Exposed: A Thriller Novella

And I did the only thing I could do.

“When an operation goes wrong, thorough cleanup is a must,” The Instructor said. “Your value to the program depends on few people knowing you exist. If you can’t preserve this secrecy, others will be called in to clean up for you, and you will be part of the mess to be cleaned.”

My phone rang when I had the MH-60M Black Hawk helicopter in the air over the island. I connected it to my headset and answered the call.

“May I speak to Sheila, please?”

“Sheila is visiting her sister in Pensacola. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Jesus, Chandler. You’re okay. You scared the hell out of me.”

I smiled at the relief evident in Jacob’s slightly robotic tones. “Did you expect anything less?”

“I obviously shouldn’t have.”

I gave him the Cliff’s Notes version of all that had happened since I’d last talked to him back at the West 30th Street Heliport.

After I’d finished, he was silent for several beats. “Do you have the vaccine?”

“I am the vaccine,” I said. “From what I could gather, Pembrooke believed he could use my blood to vaccinate others.”

“I’ve got an eye in the sky on Plum Island. Is that you in the chopper?”

“Affirmative.”

“The director?”

“Dead.”

“Any survivors?”

“Negative.”

“You have the medical records?”

“I destroyed them.”

“The computers?”

“Likewise. What’s left is going to burn.”

I stared down at the facility, smoke already beginning to leak out of the roof. With all of the flammable chemicals on the premises, the firefighters were going to have a helluva job putting this one out.

“Ebola is a horrible weapon,” Jacob said. “One that can’t be controlled, no matter what people like Pembrooke believed.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” I hesitated, waiting for the other shoe to fall.

“How about the girl?”

I hesitated, feeling sick in the pit of my stomach, unsure of what to say.

I trusted Jacob.

But more importantly, I needed him.

“She’s with me.”

“She’s alive?”

“Yes.”

“Chandler. This needs to end.”

My conscience was telling me the same thing. As the Typhoid Mary of Ebola, Julie was too dangerous to exist.

But that didn’t mean I wanted to listen.

Silence stretched so long, I was beginning to think he’d hung up. Finally he answered.

“There’s the ocean.”

I closed my eyes. I was a trained killer. I lived with death every day. I dealt it out to others like a losing hand of poker. As traumatic and horrible as Kirk’s death had been, that was his reality, too. Kill or be killed. Every day balanced on the edge of a knife.

It was what we did. It was who we were.

But Julie wasn’t from that world.

She’d never signed up for this. She’d had this horror forced upon her. Did she really deserve to be cast into the ocean for being in the wrong place at the wrong time?

Could I be the one who pushed her from the aircraft?

“I won’t do it, Jacob. I won’t let them turn her into a biological weapon, but I won’t kill her either.”

“If you don’t, I’ll have to send someone else to do it.”

“They’ll have to kill me, too. Do you have anyone that good?”

“She can never be a part of society.”

“I know.”

“That’s no way for a young girl to live.”

“I know.”

I stared at Julie, sleeping in the back seat.

“The ocean may be the most humane thing to do.”

“I know,” I said, trying to swallow the giant lump in my throat. “I know.”

Six Weeks Later

“Sometimes,” the Instructor said, “you’ll do things that will be hard to live with. You might never be able to forgive yourself. There’s no advice I can give you for when this happens. I’m sorry.”

The wind off the coast of Maine was as cold as the water was rough. Between the blue sky, autumn leaves, gray rock, white lighthouse, and adjoining red keeper’s house, the place looked as colorful as an image from a postcard.

Picturesque but lonely.

Maine had over sixty lighthouses along its shores and nearby islands, some so remote that even tourists and photographers hadn’t discovered them.

This was one.

I hefted box after box out of the fishing boat I’d rented and set them in the trolley next to the dock. Rails ran to up the steep, rocky face to the lighthouse and keeper’s house, an efficient system of delivering supplies that had been in place for a hundred years. It took me nearly a half hour, but finally the trolley car was full and my boat was empty.

Except for one box I would deliver myself.

I lugged it to my hip and started up the narrow path. The first time I’d been to the lighthouse had been the summer night after Plum Island. Now the ocean wind carried with it the crisp slap of fall.

I reached the crest of the hill, my back slick with sweat and the muscles in my legs pleasantly warm. The countless blood tests I’d had since contracting Ebola had all shown I was virus free, and every day since I’d fully appreciated how alive I felt, how strong.

This had been Jacob’s idea. He and I were only two of three people in the whole world who knew about it.

The third person opened the screen door and skipped down the steps, running toward me.

“I didn’t expect you until Saturday,” Julie said, all smiles.

I set my box on the ground and took her in my arms. She felt good, and when we finally ended the hug, I had to blink back a few tears.

Julie looked me over. “Your hair looks great.”

I raised a hand to my head, still a little surprised that my tresses no longer reached my shoulders.

“I’m still getting used to it.”

She eyed the box. “You brought me presents?”

“I have a whole trolley load waiting to be hauled up.”

Her eyes widened like a little kid at Christmas. “What did you bring?”

“Supplies, of course. Food, toiletries, that kind of thing.”

“Anything fun?”

“Of course.”

“Movies? Books?”

I nodded. Loading up boxes of the thrillers and romantic suspense novels Julie loved had just about broken my back. I couldn’t wait for the time when e-readers were common and buying a new book would be as easy as pushing a button.

“I’ve started writing, too. You wouldn’t believe how fast time flies when I’m busy making up stories.”

It was a relief to see Julie was adapting so well to her limited life. After our escape, I’d spent two weeks here with her, helping her adjust. Since then, I’d spent many sleepless nights worrying about my decision to hide her rather than cast her into the sea. Now I felt like I could finally breathe a little deeper.

“I can’t wait to read your stories.”

She grinned. “Maybe I’ll publish them someday.”

A tentative scratching noise came from the box at my feet.

“Okay, Chandler. What’s in the box?”

“You really want to know?”

She gave me a pointed look. “Duh.”

“Okay. Open it. Gently.”

She popped open the lid in two seconds flat.

“Oh my God.” She pulled out the little brown pup and squeezed him to her chest. “What kind is he?”

“A mutt. He’s a rescue dog.”

“Like me.” She beamed, then the smile faded. “He won’t get sick, will he?”

“No. Dogs who have been exposed to Ebola produce antibodies and become immune. Epidemiologists test the blood of dogs in some areas in the world to trace areas of virus outbreak.”

I could tell her more, having reassured myself before bringing the pet to Julie, but she didn’t care. She was too busy petting the little guy and keeping him from nipping her fingers.

“I also included some puppy training books.”

She laughed. “Good idea.”

“All that’s left is for you to name him.”

Her eyebrows bunched together. She opened her mouth, then closed it without speaking, hugging the squirming puppy to her chest as if he was everything. And once again I was struck by how young she was, barely eighteen, this girl who’d seen too much, who’d been sentenced to live the rest of her life in isolation.

She leaned forward and kissed the pup’s head.

“I think I’ll call him Kirk. Do you think he’d like that?”

I had no idea. When it came to normal life issues like whether or not he liked dogs, I knew little about Jonathan Kirk. I had only seen slices of who he was. The brutal part that enabled him to do unspeakable things for money. The sly humor. The bravery in the face of death. The love of life that he was able to reveal, and able to reveal in me. How I never really knew him, yet missed him so terribly.

“Do you like it, Julie?”

Eyes glistening, she gave a nod.

“Then he would, too.”