“We did a blood chemistry workup on all of the specimens, immediately before and after dosing, and then every three days. The basal metabolic rates are up, but other than that, we’ve seen nothing out of the ordinary. Iron, bilirubin, protein, thyroid, glucose, potassium, albumin, calcium, BUN, creatinine, electrolyte levels… everything is normal.”

“What about variances in body temperature?” Juan asked.

“Temperatures spiked after day one, as you know, but they’ve remained steady ever since.”

“Were we able to detect any antigens in the bloodstream? What about antibodies? Are we getting any lymphocytic reactions?”

“No, sir. Which is odd, especially on the ones getting daily doses.”

Juan sighed and nodded. “I guess I was hoping we’d see something… a fever isn’t enough to keep someone in quarantine.” Tapping his fingers on the lab bench, he wracked his mind, wondering what else to look for. And suddenly it hit him. “Of course!”

“Sir?”

Juan sat back down and smiled. “Oxygen levels. That’s what we need to look at. Back in my lab at AgriMed I saw variances in oxygen absorption. What if we put our little guys in chambers to see if we can detect anything different in their exhalations?”

“How about plethysmography chambers?” Kevin gave him a crooked smile. “I happen to know a department that just got in a pallet of those. They’re going to fix them up to measure ethanol metabolism.”

Juan laughed. “Now I’ve heard it all. The FBI has mouse breathalyzers. But yes—we can use something exactly like that.”

“Then with your permission, I’ll go grab them before they realize what’s going on.”

“Go for it. If someone asks, say I needed it and to take it up with the deputy director.” Juan shrugged. “What’s the worst they can do, fire me?”

###

Kathy sat next to her father, her back against the fence, her legs stretched out in front of her. They both watched as another bus pulled in. “Dad, how long have you been in here?”

“It’s been three days now. See that?” Dad pointed at the unmarked bus. “Another handful of people who were part of this godforsaken medical trial.”

“Dad, it wasn’t godforsaken. You’re cured, aren’t you?”

“I suppose. But at what cost?”

“Does Mom know where we are?”

Dad sighed deeply and patted Kathy on her leg. “Pumpkin, I don’t know. I just pray she’s not throwing a fit. You know how she can get when she’s not getting her way.”

Kathy lightly bounced the back of her head against the chain-link fence and frowned as nearly a dozen people climbed off the bus. One of them was carrying an infant.

“My God,” said Kathy. “That looks like an entire family.”

Her dad nodded. “At least they’re together.”

She knew he was thinking about her mother. He’d told her that he’d had no contact with her since arriving here.