arm with the needle, then injected her with the full dosage. He then placed the empty needle on an empty steel tray next to them and turned back to the camera.

“I do not think I have to tell you, Doctor, what she is about to go through. In a few hours, she will start displaying symptoms. In three days, she will be seriously ill. In eight days, you will have one less child. Do not worry, Doctor; I am not heartless. I will give you a chance to say your goodbyes. In five days, when she is extremely contagious, I will release your daughter in the heart of downtown Novaro. Introducing the virus into the general population. Dasvidania asshole.”

Ellis then hit a button on his laptop, and the light on the camera went off. “And, we are clear.”

The blond woman snickered. “You think they got the point?”

“How was I?” Dimitri asked the black man.

“Very intimidating,” the man answered with a playful smile. “Right now, all of Novaro is freaking out.”

“So, what do we do with the girl in the meantime?” Asked Demi.

Dimitri removed his mask and handed it to the woman. “I do not care. Lock her up somewhere,” he said and then glanced at the black man. “Terrence, you are with me,” he then left the room with Terrence at his side.

The rest of them gathered around and looked Harper over. She was scared witless. “Please let me go. I have done nothing. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because your father is a madman, and someone has to pay for his sins,” the blond snarled. “You are nominated.”

“The only madmen I see are the ones in this room and the lunatic that just walked out,” she snapped back. “You cannot kill good people for no reason.”

They all laughed. “Someone ought to tell your father that,” the Canadian said. “He murdered seven billion people for no other reason than they fell into the wrong tax bracket.”

“Lies made up by the Red Hand,” she barked.

“Please, you New Gen Citizens lap up that government propaganda like it is mother’s milk, and you believe it because you want to because it is easier than admitting the man whose DNA you share could be a monster,” the blond growled as she got in Harper’s face. “Your father’s soul is pitch black stained by the blood of the innocent. And when he dies, God will judge him. There is a special place in Hell reserved for your father and all his followers.”

“Masha, calm down. It does not matter if she believes us,” Demi said to the irate blonde in Harper’s face. “Citizens are brainwashed. Nothing you say is going to change the way she thinks. People like her will go to their grave thinking Dr. Death is a saint.”

“What do we do with her?” Ellis asked.

“You heard Dimitri,” Masha said, “lock her up somewhere.”

The driver of her abduction walked up to Harper and began to unstrap her. She knew she had to get out of here. She had to get back to her father. If she really was sick, he would be able to help her. Her father was a genius. Once the straps around her torso and ankles were off, she waited, and as soon as her right arm was free, Harper swung with all her might. She punched the man as hard as she could in the nose. He swore and backed away. Harper released the last restraint from around her left wrist.

Freed, she body chucked Ellis, who tried to get in her way. She knocked him into Phebe, and they fell back into the table with the camera and laptop. Demi and Masha ran to intercept her, but Harper had made it to the open door. She ran out, finding herself in a hallway with concrete walls and fluorescent pot lights in the concrete ceiling. She looked both ways, unsure where she was or where she was going.

There were other people in the halls and in various open doorways. They all gave her a funny look, but when she bolted down the hallway to escape, no one tried to stop her. They actually tried to get out of her way so she would not knock them over. Women were grabbing small children up, getting them from underfoot so Harper would not trample them. She reached a cross-section of halls. She stopped briefly, wondering which way to go. She turned left and ran until she reached another cross-section and looked around. Every hall was identical. This place was a maze. How would she ever find her way out?

“Stop her!” Masha yelled from behind Harper. Harper looked back to see they were still chasing her. She turned right and pushed herself faster. “Someone, stop her!”

Harper looked back at the men and women chasing her. She turned forward and then slammed face-first into someone’s arm. The blow knocked her off her feet, and she fell flat on her back. The back of her head slammed hard against the cement floor, and the world went black.