Pierce nodded. “That’s what we always called them, because none of what happens is their fault. The violence, the killing … they have no idea they’re doing it. They’re victims—afflicted—just as much as the people they attack.”

Pierce shoved his hands through his hair and shook his head.

“Like I said, I’m ashamed of it now. I was even ashamed of it then, by the time I had it working. So I pushed to shut the whole project down. Halt the work. Burn the files. Disinvent it, if possible. Amazingly, the government agreed. I guess they understood how awful the whole thing was. So much more trouble than it was worth. By five years ago, it was officially canceled. Like it’d never existed in the first place. But I couldn’t leave it at that. I had to be sure. So I formed a group called Watchdog, made up of old colleagues, people I trusted—people all over the world who could keep an eye on likely outbreak sites as best they could. We knew that anytime the natural disease came back, it would provide a sample of the parasite for someone to restart Rigel if they wanted to. We had to make sure that didn’t happen. So we stayed on it. We tried, anyway. I guess we didn’t try hard enough.”

He stared past Sam and Dani at the bright doorway of the barn. A kind of hate seemed to rise in his expression.

“Who are these people?” Sam asked. “The bad guys.”