“If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, the answer is absolutely not!” Margo’s voice was raspy with emotion.
“What’s he talking about?” Cole asked, hating again how it felt to be the only one in the room not knowing what was going on.
“He’s talking about the doctors who work for Kenneth Williams,” Evan said evenly.
“What the heck? You think Williams would help Meg get better? Did he grow a heart while I wasn’t looking?” Cole yelled.
“It’s just an option I wanted to be sure everyone realized,” Creed said, carefully back-peddling. “I’m not the doctor here, so I’m not the one to decide how desperate Meg’s condition really is. You are her family,” he said almost wistfully. “Since she’s unable to make decisions for herself right now, it’s your call.”
Except for the beeping of Meg’s monitor, the room went quiet. Creed’s words were sinking in.
“Cole’s right, though,” Alik said. “Even if Meg’s condition were desperate, why would Williams be willing to help? What would stop him from taking Meg and dissecting her for his evil plans? Or use her as leverage to get me and Evan to turn ourselves in to him? Or cure her but alter her mental status and turn her against us? Anyway I think about it, the outcome would be bad.”
“Like I said, Meg is unconscious. As her family, you have to make decisions for her—however tough they are. I just wanted to mention the Facility as an option. That’s all,” Creed said diplomatically.
“I don’t know how much longer we’ll have to debate the issue. Meg’s organs are going to start shutting down because of the low levels of oxygen carrying red blood cells. Without oxygen, the organ tissues will begin to fail,” Paulie said softly.
“What do you think about giving her a blood transfusion?” Alik asked the room.
“Hum. Now there’s an idea. She can’t have regular blood, so that would leave Alik and Evan as the only donors,” Theo said, thoughtfully.
“And me,” Creed said openly anxious to be of some kind of help.
“We would have to test your blood—to be sure it would be a suitable match; but yes, theoretically, as a metahuman, you could donate, too,” Margo added cautiously.
“The blood donations could help give us more time before her condition gets much worse,” Evan said, hesitantly optimistic. “On the other hand, nothing about her illness has been predictable, so it’s hard to say. I don’t think it could hurt,” he added with a hopeful shrug.
“I’ll go first,” Alik said walking toward a chair, pulling up the sleeve of the sterile scrubs he wore and extending his arm.
“Okay, let’s give it a try,” Paulie said as he shuffled through a drawer to retrieve the blood drawing supplies.
“Creed, let me go ahead and draw a test sample from you so we can be working on that, too,” Margo said.
“Yes, ma’am,” Creed answered. He walked over to the small doctor and pushed up his sleeve exposing taut mounds of muscle.
Margo had to ask, “How many meta soldiers like you does Williams have at the Facility?” She began sterilizing the biggest, juiciest looking vein right in the crook of his arm.
“A lot.”
“How many is that?”
“I don’t mean to sound secretive, I just—I just mean even I’m not sure of the number. If I had to guess, there are probably about a hundred meta men and women at different stages of training currently at the Facility.”
Margo’s eyes widened. “That many?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She was trying not to let her panic show in unsteady hands as she wrapped the rubber tourniquet around his upper arm. She had to stretch it hard to reach around his huge biceps.
“What about those who have already been sent on assignment? Do you know where they might be? Or what they are doing?”
“I don’t know. We’re trained to work under any condition in any circumstance by ourselves or in teams. There’s no telling where meta operatives are once they leave the Facility.” Margo watched Creed’s deep blue eyes as he spoke, trying to determine his true motives.
Unaware of the scrutiny, Creed continued. “Once soldiers leave the Facility, they don’t come back, remember?” He shrugged softly. “I doubt even the Commander has access to that information.”
Not for the first time, or the last, Margo thought back to Kenneth Williams and remembered feeling his demented evil. She was letting the idea soak in. Metas could be anywhere. Metas could be in our human military, in politics, in positions of power—all over the world. And this meta, right under her hands, could be one of the most deadly to have been the one Williams chose to send after them.
“Why did Williams choose you specifically to come after us?” she couldn’t help but ask.