After the reaction outside, Reaper had no doubt that his team would voluntarily give Quantum the entire pack if it meant saving his life.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Caroline laid a hand against his chest and Reaper pulled her into his embrace, staring down at his fallen friend.
“I don’t know.”
“He passed out this morning,” Juarez said, “and started getting twitchy a couple of hours ago.”
Shep nodded, “We tried waking him, pouring water on him, but nothing worked. He needed the serum.”
Reaper held out the open kit.
Four lonely looking vials lay in the half-empty pack. There were five men left. A cloud of silence dropped in the room and the only sound was the soft scratching from Quantum’s fingers still twitching against the mat.
Hicks cleared his throat from the doorway, holding aloft Melissa, who looked slightly dazed but aware.
“We are one vial short, men. Which means we either have to choose who dies or take half the dose and give the rest to the last man, and we all might die.”
Shep slowly got to his feet and faced his team. “I don’t want to. The rest of you take it.”
Hicks stepped farther into the room and kicked the door shut behind him with a loud clang. “You’re too late, I’ve already volunteered.”
Juarez and Diggs both shook their heads.
Reaper sighed, not surprised in the least by his men’s refusal. “Fine, but cut the doses. Hicks, I already know you’re going to demand to go last, so don’t bother opening your mouth. The rest of you take a needle and inject three fourths of the liquid into your arm. It’s not the most sanitary thing in the world, but we don’t really have a choice.”
Juarez reached for a vial, his crooked grin flashing across his dark tanned face. He was still the youngest member of the team and with his curly black hair and constant grin, he looked even younger. “Well, Mother,” Jaurez tilted his head back and stared up at the ceiling, “I hope you’re watching this. You always warned me about the dangers of doing drugs and sharing needles.”
Shep snorted and grabbed his own vial. He yanked his belt off his pants and quickly made a tourniquet around his arm. “Dude, it’s not like you’re shooting heroin.”
“Heroine doesn’t have a chance of touching this shit.” Thornton grabbed the third vial. Diggs followed suit and Reaper dropped the empty packet to the floor, leaning his head over on top of Caroline’s to breathe in her scent. Somehow, in all this horror, she managed to give him a small measure of peace.
Hicks strode to the center of the room and went to a knee, carefully easing Melissa down on the floor close to Quantum. The brunette, however, had other ideas about lying down on the floor, and she shoved Hicks away with her head and her good hand and sat up, wincing with every movement. “What are all of you talking about? You can’t share doses. They’re formulated in the exact correct amount; if you’re short, you’re wasting your time; it won’t work.”
Shep paused mid-air, the needle inches from the crook of his elbow. “Who the hell are you?”
“Apparently, the only one in the room with any common sense. If you inject less than the full dose, the protein will bind only to half of your DNA instead of all of it. Which means half of your body is still going to self-destruct. Pointless.”
“Glad to see you woke up and joined the party,” Reaper muttered. Without the hope of sharing the needles, not one single man on his team would take from the other. Although Dr. Winters had altered their DNA, she hadn’t altered their honor.
“Why wouldn’t you each just take a full dose? I can make more. Get me to a lab, give me an assistant and the right equipment, and I’ll have a new batch ready same time next week.” Melissa shifted and then grimaced.
“We’re one vial short,” Reaper said quietly.
Without pausing, Melissa shoved a hand into her pocket and pulled out a small cylindrical canister. She flipped open the latch and pulled out a new needle, full. “Now you’re not. And from the looks of that guy, none of you have a spare minute. You,” she shoved a finger in Hicks’ direction, who just glared at her with his arms crossed, “get down here. Give me your arm.”
“Not before the rest of my team gets theirs,” Hicks answered.
“You’re sure it’s the same thing?” Caroline asked.
“Of course, I’m sure; I’m the one who made it. After your guy there took out Dr. Winters, I took over as head of the experiment.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Reaper confirmed, sitting up a little straighter. “Go on, do it now. Every one of you. That’s an order.”
For the longest moment, no one moved, and then Hicks’ massive shoulders sagged and he went to a knee beside Melissa, holding out his right arm.
She made quick work of the injection and then handed him the used needle. “You’ll have to discard this. I don’t think I can stand up.”
At least they had Melissa. She could keep them alive until figuring out how to remove his team’s dependency on the serum. He sure as hell didn’t have any intention of allowing Caroline to be a permanent blood donor.
