Rick looked better for having been given a task, and Kal realized how fragile vampires really were, abused children growing up weak and strong at the same time. “I don’t know. I’ll ask Barbara.”
Wrong answer. “Wait. Rick,” Kal called when the vampire turned to go upstairs. “I need your help first. I don’t have authority to sterilize the seed field. You do. We have to destroy Trisk’s tomatoes before they make anyone else here sick.”
“I don’t know how to sterilize the seed field,” Rick said, and Kal glanced back in through the open door to the ugly field beyond.
“It’s in the computer,” Kal said. “Just log in and ask it. The computer will walk you through it.”
“Now?” Rick said as he came back, and Kal felt a wisp of relief. If it was Rick’s name on the request, no one would come to him for answers as to why the field and most of the evidence had been destroyed.
“I can’t take that stench any longer,” Kal said as he darted back into the office and spun the chair around for Rick to sit in. “Can you do it? I need to go to the desiccator and destroy the seeds Angie set up yesterday.”
“Sure.” Rick sat, his fingers hesitant as he typed in his name and then a password.
“We can’t let any of this out,” Kal added, backing away as a list of instructions came up for how to hook up a tank of tissue dissolver to the sprinkler system. Not only would it cause any remaining cells to explode, as well as destroying the virus, but it was flammable, leaving a pristine, untainted soil in which to start the next crop if someone dropped a match. And someone would.
“Got it,” Rick said distantly, and Kal gave his shoulder a reassuring touch before darting into the hall. But it was not the desiccator he went to, instead going to Daniel’s lab and adjoining office, breaking the quarantine seal, and slipping inside.
Steps light, he made his way to where the active virus was kept using only the dim, ambient glow from the machines. He slipped two vials into his pocket, turning to smile at the large glass jugs of alcohol used for sterilization. “Perfect,” he whispered, straining as he threw one across the room, where it shattered against a hood.
Warming to the task, Kal levered himself up onto one of the benches, stretching to the smoke and heat detectors. His fingernail split as he wedged the cover off, and after a moment of study, he delicately pulled out the power node. He did the same in the adjacent lab and office, the glugs of the alcohol and the cool sensation on his fingers seeming to foretell the clean fire that would soon sweep the basement.
It was obvious that his plan to kill Trisk’s tomato with Daniel’s virus had succeeded. But that he’d accidentally given the virus a way to spread . . . Damn, he hadn’t wanted a full-scale plague. This had to be covered up.
The scent of alcohol was heavy as he backed his way through the offices and labs until he got to the door. Resolute, he tapped a ley line, harnessing the free energy and giving it shape. “Flagro,” he whispered, throwing a ball of aura-tainted energy at the wet floor.
His eyes widened at the whoosh. There was no visible flame, but the cloying scent of half-burned alcohol rose, and he shut the door, satisfied the room would be an inferno in seconds.
Pulse fast, he jogged back to Trisk’s office. It was empty.
Panic washed through him, but then he saw Rick in the field, his back to the window while he manually connected the flammable poison to the irrigation system, one hand over his face as he tried not to breathe.
Turning, Kal rummaged in one of the equipment lockers. It was dusty from disuse, but he found two masks. He put one on, then went out, grimacing at the stench. The mask hardly cut it, and he took it off, throwing it aside. “Can I help?” he asked, extending the remaining mask to Rick.
The man didn’t look up as he fastened the canister of tissue destroyer. “You did this, didn’t you,” he said, his hands red and swollen, burned by the chemicals he was handling.
“Did what?” Kal said, but his arm holding out the mask dropped when he realized the rash on Rick’s wrists and neck had ulcerated. The raw blisters oozed a clear liquid, giving his skin an alien-looking sheen. It looked terrifying and painful, and fear struck through Kal that this was his doing. Unless I can make Trisk take the blame.
“I’m not a scientist,” Rick said, his watering eyes almost swollen shut, “but I know viruses don’t jump from plant to human like that. You did this. Made this happen.”
Kal pushed past Rick to get to the dispersal regulator. “Don’t be inane. Why would I want to infect the world with this?” he said as he set the water to zero and the canisters to full.
Rick listlessly watched, his weight on one foot as he slumped. “I don’t know. Maybe because you hate Trisk and want the shitload of funding headed her way.”
Kal blanched, turning as he wiped his hands on his pants. His fingers burned from the residual tissue destroyer.