“You can’t leave,” Phil said as Thomas stared at him. “The only people who get out are the dead.”
“You’re from that company on the West Coast that caught on fire, aren’t you,” Thomas said, and Daniel stood, jerking when he bumped into a third man who’d come over to listen. “Dr. Plats.” Thomas snapped his fingers three times in thought. “No, Plank. Dr. Plank,” he said, pointing at him. “I saw you on TV. You’re wanted for killing your boss.” His eyes narrowed. “You let something get out, didn’t you.”
“No. It’s not like that.” Daniel edged around his cot, but more men were coming, angry with loss and frustrated. “I can stop it, but I need to get out of here.”
“My Amy is dead because of you!” a weary red-faced man shouted, held back by a boy in his teens, the wisdom of an old man already in his eyes.
“No. Will you listen?” Daniel said, then stumbled when someone pushed him. He flailed, going down on one knee in the tight confines. Someone’s foot lashed out, and he lost his breath when it slammed into his middle. Eyes watering, he curled into a ball as more feet struck him.
“I’m trying to help,” he gasped out, thinking that perhaps humans deserved to die out if they couldn’t think past their grief and pain to the hope beyond it. But this, probably, was why the authorities weren’t worried he’d talk. If he did, he’d die that much sooner. I am a fool to have thought otherwise.
“Get off!” someone shouted. “Mathew, I said get off!”
It was Thomas, and Daniel blearily looked up to see the teacher standing over him.
“I’m the king of this death camp, and no one is going to get lynched on my watch,” the man said, his grief obvious in the new, deep wrinkles at his eyes. “You hear me? Get back before someone comes over here and sees Mathew has the rash and takes him away. Go on, now. Get back!”
They retreated with muttered threats and promises, and Daniel hesitated when Thomas extended a hand to help him up.
“It’s his fault my kids are dead!” the rash-marked man was shouting, half in tears. “It’s his fault.” Shaking, his finger pointed at Daniel and Thomas. “And you aren’t big enough to stop me, Thomas. I’ll get him. I’ll get you both!”
Phil had set his cot back up, wadding the bedding up and dumping it on the foot of the bed. Uneasy, Daniel sat down. Mathew had the rash. He wouldn’t have time to “get” him or Thomas. He’d be joining his family by morning, dead.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel whispered as he brushed the grime off his pants. His side hurt, and he held it. “It wasn’t supposed to be lethal. It wasn’t supposed to be able to multiply outside of the lab at all. That was the beauty of it. It couldn’t kill. I designed it that way.”
“So why are we dying?” Thomas said, and Daniel shook his head, silent as he felt his ribs, wondering if one was broken. Trisk wouldn’t have lied to him. Daniel’s hands clenched, and he forced them to open. Others, like Kal, would lie to her, though.
“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you and everyone in that company!” Mathew shouted, held back by three other men who looked as if they wanted to let him go.
Thomas grunted and sat down across from Daniel, their knees almost touching in the close confines. “Someone shut Mathew up!” he shouted.
“This isn’t what I had planned,” Daniel said, and Thomas laughed without mirth.
“You think?” Thomas eyed Daniel, his desire to throttle him clearly just in check. “Start talking, or I’ll let Mathew force-feed ketchup to you.”
Daniel exhaled long and slow. “It was only supposed to make people sick,” he said. “A new way to help the military avoid lethal action. You get sick, and in two days, you’re back to normal. It couldn’t spread or replicate outside of the lab. It was perfect.”
“So what went wrong?” Thomas asked, and Daniel finally looked up, reading in him the need to understand outweighing the need to make someone pay for it—just barely.
“Someone tampered with the safeguards,” he said, not sure how he was going to handle this. He couldn’t blame Trisk, which also might be why the authorities had dropped him here, thinking he’d sell her out to save his own skin. They’d call him a crackpot if he said elves had done it.
“That’s not going to wash, Plank,” Thomas said, his own hands clenching. “Why should I believe anything that comes out of your mouth when in all likelihood the simple truth is that you didn’t make your weapon safe and it got out of control?”
Daniel grimaced. His knees were shaking, and he couldn’t stop them. “It was perfect,” he said, not wanting to bring Trisk into it if he could avoid it. “A researcher sent to check its safety made a link between it and one of our experimental tomatoes as a way to destroy a rival’s reputation. I don’t think he had any clue that it would multiply like it did. I will not believe that this plague was intentional.” He swallowed hard. “Not that it makes any difference.”