Theodore Roosevelt Island
11AM
Porter Nash jogged across the long footbridge stretching over the Potomac to connect to the eighty-eight and half acre expanse of Theodore Roosevelt Island. Maintained by the National Park Service, the island serves as another hidden in plain sight gem of DC and its surrounding areas. Its natural beauty provides a haven for Northern Virginian residents from the busy commotion of highway living.
The stormy clouds in the afternoon sky had begun to brew overhead. The breeze had picked up off the Potomac's current, as Porter proceeded down the footbridge further and further. Reaching the bridge's end, he stepped on the fresh dirt of the pathway, leading inland. The tree leaves had surrendered to the oranges and reds of autumn and speckled the trail like a painter's palette.
The journalist's pace slowed as he searched the trees of the thinning landscape for any sign of a contact. He had met contacts before but none under such cryptic circumstances. He had been working around the clock, hunting down the big story that could put him on a news desk. He knew he was on the brink of the biggest story of the year – he could smell it. He was Bob Woodward and he was meeting Deepthroat.
This contact has something on the four scientists and judging by how I was contacted it's got to be big. Stay sharp and bold.
He checked his surroundings over and over again, feeling the weight of the moment. His head then fell to his pacing feet as he questioned the meet all together.
Am I really doing this? What if this guy is a mass-murderer?
His eyes lifted to a large grove where a seventeen-foot statue stood of the 26th President of the United States for whom the island was named. Surveying the courtyard, only a few distant tourist families were scattered about.
Witnesses... in case this guy slits my throat.
Porter seated himself down on a stone bench next to the statue. With his knees touching, he huddled over himself, guarding his vulnerable self. A rustle in the trees sounded behind him, he spun to his back-side, fully alert. His eyes roamed the brush until they located the source of the noise – a squirrel.
Porter exhaled the tension building in his gut. As soon as he paused in a moment of relief, a hooded figure approached from one of the side trails, leading further inland.
The figure's hood hung low over his eyes. Judging by his chin – the informant was Caucasian but that was all he could tell. His hands were down in his pockets.
Porter froze as he watched the anonymous man approach closer. Paralyzed by fear, he waited for the hooded man to make the first move. He did so by sitting on the opposite side of the bench. Facing in the other direction, the meet was on.
Out of the corner of his eye, Porter could see the informant's mouth begin to move.
"I know that you have been investigating the four missing scientists for the last three months. But I have something for you that is much more pressing." The informant's words sent a chill through Porter's spine.
"Like what?"
"There is a terrorist attack underway right now in the city. The White House has been targeted and it is now in lockdown. They are fully aware that more targets in the city will be hit today, but they are covering it up. The organization I represent is not behind these attacks. We are always watching though. We have intercepted this Intel and believe that the public must be warned," the informant spoke like a concerned citizen.
"Well, I need evidence. If you don't have evidence, you're nothing more than a conspiracy theorist," Porter explained.
"It's all on this flash drive." The informant placed the small memory stick between them on the bench.
"What do you want?" Porter asked as he reached for the memory stick. The informant's hand covered the stick, guarding it from Porter.
"I want you to do your job. Inform the American public." The informant awaited a nod; he received one and then released the flash drive for Porter to have.
Porter brought the memory stick to his view; he focused in on the mysterious device before him.
What is on it? Are we really under attack? How so?
Porter looked up from the stick and began asking a question, but stopped abruptly at the sight of the empty seat next to him. He turned, but could not see his cloaked informant.
He was gone.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Catherine and Tobias continued their autopsy of each vital organ, probing the cadaver of Lieutenant Walker for any clues related to the disease. Their inflated suits closed them off from the acrid smell emitting from the body, while a row of Petri dishes held the extracted organs. Catherine inspected each organ, as Tobias continued to biopsy samples and place them in growth mediums lined next to them.
"You okay? Haven't talked much today..." Tobias finally mustered the courage up to talk to her.
"I guess this whole plague-on-the-loose thing has me on edge..." She pushed the words off her chest.
"I heard your sister died from a seizure, similar to Lieutenant Walker here?" Tobias ventured onto unchartered waters. She stopped for a moment and connected eyes with the unassuming scientist before her. His eyes flashed a compassionate sincerity that pierced through her protective suit.
"Yeah... she was only nine... I was eleven. She had been complaining of headaches ever since summer camp. She was my best friend... I came home from Primary School and found her shaking on the sitting room floor. My mum was out... and I couldn't do anything to stop her. And then she just died... right there... I didn't understand how her brain could just revolt on her and take over her body like that. That was the day I decided I wanted to cure diseases," she explained, through solemn, distant words.
"Well, from what I hear, you are damn good at it." Catherine dismissed the compliment with bashful humility and offered one herself.
"Well, you're not half bad yourself." She winked at him.
"So, where are you from?" Tobias asked, trying to keep her focus from the memories of her sister's death.
"Highgate, just north of London" Catherine answered.
"What's your team?"
"Arsenal, of course." She smiled at him with a straight and narrow English charm. "What about you?"
"As you can see..." he held his arms out. "I'm not the biggest sports fan..." She feigned a chuckle but became mired again in the sadness of her childhood. Tobias noticed that she could not escape the melancholy.
His focus returned to the body on the table. His plastic gloves burrowed further through the innards, until they found something rigid. He paused upon contact and looked up at Catherine working at the next table. He smiled at a thought – one last chance to cheer her up.
"So, what did the skeleton order at a restaurant?" He asked her, his hand inside the opened cadaver.
"What?" Catherine stopped reluctantly, sensing a joke.
"Spare ribs." He lifted his hand out holding a thin curved bone. The joke forced an irresistible grin over her face.
First, her eyes fell to her work – and then back up to Tobias where her smile cracked wider and she shook her head.
"Okay, what did one eye say to the other eye?" Catherine fired one back. Tobias smiled wide at Catherine, awaiting the punch-line.
"Just between the two of us... something smells." Tobias cracked up uncontrollably. Their laughter harmonized – their eyes connected.
After a moment of intimate warmth, Tobias shrank back to his usual nervous state and shuffled across the lab table for a small power saw. The garage door screeched open – Xander and company had returned. Catherine turned but could only make out blurred silhouettes through the isolation unit's translucent curtains. The buzz of the power saw turned her back to the body.
"Let's see, what's going on in that head of his..." Catherine nodded her go-ahead.
She turned from the table of organs and approached the table as Tobias lowered the saw to the cadaver's cranium. He began to move the spinning blade from temple to temple, careful to split the skull but not to pierce the brain. After one precise revolution around the head, Catherine wiped away the residual blood still standing idle in the punctured blood vessels. Tobias turned the saw off and placed both hands on the side of the head.
"Is it weird, that this is my favorite part?" he asked her.
"Not at all, it's mine too..." Catherine responded.
"You're so weird, Catherine." She laughed and nudged him in a flirty way. Tobias's face broke out into a crimson blush. He pulled up on the skull and it opened like a Russian egg – inside was the brain. The blush faded from Tobias's face immediately.
Catherine's complexion went pale.
She angled toward the opened skull.
Her mouth gaped in befuddlement.
"What the hell...."
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