The God Virus

Story Info
Two FBI agents find murder and hidden desire at a secret lab.
19.8k words
4.44
25k
26
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

The tarnished old locket had the look of a family heirloom handed down from generations past. According to family legend, his grandmother had hidden it carefully among her meager belongings while attempting to escape the Nazi occupation of her native Poland in the fall of 1939. The locket had been one of the few things to make its way with her to her new home in the United States after a harrowing trek through southern Europe, and a sea voyage aboard a Greek trading ship. It now sat in the palm of her grandson's hand who rubbed his thumb across the surface like it was a single worry bead in a long chain.

The locket had a small catch on one side, and he flicked it open carefully, letting it separate into two halves with a cleverly hidden hinge in the middle joining them. The tiny photos inside made the man smile an expression that seemed to convey as much pain as joy. The picture on the left was of his wife now deceased some ten years. He could still clearly recall the sound of her laughter even after the passage of so much time. The image on the opposite side was a more contemporary picture depicting a woman who could have been a young clone of her mother. His daughter Elise had still been a teen when the photo had been taken three years earlier. Those had been happier days, and her smile showed it. Things were much different now, and that smiling face was more often than not frozen in a grimace of pain.

"Hang on, Elise. We are so close. So close..." he muttered.

"Professor? It's time. They're ready to see you."

The locket snapped shut. The professor let a grimace of his own crease his middle-aged features. This wasn't his strong suit, speaking in front of others trying to convince them to finance his ideas. He was a scientist first and foremost not a public relations expert.

"What if they don't go for it? The University has pulled their funding, and we will be finished. I don't think I could take that, John."

John Henderson, the professors longtime assistant, and only real friend laid a hand on one of the professors slender shoulders.

"Don't think that way, Corwyn. We will make them see the merits of it. I know this isn't what we planned, but the military applications are obvious."

Dr. Corwyn Razinski finally stood from the bench where he had been sitting for some two hours waiting to pitch his ideas to a room full of military brass. He was a small man barely five-foot-four-inches tall and his assistant towered over him.

"I hope they see things that way. Lead on, John."

The conference room could have been in an office building anywhere in the world it was so generic and nondescript. The thing that distinguished it was the cluster of men around the outside all in military uniforms and sitting stiffly at attention as Professor Razinski and his assistant were led inside. The Professor cleared his throat stepping to the head of the table while noting the somber and skeptical faces that stared back at him.

"Gentlemen. Thank you for taking the time to see us."

"You're our last proposal of the day, Doctor. It's been a long one so if you could keep this short and concise with a minimum of fancy scientific mumbo-jumbo we would appreciate it."

The Professor glanced nervously at his visitant before continuing.

"Of course, General Rafferty. I will do my best. Perhaps the best way to start is to ask you, gentlemen, a question. What is the greatest failing of a soldier on the field of battle?"

The collected officers looked at one another perplexed by the question before one of them offered , "There are any number of things. Failure to follow their orders or to seize the initiative when it presents itself for instance."

"True, but I was thinking of something more fundamental. Isn't it often the case that fatigue plays a huge role in how much can be accomplished? How often in a battle are your soldiers simply too mentally tired to understand those orders, or see that moment were initiative is needed?"

"There are limits to human endurance. That is why logistical planning is so important to make sure that you have fresh assets to commit during the key point of a campaign," said General Rafferty.

"Again, that is a very true statement, but how more effective would your strategies be if those soldiers at the point of attack never tired?"

There were a number of incredulous looks around the table and a few soft chuckles.

"What are you talking about? If this is another scheme to drug soldiers into staying awake longer, we have seen this tried many times in the past. It always ends with a bunch of drug addicted men who are only marginally better off than they would have been if we just rotated in fresh troops."

"What if I told you I could keep a soldier awake and fully functioning for a week at a time with no cognitive or physical degradation in performance what so ever?"

This statement brought silence to the room. General Rafferty sat up taller in his chair taking a long pull at the cigar in his mouth that glowed brightly at the end before he expelled a cloud of smoke into the air.

"What drug could do that without serious harm to the men?"

"It's not a drug, General. What we have done is create a specialized viral agent that essentially attaches itself to the brain cells of a healthy individual and protects them while regenerating the tissue allowing for constant function without the need for sleep. I grant you that prolonged usage could eventually cause damage to the cells, but in the short term, it would be harmless. When we want the soldiers to rest an antidote is administered to neutralize the agent."

Professor Razinski gestured to his assistant who began to pass out folders to the assembled men in the room.

"According to this, you have advanced as far as chemical trials on chimpanzees?"

"That's correct. What we are looking for is a lab and volunteers which would allow us to move on to the next stage."

"Human trials?" clarified General Rafferty with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes."

"I see. This is a very interesting proposal, Professor. If you gentlemen would wait in the hallway while my colleagues and I discuss it."

The Professor smiled politely and exited the room with John Henderson close behind.

"Are we seriously entertaining this idea? We have plenty of conventional projects in front of us that offer more promise," said a hawk-nosed colonel at the end of the long table.

"We do indeed. There is something about this though I find intriguing. We have that old hot lab in Utah we were going to decommission. I think that might be the perfect place for this and we could do it fairly cheaply," suggested Rafferty.

The colonel shrugged at the suggestion.

"If there are no serious objections? Good. I say we give the Professor a bit of funding and see what comes outs of it. We might get a bigger return on this then we imagine."

ONE YEAR LATER -

The sound of the helicopter's blades reverberated inside his head even with the noise canceling headphones he wore. Adam Chase reached up to adjust the fit tighter when a voice sounded in his ears.

"I'm going to wish I had turned down this assignment aren't I?"

Adam glanced up and smiled at his partner who sat across the helicopter bay going over a folder that lay in her lap. Harriet Duffy had joined him three years ago after his old colleague, George Foster, had retired. She had received high marks during her time at the academy and was considered a top F.B.I. field agent even at her young age.

"You had vacation time coming. I did offer to let you sit this one out."

"Like I could let you wander off on your own. You would be dead inside a week without me," said Harriet with a smirk.

Adam laughed while looking to his left at the soldier who occupied the seat next to him. The young private stood ram-rod straight looking very professional in his freshly pressed uniform, but Adam noticed that he hadn't been able to take his eyes off Harriet ever since the two of them had boarded. He couldn't blame the soldier. While Harriet was an extremely talented agent, she was also very easy on the eyes. She took after her mother who had been a model in her youth and sported the same high-cheekbones and honey-blond hair. A tall woman, Harriet's pale blue eyes sat in a face with rich, full lips and a smattering of freckles high on her cheeks. Her mother's Dutch blood was very much in evidence.

Harriet noticed the attention and frowned looking back at the folder. She had fought her way through the academy dealing with no small amount of sexism because of the way she looked. It worried her that she wouldn't be taken seriously at her job.

"I'm still not sure why the Bureau even sent us out here this looks like an accident to me plain and simple," commented Harriet.

"Maybe, but the woman who died was a civilian, so that puts it in our jurisdiction. The message we got from the head of security seemed to indicate he wasn't convinced it was an accident so here we are..."

"They found her body at the bottom of a stairwell, and she died from head trauma. The security footage showed her entering the stairwell alone so other than a slip and fall what do you think happened?"

"I don't know it may be cut and dried as you say, but we are still being asked to investigate."

Harriet shrugged, "I couldn't help but notice the personnel roster. Does this case hold special interest for you because your girlfriend works at the lab?"

Adam smiled, "I knew there would be no point in trying to hide it from you that Karen works there. Yes, it does raise the level of curiosity I have in this case."

"I am assuming the Director didn't know about this potential conflict of interest?"

"I might not have mentioned it. No."

"Great. This just gets better and better."

"We are inbound to the 'Fire House' five-minutes to touchdown," came the voice of their pilot through the headphones.

"Fire House?" asked Harriet.

The pilots laugh sounded in their ears, "Yeah. We gave it that nickname because there is a rumor going around that one of the fail safes left over from when it was a virus hot lab was a small thermo-nuclear device buried in the structure. In the event of a breach...BOOM! Up she goes!"

"I definitely should have passed," said Harriet.

The landing pad was opposite a single, block-shaped structure with a metal door. There were no other buildings in sight which made sense as the entire facility was underground. A short flight of stairs led the two agents to an elevator door where two armed guards stood waiting while a third man dressed in the uniform of an army lieutenant paced back and forth.

"Lieutenant Webb?" asked Adam.

The young officer nodded reaching out a hand. The two men shook while sizing each other up. Adam was a good three inches taller at nearly six-foot-four his stylish, dark brown hair combed back off his forehead. His deep-set green eyes seemed to take in everything around him all at once.

The Lieutenant had close-cropped blond hair, with a face that was fixed in a permanent worried expression. He shook Adam's hand while sparing only a glance at Harriet.

"I want to go on record as saying I think this intrusion is highly unnecessary. We had an unfortunate accident, and that's it."

"I believe that is still to be determined, Lieutenant. I was lead to believe that the head of security here disagreed with that assessment."

"That would be Captain Randall. He has his opinion, and I have mine."

"I see. Well, either way, we have been sent here with authority to investigate so if you would be so kind," said Adam indicating the elevator with a nod.

The lieutenant turned and signaled at the armed guards one of whom swiped a card in a reader to the left of the door. The elevator doors parted, and the whole group entered. They were quickly swept downward though there were no indicators in the elevator to say how far they had come.

"Seems pretty deep," commented Harriet casually.

"The facility is two-hundred feet beneath the surface. It was originally a virus hot lab back in the late eighties. The structure was built to hold as many as seventy-five personnel, but we are only using a small portion of it."

"The personnel roster showed twenty-two," noted Harriet.

"That's right. Twelve military personnel and six civilian scientists...Well, five now."

"Who are the other four?"

"Volunteers."

"Volunteers for what exactly?"

"I think you should talk to Captain Randall about that," said the Lieutenant in a tone that indicated he had said all he was going to.

The doors opened onto a sterile looking white corridor where two scientists in lab coats stood waiting patiently.

Adam exited the elevator first reaching out a hand, "Agent Adam Chase and this is my partner Agent Harriet Duffy."

"Dr. John Henderson. It's a pleasure to meet you. This is my colleague, Dr. Karen Prince."

Karen smiled needing no introduction to the tall F.B.I. agent who stood in front of her, but not wanting to give anything away, "It's nice to meet you, Agent Chase."

Karen Prince was a small woman maybe five-foot-five-inches with flaming red hair that ran straight and true down to the lower part of her back. Her face was lit by a pair of brilliant green eyes that flashed like bright emeralds, and her soft pink lips pulled back in a gorgeous smile.

"I wish we could all be meeting under better circumstances," said Dr. Henderson.

"I understand," said Adam.

"I think Captain Randall wanted to speak with you first then perhaps we could give you a quick tour of the facility?"

"Lead on."

The large group headed off together. The lieutenant and the two other soldiers parted company with them at the next intersection. Dr. Henderson seemed to sigh in relief when Lieutenant Webb vanished around the far corner.

"Not a fan of the Lieutenant?" asked Harriet.

"Lieutenant Webb does his job competently, but...No, I can't say I care very much for the man personally. He has a bit of a mean streak if you ask me," said Henderson.

"This was just what they needed more civilians on the ground. It was bad enough the way Captain Randall kowtowed to every lab coat wearing asshole in the place, but now he had allowed a bunch of F.B.I. pricks in here as well. For what exactly? It was plain as day that chick had slipped and fallen. This is just a waste of time and energy," thought Webb to himself.

If this operation were under his control, you could bet your sweet ass he wouldn't have allowed a bunch of bureaucrats to tell him how to run his base.

"Hey, Lieutenant. Is it o.k for us to take our lunch now? We missed chow call on account of having to wait for the chopper," said one of the soldiers behind him.

Webb rounded on the young private eying him up and down critically.

"Is that right? Missed your chance to put on more weight Patterson? You're already a disgrace to my security detail you fat fuck! I think missing a meal is good for you."

"Jesus, Lieutenant, he was just asking..."

"As for you Kowalski!," interrupted Webb, "I will climb up your ass with a bayonet if you don't straighten out that attitude! You two are on patrol until I say otherwise now hit it!"

The pair of soldiers shared a disgusted look but shouldered their weapons and moved off down the corridor.

"This whole place lacks discipline, Randall is too soft," grumbled Webb under his breath.

Dr. Henderson led the pair of agents to a door marked only with a number and letter designation knocking politely.

"Come in," came a voice through the door.

The foursome entered the small office. A man dressed in fatigues with captains bars on his collar stood up and came around from behind the desk. He was lean and tan with dark hair streaked with a bit of premature gray. His eyes were a pleasant shade of brown, and his voice rumbled from within his chest like a bear yawning at the end of a long hibernation.

"Lewis Randall. I'm head of the military security detail, but I imagine you already knew that from your briefing."

"Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain Randall. I'm Agent Adam Chase, and this is my partner Harriet Duffy."

They exchanged handshakes while Dr. Henderson and Dr. Prince looked on.

"Karen and I should be getting back to the lab. Just bring them by when you're done, and we will see that they find some quarters for the night," said Dr. Henderson.

Adam tried not to stare at Karen as she left. He hadn't seen her in almost four months since she took this assignment. The opportunity to work with a man like Dr. Corwyn Razinski, who was one of the foremost authorities on biochemical research in the United States, was too good to pass up, but it had meant a long separation for the two lovers.

"So, Captain Randall, I guess you're the main reason we are here. I was given to understand you have some problems with calling this incident an accidental death."

Randall rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, "I had gotten to know the deceased pretty well in the time she had been here. Janet Hooks was a nice young lady. A bit more polite than some of the academics assigned here. She didn't carry an attitude of superiority as you see sometimes."

"What makes you think her death wasn't an accident?" prodded Agent Duffy.

"It wasn't anything we saw at the scene more of a feeling. You see there isn't much to do around here to take your mind off the long days, so about a month in Dr. Hooks started a Yoga class for anyone who wanted to attend in the evenings. I gave it a try myself and found it surprisingly relaxing, as well as more difficult than I ever imagined. In the same spirit, I offered to teach a self-defense class for those who were interested. Dr. Hooks along with Dr. Henderson and Dr. Prince came around for it. Janet was a natural I can tell you that much. I don't know, maybe it was all the Yoga, but she could move like a cat and picked up the stuff I was teaching her in no time."

"What does that have to do with how she died?"

"Well...I know accidents happen, but Janet slipping on some stairs? A woman that graceful and controlled it just seems unlikely to me," said Randall.

Chase eyed the young Captain wondering if his interest in Ms. Hooks went beyond the Yoga mat, but kept his opinions to himself for the moment. He shared a look with Duffy and thought she must be wondering the same thing.

"The briefing folder said that she was observed going into the stairwell alone by security cameras. The feeds on all the other cameras were checked, and it appeared that no one else was using the stairs at the same time."

"I know what the security cameras showed," said Randall curtly.

"Aren't there also security cameras in the stairwells?" asked Duffy.

"Yes, but their not all operational. This base had been shut down for a long while before we came along. It was due to be decommissioned, so we still don't have all the systems back online."

"I see. Maybe we should take a look at the area where the accident took place," suggested Chase.

"Come with me."

The stairwell that Captain Randall led them too had been roped off with yellow tape. It was the closest set of stairs to the research wing which had a separate entrance with double doors and a security lock similar to the one outside the elevator topside.

Randall parted the tape with one hand opening the door with the other. Once the trio was inside the stairwell, they immediately found their noses being assaulted by the faint metallic smell of blood. A large stain was apparent on and around the last set of steel steps near the bottom of the next landing.

"It looks like she tripped and went over the railing. If that is what happened..." said Randall tightly.

Adam stepped close to the railing. It was lower than he would have expected, but building codes were probably less stringent back in the eighties when this base was commissioned. He leaned out over the space trying to imagine someone slipping and hitting the rail with enough force to carry them over. A glance around showed no apparent signs of a struggle. Duffy had continued down and stood on the steps just above the blood stains kneeling and looking at them with a critical eye.