SENIOR AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following narrative is the result of several years of painstaking analysis of documents and witness statements from a variety of sources by a team of researchers. It is believed that this is the most comprehensive and accurate narration of the facts surrounding the discovery and initial dissemination of the pharmaceutical currently called “Q.” Some materials not directly related to this study are included as the team felt the material shed light on the thoughts and intentions of the various protagonists. As with any historical event, there has been some speculation required in order to complete the full story. Although, every effort is made to minimize speculation, this material has been presented in a narrative, or story, format to make it easier to read and appreciate the emotional as well as factual aspects of the events herein.

FROM THE UNPUBLISHED MANUSCRIPT “THE USE OF GENE SPLICING TO PRODUCE A MEDIUM FOR DNA REALIGNMENT OF DONOR ORGANS FOR TRANSPLANT” BY MAXIMILIAN STERNLICHT, MD, PH.D.

...injection of the modified viral medium with the genetically neutral valent-charged filler strands into the organ results in rapid replacement of the existing genetic material with that of the medium while retaining those portions of the organ’s genetic structure needed to maintain its function. The filler strands suffuse the entire organ; rejecting those components of the existing DNA structure that control rejection in favor of any externally supplied genetic structure. Thus, through genetic manipulation we have created a medium for assuring that any donor organ will be universally accepted.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 9:00 A.M., BIOMEDICAL SCIENCES BUILDING, NEW YORK UNIVERSITY

“Herbert, the research is progressing apace as you are well aware. The funding plan is quite beneficial to the university. All work is being done under the strictest biohazard safety conditions. I’m even employing your wayward daughter. What possible concern might you have?”

Dr. Maximilian Sternlicht, impeccably dressed, each shining black hair standing rigidly in line like a soldier at attention, paced back and forth behind the softly padded arm chair normally used by visitors, eyes deliberately avoiding the pleasantly smiling face of his supervisor, Dr. Herbert Harriman. Dr. Harriman, the Chairman of the University’s Department of Biomedical Research, was gently rocking in a thickly padded, high backed, black leather chair behind his uncluttered desk. Behind him were bookcases, haphazardly filled to overflowing with books, while the required wall of diplomas and awards adorned the opposite wall.

“Now Max, you know my concern. It is the source of your funding, not your skill as a researcher that I question.”

“Come, come Herbert. Are you telling me the University is no longer willing to accept money from the federal government? We both know better.” Dr. Sternlicht stopped pacing long enough to sweep his right hand through his hair. Amazingly, it didn’t cause the slightest bit of disarray to his impeccable grooming. He stopped to glare briefly down at the plump department chairman before resuming his pacing.

“True, the federal government is, of course, a major source of grant money, but I continue to be bemused by the idea of the Department of Defense funding an apparently humanitarian study. Max, I cannot help but contemplate the possibility of ulterior motives and we both know that your research, even more than most, could easily be misused.”

“Herbert, you waste my time, and yours. All you have are vague concerns, the same concerns we have discussed repeatedly in the past. Do you have something more to discuss? No? Then you will excuse me.” With that, Dr. Sternlicht strode haughtily out of the office, closing the door behind himself with a firm, but not hurried, movement. Passing Mrs. MacInerney, the department secretary, he nodded curtly and continued on to his office, ignoring the occasional groups of students milling about the hallways of the Harriman BioSciences Building.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 9:15 A.M., BIOMEDICAL SCIENCES BUILDING, NEW YORK UNIVERSITY

Dr. Sternlicht was comfortably ensconced in the plush leather executive chair of his own, austere looking office, with its neatly filled wall-to-wall bookcases and single framed painting. Leaning back with his eyes closed, telephone to his ear, he spoke with markedly little warmth in his voice.

“The small amount of gratitude I have earned us by employing his giddy, party girl daughter will not blind him much longer. No, neither she nor Abbot will be a problem. She is barely around and I have him so overworked he could not determine what is happening if it were explained to him. They are not at issue.”

“Captain, it is time you met the stipulations of our employment agreement. Herbert is uncomfortably close and continues to probe. If he is not distracted immediately, he will discover our little pretense and then there will be nothing that can be produced but those humanitarian motives he questions.” Dr. Sternlicht listened briefly.

“Stop! Do not bother me with the specifics of your scheming. I have no interest. Succeed! That is all that matters.” Dr. Sternlicht cut off additional discussion as he carefully replaced the phone in its cradle, punched the intercom button and spoke to his secretary.

“Ms. Branca, please have Mr. Abbot come here immediately. Also, please prepare the standard letter of recommendation for these three individuals: George Paulson, Yu Kim Lee and Jackson R. Brown. You may imprint them with my signature stamp but do not give them out until they have submitted my usual ten dollar cash fee.” As he finished speaking Lyle Abbot entered the office and stood uncomfortably facing Dr. Sternlicht, slowly shuffling his weight from one foot to the other. He clicked off before she could pop her gum again or respond with “Kay,” her usual, aberrant bastardization of the English language.

“Good morning Mr. Abbot. Enlighten me regarding your progress with respect to series BC-1109.” Dr. Sternlicht released the intercom control and glared at Lyle.

“G...good morning Dr. Sternlicht. How are you today?” Lyle began to sit down in the single, stiff backed, armless wood chair opposite Dr. Sternlicht’s desk.

“No, don’t bother to sit. I asked you to enlighten me regarding your progress with respect to series BC-1109.”

“Well, I have the data here. It shows no tissue rejection in any of the test cases.”

“Don’t waste my time Mr. Abbot. Are the test tissue grafts maintaining their original genetic structure or not?” Lyle’s shuffling increased in speed.

“W...Well, there doesn’t seem to be a problem with the nucleonic acid, but something does seem to be happening to the rats in the experimental group. They seem to be changing somehow.”

“Specificity, please Mr. Abbot. Changing how? ...And stop shuffling about.”

Lyle grabbed the back of the chair in an effort to remain still. “I’m not sure, sir. They just look different somehow. Several seem to act a bit differently...and number fifteen seems to have changed the coloration pattern on her feet.”

“Mr. Abbot, you know better than to come to me without clear information. Can you explain yourself objectively? No? Then it is obvious that you need to redo the tests on this series.”

“But Dr. Sternlicht, we were supposed to finalize the first three chapters of my dissertation today. I’ve only got two more weeks to submit before I have to wait another semester.”

“Mr. Abbot,” Sternlicht almost glared, “You have done sloppy work or else you would have presented me with clean results. Redo the tests. Now! You know I have no tolerance for such incompetence. I decline to discuss issues of secondary importance until you have properly completed your primary tasks. Now go.”

Lyle left, head hanging. As he closed the door to Dr. Sternlicht’s office, Eunice Branca, Dr. Sternlicht’s secretary, briefly interrupted him. “You didn’t really mess up did you?”

She was looking directly at him. “Ulpp!”

“I’m talking to you. Kay? I said, ‘You didn’t really mess up did you?’”

“N...no. I...I did it right, but there is something wrong with the results.” Lyle mumbled head averted as he scuttled out of the office. “Hey, how did you know about that?” He turned back and, forgetting himself, he looked her in the face before quickly casting his eyes downward again.

Eunice popped her gum, smiled and pointed at the intercom. “It works both ways, and the ‘IN USE’ light on his intercom doesn’t work. I turn it on whenever I think something interesting might be about to happen.”

SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 2, 11:05 P.M., FROM THE DIARY OF LYLE T. ABBOT, 1212 WEST 155TH STREET, APARTMENT 6E, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

It all started with an “Oops!” Well...actually an “Oops!” and two “Ouches!” But this is clear as mud. Let me start at the beginning of the day.

I woke up late, bleary-eyed, headachy, with a tongue the size of an elephant and feeling at least as heavy. Yes, I was hung over...and it was all the fault of that pathetic excuse for a human being that I lovingly call Dr. Sternlicht. Damn, am I tired of listening to him belittle people–and am I ever tired of his impossible demands. Yesterday was a classic. The first day off from working on his beloved research that I’ve taken in months and what does he do, but drag me back to redo the tests for series BC-1109?

I don’t think one thing went right yesterday. The coffee was burnt. The subway was late–I know what else is new in a city like New York. I didn’t even get the new cultures done. Eunice, his secretary, was running to get something. I don’t even think she knew what Sternlicht had her searching for. Oops, bad grammar. We bumped into each other as I was transferring one of the cultures, number seventeen–not that it matters. Eunice dropped her papers. I dropped the culture, it broke and we both cut ourselves as we rushed to clean up the mess before HE found out about it.

I know it was foolish, especially in this day of HIV and other blood born pathogen horrors, but it was fun, almost like we were boyfriend and girlfriend, when Eunice got that whimsical look in her eyes and rubbed our cuts together like we were taking a blood brother oath. I guess we both just needed to do something stupid to break the tension. I wonder what Sternlicht’s hold on Eunice can be. She’s pretty–maybe even beautiful–with blonde hair, blue eyes, about five foot seven, and VERY well proportioned as they once called it. She’s young, a whole two years younger than me. Oh, god, I dread thinking about what type of bizarre gift I’m going to get from my mother next week for my twenty-third birthday.

But back to Eunice...she’s smart; after all, she’s not a graduate student–read serf with less control of my life than the lab rats on which I experiment–like me. Come to think of it, I sometimes wonder why I don’t have a hunched back and a name like Igor. Unlike me, she doesn’t need someone like Sternlicht to approve a dissertation topic or wrangle a Dissertation Committee to finally get a degree. She’s popular, she’s vivacious and she can talk to people. I often think it’s amazing that she even talks to me, “Mister Average,” with my brown eyes and already receding brown hair. At least I don’t have a pot-belly–yet.

Anyway, trying to redo the cultures made me even later getting home. I finally gave up and called it a night around 8 P.M. Unfortunately, living next to Omega Pi Omicron’s frat house on a Friday evening has a few drawbacks. No lunch, some snack foods from the vending machines for dinner and then I had too many drinks to drown out the sounds of partying next door. At all costs, I must remember to avoid “boilermakers” in the future; the hangover is absolutely horrible.

Let Sternlicht growl. I’m going back to bed and staying there today–if he’ll let me. At least Sunday should be sacrosanct.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 3, 3:00 A.M., FROM THE DIARY OF EUNICE HARRISON, EAST 55TH STREET, APARTMENT 1617, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

Damn, I love New York City.

Where else could I get paid to meet bright, interesting, fun loving, sexy looking, young men? And Dr. Sternlicht is a pussycat as long as I let him yell once in a while; then I just pout a bit, like I’m going to cry. Of course, it helps that Daddy is Chairman of the Department. I still wonder what Sternlicht thinks he gains over Daddy by hiring me? It’s not like I am the kind of secretary he is used to having.

It was a close thing yesterday. About six, I stopped by the lab to get my black strap-back heels from my locker for the frat party later that evening when I saw the lights were still on in the lab. The party was “outta sight,” but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I was rushing, and Sternlicht’s poor lab assistant and “all-around-slave,” Abbot, was there. When I bumped into him, my purse dropped to the floor and my wallet flopped open to my ID card right in front of him. I did my best to keep his attention on me rather than the ID short of grabbing his head and shoving it into my breasts, which I was NOT going to do. The blood brother thing when we cut our hands trying to clean up whatever he dropped was brilliant, although I’m really going to be upset if I find out I got AIDS or one of those other diseases from something so mundane and not sensual. Anyway, I think it worked.

You should have seen Abbot’s face light up, and it was nice to discover that he actually has a sense of humor. He looks kind of cute when he’s not letting Sternlicht browbeat him and he’s not so shy that he’s mumbling. I almost reconsidered the idea of his head and my breasts.

One of these days, someone’s going to check my ID and I’m going to get caught using Aunt Staci’s last name instead of my own. Branca is rather more plebeian than Harriman, but college boys get so unbearably formal and boring when they think Daddy might wreck their entire future if they get even a little bit fresh. As if, Daddy, that paragon of virtue, would even dream of such a thing.

Can’t forget the party. The frat house was packed and the guys were in togas which certainly helped show off their “bods.” The requirement for no underwear also made things interesting. It was kind of cute to be able to see the reactions from their lower brains so clearly and quickly although I must have gotten some bad clams or something at the party. I’ve been feeling really terrible all day today.

It’s 3 A.M., Sunday morning, and time to get back into bed after a real pig-out snack. Friday evening, before the party, I had already called in sick for Monday, so there’s nothing to do but stretch out and snooze.

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 3:15 P.M., FROM THE DIARY OF LYLE T. ABBOT, 1212 WEST 155TH STREET, APARTMENT 6E, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

I feel even worse today. I must have a fever because I seem to be sweating from every pore of my body. On top of that, I ache all over, except my crotch and chest which are itching unbearably. I seem to wake up only long enough to eat a horse or two, and then it’s back to bed. I’ve eaten most of a week’s worth of groceries in the last two days. Almost sixteen hours of sleep today should have helped, especially after also sleeping most of yesterday. Of course it would have been even more sleep if Sternlicht had not called about 9:30 this morning, polite and cheerful as usual. I crawled out of bed and began searching through the piles of dirty laundry, trying unsuccessfully to find the telephone, just in time to hear him yelling from my answering machine.

“Abbot, you cretinous incompetent! Why are you at home when you know duty requires your presence at the laboratory? You have assignments uncompleted. Get over here and complete your duties before I terminate your assistantship.”

He does have a way with words; notice how they bring cheer into everyone’s life. I hope he wasn’t as harsh with Eunice. On Saturday, she said she was planning to call in Monday after the frat party. I also hope she’s feeling better than me. If I don’t feel any better tomorrow, I guess I should drag myself over to the university’s Student Health Clinic. I look forward to that almost as much as listening to Sternlicht when I finally get back to work.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 9:10 A.M., FROM THE DIARY OF EUNICE HARRISON, EAST 55TH STREET, APARTMENT 1617, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

Whoa! What a hangover. Never have I had one last three full days before. I hurt in places I didn’t know I had places as the old joke goes–and I can’t stop eating. If this keeps up, I’m going to have to put myself on a permanent diet. Ugh! But the up side is another day without going to work and my secret identity is still safe. When I spoke to Lyle today, it was clear that the only thing he cared about was getting better. I guess Eunice Branca lives to party another day–if she lives that long. This flu is a killer. It’s time to sleep again.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 5, 8:20 P.M., FROM THE DIARY OF LYLE T. ABBOT, 1212 WEST 155TH STREET, APARTMENT 6E, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

It’s strange. I’m eating like a pig and sleeping most of the day, but I seem to be losing weight. Even my voice sounds different, but my ears don’t feel plugged up or anything. Every part of my body aches and when I’m awake, I keep vacillating between feeling like everything is great and bursting into tears. Until these last few days, I thought I was the proverbial stoic Englishman, assuming Mom’s discussions about our lineage were correct–but, all of a sudden, this afternoon I was crying tears–real tears! And for no reason at all.

This is one strange flu virus.

I’d go to the Clinic, but then I’d have to risk having Sternlicht finding out that I was still alive. Given today’s telephone call–yesterday’s wasn’t enough–I better bring in my obituary to prove I was sick.

Eunice is still sick too. I amazed myself and called her after Sternlicht called me today. He was complaining that we had both deserted him. The interesting thing is that when we compare symptoms, Eunice seems to have the same virus as me, except that she’s gaining weight. And she’s been sick since Sunday like me.

Apparently, Sternlicht has been threatening her too. I wonder if she would ever consider going out on a date with me. Assuming, I could stop mumbling long enough to ask. Better yet, I wonder if I’ll ever have the courage to ask her. I can almost imagine the whole thing: walking together, witty conversation over dinner, dancing with her at some nice nightspot.

Damn! It’s hard to stay awake. I must be spiking a fever. My whole body feels like Jell-O. I guess...

 

 

 

SENIOR AUTHOR’S NOTE: Most of the material from this point on comes from investigator’s debriefings of the individuals involved rather than diaries and other written evidence. Reliance on memories that can shift over time would normally lead to the expectation of an overall reduction in accuracy. In fact, given the high levels of stress still evident in the dispositions of these individuals, it is quite likely that they are NOT revealing the full truth regarding their emotional states. As a result, while maintaining the timelines, most of the remainder of this manuscript will be in third person.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 7:33 A.M., 1212 WEST 155TH STREET, APARTMENT 6E, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

Lyle awoke and groggily took inventory–and the negatives won. He was weak, but with no pain, no fever, no chills, no nausea, no vomiting, no diarrhea, and no clammy skin. Still trying to clear his throat so his voice would sound normal again, he got up and cautiously shambled around the various magazines, journals and textbooks scattered about the floor. Grabbing a half-read mystery novel off the nightstand, he rubbed his bleary, grain-filled eyes as he moved, more by habit and instinct than through conscious thought, out the door to his bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom he shared with his three roommates.

Lyle sleepily dropped his pajama bottoms, and then tried to open his eyes enough to read the mystery novel he’d begin before his strange illness. The eyes creaked open, but refused to focus. He felt vaguely disoriented and light-headed, which was easily enough explained by his recent illness. As if on autopilot, his left hand slid down between his legs to guide the stream of urine about to be released…

Suddenly an electric current of terror tore through him! His muscles locked, his stupor vanished and, in the blink of an eye, all of his wake-up rituals were utterly forgotten. With exquisite care, he placed the book gently on the floor, face frozen in shock. Then he stood up slowly and looked himself over. Things had changed! The pubic hair was still there, but the penis and testes were gone. His male genitalia were gone, replaced by what appeared to be female genitalia. Grabbing his chest through the pajama tops, he confirmed that he now had breasts too. With great deliberation, he unbuttoned and removed the last of his clothing, his sense of unease and disorientation growing by the second.

He was clearly no longer male. He briefly wondered if he was dreaming, or more likely hallucinating. Could one of his roommates have dropped some bad acid on him or something? Somehow, he was now a she. The scar on his left pinky finger from when he had gotten it caught in the runner of a fold-up metal protective gate at age five was still there; so was the slightly larger pair of scars on the back of his right thigh from when he had been bitten by a dog in tenth grade, but the small birth mark on his chest was gone. Lyle slowly sat down on the toilet and stared at nothing.

There was some knocking at the bathroom door, but then it stopped. Eventually he felt the need to eliminate and did so.

A long time later Lyle blinked, shivered once, and muttered “scientific method,” as if it were the Holy Grail and would solve all his problems. He cleaned up, took a shower, dried off and stood on the scale.

“One hundred and seven pounds...a loss of fifty three pounds,” he muttered as he worked to keep the panic lurking just under the surface of his thoughts from breaking through. Moving back to his bedroom after carefully checking to see that none of his roommates were around to see him in his present state, he continued his self-examination, still unaware he was even vocalizing.

“Light brown hair, over the ears and about an inch up from the shoulder. Color and length seemed about the same as before although the roots seem a bit lighter…”

Then Lyle looked in the mirror, and noticed something that had changed. “My eyes are blue,” he continued muttering worriedly.

“Eyes of blue,” he began singing nervously. Abruptly, he stopped, glancing worriedly about, as if to see if anyone had observed his brief journey into madness. Continuing in a tightly controlled voice, he added, “A change from brown.”

Grabbing a pencil and a note pad, he began scribbling but just as suddenly stopped. Putting the pad on his head, he stood against the wall and marked his height. Moving quickly to his desk, he grabbed up a ruler and measured.

“Five foot eight inches...no change. Look at the body.”

Lyle moved over to the mirror attached to the back of his bedroom door, a leftover from an unknown former occupant, and turned from side to side.

“Well muscled, a little more fat...”

Taking a towel, he wrapped the long edge of it around his chest and marked a measurement. Bringing the towel over to the desk he again picked up the ruler and measure the diameter marked.

“Thirty seven and a half.” Repeating the process for his waist and hips, he jotted down twenty-four and thirty-six.

Lyle stared at the data for several long minutes before sighing in acceptance. As a research assistant, he had long ago learned that data did not lie; just the people who manipulated it. He was going to have to accept the obvious. For the first time he spoke out loud. “Okay, I’m now female, estimated age twenty to twenty-five, blue eyes, light brown hair, five-foot eight-inches and a hundred and seven pounds. I was male, approximately the same age, brown eyes, same hair color, same hair length and same height, but fifty-three pounds heavier.”

It was at this point that Lyle finally noted that his voice had changed too. Somewhat anticlimactically, he sang a scale and decided it was now a rather light and melodious soprano. He added it to the list of changes.

“How?

“No, set that aside for now. The question isn’t how but, what. What to do now?” He grabbed the note pad again and began making a list. Lists were good. They helped Lyle decide what was important and had to be done immediately and what could wait.

“One, get dressed. Two, eat. Three...no, eat first, figure out what to wear, then get dressed.” He stopped short.

“Did I really say that? “ Giggling, he continued, “Then...then I work on ‘What then.’”

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 8:45 A.M., EAST 55TH STREET, APARTMENT 1617, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

Eunice groaned, stretched and rolled over to turn off the alarm clock on the nightstand beside her. “I thought I had that thing turned off,” she grumbled.

What a shame, it had been such an interesting dream. She had dreamt of being a boy chasing a girl instead of being chased. With a wry grin at the ludicrousness of the idea, Eunice thought, “I’d think I was gay or something if I didn’t know better.”

With a leisurely stretch against the satin sheets, she quickly took stock. No fever, no chills, no pain.

“Well,” she thought, “now that I’m up and I am apparently healthy again, I may as well go to work...or not.”

She stared at the bed covers, where a large stiff object was pushing upward. She reached her hand out over the sheet and gently poked at the strange intruder. It felt very odd when she touched it. She jerked as she realized it was attached.

Throwing off the covers, she jumped out of bed and onto the soft pink plush carpet, yanked off her nightgown and stared at herself in the full-length mirror on back of her bedroom door. Her hands went to her mouth and just barely muffled the scream that came out.

Surprisingly, the shock was short lived. “I’m a man. This doesn’t just happen. I’ve got to be dreaming.” She pinched her arm.

“Ouch! This ain’t no dream. What the hell is going on?” She spun about looking at her new body. “Not bad I guess. Same hair. Same height. A bit on the thin side. I wonder how this could happen.”

Suddenly Eunice stood rigidly still.

“I wonder. Could it? I’ll bet...It’s got to have something to do with the university; maybe that silly accident with Abbot? I’d better find him and fast.”

A quick check in the telephone directory produced a telephone number.

“Ring.”

“Ring.”

“Ring.”

“Ring.”

“Click. As usual, I’m not here now. If you really want me, try the lab; otherwise leave a message at the beep. Click. Click. Beeeep.”

“Abbot, this is Eunice–Eunice Branca from the university. Abbot, something’s happened and I think we need to talk...”

“Hello Eunice. Is that really you? It doesn’t sound like you. Wait a second and I’ll turn off this answering machine.” There was another click on the phone line.

“I understand. Something strange has happened to me. I was wondering if we might talk.”

“You too? You’re right. We do need to talk. Has your...Uh...Has something changed?”

“Yes, but what seems to have happened is kind of impossible.”

“How about if I start, Eunice?” Lyle took a deep breath. “Something absolutely amazing has happened. I think it must have happened to both of us. I also think it must be related in some way to the accident in the lab. This is hard to say. It would probably be easier if we were face to face, but here goes...have you changed sex?”

“Yes. You too?”

“Me too. We better meet somewhere...and soon. Do you want to come to me or should I come to you?”

“This is going to sound silly Lyle, but what are you going to wear?” Eunice continued after a brief silence, “Exactly. I have a much more extensive wardrobe and the credit cards to fill in any gaps. In fact, give me some basic measurements and your skin, hair and eye color, and I’ll bring some clothes for you. I have your address from the phone book and I can be there in about one hour.”

Eunice was right. The selection of clothes was more difficult. She placed them on the bed for better evaluation.

For Lyle she chose a variety of dresses, casual, and intimate items that either stretched, fit various sizes, or provided layering. Looking at the pile, something was missing. She pursed her lips in consideration for a moment, and then added a variety of lipsticks, mascaras, powders, conditioners, assorted jewelry. Even two wigs were added and the whole pile placed into a large suitcase.

For herself, she chose a pair of baggy jeans, a white tee shirt and a flannel shirt, worn unbuttoned since the buttons were on the wrong side.

Underwear bottoms proved to be a problem. In the absence of anything more appropriate, Eunice chose a pair of boxer-style flannel pajama bottoms.

Looking at herself, Eunice then took her shoulder length hair, combed it straight and put it into a loose ponytail at the top of her head. After a moment’s examination, she repositioned it lower on the back of her head.

“Gee, I haven’t been out of the house without makeup since I was eleven,” Eunice giggled; only it came out as a deep, rumbling belly laugh.

Going to her purse, she pulled out all her money and credit cards and stuffed them into her pockets. Then re-opened the suitcase and stuffed a couple purses inside.

“Now, what do I do about the doorman?” Quickly, Eunice moved back to her desk, pulled out a piece of stationary and wrote two notes. The first, to the doorman, said...

Dear Malcolm:

Something important has occurred and I will be away for a while. I don’t know how long yet. I will be having some friends condo-sitting for me, but I’m not sure which ones at the moment. I’ll introduce them to you via letter using this same stationary.

If there are any questions, please leave a message at my work number. They will be able to reach me, although it might take a few days. I look forward to being home again soon.

Sincerely yours,
Eunice

The second letter said …

Dear Malcolm:

This is to introduce you to the couple that will be condo-sitting for me. Please treat them as well as you have always treated me. I’ll be back as soon as possible.

Thanks.

Sincerely yours,
Eunice

Sealing the letters, she placed them in separate envelopes and stuck the second one in the suitcase. Then, she lugged it all to the door and out.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 9:50 A.M., BIOMEDICAL SCIENCES BUILDING, NEW YORK UNIVERSITY

“Mrs. MacInerney. May I please have the addresses and telephone numbers of Ms. Branca and Mr. Abbot?”

Dr. Sternlicht stood rigidly before the secretary’s desk. As usual, he was staring at a spot about two-feet above the woman’s head, unwilling to acknowledge the social convention of eye contact.

“Certainly Dr. Sternlicht,” Mrs. MacInerney began flipping though a card file. “Is there anything wrong?”

“No, of course not. I merely wish to contact them so that I can acquire several documents I need for the paper I am currently preparing. They have each taken various portions of the material I require and, slackers that they are, have failed to arrive at work this morning as required.”
Mrs. MacInerney scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Dr. Sternlicht. She started to ask if there was anything else that she could do, but Dr. Sternlicht had already turned and exited the office.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 9:57 A.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

Captain “Hank” Schultz could already hear a dial tone as he hung up the telephone. Sitting quietly, staring at the peeling paint on the ceiling above his desk didn’t help, but looking down at the unadorned dull green walls was no better. With a sigh and an unspoken curse for all the prig scientists in the world, he picked the telephone up again and buzzed his aid. “Jack, I need the Crisis Team in the conference room ASAP.”

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 10:12 A.M., UNDER-GROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

The portable blackboard was clean. There were six men sitting on the folding chairs surrounding the too-small card table in the center of the room. At least the air conditioning was working today. Captain Schultz began.

“Gentlemen, we may have a problem. The project leader has just reported that two of his ancillary staff on Project Janus have failed to report to work as scheduled. They’ve been unavailable for the last three days. Furthermore, the project leader advises me that there was an accident in the lab on their last day of work. At least one vial of an experimental substance has been broken and a biohazard condition may have occurred.

“Our job is to locate and contain these two individuals taking full biohazard precautions. Additionally, this must be handled as a “class one” security issue.

“We’ll start with their last known locations and work from there. This, and all other available information, is in the briefing packets in front of you.”

“Lieutenant Jackson.”

“Yes sir.”

“You will take Group One. Locate and isolate this Lyle Abbot.”

“Lieutenant Roegler.”

“Yes sir.”

“You will take Group Two. Locate and isolate Eunice Harriman.”

“Master Sergeant Challer.”

“Yes sir.”

“You will organize communication. At this time, police and health agencies are NOT to be informed, except to be advised that we are engaged in an operation in their area. They are requested to stand down for now, but we may call upon them for assistance if necessary.”

“Questions?

“No?

"Then let’s go gentlemen. Double time. Please remain here a moment, Dr. Isaacs.” As the others left, Captain Schultz began to pace.

“I’d like a realistic risk assessment. Can this be contained?”

Dr. Isaacs looked up to the ceiling for several seconds while clasping and unclasping his hands.

“After speaking to Dr. Sternlicht and reviewing the specifications I would have to say ‘I don’t know.’ We are in totally new ground here. My guess is that the genetically modified virus will act in a manner similar to the original virus in terms of transfer capability. If that is so, it should require blood to blood contact and that should mean that only the standard blood born pathogen precautions should be required.

“This is also Dr. Sternlicht’s opinion, isn’t it Doctor?”

“Yes sir, it is. The problem is, we cannot assume. We must act as quickly as possible to contain the contagion. Furthermore, we must assume that this is a highly contagious, deadly, air and/or contact born virus and that means that every second these two individuals are loose they could be infecting everyone they meet, possibly hundreds to begin with and maybe eventually millions. The area of contagion could increase exponentially. Under those circumstances we could loose New York City or–again worse case–the entire continent.”

“You know our need for secrecy here. You know the plan.” Captain Schultz turned away again as he continued pacing. “Is there something more we need to do?”

“No. Not as long as our assumptions are correct.”

“Thank you Dr. Isaacs. One last question. It may be classified, but I think I now have a need to know. What does this damn virus do anyway?”

“Well, Captain. It’s not an issue of need to know so much as that I’m not sure yet. As you know, the publicly stated function of the virus is to eliminate the rejection problems inherent with most organ transplants. It does this by eliminating any portions of the genetic code that might individualize it. The virus fills those spaces in the helix initially, but it is unstable and as soon as replacement genetic material can be obtained, the virus absorbs it and begins replicating that new genetic structure in every cell. If the virus works as advertised, it should be possible to infect a target population and then hold them ransom with the threat of spreading a genetically modified disease specific to only that population. The potential for controlled biological warfare is tremendous.”

“And just what will the opportunities for misuse be I wonder?” Captain Schultz shook his head. “That will be all for now. Thank you Dr. Isaacs.”

 

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 11:50 A.M., EAST 55TH STREET, APARTMENT 1617, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

The door slammed with a solid clang as Eunice snuck out the back stairway and into the basement garage. She had just dropped the doorman’s letter down the mail shoot.

Eunice got into to his red Mustang convertible and headed out onto the street. The garage doors opened as he moved up the ramp to street level and out before automatically closing behind him. The wind was gusty and the sky was gray and dull, but at least it wasn’t raining. There were several cars with flashing red lights at the entrance to his building and Eunice wondered what was going on, after all, this was considered a “good” neighborhood. Tempted as he was to go back and find out what was going on, it was a one-way street and he would have had to go around the block to come back; besides, he needed to get to Lyle’s place as quickly as possible. With a shrug, he turned away from the commotion and drove off.

Traffic was just beginning to lighten up to the point where one could move a whole block or two between lights. Slowly Eunice wound east one block to the park and then north past the University. As Eunice pulled onto the block where Lyle’s apartment was located, he was surprised to find several cars with flashing lights at the main entrance to that building too; or was it the frat house? Driving past the apartment, Eunice was even more surprised to note that several of the cars were Federal Pool cars.

Having a bad feeling, Eunice drove past rather than stopping. As she stopped at the light at the corner, she was disgusted by the sight of one of the growing horde of street people. This one wore raggedy jeans, a ratty old coat with a fur collar and had her face almost totally covered by a shocking green knit cap. He couldn’t tell her age, but Eunice suspected that the woman had a fairly good body under all those rags. He sighed. It was truly sad what some people made of their lives. The woman was pushing a shopping cart with a suitcase on top of what looked like musty old clothes.

Suddenly, the filthy creature left its cart. Waving frantically, she ran in front of his car. Eunice slammed on the brakes, stopping just short of hitting the woman. She jumped in and yelled in a loud, raspy, fear-filled voice, “Quick! Drive! They’re after us.” and turned back toward the apartment building just past.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out of my car or I’ll call the cops; they’re just a couple of feet back the way I came. Kay?” Eunice pushed the intruder against the door trying to force her out of his car.

“Will you please wait for me until I can get my suitcase and get back in? We have big problems.” When Eunice nodded, she slowly turned and opened the door.

Eunice immediately pushed the vagabond out of the car and pressed hard on the gas pedal. Half way down the block a look in the rear view mirror made her stop. Whoever it was, she was sitting in the middle of the street, a New York City street at that; and she seemed to be crying.

Eunice stopped the car and stared. Then, with a shake of the head, a sigh and a mumbled, “I’m probably going to regret this,” he slowly backed up the car until it was directly beside the crying figure.

Getting out and standing over the pitiful wretch he asked, “Who are you?”

Between sobs, he heard her say, “Lyle. Lyle Abbot and I thought you were Eunice Branca. I recognized the car. You’re driving her car. Hey, if you’re not Eunice, who are you?”

“Yeah, I’m Eunice, or at least I used to be,” he said with a gesture highlighting his curves, or lack thereof. “And if you know me you must be Lyle, but lest make sure. If you’re really Lyle, show me some identification. Kay?” Eunice demanded in a voice that sounded far more authoritative than he felt.

The crying shape slowly reached into a back pocket and produced a wallet. Flipping it open, she produced a University picture ID card for Lyle T. Abbot.

“Oh. Lyle, I’m sorry...but I’m sure you can understand how surprised I was when some tattered stranger jumped into my car. I had this immediate vision of rape and murder.” As Eunice spoke, he got Lyle’s suitcase, threw it into the back of the car and helped the still crying Lyle in. Eunice then got in and continued crying as he drove quickly away.

“What are you doing here? I expected you to be in your apartment waiting for me.”

“Cops…everywhere.”

They drove without speaking further as Lyle slowly stopped sobbing. Finally, Lyle asked, “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know. I’m not headed anywhere specific.” Checking a couple of street signs, he continued. “We’re near the Cloisters. Why don’t I park there and we can try to figure out what’s going on? Kay?”

Lyle nodded her agreement and both silently contemplated their futures as Eunice drove the several blocks to the Cloisters and pulled into the first available parking space. Without thinking, both got out and walked over to a nearby picnic bench. About twenty feet beyond was a wrought iron fence. Beyond the fence was a drop off. Unseen from their bench, at least two hundred feet below, was the West Side Highway and the Hudson River. The view might have been romantic were in not for their circumstances.

“’Kay,” Eunice took the lead. “Let’s start with the basics. Do you know what happened to us?”

“Yes–at least I’m fairy certain I do. But there’s an even more basic issue. Did you see the cars all around my apartment? They were from the government and they broke into my apartment and only my apartment. It seems safe to assume who they were looking for and it was sheer luck that they didn’t get me.”

“So how did you get out?”

“I got bored waiting for you and began packing some of my clothes on the off chance that they would fit you. After lugging the suitcase down to the front door to meet you, I realized that I had forgotten my research notes. I left the suitcase in the laundry room and went back to my apartment. I had just returned to the laundry room and was stuffing the papers into my suitcase when I heard the noise from that invasion force. Peeking around the doorway to get a better view, I heard one of them say, ‘He’s in apartment four-twelve. Let the DeCon unit go in first.’”

“Anyway, I quickly slipped out of the laundry room, which can’t be locked, and into the storage room next door, dragging the suitcase after me. It was heavier than I expected it to be. A disguise was now my first order of business. Looking around in a panic, I saw the usual stuff one would expect in a storage room: a shopping cart, several piles of boxes, a couple of old bicycles and a rack of old clothes. Boy, was it dusty.

“There was this weird coat with some kind of fake fur and a ripped collar on the rack,” Lyle fingered the offending article of clothing as if the fur might up and bit him, “and the first box were some old winter clothes including this bright green ski hat. I grabbed the coat and ski hat and put them on hoping they would disguise me a bit. Then I put the suitcase into the shopping cart, with some other odds and ends from the boxes to cover it over, and started wheeling it out the back door to the apartment.”

“When I was almost to the back door this guy in a military uniform comes walking in on me. He asks me if I live in the apartment.”

“Anyway, I was afraid to talk so I grunted, and quickly pushed the cart into the door, but it wouldn’t open. I guess I lucked out, because he even held the door open for me.”

“The problem in all this is that four-twelve is my apartment and if a government decontamination unit charges up the stairs to my apartment, we’re both probably in big, big trouble. The only possible explanation I can come up with is that they think something dangerous escaped from the University lab and they think were infected. Considering what’s happened to us I’m afraid they’re right.”

“Great.” Eunice grumbled. “That was probably also them pulling up in front of my condo as I was leaving to come here. Kay. To sum it all up we’ve changed sex, the feds are looking for us and don’t seem to be all that concerned about our rights, and we may be carrying some deadly contagion. Is that about it, Lyle?”

“So it would seem. Although to be accurate, while we might be contagious, I doubt whatever we have would kill anyone.”

“I feel much better now. What do we do now...and, come to think of it, why should it be we? Huh?”

“Well, I need to have some quiet time–you know, with no interruptions–to figure out exactly what happened and what to do, or are you happy being a wanted, possibly contagious fugitive? I’d like to get back to the lab, but that doesn’t seem likely. For that matter, if the federal government wants us they can probably get us. They’ll have our ID photos, they’ll have our fingerprints, they’ll have our credit card numbers, they’ll be watching for any contacts with our friends and relatives. They’ll probably even have people looking for this car. Do you think we’ll be safer together or apart?”

“Lyle, that doesn’t leave a lot of choices, and we haven’t even begun to talk about my concerns. I can’t believe our government could possibly be as efficient as you just described.”

“Ten bucks says I’m right.”

“Well–never mind. Let’s think things through. You need to have uninterrupted time to figure out what happened and how to undo it, if that’s even possible. If it can be undone, I sure would like to know about it. For this to happen, we need to have the government off our backs. That means we need to find out who set them on our trail in the first place.”

“I think I can answer that last question. It must have been Dr. Sternlicht.”

“Great, what does that do for us now?” Eunice pulled out of the parking space.

“I don’t know. I’m not positive, but it seems likely.”

“Kay. Let’s go.” Eunice stood and strode purposefully to the car.

“Uh–where are you going?”

“To test your hypotheses. Kay? You’re the ABD. Does it mean ‘All But Dissertation’ or 'A Big Dummy’? You should understand what it means to test a hypothesis. Let’s find a public telephone.”

At the pay telephone near the University, Eunice dialed a number and then gave the receiver to Lyle. “Your voice sounds more like mine than mine does right now. When someone answers, nod your head and then say what I tell you.”
Lyle nodded.

“Hello, Aunt Staci...this is Eunice. I have a problem and I need to talk to you. Kay? But I need to get something at Dr. Sternlicht’s lab at the University first. I’ll be at the lab in about five minutes and then I’ll come directly to you. I should be at your house in Queens in about one hour, traffic permitting.”

Eunice gestured for Lyle to hang up.

“Now we go back to the University and watch. Kay? If you’re right, we’re in big trouble.”

 

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2:05 P.M., BIOMEDICAL SCIENCES BUILDING, NEW YORK UNIVERSITY

They could see most of the stone and ivy structure of the Harriman Building with its red tile roof from their position double-parked at the edge of Washington Square, but it was possible to it. It was the home of the Department of Biomedical Research, and had been since the family had donated the funds to build it.

They waited in silence for five minutes, then ten and finally twenty minutes. Students and faculty walked by–some briskly as if with a firm goal in mind, others meandering with no apparent place to go. A police car passed without stopping, but nothing else seemed to be happening. There were no soldiers, no ambulances, no flashing lights and no suspicious people loitering about.

“Well, it sure looks like you overestimated our government’s abilities and interest in us. Where’s my ten bucks?”

“We’ll see.” Lyle began to get out of the car.

“Where do you think you’re going? Get back in here.” Eunice grabbed at the retreating figure, but missed.

“I want some of Dr. Sternlicht’s files. They should help me figure out what happened and what we can do about it,” Lyle called over her shoulder as she walked briskly towards the building entrance.

Suddenly, several lounging students looked at her and began getting up. A cop car suddenly appeared. Several people came out of the entrance to the Harriman Building and began trotting towards Lyle.

With a scream, Eunice gunned his car over the curb and through a broken section of the wrought iron fencing around the campus. Lyle ran back to meet him. She dove through the window of the still moving car as Eunice swerved to miss several people grabbing at Lyle’s feet; waving frantically out the car window. She sped away as Lyle scrambled the rest of the way into the car.

The police car stopped to let several of the people chasing Lyle get in before giving chase and Eunice took advantage of the delay. Horn blaring, she roared through a red light. A crashing sound and cursing were heard in her wake.

The cop car and another unmarked car followed, gradually moving closer. Ahead, traffic was slowing to a stop at a traffic light, so Eunice swerved onto the sidewalk, scattering pedestrians right and left as he increased the distance from their pursuers to almost a full block while the cop car slowed to avoid screaming bystanders.

Just after entering the intersection the cops were slowed even more as a truck partially blocked their path, allowing Eunice and Lyle a full two block lead. Amazingly, no other cars had joined the chase.

Several blocks latter, Eunice suddenly turned into a short drive and into a garage beneath a townhouse. “Quick, close the garage door, Lyle. Kay?” Lyle took a deep breath, unclenched her hands from the car upholstery and rushed to close the door.

Once again, they sat in silence waiting while the sounds of police sirens approached and then faded out into the distance.

“Where are we and how did you know this garage door would be open?” Lyle asked after she felt she could again breathe.

“We’re at my father’s house and I didn’t know it would be opened, but I hoped. My father is often less than careful. Kay? He seems to leave it open just about every third or fourth day. It’s amazing that he isn’t robbed blind here in the heart of New York City, but he must have a charmed life. He has lost the contents of the garage several times, but I guess the alarm on the door to the house itself is good enough that most criminals want to bother.”

“But if they tapped your aunt’s telephone they must know about this place,” Lyle interrupted, a note of fear in her voice. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Not so fast. If they were watching, we would have been picked up already. Kay? Look at how fast they got to the University. As long as we don’t use a telephone or set off the alarm, we should be all right and we need to slow down and think or they’ll catch us for sure.”

Eunice got out and headed for the door to the house. “Luckily I’ve got a key. Daddy won’t be home for quite a while so we should be able to be on our way before he sees us. Grab the suitcases and come on.”

Muttering, grumbling and struggling in his female body, Lyle brought the two large suitcases into the living room, one at a time, and dropped them. “Now what?” he panted.

Eunice came in from the kitchen with two glasses of soda and a tray of fruit. “We relax and we plan. Kay? You look terrible and I’m hungry.”

“Thanks for the compliment. What should I look like?” Lyle grabbed an apple and took a bit to hide his frown.

“Whoa! Don’t get me wrong. I just meant that we need to make you look and act more like a woman and me more like a man.” Eunice’s face took on a far away expression as she thought for a moment, then she continued sheepishly, “For example, I guess I should have been the one to bring in the suitcases, not you.”

Anyway,” Eunice waved his hand dismissively, “You wouldn’t have the right clothes for your new body in your suitcase, but the clothes in mine should fit you. It looks like you’re just about exactly my size–I mean my old size. Why don’t you get undressed while I see what I can dig up? Kay?”

“Where?” Lyle looked around questioningly. The living room curtains were drawn, but they were a gauzy material that could easily be seen through. A look in the direction of the stairs produced a shiver of fear. Since the fever broke she’d felt a strong urge to be near other people, almost as if there was some sort of unstated safety in numbers, but she was also just not ready to let anyone else see her new body.

Eunice immediately understood. “How about going into the dining room? Kay? You can close the blinds and the door. We can use the living room as our staging area and I may want to get more food out of the kitchen. I don’t believe how hungry I feel.”

Lyle went into the dining room and closed the door while Eunice began digging through her suitcases. At some muffled words from the other side of the door, she walked to the door and handed through some undergarments.

“Put these on.”

“How?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean how do I put these things on?”

“Take the panties and put them on one foot at a time, just like any other pair of pants. Oh, and the label goes facing in and in back. Kay?”

“Okay. Done. That was the part I could do on my own.”

“Good. Then take the bra and wrap it around yourself under your breasts keeping the label by the clasp on the inside and the straps on top. Attach the clasps, slide it around so the clasp is in back, put your arms through the straps and adjust your breasts so they fit comfort...”

“Slow down, this isn’t working.”

“What’s not working?”

“Your instructions. They don’t work.” Lyle was beginning to whine.

“Of course they work. They’ve worked every day since I was eleven and a half. Let me in and I’ll show you.” Eunice pushed open the door. Lyle was standing on the other side of the door intent on the brassiere she was maneuvering about in her hands. Eunice quickly moved to take the brassiere and put it on.

“Thanks. Now what?”

“We dress you the rest of the way. Kay? Put on the pantyhose and I’ll bring you the rest of your wardrobe for today.” Eunice headed back into the kitchen, asking over her shoulder, “You do know how to put on pantyhose, don’t you?”

“I think so.”

“How?”

“Roll it up and put it on one foot at a time. Roll it up to the knee, switch and do the other leg. Go back and forth in small increments until they are extended to the limit.”

“Excellent.” Eunice laughed. “Spoken like a true scientist.”

Lyle began to cloud up and Eunice quickly interjected. “Kidding! Just kidding. Kay? That’s exactly right so go to it.”

Eunice came back into the dining room munching a sandwich only to see Lyle cursing at the pantyhose which now had several long runs in them, even though they were only on up to his knees. “I guess you didn’t file your nails this morning. Never mind. I should have had you shave your legs before trying to put them on anyway. Take them off. Kay? I have a better idea.” Eunice went back into the kitchen and the sounds of suitcases opening and closing could be heard.

In the meantime, Lyle kept muttering, “I can reverse this. It can be done. I don’t have to stay this way.” as he removed the remains of the pantyhose.

Eunice returned with white socks with lace tops, a pair of black jeans and a pink, v-neck, short sleeve T shirt with the word “Princess” in fancy script on the front. “Put these on. Kay? Fold down the socks about one inch and fluff out the lace ruffle. The rest you should have no problem putting on. Come into the kitchen when you’re done and we’ll set you up with some shoes–I hope.”

Lyle dressed and walked into the kitchen. Eunice had been rummaging in his suitcase. She was now wearing a similar white T shirt, with blue jeans, white socks and his low top sneakers.

Eunice handed Lyle a pair of low heeled boat shoes in pink to match the T-shirt. “Are you as hungry as I am?” Eunice waved her second sandwich in the air at Lyle before taking a bite. “Help yourself to the refrigerator. Kay? Then I’ll do your makeup while we figure out what to do next.”

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 2:05 P.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Captain. Report from Team One. They’ve lost them, sir.” Master Sergeant Challer was in Captain Schultz’s office, standing before the officer’s desk. There was a completely impassive look on his face, eyes staring straight ahead at a point on the wall behind the Captain and about two feet above the officer’s head.

“Great.” Captain Schultz snarled. “Any word from Team Two?”

“Nothing new since about fifteen minutes ago, sir. They are spread thin, but they’ve got most of the likely places either of them would show up under surveillance.”

“How many more personnel do they need to provide total saturation?”

“Five, sir.”

“Instruct Lt. Jackson to reassign Team One to assist with surveillance.”

“Yes sir. Is that all sir?”

“Yes. Thank you Sergeant. Dismissed!”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Of course, Jack.” Captain Schultz gave a deep sigh, closed the folder he’d been staring at and leaned back in his chair. “What’s bothering you?”

“What are we chasing this time sir? Really?”

“As usual, this does NOT leave this office, right? Even Dr. Isaacs doesn’t know it all.”

Challer nodded and slid sharply into parade rest. They had been together for more than eleven years. Early on they had developed the trust necessary for a good working relationship.

“Best guess is that it’s not airborne. If so, it’s not easily communicable and the biohazard is limited. That’s why we’re implementing only the blood borne pathogens procedures.

“From our prospective it’s just another ultimate weapon. This one involves the possibility of replacing selected individuals in hostile countries with exact replicas who support our goals.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll get right on the reassignment of Team One.”

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 3:55 P.M., 1661 112TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

“Your makeup is done and we even shaved your underarms. If you’ll finish packing the last of the food, I’ll get the car started and out on the street. Kay?” Eunice grabbed a suitcase and headed back to the garage.” We can figure out where we’re going as we drive.”

Lyle finished the packing and did a cursory clean up of the kitchen counter. As she turned off the kitchen light and walked through the far door, to the hallway that led to the front door, there was a squealing of tires. Before she could get to a window to see what was happening, the front door slammed open with a loud cracking sound and two men with guns were yelling, “Freeze!”

Before Lyle could open her mouth to protest, one of the men fired and she was thrown back against the wall, groaning as she slid to the ground and into unconsciousness.

 

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 5:45 P.M., 1661 112TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

Dr. Herbert Harriman stood on the stoop of his brownstone slowly shaking his head while examining at the demolished door to his house. Wondering what was left inside, he trudged through the shattered door and into the darkened hallway. Just as he was about to flick on the hall lights a voice called out, “Please, don’t.” It sounded like a man’s voice–but a vaguely familiar one.

“Who’s there?”

“Don’t be frightened. Please. I’m unarmed.”

“Who’s frightened? Come out where I can see you or I’ll call the police.”

“Please,” the voice sounded scared and desperate. “Don’t do that. I need your help. Kay?”

“Then answer my question. Who are you?”

“Please. I promise you I’ll tell you, but first come into the kitchen and sit down. Kay?” A dark shape moved through the kitchen door. Curiosity peaked; Dr. Harriman cautiously followed the shape into the kitchen. After all, if the man had any intention of harming him, it probably would have happened already.

“Thank you. Please sit down. I need to tell you a story. Kay?” The shape stood in the shadows of the dining room and spoke through the open door. It gave the voice a slightly hollow, echoing sound.

“It started with an accident in Dr. Sternlicht’s lab. Your daughter and Sternlicht’s lab assistant managed to drop a sample and then cut themselves picking up the mess. Shortly thereafter they were both sick for several days. It seems they had failed to follow approved procedures for handling blood born pathogens. It also seems that they were contaminated by the sample. The result was difficult to believe. They were changed. There must have been a transfer of genetic material along with the blood; at least that’s what Lyle thought happened.” The shadowy shape paused for a moment.

“Here’s the remarkable part, the transferred material apparently expanded with amazing rapidity and replaced the existing genetic material. In effect, they became each other.” The shape moved into the light, “Hello Daddy. I told you I needed your help.”

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 7, 8:00 P.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

The dream was a familiar one. Lyle was standing at the podium smiling and receiving the Nobel Prize for research in biogenetics. He raised his hand for the crowd to quiet, but it just kept getting louder and louder.

Lyle awoke in a daze. She was lying in bed, a small bed, maybe a cot. There was a loud buzzing sounding not too far away. Opening her eyes Lyle looked around and sleepily focused upon a ringing alarm clock. Slowly, after several misses, Lyle found and turned off the alarm, knocking the clock to the floor in the process.

She was still in the same room they had left her in after questioning her. The same light green walls, tile floor, and the same spartan appointments, the bed he was lying on, a desk and two chairs, a boarded up window, and two doors. One door led to a bathroom and the other to a hallway where a large, well muscled soldier was always standing at guard to follow her wherever she went and keep her from talking to any “unauthorized” individuals like friends, family, lawyers, reporters, clergy, or other scientists. There was also a large stand-alone wardrobe where several plain outfits designed to fit her new body had been stored. Unsurprisingly, there was no telephone.

“It wasn’t a dream,” she groaned to herself.

Still not completely awake, Lyle lay on her back and rubbed absently at the sore on her left shoulder where she had been shot with an anesthetic dart the previous day. Her arm rubbed across her breasts as she absently rubbed the bruise. As her hand fell away from the bruise, they stopped to lightly brush one of her plump, rounded breasts. Soon the areola was protruding as Lyle began rubbing a bit more vigorously. Without thinking, her hand moved lower, continuing to rub. The areola hardened as she rubbed it, producing a pleasurable tingle. She began making gentle circles on her stomach with her other hand, gradually moving lower. Soon her fingers were brushing gently through the pubic hair. Reaching lower her rubbing seemed to be making her fingers moist and slippery. The tingling grew stronger, more insistent. She didn’t want to stop and then she couldn’t.

Suddenly the pleasurable feeling increased manifold, causing her to scream as she snapped awake.

Panting from the exertion and realizing with embarrassment what she had been doing, she stopped immediately but wave after wave of intense pleasure continued to wash over her entire body.

Finally clear-headed, she felt stupid for thinking of sexual gratification instead of escape. “Got to keep it together. Can’t give up,” she muttered to herself.

For hours they had subjected her to various forms of physical examination and questioned her late into the night while she insisted that she was Eunice Branca. She repeatedly demanded to be released or to be permitted to talk to her father, even crying to make her point while trying as hard as possible not to answer any of their questions. Lyle began to sniffle in reaction as she thought about it.

They had tried bright lights, strapping her to a chair bolted to the floor and made of hard, rough, thick wood where they left her for hours on end. She’d even had sodium pentathol or some other “truth drug” injected into her. Lyle briefly paused to wonder why they used the same injection point as the dart.

Feeling the need to do something–anything–Lyle got out of bed and went to the bathroom to shower and complete morning ablutions. She then dressed as quickly as she could, only briefly fumbling on the bra and the blouse buttons. While combing her hair into what was now her usual ponytail, she wandered about the room checking it out, since she’d had little time when first locked in as sleep was her paramount goal at that time. She checked, the door, the heating vent and the boarded up window for a sign of a way out. In the bathroom, there was nothing sharp or pointed that could be used as a weapon. Finally, she moved back to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. Lyle began pounding on the door and yelling for attention.

The door opened to show a muscular young man with a blonde crew cut sitting by a desk with several monitors on it, partially hidden by a second, even larger soldier standing in the doorway and holding a tray of food. “Ready for breakfast, Miss?”

Lyle jumped even though she was expecting the soldier. She slammed the door closed and sat down on the bed to think. She was trapped as a human guinea pig, a lab specimen for some branch of the armed forces. They think I’m a man in a woman’s body, and they’re right. I can admit it, work with them, and hope for the best from a group of people that have kidnapped me at gun point and are jailing me incommunicado with no idea of when, if ever, I might be let free. The other option is to continue the charade Eunice and I agreed upon before being caught with each of us pretending to be the other and denying anything out of the ordinary has happened. At this point, having had my alleged civil rights trampled as they have, I can’t seriously expect to be just let free at some time with an apology and a handshake, but it may confuse things enough to keep Eunice safe and free...and she’s really my only hope isn’t she?

Lyle continued to review the situation as she slowly dropped her head to the pillow and began to cry quietly. Occasional sobs racked her body.

The next time the guard glanced at the room monitor he saw a pretty girl lying in a fetal position on her bed shivering.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 8, 10:25 A.M., BIOMEDICAL SCIENCES BUILDING, NEW YORK UNIVERSITY

“You may go in now,” Mrs. MacInerney waved Dr. Sternlicht into Dr. Harriman’s office. Dr. Harriman was waiting at the door, but his greeting was cut off by Dr. Sternlicht.

“What is the meaning of this? You have just caused me to cancel my office hours. This had better be...” He broke off seeing Eunice standing behind Dr. Harriman.

“Come in. Come in Maximilian. We need to discuss current occurrences in your laboratory.” Dr. Harriman led Dr. Sternlicht to a chair, but at the last second, Dr. Sternlicht frowned, waved off the chair and pulled away from the Dean’s loosely guiding hand. Instead, he stood beside one of the soft chairs, one hand on the chair and the other on his hip as he affected an air of nonchalance.

“What is...ah...he doing here?” Dr. Sternlicht tried to sound firm and in command, but the stutter gave him away. “Why is my lab assistant here?”

“As I said, we need to talk.” Dr. Harriman moved behind his desk and sat down. Reaching for a humidor, he began tamping tobacco into a large intricately engraved Meerschaum pipe. Eunice moved to stand behind and to the left of him.

“Where to begin, where to begin…

“I guess we should probably start with the discussion we had about three weeks ago where I noted some concerns regarding your current research.” Dr. Sternlicht merely stared at Eunice and said nothing so Dr. Harriman continued.

“As I recall, I was concerned about misuse of your research findings. It seems I was correct in my concerns, wasn’t I?” Dr. Sternlicht continued to stare at Eunice.

“It seems I should also have been a bit more concerned about accidental biohazard situations, Maximilian.”

Dr. Sternlicht forced himself to look at Dr. Harriman. “Get to the point Herbert. What do you want?”

“Want? What do I want? I want to retire, I want a class that actually listens, I want a department budget without a battle. What I’ll accept is for my daughter, “he glanced back at Eunice, “And your ex research assistant to have their proper bodies back, an assurance that nothing more will happen to either of them including further research against their wills and an assurance that no one else will be victimized by the effects of this research. Oh, and I think you need to take a leave of absence after which you too may wish to think of the joys of retirement. By the way, I’m sure that you’ll want to write a glowing reference for Mr. Abbot.”

“No charge. Kay?” Eunice quickly added.

“I will not insult you with chicanery. I will, however, use that classic movie cliché, ‘What’s in it for me?’”

“Well, I would prefer treating this as a minor contretemps that can be resolved amongst men of good virtue; however, if necessary we can talk about inadequate level three biohazard procedures and illegal human testing. Shall I continue?” Dr. Harriman leaned back in his chair with a remarkably bland expression on his face considering what he had just threatened, while Eunice positively reveled in Sternlicht’s discomfort.

“You would not dare!” Dr. Sternlicht blustered while thinking to himself that such a threat was meaningless with the government behind him. More people could simply be made to vanish. How dare they…

The other two just smiled back at him as his face slowly turned a beautiful shade of crimson and the small vein just below his hairline began to throb visibly. They thought the threat of exposure was having an impact rather than the affront to his ego.

“Mrs. MacInerney has several simple documents you’ll need to sign. Nothing obfuscatory I assure you: a retirement option selection form, a resignation form, the standard form for assignment of rights for your research to the university, and a contract committing you to produce my daughter’s body and your lab assistant’s mind.”

Dr. Harriman paused for a moment to glance up at his daughter before continuing, “Both intact and functional and in the original body. You also agree not to discuss this research with anyone or demean or defile the University or any of the players in this small tragedy,” the corners of his mouth curled up in a humorless smile, “while my daughter and I promise no further reprisals of any type.”

Eunice nodded grudgingly; that last stipulation had been a hard one to swallow.

Dr. Harriman gave Dr. Sternlicht a cold stare, and then glanced down at his unlit pipe. He lit the pipe as he concluded. “Retire in peace with an outstanding career in research and academics or watch it go up in smoke.”

Wisps of smoke rose in graceful curlicues from Dr. Harriman’s pipe while the color of Dr. Sternlicht’s face moved past crimson into the magentas. Suddenly he slumped into the chair beside him and sighed. “Give me the papers.”

Dr. Harriman removed his pipe from his mouth and reached to pick up the telephone but Eunice placed his hand over his. “Don’t bother, I’ll get them. Kay?”

With a satisfied smile towards Dr. Sternlicht, he left the room. The only sounds were the squeaking of Eunice’s sneakers as he left, the click of the door as it closed, and the breathing of the remaining two men. Eunice was back almost immediately to spread the papers on the edge of the desk by Dr. Sternlicht who began signing.

“Aren’t you going to read them?” Eunice asked.

“No Lyle...Eunice...whoever you are now, I’ve known your father a very long time. He would not dishonor himself by violating his word, let alone the rules of engagement. Besides all but one are standardized forms and the one that is not will never be seen by others or stand up to legal scrutiny, will it Herbert?”

Dr. Harriman solemnly nodded his agreement.

Dr. Sternlicht continued signing.

“You’ll provide me copies as appropriate, Herbert?”

“Of course, Maximilian.” Dr. Harriman gathered the papers and placed them in a folder. The folder then went into the mahogany outbox on the corner of his desk.

“Oh, by the way, Maximilian, my daughter’s body and your research assistant’s mind are the final components of this arrangement and from my perspective ‘if t’were done, t’were best done quickly.’”

Now it was Dr. Sternlicht’s turn to sit back and smile albeit a tired one. His criticism of Herbert’s quote did not have the usual fire to it, “It’s ‘If it were done when ‘tis done, then t’were well it were done quickly,’ Shakespeare’s Timon of Athens, Act One, Scene Four, and as to the other, that will require taking a bit of a drive. Have you ever visited the Adirondacks?”

 

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 7:45 P.M., DIARY OF EUNICE BRANCA, EAST 55TH STREET, APARTMENT 1617, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

The three of us–Daddy, Dr. Sternlicht and me–we headed out at about eleven in the morning in Daddy’s Buick. The car was just old enough to have the small size of a new car and the dents and dings of a car driven in an urban area.

The ride to Albany, where we stopped for an early dinner and gas, wasn’t too bad, only about three hours, but the trip up to the heart Adirondacks, another three hours, was less than enjoyable. I was stuck in the back seat with my legs stiff and achy from being permanently bent to fit the car’s limited rear leg room while Daddy and Dr. Sternlicht sat in front talking and pretty much ignoring me unless I interrupted to ask a question. Of course, Dr. Sternlicht would always frown or scowl at me and quickly return the conversation to the more esoteric topics he preferred such as biochemistry and world politics.

The radio stations began to die off once we passed Warrensburg, leaving a choice between Public Radio and static since Daddy didn’t have a tape or CD player. When the Public Radio station began an hour-long medley of madrigals, the static won hands down. Even Dr. Sternlicht could only bear about fifteen minutes of the monotonous and boring chants.

Even the scenery was monotonous and “scenic.” I had always thought scenic meant interesting, but there was nothing to see but trees and lakes with the infrequent cluster of houses called villages or just an isolated house in the midst of trees. The sad part was that the forest didn’t even look healthy. There were huge swaths through several sections where whole trees were splintered and scattered over the ground. Daddy had said this was the result of what he called a “microburst” that had occurred several years ago. I gathered from his explanation, that a “microburst” is some kind of severe weather disturbance similar to a small tornado. Regardless, it was boring.

Even where the forest was intact, there were uprooted trees rotting on their sides with broken branches choking the forest floor. Where there wasn’t forest there was often what looked like swampland. Daddy called them “wetlands.”

Daddy and Dr. Sternlicht insisted that this was a healthy, natural “forever wild” forest, but it looked like a sickly and dying place to me.

Daddy even went on to tell me that none of the downed trees, limbs or branches could even be picked up to clean things up. Apparently, there is some quasi government agency called the Adirondack Park Agency that prohibits cleaning up the park so that it can look good. Don’t ask me. I don’t understand. Give me an urban park any day.

Near the end of the trip, I was so bored I dozed off–so I missed Tupper Lake, the village nearest to where we were staying. When I woke up, we had just turned off the main highway, as much as any two-lane road with minimal shoulders can be called a highway, and were driving down a gravel road. Daddy was talking about how many empty storefronts there were on the town’s main street and wondering what the unemployment rate was in the area. A minute or so later we turned right off the one-and-a-half-lane gravel road onto a one-lane dirt road. The overgrowth of trees on the sides of the road made it barely wide enough for the car with tree limbs brushing its sides almost constantly. I wondered how we would be able turn around to leave without getting stuck and beginning to get scared that we were lost and would have to try to hike out of this wilderness. The vision of us all dead and rotting next to one of these rotted trees, while wild beavers and carnivorous deer gnawed at our carcasses, was not something I enjoyed.

Then we rounded a corner and the view was so spectacular I almost regretted my earlier comments about preferring urban parks. There was this huge house that Daddy called a “Great Camp” with a combination boathouse and garage off to the side. The house looked out over a beautiful–Daddy called it “pristine”–blue green lake with the mountains on the other side reflected in its still waters. The sun was just setting in a sky with only a couple of wispy clouds bracketing it and you could see every imaginable color of the spectrum from sky blue to deep red. I guess this is what people mean when they talk about the beauty and grandeur of the Adirondacks.

We sat there in the car drinking it all in until finally Daddy sighed, “Beautiful isn’t it? Well...let’s get settled in. We can do little more tonight. Tomorrow morning we can retrieve Mr. Talbot.”

Daddy gave me a key and began picking up our various suitcases while Dr. Sternlicht watched; that is until Daddy held out two of them to him. Dr. Sternlicht starred at them briefly, then, with the sigh of a man who has been unduly put upon, he accepted them and we moved off to the front door.

As I opened the door and we stepped in, all I could think was, “there’s another forest in here.” Actually, this was a bit of an exaggeration. It was just that I had never seen so much woodwork in one place. But let me do justice to the place–or should I call it a palace–well, not quite, but like any mansion, it was quite large.

From the entry, there were several steps down to a great room paneled in shellacked pine wainscoting with the glowing golden patina of age and excellent care. The ceiling soared to a peak three stories high, supported by huge wooden beams with the same golden patina as the wainscoting. The far wall was smooth, rounded, brown speckled stone; called river stone according to Daddy, with the largest fireplace I’d ever seen in the middle and a stuffed moose head above it. I guess the moose had once been alive, but I never knew they could be so large.

The back wall was taken up by a beautiful wide staircase. Stepping out into the great room, I followed the stairs with my eyes, up to a balcony overlooking the room. Daddy and Dr. Sternlicht headed for the stairs to put the bags away in the various bedrooms Daddy said were upstairs.

The great room itself was divided into three conversational groupings composed of thickly padded Adirondack style furniture. One grouping, in gray and maroon, was around an entertainment unit by the stairs, the second, in gray and blue, was around the fireplace, and finally, also in gray and maroon, was a semi circular grouping facing out towards the lake. Each group was centered by a different type of rug, two Berbers and a bearskin.

But I still haven’t mentioned the most prominent feature of the house. The whole front wall was glassed in, more than two stories high, looking out onto the lake, and offering that same glorious view we had seen when we parked.

French doors set into the wall of glass opened out onto a huge bi-level deck, nearly as big as the house. As I walked towards the deck, I saw that both it and the glass extended the entire length of the house with a second set of French doors in the center of a dining area with a huge table. I know I’m over using the word “huge,” but what else do you call a table at least six feet wide and twelve feet long, supported by what appeared to be two tree stumps and seating for thirty. Against the far wall was another smaller fireplace bracketed by two stuffed deer heads.

Opposite the window wall were two floor-to-ceiling glass front china hutches separated by two swinging doors. The doors led into a very professional looking center island kitchen. The etched glass design on the doors of the china hutches in the dining room was repeated in the kitchen cabinets. Given the size of the kitchen, it was surprising that there was no table in it.

Before I talk about the rest of the evening, let me describe the bedrooms. The stairs led to a long hallway, also with various stuffed and mounted animals along it and three bedrooms, all coming off the same side of the hall. Each bedroom had a private bathroom and a set of French doors leading to small porches overlooking the lake were it curved around the house. This wasn’t the money view, but was still pretty spectacular.

Once we were settled, I made sandwiches and tea for everyone using some groceries Daddy must have picked up in the village. Then, we sat around talking. No one wanted to discuss the chances of getting Lyle and my body back despite Dr. Sternlicht’s apparent assurance, but we did talk about what had happened to Lyle and me and how. I’ll note it here as accurately as I can which won’t be easy since Dr. Sternlicht really loves big words.

“So Maximilian, how did this happen?” Daddy asked between sips of his tea.
“I am not entirely certain, Herbert. I hypothesize that the genetically engineered virus I created accepted the genetic material first presented it, as it was designed to do. Somehow, the genetically loaded virus was then inserted into the bodies of Mr. Talbot and your daughter where it quickly overwhelmed the body’s original genetic coding.

“The virus was engineered for this purpose. As you know from the original grant summary–approved by you among others prior to submission, I might remind you–the goal was to take genetic material from a host patient in need of an organ transplant, inject the source material into a noncontagious viral medium, inject the viral medium into a prepared organ where it would attack each cell of the organ and allow the organ’s genetic material to be replaced with that of the source. Then, it would merely be a matter of surgically implanting the organ, now completely genetically compatible, in the host.

“What I do not completely comprehend is how the transfer of genetic codes occurred. Possibly your ex-daughter could enlighten us in this area?” Both of them turned to look at me.

“Uhh. What do you want to know?”

Dr. Sternlicht snorted and looked away in disgust while Daddy interpreted. “Maximilian is asking how the virus got into you and then how you and Lyle exchanged...I mean swapped blood.”

“Oh. Well, first I bumped into Mr. Talbot, I mean Lyle, as I was running out of the lab after getting my purse. You know, the small patent leather one that goes so well with my...”

“Yes dear, you bumped into Lyle.” Daddy interrupted while Dr. Sternlicht snorted again. I think he snickered too but I’m not certain as I was as busy ignoring him as he’d been ignoring me. “Then what happened?”

“He dropped some kind of glass dish.” Dr. Sternlicht snorted yet again. I already disliked the pompous, self-serving ass, but now he was really beginning to annoy me.

“Yes dear that would have been a Petri dish. Go on.”

“Well, I apologized and we bent down together to pick up the broken glass. That’s when we bumped our heads together.”

“Yes, dear. Continue.” This time Dr. Sternlicht didn’t bother to snort, snicker, or anything.

“We fell to the floor and landed on the broken glass. We both cut our hands.”

“Yes dear. That explains how you were infected with the virus. How did you end up trading blood?”

“Oh that was easy, Daddy. Lyle was very upset and besides my wallet had fallen open. You know how I try not to let anyone know we’re related because the boys are afraid you’ll do something horrible to them if they date me.”

Daddy “hurrumpffed” or something like that. Anyway, I got the idea and continued.

“Well I needed to distract him so I started cleaning him up. Then since we both had blood on our hands and he was so upset about the accident, I made him a ‘blood brother’. You know, like that Heinlein book, ‘Stranger’ something.”

Both Daddy and Dr Sternlicht groaned. After a few seconds of silence, I asked the question I wanted to hear the answer to, “So how do I get my old body back? Huh?”

“Well, Maximilian? His question is a good one.” Daddy asked with that cute lift to his left eye that he does to make sure people know he is asking a question.

“In the absence of formal research...” Daddy glared and interrupted.

“Maximilian, remember your agreement. My daughter and Mr. Talbot will not be subjects of any more experimentation against their wills.”

“Yes, yes. I remember. Now, as I was attempting to elucidate,” he stopped to glare back at Daddy, “the viral medium is supposed to weaken and die over time, usually about the same time as the genetic material in all available cells has been replaced. It could simply be an issue of taking blood samples from each of them and injecting her blood into him and vise versa.”

Daddy rubbed his chin for a while. That meant he was thinking. “...and what if that does not work? Say, perhaps, that the two different DNA modified viruses fight each other?”

Dr. Sternlicht’s face slowly transformed into an absolutely evil grin. “They may need to learn to live with their current bodies. Additionally, they might infect others via bodily fluid transfer.”

That successfully killed the mood and after one or two aborted attempts to revive the friendly–Daddy would have called it “convivial”–atmosphere we all went to bed.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 9:45 A.M., PARAPHRASED FROM THE BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES OF DR. HERBERT HARRIMAN

Dr. Harriman was worried. His face showed the genial, relaxed but attentive expression he always wore at faculty meetings, but his mind raced as they all slowly drove towards the small biolab to which Dr. Sternlicht was directing them. Was this a trap? What was Maximilian going to say or do in order to get Lyle released? Who was it that was actually holding him? Or her? Whichever.

The questions were legion; unfortunately, the answers were not forthcoming. Dr. Sternlicht sat stone faced in the passenger seat watching the road and refusing to acknowledge Eunice’s or his presence.

Eunice was little better. He could not sit still. His eyes continuously roved from side to side as he leaned so far forward into the front seat space that his head was frequently blocking the view of Maximilian. In classic Eunice style, he would not stop talking about trivialities and irrelevancies.

As he turned off the main highway into the BioGenTec parking lot, the apparent lack of security and the small unfenced compound made Dr. Harriman even more uncomfortable. From long experience with national security, he knew that the best security was invisible.

The lobby was done in shades of gray, dark gray carpet, light gray walls and a multi color gray counter with a ribbon of burgundy running through it. Even the woman typing behind the counter was wearing a light gray suit with a plain unruffled blouse and matching gray bow. When she looked up and saw us, she frowned and began examining each of us. Spying Dr. Sternlicht, who was the last one in, she smiled, “Why hello Dr. Sternlicht, we weren’t expecting you. Are these people here with you?

“Yes, thank you. May I speak with Dr. Schultz please?”

“Certainly sir, please step right through the security door. But unless I have clearance, your associates,” she glared at the rest of us, “will need to remain here.”

“Understood,” Dr. Sternlicht gave a dismissive wave of the hand and headed through the door before anyone could say anything else.

As the door closed with a firm, loud click, a uniformed soldier replaced a telephone on its wall mount, turned to Dr. Sternlicht and without a word escorted him to a small conference room where “Doctor” Schultz was waiting.

“Congratulations and thank you for bringing in our missing subject, but why is Dr. Harriman here?” Schultz asked as soon as Sternlicht entered.

“Do you have the blood samples as specified?” he asked, ignoring the question.

Captain Schultz nodded assent.

“Good. Then release Mr. Talbot.”

Captain Schultz did not move. “Why?”

“Because, he cannot be of any more use to us here. I have arranged for them to be unwilling to discuss their plight. Talbot may even be willing to continue to assist in our studies.”

“How?”

Dr. Sternlicht removed several sheets of paper from the pocket of his suit jacket and tossed them towards Captain Schultz who silently picked them up and began to read them.

“What about contagion?”

“Not a factor. I’ve been with him for the past 24 hours with absolutely no ill effect. Have you forgotten your briefing material? It’s a blood borne virus and should be dead by now.”

Shortly he put them down and looked back at Dr. Sternlicht. “Without close supervision, the risk is still unacceptable.”

“Fine. Use Lee and Brown for supervision in the lab. I’ll make them assistants for verisimilitude. As for the rest of the time, they are currently staying at Dr. Harriman’s sister’s camp near Tupper Lake. When they return to the New York City area, they will be living together at Ms. Branca’s condominium so they can practice being their new sexes. I’m sure you can assure their adequate supervision under those circumstances.”

“And you’re certain that neither of them will be carriers? The last thing we want is unsecured sources of the viral medium.”

“The virus should be nearly dead already. Even if it is not, they are not likely to engage in further instances of sharing blood with strangers.”

Captain Schultz thought for a moment and then picked up the telephone on the conference room table. “Release Ms. Branca.”

“I see you retained the fiction of Mr. Abbot’s identity.”

“Yes. It was easier than dealing with the security leaks likely to come from an acknowledgement. Now she is merely insane and we’ve been given permission, by her grieving family, to use a new, genetically-altered, experimental drug on her. Dignifying his allegations would have guaranteed unwanted questions. It’s bad enough dealing with someone the staff think is crazy, but they are used to the idea of undesirable side effects like psychiatric instability, not gender reallocation.”

9:00 A.M., MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, A GREAT CAMP NEAR TUPPER LAKE, NEW YORK

“Wake up. Kay? Breakfast is ready.” Eunice slapped the bed covers in the general area of a large lump.

“Come on. Just because you were kidnapped doesn’t mean you get to rest on your laurels. We both have some serious thinking to do–and I think we need to do some mutual learning before anything else. Kay?”

With a low moan, the lump slowly began to move. Gradually, a naked female body appeared from under the covers and sat up at the edge of the bed.

“Gee whiz, it’s nice to know that whatever happened to us gave you a pretty nice body. Normally, I wouldn’t care about another woman’s preference for skin instead of a nightgown for sleepwear, but my new body is giving me some very interesting messages. Why don’t you put on this robe? Kay?” Eunice handed Lyle a pale green silk kimono with an intricate flower design on the back and returned to the other room. A couple of minutes later Lyle meandered out to the kitchen and sat down in front of a large mug of coffee and plate of bacon, eggs, hash browns, and toast.

“How interesting. The robe doesn’t really help.”

“What do you mean?” Lyle asked.

“My crotch feels funny and, I guess it’s my penis, is pushing against my pants. I guess this means it’s trying to tell me to have sex with you,” she laughed. “Is this what being a man is like, raging emotions and a desire to bed every female around?”

“Yup. Life’s a bitch isn’t it?” Lyle yawned and stretched. The robe began to open.

“Stop that! Don’t make it worse than it is.”

“Sorry.” Lyle refastened the robe. “To change the subject, this is a great place. Where are we and how did we get there?”

“We’re in my Aunt Staci’s camp in the Adirondacks,” Eunice explained between bites of breakfast. “Near a village called Tupper Lake. Daddy drove Dr. Sternlicht and me up here to get you. Dr. Sternlicht knew where you were, some biogenetics company in the next town over. He told them something that got them to release you and we brought you back here yesterday morning. You’ve been sleeping ever since. Daddy thinks they must have drugged you, which is why you slept so much and why you seem to be so laid-back. As to how you got there, you’ll have to tell me. Kay?”

“I’d love to but I have no idea. The last thing I remember was when those men broke into your father’s house and then being in a windowless room with a guard at the only exit. They questioned me for a long time, did a lot of blood work and biopsies and then I must have freaked because the next thing I remember is being woken up, dressed and brought to the lobby where you guys were standing about. I must have fainted again because the only other thing I remember is you waking me up this morning.”

Eunice picked up her dishes and began cleaning them up. “After breakfast I’ll give you the grand tour, since Daddy and Dr. Sternlicht have already gone back to the City. Oh, yeah,” Eunice stopped drying for a moment and turned back to Lyle, “Daddy has taken a bunch of tissue and blood samples from me and asked me to ask you if you would provide similar samples. One of the bedrooms is set up as a small lab. I’ll show you during the tour. Kay? And don’t worry, Daddy made Dr. Sternlicht promise that anything further done with either of us would be completely voluntary, but he also thinks that it will be necessary to compare samples from both of us in order to figure out what actually happened and how to fix it. So please say yes. Kay? Huh? How ‘bout it?” Eunice fairly danced as he waited for his answer.

Lyle couldn’t help grinning at the image of an adult man bouncing up and down and begging like a child. Eunice’s face looked “soooo innocent.” Finally, she laughed out loud.

“Yes. Yes. I’ll do it. But I thought you said this was to be voluntary?” She quickly ducked as Eunice stamped his foot in annoyance and threw the dishtowel at her before he too broke into laughter.

Lyle picked up the dishtowel, quickly brought his dishes to the sink and cleaned them. “Let’s get the tour over with. I want to get those samples for your father and then get some from you. Then I want to get to work in that lab you told me about so I can try out some ideas of my own. I want my old body back.”

“Kay. But first I need to tell you some other stuff Daddy told me.”
Lyle grumbled, but sat down again.

“Damn it, close that robe,” Eunice almost bellowed, “and cross your legs like a lady.”

Lyle obediently obliged her hoping she would get on with it.

“First. Daddy kinda figured you would want to get to work immediately. He wanted me to point out to you that your lab will be somewhat limited and it would probably be best–if you want to do some serious lab work that is–to return to the University.”

Lyle nodded. “That makes good sense. Let’s do that.”

“Right as usual, Daddy.” Eunice grinned as he spoke the aside and then continued. “Daddy told me you would probably say that, which brings me to the second issue. With no original sample of the virus to work from Daddy expects this to be quite difficult. He told me he would very much appreciate your help back at the University’s lab.”

Eunice raised her hand to stop Lyle before he spoke.

“But he also noted that a quick solution was unlikely. Kay? He gave me a couple of reasons for not running right back to the City. I don’t remember them all, but I wrote most of them down.”

Eunice smiled brightly which almost made Lyle laugh again, the expression looked so silly on a man.

“They’re on the coffee table in the living room. Want me to get them?”
Lyle shook her head no, again hoping to speed things up so she could get to the lab.

“Kay,” Eunice hesitantly agreed with a wistful glance toward the living room. With a deep, fortifying breath, he continued, “What Daddy did suggest was that we would need to do several things, not just hop in a car and head for the City...”

“And they were?” Lyle prompted while uncrossing her legs to scratch an itch by her crotch.

“Stop that. Ladies don’t scratch their crotches.”

“Ladies? Oh...” the light slowly dawned on Lyle. “I guess you mean me. Huh?”

“Yes, you,” Eunice nodded. “And that’s what Daddy said we should try to do. Kay?” She continued quickly as Lyle looked confused again. “Learn how to act like people expect us to act. You know. You learn to act more like a lady and I learn to act more like a guy. Also, to learn enough about each other that we can pass for each other. Kay?”

“Why on earth–or any other planet for that matter–would I want to do that?” Now Lyle was totally confused.

“Daddy says ‘Because it is the only way we can live without drawing undue attention while searching for a solution to our mutual problem.’”

“I must be slow. I know we did this once in the hopes we could get away easier and I know I pretended to be you with those goons that kidnapped me, but we’re free now. Why pretend anything?”

“Because the only lives we have at the moment are each other’s. Kay? We can’t just go back to are old lives. No one will know us. Where will we get money to live on? How are you going to renew your driver’s license? Just think how foolish we would look now in our own clothes.” Eunice swirled about as if she were wearing a dress and then made a moue.

“All right. You made your point.” Lyle was still irritated by the possibility of a delay in getting to the lab. “We need to be each other. We need to know how to behave enough like each other to confuse our friends and fit in, at least for a while. But we also need to determine what happened, how to control it, and maybe even how to reverse whatever happened to us. So where’s the lab and how much time do I have to allocate to learning to be you?”

Now Eunice was mad. “That’s right. You’ll learn to be me...if you must. I’m only a secretary. I don’t count. Well, for your information I’m part of this too. I don’t know a lot about you, but I guarantee you I’m giving up a lot more than you are. Do you have your own car? Or your own condo? How many friends are you going to have to meet all over again because they don’t recognize you now? Do you have an inheritance? What do I tell my relatives; or the men I’ve been dating?”

Lyle was visibly disturbed by Eunice’s tirade. Unbidden tears began to well up in his eyes. As Eunice slowly began to wind down, he blurted out, “Oh Eunice, I’m sorry! I never meant that at all. I just meant I was anxious to get to the lab and concentrate on solving our mutual problem by doing what I know best.”

“Well...All right.” Eunice caved in seeing Lyle crying and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready for that tour?”

“I guess so. Just one question. Who’s ‘Daddy’?”

Eunice giggled and the giggle grew into unrestrained laughter and beyond as he fell into the chair next to Lyle. As he slowly regained some control he continued, “Sorry. That’s just one of those ‘little things’ you need to learn about me. ‘Daddy’ is Dr. Herbert Harriman, Chairman of the Department and a whole lot of other stuff. He’s also a very rich man thanks to his inheritance and a really big bunch of patents.” Eunice had finally stopped giggling and got up, grabbing Lyle’s hand and easily pulling him out of his chair. “Now. The tour starts here. Kay?”

 

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 5:10 P.M., FROM THE DIARY OF LYLE T. ABBOT, A GREAT CAMP NEAR TUPPER LAKE, NEW YORK

Busy week. Mornings for learning, afternoons for analysis, and evenings for learning about our new selves. One of the first things we agreed to was to exchange names. After all, we’d already established that we could easily pass for each other based upon our appearances. We’ve kept our real names for our diaries, but everywhere else we’ve taken the first letter of each of our real first names and used them as our new middle initials to make it easier to tell who it was we were talking to or about. Thus, while I am in this female body, I will call myself Eunice L. instead of Lyle and while Eunice is in a male body, she will call herself Lyle E. Similarly, since others have been doing it for a while and we’ve even done it ourselves in our thoughts, we will start to use pronouns in our speech that are consistent with our physical appearances. So, I now get to use “she” and “her” while Eunice will be using “he” and “him.” Oh joy! Oh frabjuous day!

I am convinced that we exchanged DNA during the lab accident. Our bodies somehow eliminated our old DNA. The only thing keeping the transition from being perfect was our skeletal structure which–while not that dissimilar–has not changed, or at least it hasn’t so far. It’s surprising how much fatty tissue redistribution compensates for skeletal differences. Lyle E. says my butt is slightly smaller and that it makes me look svelter, which is good–I guess. All I know is that her clothes fit.

Now I need to [1] make sure the virus responsible for all this is still active and culture some, [2] figure out how to safely re exchange our DNA and [3] make sure the virus then goes inert and remains that way. If I’m really lucky, I’ll be able to learn to control it. However, that’s the least of my worries.

Actually, the real problem is that, good as it is, the equipment we have here is just not good enough to do the quality of research needed. Eunice, or Lyle, rather, was right.

I mean Lyle E. was right. We need to return to “da City.”

It’s amazing what there is to learn about being female; the clothes, the make up, the gestures, the differences in grooming techniques and body hygiene. They’re just the external part. The thoughts...well I won’t talk about that, except to say that seems to be the hardest part for me.

Tonight is to be my first real test of being a woman in the real world, or at least in the Adirondacks. We’re going to a spaghetti dinner and dance at the Moose or VFW or some such Hall in Tupper Lake. I’ll add more when I get back.

EDITOR’S NOTE: There is no formal record of either of these individuals attending the above mentioned dinner and dance. The following information is the result of interviews with several individuals who apparently were in attendance that night, although it should be noted that these interviews are potentially contaminated by a gap of about a decade between the event and the interviews. As a result, the following is provided for color and to connect the various events for our protagonists; without significant assurances of its veracity.

They arrived at the dinner shortly after the serving line started, probably about 6:30 P.M. The girl seemed quiet and aloof, maybe even a bit macho while the guy was talking to everyone. There was something strange about the two of them. It wasn’t clear what, but they seemed almost uncomfortable, although that might just have been that they weren’t local to Tupper Lake and so weren’t mixing well. Or maybe it’s just that they were being ignored by most of the locals as would be usual. He danced, she didn’t. There was some type of confusion at the bathrooms but it is unclear if they were involved. They left early.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17, FROM THE COMBINED LETTERS OF LYLE ABBOT AND EUNICE HARRIMAN, A GREAT CAMP NEAR TUPPER LAKE, NEW YORK

At the sound of voices, Lyle E. put away his diary and moved to the window. Looking through the curtains, he saw Eunice L. talking to someone sitting in the cab of an older model pickup truck. Try as he might Lyle E. could not hear anything so he moved to the door. Before it could be opened, he heard the sound of tires spinning on dirt and stones as the truck sped off. As Eunice L. came in the door she said, “That was the caretaker. I knew enough about who we’re supposed to be to convince him, of who I was. That’s twice. If we can convince strangers it’s time for friends and acquaintances.”

“Fair enough. Then, I guess it’s time for us to head back home. I was getting a bit tired of the peace and quiet anyway.

Putting it bluntly, with you in the lab most of the time and nowhere to go, even if I want to do something as simple as shopping, it’s boring,” Lyle E. grumbled.

“Sorry.” Eunice L. gave a sheepish shrug and then smiled. “First let me tell you what I’ve deduced and then we can plan out what to do next.” There was a brief delay and then she continued in a tentative manner, “Kay?”

“Good. You remembered the ‘Kay’, but I’d never use a word like ‘deduced.’ Girls want to let their men look smart, not look smart themselves. Now talk to me. What are you suggesting?” Lyle E. slouched down into a chair, legs askew, and stared intently at Eunice L.

Eunice L. blushed as Lyle E. stared at her. She smoothed her skirt and quickly sat. “I think its time to return to New York. We’ve each learned a lot, although not everything about each other. We can pass reasonably well for each other where no one knows us. I can do my own basic makeup and wear your clothes reasonably well, although I still appreciate your help with clothes and stuff. After all, I did remember to smooth my skirt, for example.

Eunice L. grinned, showing a dimple as she made her last point. “And the way that you’re sitting there staring at my breasts instead of my face speaks volumes for your progress.”

“And your proposal is?” Lyle E. interrupted.

“My proposal is that we return to the city. I can’t get the job done with the equipment I have to work with here and you’re bored to tears. If I can use your fa–” Eunice L. stammered a bit and blushed a little. “If I can use Daddy’s lab, things will go much faster. And you can help. No one will question either of us being there if Daddy assigns you as his new research assistant. You don’t even have to go to classes since I’m supposed to be ABD. In fact, you can spend the evenings dancing, partying, or what ever else you’d like to do. Kay?” she smiled.

“Fine,” Lyle E. agreed. “But I have one additional suggestion. We both have one more major learning experience that needs to occur for both of us, and I think we better be both students and teachers for each other. I don’t know about you, but I was sexually active. Even if you do nothing else I did, you’re going to need to know how to behave sexually.

“I suggest that I also live in my...I mean your condo.”

Lyle E. stopped with a bewildered look for a moment. “No. I don’t care how confusing this gets. I’m going to say it right.

“We’ll move my clothes out of...my apartment and into your condo. It may even give you an argument for avoiding sex if you can claim you have a live in boyfriend...although this me would probably be a bit below your normal standards.” Lyle E. paused to think briefly. “I guess you could say that as Daddy’s research assistant I was just too tempting a target. Actually, that might also explain some of the changes people might notice in me if I was suddenly dating a party-person like you.”

Eunice L. sat quietly for such a long time that Lyle E. began fidgeting as he wondered what she would say. Finally, she spoke. “Everything you’ve suggested makes very good sense. Being together, we can help each other to adjust for as long as it is needed. Certainly, it is becoming clear to me that this is a long-term problem. I’m not going to be finding a solution anytime real soon, especially as long as we stay here in nowhere land. And, as you’ve noted, we will need to have something to explain the changes people are guaranteed to observe in our behavior.”

Her voice cracked a bit and the mother of all blushes began as Eunice L. continued. “But I’m not comfortable with the idea of sex as a woman. To put it painfully bluntly, I barely understand sex as a man, let alone as a woman.”

Eunice L. sat with her eyes down staring at her hands in her lap while Lyle E. gaped in shock. Trying to choose his words carefully Lyle began, “This is clearly an uncomfortable subject for you, one we haven’t discussed before. I’ll apologize in advance if I’m embarrassing you, but I think I had better know.

Kay?” Lyle E. looked annoyed at himself for his verbal slip and continued. “Are you–excuse me–am I a virgin?”

Eunice L. glumly nodded without looking up.

“Oh great!” Lyle E. groaned and rolled his eyes.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 19, 7:15 A.M., FROM THE DIARY OF EUNICE (LYLE E.) BRANCA, A GREAT CAMP NEAR TUPPER LAKE, NEW YORK

We packed most of the rest of Sunday, stopping briefly to order out for pizza. The pizza delivery boy was staring at Eunice L. It was funny but I didn’t know whether to be proud that my ex body could get that response from others or annoyed that he was staring at “my woman.”

The trip back to the city was just as boring as the trip up. We stopped in Albany for lunch. There’s this stretch of road there with a bunch of strip plazas just off the interstate with all sorts of shopping and restaurants. We ended up at this very nice Chinese restaurant with a lunch buffet. The food was very good and I still find it amazing how much more I seem to want to eat. I really enjoyed “pigging out.” I have to admit that I felt sorry for Eunice L. and her bowl of Wonton soup without noodles and small plate of Szechwan style Vegetarian Delight.

After the meal, I made Eunice L. stop at the mall, Colony or something it was called, for some more pantyhose. While we were there, I saw a Victoria’s Secret and brought her in to get some new bras and panties. She’s actually a bit larger than I used to be. I was a 34 C and she’s a 36 C. Eunice L. says it’s probably because she started out with a larger rib cage and the bones don’t seem to have changed as much, or maybe just not as rapidly, as everything else.

Anyway, it was fun watching her. First, she was embarrassed to be buying lingerie. Then, she was amazed at the variety of colors, shapes and styles. She almost went into a daze, unable to decide what to do or how to do it, so I suggested she buy lingerie that would be what she would like to see on a woman.

For a moment I thought she would walk out of the store on me, but after turning the deepest scarlet I’ve ever seen–and staying that way until several minutes after we left the store–she did it.

I don’t think she got to the point of enjoying it, but she did buy several in different styles and colors with limited prompting from me. The funny thing is that at least two of the items she bought were even sexier than I normally buy. One was a lacy, see though bra and panty set in red that had a crotchless panty and a push up bra that almost exposed her nipples. The other was a wispy, black, knee length nightgown and panty set, also see through, with spaghetti straps and an equally filmy, floor length peignoir.

Once again, I had a difficult time maintaining a comfortable position due to changes about the crotch as I watched her modeling the outfits, even though she was only laying them on top of her street clothes. Damn, “sometimes it’s hard to be a man” too.

Anyway, between an accident, or something else that backed up traffic enough to make a six hour drive into an eight and a half hour drive, and a long evening of unpacking and shopping, we were both so tired we just dropped off to sleep against each other on the couch. Neither of us even took much needed showers, but it was kind of fun waking up together with the sun streaming in the living room picture window and a warm body snuggled up against me.

Today we’ll be working in Daddy’s lab and tonight I expect things to be very interesting.

 

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 5:10 P.M., FROM THE DIARY OF LYLE T. ABBOT, EAST 55TH STREET, APARTMENT 1617, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

I’m glad we came back to the University lab. It seems that in less than ten days we’ve done more than I could possibly have accomplished in a year up in the boondocks. Oh yeah, “we” is Dr. Harriman, Dr. Sternlicht of course, Jack Brown and Yu Kim Lee who just started their doctoral programs and have been signed on as lab assistants, Eunice and me (or is it I, I never remember). Anyway, we now know the following:

1. BC 1109 will accept the first collection of DNA it receives and will attack all other cells that do not have that DNA. The DNA enhanced virus injects itself and the alternative DNA into the nucleus of each cell, destroys the existing DNA and replaces it with the DNA it brought with it.

2. BC 1109 begins to get weaker as the body’s defenses eventually begin to attack its viral component. We were lucky, another two or three weeks and we might not have been able to recover any of the BC 1109. The real pain was removing the DNA from the virus to create an additional supply of the unadulterated virus.

3. The virus attacks all living tissue. For the most part, it is quite rapid as it attacks soft tissue, but bone tissue takes much longer. We are currently projecting almost one full year before there is significant bone modification. Hair and nails are not affected until new growth occurs.

4. A newer viral form will overcome and replace an older, weakened form. This means that Eunice and I can revert to our original genders. It also means the virus never really dies, just goes dormant until new DNA is presented.

5. The initially intended goal of organ replacement without rejection is not feasible until we can learn how to maintain living tissue outside of the host body. The organ must survive outside the donor’s body until the transformation can be made and the virus can weaken and expire. At this time, we do not have the technology to keep an organ like a liver or heart alive that long. Plus, the organ would have to remain living in spite of the insult produced by the disease process caused by the insertion of the virus. In other words, this whole thing has been a waste of research. It should have been clear from the beginning that it could never have been used as a medical treatment.

But enough of the boring details. If all goes well we will have final confirmation of all of the above in another couple of days. All the hard work is actually over and now all that’s left is to wait. Most of us are actually jubilant, as we have very reason to believe we can expect the final results to be totally supportive. In fact, we will all be taking a break to celebrate this evening at Wing Fong’s in Chinatown.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 6:15 P.M., EAST 55TH STREET, APARTMENT 1617, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

“Eunice, if you’re gonna wear the bod, ya gotta do it right.” Lyle E. stood by the master bedroom door in what use to be her condominium.

Eunice L. turned from the sliding glass door overlooking the East River and the Roosevelt Island tram in surprise, “Huh? I’m wearing one of your skirt and blouse sets, my hair is combed and I have make up on. I’m even wearing high heels. What’s wrong?”

“Well, let me count the ways. That skirt and blouse set is for day wear, not an evening party. Your hair is combed, but it’s a simple ponytail, not the fancier “’do” appropriate for an evening out. You’re wearing one inch black work shoes, not heels. They would be at least an inch or two higher, of a fancier design and would match your dress. Your makeup is good enough to pass for daytime, but it needs to be brighter and more powerful when a girl goes out to celebrate something during the evening. Should I go on?”

“In other words, even after three weeks as a female, I didn’t get one thing right.” Eunice L. sighed; hand on hip, pouting prettily. “Show me what you want me to wear, Kay?”

Without another word, Lyle E. promptly walked to one of the two wall to wall closets and began sorting through the many items within. Pulling out something in shades of blue, he moved to the triple dresser and began pulling out various articles of lingerie. Placing the last of the articles on the bed, Lyle E. turned towards the door calling over his shoulder to Eunice L. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to help with your makeup.”

With a long deep sigh, Eunice L. walked to the bed and began redressing. Looking at the items on the bed it was clear that Lyle E. expected her to redress completely. Wondering why, she continued anyway.

The panties were easy. The bra was a different kind then what she had used before. This one had no shoulder straps. It seemed a bit tighter around the chest than the usual bra and was made with something that felt like metal underneath the smooth white fabric. It seemed to push her breasts closer together, while also leaving a significant portion of skin showing. Eunice L. decided that if she were male–again–she’d like it.

The pantyhose seemed thinner, and less substantial–“sheer” Lyle E. had called them–than what she had worn the few times Lyle E. had advised her wear them in the past. As a result, she was extra-careful pulling them on. True she was much more experienced now, but still mindful of the ragged tatters that she had made of her first pair. This time, however, she managed the feat without a single run. Eunice L. examined the finished product and again thought how much she would like them on a girl if she were a guy.

Then, there was a half slip and finally the dress. The dress was sleeveless, with only one shoulder strap, form fitting above the waist and then flowing out from the waist down to about three inches above the knee. Finished, she called to Lyle E. to help zip up the dress.

“Excellent. Can I buy great clothes for your body or what? Now your hair, then the makeup.” Lyle E. sat Eunice L. down in front of her vanity. Standing behind her, he began doing something with Eunice L.’s hair. It took about fifteen minutes and even watching, Eunice was pretty sure she could never have done whatever it was he had done. The end product was hair swept up from the back into some kind of complicated thing with curls all over the place. Eunice L. decided it looked good. No, maybe “elegant” was the better word.

Once she was done examining Lyle E.’s handiwork, he turned her away from the mirror so he could more easily apply her makeup. This only took about five minutes and when Eunice L. was permitted to turn back to the mirror to examine herself, she was fairly sure she could have done the same thing. Her mascara was darker and more pronounced, and the lipstick was a deep, full red. Even the blusher was more powerful than what she was used to and her cheekbones seemed much more pronounced and delicate than they had before Lyle had started. However, she wasn’t nearly so certain that she would have wanted to. The cosmetics were applied far more heavily than anything she’d ever worn before, and Eunice felt a bit silly looking at herself. Eunice gazed into the mirror, eyes slowly growing wider and wider. Then she turned to Lyle. “You’re sure this is what you want me to look like while I’m wearing your body?”

Lyle E. waggled a forefinger, smiling mischievously. “You forgot to say ‘Kay’” he admonished his roommate. Then he relented a little and explained. “This is makeup for eveningwear. It is supposed to be more colorful and exaggerated. Remember, you’re on the prowl tonight,” his smile grew wide once more, “for the first time since all of this started, I might add.”

Eunice L. thought about it for a minute and then walked over to the full-length mirror on one of the closet doors. She didn’t think the makeup looked bad, she decided while cocking her head back and forth so as to examine herself from different angles. It merely looked…different.

What she was really worried about was the expression on Lyle E.’s face. It was a smirk all right, no question about it. That worried Eunice more than just a little; of late, she had taken to reading cross-gender stories on the Internet during the dead time between experiments. Most of the time, of course, the stories had gotten everything very, very wrong. But that smirk… Why did all the ex-men in these tales always end up being smirked at by the ex-women?

Suddenly, with a definite lurch in her stomach, Eunice was very much afraid that she was about to find out.

“You know I’m not ‘on the make’,” Eunice L. said abruptly. “Even if I didn’t have a whole laundry list of other reasons not to be; the birth control pills can’t be working yet. It’s only been a week.”

Lyle E. just continued to smirk as he slowly came up behind her. He placed his arms around her waist and slowly began to rub his body against hers. “That’s what condoms are for. Remember, pretty Eunice, that you have a tradition to uphold and I was a very horny lady.” One hand had slowly traveled up towards Eunice’s breasts, while the other had sunk lower on the new woman’s body, almost as if in compensation. Very languidly, the hands began making slow circles.

Eunice L. turned around, eyes wide with a brand-new kind of fear and backed toward the closet door. “We’ve had this conversation before, Lyle! Back off! Kay?

“First of all, I’m a lot more likely to ruin your reputation than add to it. This just isn’t my thing!

“Second, even though I’m quite certain that that your body is producing enough hormones to make as horny as an alley-cat, I’m just not turned on by men. I was one for rather a long time, you know.”

Eunice smiled, trying to ease the sudden tension a little. “Finally, you don’t really have time to redo me again even if we did try that little experiment you keep going on about. I’m no expert, but I’ve heard that sex tends to be pretty hard on the rouge and such.”

Lyle pressed his lips together, then licked them and looked away. “All right, Eunice” he replied with a sigh. “I do understand, you know. I shouldn’t be surprised, but apparently form–and yours is currently a most delicious one–is more important than much else to sexual arousal for a male.”

The former man looked up into Lyle’s eyes and smiled again. “Thanks. You’re a true gentleman after all. Now, show me what coat you want me to wear over this getup and let’s get out of here before all the cabs are taken. Kay?”

SEPTEMBER 29, 7:15 P.M., CHINATOWN, NEW YORK

“We’re going to be late.” Eunice grumbled as their taxicab crawled towards Chinatown and Wing Fong’s.

“Don’t worry. You, at least, are supposed to be respectably late. It’s expected of you.”

”But you’re supposed to be early. It should average out so that we’re on time.”

“Not in any family I’ve ever seen.” Lyle E. laughed. “Don’t worry we’re almost there. Only another two blocks.”

“But this taxi is barely moving. Why don’t we walk? Kay?”

Lyle E. groaned but agreed. A moment later when the cab had again stopped, he took out his wallet and paid the driver while Eunice L. got out.

When they were nearly there, Lyle E. suddenly stopped short and dragged Eunice L. back into the shadows of a storefront.

“What’s the matter?” Eunice L. grumbled as she rubbed her wrist where she had been pulled.

“There’s something happening by Wing Fong’s. See the police cars?” Lyle E. pointed.

Suddenly Lyle E. gasped. “That’s Daddy! They’re arresting him.”

He began walking quickly towards the group when suddenly he was grabbed and pulled into a storefront. Eunice L. kissed him passionately while whispering insistently in his ear. “Don’t turn around. Kay? The man arresting your father is the man who interrogated me back at that place in the Adirondacks where they kept me until you guys came and got me out. And Dr. Sternlicht is standing next to him without any handcuffs. Something’s very wrong.”

“Yes. I’m getting turned on,” Lyle E. noted with a mirthless laugh as he peeked around Eunice L.’s head. “I’m afraid you’re right. Let’s get out of here. Walk slowly and lean into me like we’re lovers. Maybe they won’t see us.”

They were almost to the corner when they heard a shout. “It’s them! Stop them!”

“Run!” Lyle E. shouted, pushing Eunice E. forward as he turned back toward the people behind them.

Eunice L. stumbled. She caught herself and looked back just in time to see Lyle E. grabbed by two men. One of them was Yu Kim Lee, the lab assistant.

“Run, Eunice!” Lyle E. yelled again, only to be punched in the gut.

“Run!” he cried out again, clearly in pain.

For just a second Eunice stood frozen, and then she turned and tried to get away. For a few steps she shuffle-hopped along in the silly high-heels that Lyle had persuaded her to wear. Then, she kicked them off and began to make time for real, her delicate “evening-style” nylons getting ripped to shreds in the process. Suddenly there was an opening to her right. Instinctively Eunice turned and charged blindly into the darkness. An alley, she realized from the smell of urine and rotting trash in the air. Part of Eunice’s hindbrain was just beginning to understand that she’d made a terrible mistake when suddenly a shape moved in the darkness…

…and Eunice fetched up against the biggest, most heavily muscled man she had ever met. He was black, and wore many gold chains, but surprisingly not very tall–about her height. Next to him stood a black woman; he had a syringe in his hand, and the needle hovered just above the woman’s smooth, chocolate colored arm.

“Excuse me,” Eunice whispered through a near-closed throat. These were bad people and she must have just cut one. She wondered if they would let her live long enough to escape from the folks already chasing her. “Please, please excuse me.” Slowly she backed away, her feet naked against the filthy, cold pavement. “I am so very sorry…”

Then another man’s voice screamed out from behind her. “Stop! You’re under arrest!”

Her eyes met first those of the black man, then the woman. Somehow, the syringe had disappeared in all the confusion, as had the constriction band around the woman’s arm. There was a hunger in her expression that scared Eunice L.

“I’m sorry,” Eunice whispered again. She was on the edge of tears.
Very slightly, the man nodded. “S’all right, Miss,” he answered. “You know you’re bleeding?”

Then the cops were all over her, and in seconds Eunice was bawling her eyes out in the back seat of a police car, the siren’s tireless wails drowning out her own very feminine replies.

“Dammit!” the driver complained suddenly. “I’ve got blood on my shirt. Do you think it might be hers?”

“Let’s hope that it’s from the junkie,” replied his partner. Then he thought it through. “Shit! They’ll probably consider me contaminated too!”

Eunice blinked away her tears, the scientist in her boiling back up to the surface for a moment. Sure enough, she noted, she was bleeding from a pinprick on the right forearm. Carefully she took a tissue out of her purse to staunch the flow. It must have come from the needle, she realized suddenly. She must have poked herself when she ran into the couple in the alley. Hmm, she asked herself. What exactly did all of this mean?

 

SENIOR AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Much of the material presented in the next several chapters is culled from the case notes of the Center’s for Disease Control agents assigned to these cases. The CDC case notes have been elaborated upon by personal interview where possible.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 7:15 P.M., CHINA-TOWN, NEW YORK

“Please baby. Pleeease. I need it. You know I’ll do anything for you baby, anything. Just gimme the shot baby. Please.” She rubbed her chocolate colored arms over his hairless, chain bedecked, white chest, her long black curly hair rubbing his cheek as she whispered in his ear.

“You know what I wanna hear baby. Tell me you love me baby. Tell me you’ll fuck for me baby.”

“You know I love you Baby! You know I’ll be your whore! Just give it to me now. I’ll do you good right now, right here baby. Just give it to me baby. Pleeease...” Her left hand lowered to the man’s crotch and she began to rub and squeeze gently.

“That’s better baby,” he sighed. I got it for you. Right here. Right now. You do me later. And you better do me good,” he growled as he turned away and took out a needle. Suddenly a well dressed young woman in bare feet came running around the corner and slammed into him. He staggered back two steps while she bounced back onto the cement and garbage floor of the alley.

Two policemen rounded the corner. They grabbed the woman on the ground and dragged her off without even looking at the couple or the needle still in plain sight in the man’s hand.

“What the hell was that?” the man with the needle asked.

“I don’t know baby, but don’t pay it no mind. Just give it to me. I need it baby.”

“Yeah. Okay. Just relax, see. I still got it for you right here.” He showed her the needle. Seeing a small piece of blue fabric on the tip of the needle, he flicked it off and waved it in front of her. She grabbed it, nearly dropping it in her haste. Quickly finding a vein, she injected the heroin and sighed in anticipation.

“Now get back to work. You got a whole lotta fuckin’ to do to pay me back, honey doll! A whole lotta fuckin’!”

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 1:30 P.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“Sheila! Get outta that bed, sister!

“Uuuurrh. Go ‘way, I feel like shit.” Sheila rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Suddenly the paisley quilt was yanked off her and hands grabbed her and pulled her nude body out of bed.

“Debbie. Pleeease...I really don’t feel good. Lemme sleep, girl.”

“You know better Sheila. Lessin’ you got your nut for John, you betta get you black ass outta that bed girl.”

Sheila opened her eyes a crack. It was just enough to see Debbie in her “uniform” as they called it; bright pink hot pants, and a tie dyed blue halter-top with hot pink ankle socks folded down, three inch pink heels, and her brown hair drawn up in a top knot ponytail.

Suddenly Debbie let go, unceremoniously dropping Sheila back onto the bed. “What’s wrong with you skin? Oh my god, maybe you really are sick. Carla! Ginette! Get your asses in here. I think Sheila is sick.”

“I told you I was sick, girl. Now will you let me be?” Sheila slowly realized that Debbie had said there was something wrong with her skin, her beautiful, smooth, mocha-colored skin. Just as the others walked into the room and gasped, she fully opened her eyes and looked at herself. There were small splotches of lighter coloring all over her body.

Sheila groaned and slumped back onto the bed. She grasped weakly for the covers but missed. A shiver started in her shoulders, spreading and growing into full-fledged tremors as the others quickly covered her up.

Debbie ran for more blankets while Carla felt Sheila’s head. “Madre de dios!” Her friend was burning up with fever.

She gasped and ran to the bathroom. Returning with a damp washcloth, she started wiping Sheila’s forehead. Ginette stood back for a moment, wiping several wisps of wavy red hair off her forehead as she thought hard. Then she made a decision. She ran out of the room yelling back, “I’m calling John. He can’t make her work today. She may need to go to a hospital, for God’s sake.”

“No hospitals,” Sheila groaned. Then she rolled to the side of the bed and puked on Debbie and Carla.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30, 4:00 P.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

John pushed past Debbie and stormed into Sheila’s room.

“What you mean you’re sick, bitch? You got work to do. Get your lazy black ass...” He slapped her, drawing blood from her lip. Then the pimp turned to Debbie who had come up behind him.

“Shit bitch! What the fuck happened to her skin? It’s all crazy-like!"

“We don’t know. It just started changing color in patches like that. Maybe she’s got that that shit like they say Michael Jackson’s got, where you skin changes color?”

John rolled his eyes. “You’re fuckin’ stupid, ho! They ain’t no such disease! Don’t you know they pay people to make that shit up to sell papers?” John snarled as he continued staring at Sheila’s quivering sweat drenched body.

“Maybe we should get her to a hospital. Huh, John?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t think bitch!” he snarled again and backhanded her on the cheek, drawing blood. “She don’t need no hospital, but you’re sure as shit gonna to if you don’t get your hot little ass out on the street and make your nut.

“You tell the others too. You all need to get your tricks and Sheila’s too, or I beat the shit outta the four of you.”

John glared at the silent women, then turned and left.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 1, 4:50 P.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

Giggling and laughing Debbie, Carla and Ginette came back into their apartment.
“Girl that last sucker was so quick I barely got my mouth on him and he was jetting.”

“Yea, I had that guy who likes to smell my clothes again.”

“I’m gonna check on Sheila,” Debbie said becoming serious. “Will one of you put on some water for tea?” she asked before wandering into Sheila’s bedroom. Between the pre dawn light and the glow of the streetlights, she could see Sheila shivering with the covers more than half off. Debbie gently replaced the covers and quietly backed out of the room.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 3, 8:00 A.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

Pots and pans were flying. Plates and glasses were breaking as they hit the floor.

Debbie and Carla came running into the kitchen. Debbie had a broom and Carla held a pair of scissors. There was a strange white woman, in nothing but her panties and bra, tearing up their kitchen.

“Who the hell are you, bitch? Whatcha doing here?” Debbie and Carla screamed in unison as they brandished their weapons.

“Where’s our stash? I need a jolt. Please Debbie. Carla. I need a fix. I’m hurtin’ bad. I been so sick, it’s been three whole days since could get outta my bed and get some.” Sheila stopped rooting through the kitchen and throwing things as she leaned against a chair shivering.

“Sheila? Is that you, girl? What happened to your skin? And your nose, it’s different too. You look almost white.”

“Screw my skin! Get me a fuckin’ fix,” Sheila screamed and then slowly sank to the floor shivering and crying. She held her stomach and rocked slowly back and forth.

Ginette arrived at the kitchen a second later, still rubbing her eyes. “What’s all the racket?” she asked sleepily. “Are we having a party or something?”

Carla turned back to Ginette. “It looks like our ‘puta pequeá±o infermo’ is feeling better and looking for the stash.”

Debbie cautiously entered the kitchen, followed by the others. Making a wide circle around the woman who might be her friend Sheila, she reached a hand behind the refrigerator she produced a small bag of white powder.

“Hell, girls! We’re all up. Let’s do some while we can.” The chorus of cheers was unanimous.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 4, 12:15 A.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

The apartment door slammed open as John came storming in. “If you bitches are in here partying instead of out on the streets,” he roared, “there’s gonna be some dead whore meat lying around this shit hole!”

“I’m in here.” A muffled voice called out from one of the rooms.

“In where, bitch? Get out here now!” he screamed. Fuming, John stood in the center of the living room fists clenching and unclenching.

“Where are the others and why the hell ain’t you out makin’ money?”

Sheila came out of a bedroom wearing a long white bathrobe and a thermometer in her hand. “They’re all sick, John. They got whatever I had. They’re burnin’ up and shiverin’ and throwin’ up.”

“Who the hell are you, bitch?”

“It’s me, Sheila. I changed while I was sick,” she told him as she pirouetted, the hem of the bathrobe flaring out as she showed him her new look.

“You’re Sheila?”

“Ya, John. It’s me,” she smiled happily, waiting for him to compliment her on how good she looked.

“So it’s your fault they can’t work tonight, bitch?” He slapped her hard. “They can’t work, and there’s no way your going to make your nut and theirs. What the fuck did you do to them? Huh, bitch?” He slapped her again even harder and she fell to the floor crying. “And what the hell happened to your skin?” He kicked her on her butt for good measure. Sheila slowly struggled onto an elbow using the other hand to wipe the blood off her face. Her lip was split, swollen, and bleeding profusely. She could barely speak.

“I don’t know, John. It just happened.” She wiped more blood from her face.

John was clearly trying to control his anger. His face was ruddy and his fists continued to clench and unclench. Suddenly there was a spasmodic quiver, his fists unclenched and he smiled. The red slowly began to drain out of his face.

“Well, bitch, I guess we’re all taking a day off.” He stretched out his hand to her ignoring it when she flinched. “Get up, bitch. Go clean you face and make youself look pretty. It’s time you reminded me why I keep you.”

Without taking his hand, she slowly got up and limped off to the bathroom.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1:55 A.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

John was shirtless, lying on Sheila’s bed, propped up on one elbow. “Get me a scotch straight. Then get in here. You can test out that new body of yours. I want you to show me how good you can make me feel, baby.” He lay back, head on the pillows, hands tucked behind his head waiting. Noticing the beat up, plastic clock radio on the cardboard box Sheila used as a nightstand, he flicked it on and pounded on it twice when it produced nothing but static. Suddenly clear, an announcer finished his description of the next jazz set and the music started.

Sheila was standing and watching him. “Get the hell out here already, bitch,” he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

“Be right back, John honey.” The door opened and Sheila slunk in wearing a red, see through, baby doll nightgown with slit-at-the-crotch panties. There was still a trickle of blood oozing from her split and swollen lip, but she looked hot regardless, very hot indeed. She sashayed enticingly up to the foot of the bed and posed a bit before placing his drink on the nightstand and crawling up over John, who lay back to enjoy the show. Rubbing her breasts over John’s chest, she bent to kiss him on first one nipple and then the other.

“Oh baby, are you a hunk,” she said between nibbles as she rested herself sideways partially over the naked man, rubbing his thin, hairless stomach.

“You know, I’m gonna need some new clothes and shit. A lotta what I got ain’t gonna go with this new body.”

“Shut up and lick me bitch,” was John’s only response.

She began licking as she slowly moved up towards John’s head. Her one hand moved towards John’s belt to undo it while her other hand began playing in his hair. Sheila began kissing John’s face while she finished with the belt and moved on to the zipper. With that last major obstacle eliminated, she began to rub him through his underwear.

“Feels good, babe. Keep it goin’. Make me feel REAL good,” John ordered.

The hand moved inside the underwear and began stroking something that began to uncoil and grow. Sheila’s kisses moved on to John’s lips and then her tongue began playing with John’s teeth. He grabbed her head and began thrusting his own tongue into her mouth. Saliva, blood and mouthwash mingled. Meanwhile, the thing in Sheila’s hand had grown hard and long. She licked her way down to his stomach and slid his pants and underpants off. Her mouth moved lower and lower.

John moaned, “Do me now, bitch. Do me fuckin’ right now!”

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2:05 A.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“You were wonderful John, honey. Can we do it again?” she asked in a husky whisper as she gently rested her head against his chest.

“Ow!” He jerked his head away.

“What’s the matter honey?” Sheila raised her head to look at him with concern.

“Nothing, bitch. Just a cold sore. Get off me. I got business to do.”

 

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1997, 9:00 A.M., DIARY OF LYLE E. ABBOT (Formerly Eunice Branca), UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

I miss my body.

I miss my body.

I miss my body.

I miss my body.

I miss my body.

They have us in some kind of underground complex and they won’t tell us where it is or let us contact anyone outside the complex. Actually, they won’t even let us go anywhere outside the security section they have us living in without armed guards, guards who don’t seem to know how to show any expression except “surly.” Except for that, they could be poster boys for an advertisement for those Beefeaters in their cute red uniforms that guard that Palace or whatever in London, that is if Beefeaters always wore decontamination suits and carried automatic weapons.

I don’t even see them leering at Lyle, prancing around like an innocent child in my former body. Of course, these one piece, hospital green, pocketless, shapeless, paper jumpsuits they make us prisoners–excuse me, contract help–wear can’t be helping there. I remember I always thought men’s clothing was boring, but compared to this stuff men’s suits are absolutely flamboyant. Even the underwear is paper, which brings up another point.

For the first few days after this happened, I didn’t feel any of my usual urges–oh, alright, I wasn’t getting horny. At the time, I thought it was just the shock of the change, but now I’m not so sure. Now those urges are back and it’s getting harder and harder to control them. This damn penis seems to go rigid at the most inopportune times. Several times, I’ve even woken up in the morning with soggy, shredded paper underpants and a crotch covered with sticky goo. The first time I thought I had peed on myself until I started cleaning it off. Then I realized I had probably had what the boys would call a wet dream.

Before I forget, it’s a real bitch eating with these paper clothes. Spilling liquids on one is NOT fun. I almost seriously burned myself at breakfast once by spilling hot coffee on myself and Eunice L. was even less pleased when I jumped and jostled her arm so that she spilled her orange juice on her chest and watched that portion of her jumpsuit dissolve. Even then, there was no response from those damned guards. It’s like they’re not even human!

The really annoying part is that they have this place set up with everything we could possibly need–and I mean everything. They have all our clothes, all the equipment from Sternlicht’s lab, and even the lab rats are here. If that’s not enough, they have all the furniture from every home we were in since the accident.

I think they thought someone might “catch” whatever we had by sitting on one of our couches, something like the old jokes about getting a sexually transmitted disease by sitting on a toilet. Come on, guys. I mean really!

Actually, I guess it wasn’t that stupid, although I hate to admit it. It turns out that the virus is transmitted by bodily excretions. Contact with the air or some other non living thing kills it so a sneeze or that toilet I mentioned before is not going to transmit it, and fecal matter and urine have acids that kill it, but it’s blood borne and can be transmitted sexually. Semen or saliva transfers it from one body to another. Hmm. I guess that might be why no one’s tried to kiss Eunice or me yet. I also guess we’re going to need a bit more than breathe mints before we can go out dating again.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1997, DIARY OF EUNICE L. BRANCA (Formerly Lyle Abbot), UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

I miss my body.

I miss my body.

I miss my body.

I miss my body.

I miss my body.

I feel like everyone is staring at me all the time; or at least everyone except the guards. I swear they are made out of stone, or at least their faces are. I think I might have caught a glimpse of some embarrassing swelling in the groin of one young man the other day when I accidentally spilled orange juice over my breasts. I hope I’m not getting paranoid. Better talk to Lyle E. about this.

Most of the technicians, scientists and officers act strange, too. The women talk to me and smile and everything, but, when I turn around, I feel like they’re trying to tear me to shreds with their eyes. When it’s just us women–I’m still not really used to that thought–it seems that they do nothing but talk about clothes, children and cooking, in between snide digs at those not present.

The men are even worse–except for the statuary, I mean guards. They tend to keep glancing away from my face to look at my breasts and I don’t understand why so many of them seem to need to find excuses to touch my arm, my butt, my shoulder, etc.

The way they try to help me is nice. I find myself tempted to play the poor helpless woman and let them get my food, my drinks, my laundry–believe it or not one guy really offered–but Lyle E. warned me that I might not get all my lingerie back if I accepted his offer. Once I almost tripped as this guy bumped me as he tried to jump in front of me to open a door.

My real concern is about me. I seem more emotional. Additionally, I’m more aware of other’s emotions and more concerned for their feelings. This is the first really major change I’ve noted in my most essential self.

The feeling-more-emotional part I understand and can explain in terms of the estrogen flooding my body–yes, I checked and it really is–but I though I knew at least a bit about human biology and I can’t figure why I care more about other’s emotions. I mean it’s not a bad thing, nor is it like I didn’t care before; I just don’t understand it.

When I spoke to Dr. Harriman...

Did I mention he’s here too? So are Eunice and Sternlicht (the BASTARD). Guess who is the only one who can leave here? Sorry, I got off topic for a moment. We’ll talk more about him later.

Anyway, when I spoke to Dr. Harriman, we wondered if it wasn’t acclimatization, which means because I was spending more time with women I was becoming more attuned to what they spoke about.

I’m not sure I agreed with that, but I didn’t want to hurt Dr. Harriman’s feelings so I just nodded my head as if to agree, which is, of course, a perfect example of exactly what I’m so worried about in the first place. I know he wouldn’t have minded if I had politely disagreed.

Speaking as a scientist, I would expect that if it was just acclimatization, the behavior would be situation specific. I would demonstrate more concern about the feelings of women as they expected it of me, while remaining more my old self around others. I wonder if we underestimate the impact of hormones on ourselves. Of course, there’s no way that I’m going to give Sternlicht even that much information. His emotions I don’t care about.

I’ve said it before, and now I’m going to say it again. One of the great moments of my life was when I was finally able to kick the BASTARD in the balls and see him double over in pain. He always keeps either a guard or a table between us nowadays, which is a hoot in and of itself. I wonder–was he always afraid of women deep down inside?

At any rate, he’s the one that set us up in Chinatown. He’s the one that got us put in this hi tech jail and biolab. And he’s the one running the show here.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1997, 7:30 P.M., OLD HOME RESTAURANT, LOWER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“If you’ve never been here before, you’ll be astounded by the portions. It’s entirely Certified Angus Beef, prepared wonderfully. There’s even a special blend of coffee that you must try. It makes those gourmet blends seem like colored water. Even the aroma is addictive. That’s why I try to take all my clients here.”

“I have been here. It is well prepared and hearty fare, but we are both aware that the objective of this engagement is to come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.” Dr. Sternlicht turned away from his companion and imperiously flagged down a waiter. “Coffee,” he demanded. “Now.”

“Yes, sir. Anything for you sir?” the waiter turned to a swarthy man with a beaked nose and fast moving, almost darting hands.

“He may order more later. Get me the coffee I ordered. Now! Make it two.”

The swarthy man watched the waiter depart. “Well thanks for the coffee, but I really haven’t eaten. Do you mind?”

“Go right ahead. Feel free to charge a meal to my expense account–two if you wish–if it will assist us in bringing a speedy end to this discussion. I have many other things to do, I assure you.”

“Right,” he grunted in annoyance, as if anyone would even consider cheating his bosses unlike those government hotshots who make the creative bookkeeping on their expense accounts into an art form.

“To business then. My people have seen the specs and are interested. Your price is steep, but acceptable. However, without a sample of the product we can’t continue.”

“Your humor is unappreciated,” Sternlicht snapped back. In a tone that made it clear he was not asking a question, he continued. “I will provide a demonstration if necessary, but a sample would defeat the purposes of our agreement, would it not.”

“Wonderful.” The game had been played; gambit and counter-gambit. Both knew where they stood.

The waiter returned with the coffees. Dr. Sternlicht quickly dismissed him again with a perfunctory, “Thank you,” and the waiter left without another word.

“Are you aware that you have dandruff on your jacket?” Dr. Sternlicht asked. The swarthy man began brushing at his shoulders.

“Not here, you oaf! Use the bathroom rather than brushing your bodily wastes on me and into my beverage,” Sternlicht growled.

As the man got up, Sternlicht continued, “I will have departed before you return. Tell your employers to have someone contact me at the telephone number on this card at the time specified in three weeks to finalize our negotiations.”

“That’s it?”

“Concise and accurate. Yes, ‘that’s it’ as you said. Brush yourself off and enjoy your meal. Oh, and you are quite correct. The coffee is outstanding.”

The swarthy man nodded. “Very well. Look for me next month.” They shook hands.

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” Dr. Sternlicht apologized. “My ring must have a sharp edge.”

SENIOR EDITOR’S NOTE: The following material comes from security videotapes. It is still not known how they were recovered but the images are clearly identifiable and expert opinion is that the tapes are unadulterated.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 7, 10:30 P.M., UNDER-GROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

Lyle E. and Eunice L. were sitting slouched on a couch watching a rerun of Gilligan’s Island. Dr. Harriman was hunched over a computer terminal typing enthusiastically.

“The boredom is cruel and unusual punishment. I don’t believe I’m actually watching this garbage on Saturday of all nights.” Lyle E. grumped. “Oh, and sit right.”

“Why bother? We’re never getting out of here. There’s no need to do anything, let alone be a ‘propa lady,’” lady.” Still, Eunice L. she sat up anyway. Suddenly she began to cry and as Lyle E. put her hands around her, she leaned into him weeping quietly.

Dr. Herbert Harriman stopped typing. “Are you all right, my dear?” he asked with his usual understatement, despite the concern etched on his face.

“Yes. Thank you Dr. Harriman.” Her tears continued, but at a trickle as Lyle E. continued to hold her, one hand gently rubbing her arm.

“We’re trapped,” Eunice L. said after sucking in a ragged breath. “We’re never getting out of here. They’re going to study us and then kill us, aren’t they?”

Lyle said nothing, but stopped rubbing just long enough to turn off the television.

“Please call me Herbert my dear,” Dr. Harriman replied gently, “and I recommend you not assume the worst. Life has a strange way of surprising us. For example, tomorrow we will finally have our own clothing back. That means our presence will not be so obviously discordant in comparison with others.”

“Yeah!” Lyle E. chortled as he jumped into the conversation with a broad smile on his face and a teasing glint in his eye. “Now you get to appreciate the wonder of feminine attire from the inside out.”

“Great, now I get to wear Eunice’s clothes and draw even more stares and pats on the fanny,” Eunice L. sighed after first glaring briefly at Lyle E. “Oh well, back in training again, right Euni...” She looked up at Lyle E., “I mean Lyle.”

Lyle E. surreptitiously waved Dr. Harriman away.

Taking the hint the older man said, “I think I’ll stretch out in my bedroom and read a bit. You kids should probably talk.”

As Dr. Harriman left, Lyle E. leaned over and gently kissed Eunice L. on the head and spoke in a soothing whisper, “It will be all right. We’ll get out of here somehow. Be strong.”

Eunice L. looked up at Lyle E. with a peculiar expression. “You know, I always thought I loved the old Eunice and these last few weeks getting to really know you has been wonderful,” she said tentatively, “but somehow I never thought I’d be saying that to a man.

Without saying a word, Lyle E. gently squeezed Eunice L.’s shoulder. His other hand reached up and stroked her hair as Eunice L.’s head slowly slide back to its comfortable perch on his shoulder.

A few seconds later, Lyle E. shifted position a bit and tilted his head down so that he could kiss her full on the lips. Their arms moved about each other and the kiss became more intimate. There was a low moan of enjoyment.

Suddenly, Eunice L. broke away. “This is not right. You’re a...”

Lyle E. gently brushed a finger across Eunice L.’s lips, interrupting her words. Staring into her eyes, he asked. “Do you love me?”

Eunice looked deep into Lyle E.’s eyes for several seconds before nodding yes.

“Was I hurting you?”

A shake, no.

“Would you like me to continue?”

A look of fear.

“You’re afraid?”

A nod, yes.

“But you’d still like me to continue?”

A nod, yes, but more tentative.

“Was I hurting you?”

She shook her head; still gazing deeply into what had once been her own eyes.

“Would you like for me to continue?”

A brief nod.

“You’re sure? I know you’re afraid and I don’t want to hurt you.”

Again, the slightest of nods.

“But you’d still like for me to go on, regardless.”

In answer, without looking away for even a second, Eunice L. reached out and touched Lyle’s cheek. He had not shaved that morning, and it was rough and scratchy to the touch.

Then Lyle grinned, the expression lighting up his face like a spring sunrise. “That’s my lady,” he whispered, reaching out and pulling Eunice to him.

“That’s my real lady at long, long last.”

“Stop me any time you think you need to.” He bent over and they kissed again.

Lyle E.’s hand moved to gently brush at Eunice L.’s hair, then moved down to touch her breast though the rough fabric of her paper jumpsuit, being as gentle as he could to provide pleasure.

Eunice L. shivered, but did not stop him. With a feather light touch, he began to circle the aureole, first with one finger, then two and finally four. With the addition of each finger, the pressure increased, though only slightly. Cupping the breast, he continued rubbing while occasionally pinching the areola. It quickly became swollen and hard.

“Doesn’t that feel good? I always used to love that.”

“Mmmmm. It feels wonderful. Please don’t stop. It’s like my whole body is finally relaxing for the first time since this started.”

“Let’s move to my bedroom.” Lyle E. suggested. He stood and gently pulled Eunice L. to her feet. Partially supporting her, and still gently stroking and pinching her breast, he guided her to his bedroom. Eunice L. trembled, but Lyle E. was unsure whether it was from anticipation or fear until she pulled him down onto the bed beside him and kissed him deeply.

Lyle E. started unsnapping the closures of the jumpsuit.

“No!” Eunice’s hand gently rested on top of his, stopping him. “I…I love you. I do! I really do. But even though I love you, this is still wrong. I…I want to be doing this to a woman, not be the woman. It’s not you. I love you, the fantastic, caring, understanding spirit I’ve learned to love, but I…I…” Tears crept from her eyes and slowly slid down her cheek and onto the bedspread.

Lyle E. immediately stopped rubbing, but kept his hand by her breast. “If you really love me, you love ME, not my body. Would you love me if I had black hair, if I had an overbite, or even if I had very small breasts?”

Eunice L. hesitated for several seconds. “N...no. I guess not.”

“If any of that did matter we would have no future, would we?”

“No.” Quicker this time. “But it still feels wrong.”

“What feels wrong, having someone love you?” He began gently stroking Eunice L.’s breast again.

“No. Being in the female role. It doesn’t seem ri...mmmm.” Lyle E.’s hand had been busy. He had rubbed through the paper of the jumpsuit and it was now massaging her bare breast.

“How does that feel?”

“Mmmmm. Goooood. Veeeery good.”

“Then it can’t be wrong.” Lyle E. continued kneading. “Tell you what, close your eyes and imagine each of us is whoever you want us to be.”

“That’s weird,” Eunice L. giggled; a pleasant change from the tears. Her eyes were hopeful–wistful.

“Try it. You might like it.” Lyle E.’s hand was still palpating her breast while his lips and tongue had begun moving down towards her belly button.

“Oh, hell.” Eunice L. closed her eyes as he passed her navel. Just before he reached the beginning of her pubic hair, Eunice L. began shrugging off the remains of her jumpsuit, thinking of nothing but what was to come.

 

 

OCTOBER 9, 2:00 P.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“Wake up ladies. Breakfast is served.”

OCTOBER 9, 2:45 P.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“That’s the last of the dishes,” Ginette noted as she tossed the dishtowel onto the counter. “Let’s go check on John.”

Giggling, they all trooped into a bedroom, positioning themselves around the bed. Carla grabbed the covers and quickly yanked them off. “Okay bitch,” she snarled with her Spanish accent. “It’s time to get your gringo ass outta bed and get to work.”

Sheila joined in and smacked the underwear clad bottom lying on the bed. It jerked, but it didn’t move to get up. Then, they all grabbed the body in the bed and unceremoniously dragged it into the bathroom.

Ginette ran ahead and turned the shower on. “Should I make it cold?” she asked.

“No!” the others shouted.

“We want to have a little fun before we kill her,” Debbie explained.

They all squealed as they threw John into the shower. Carla got a razor.

OCTOBER 9, 3:35 P.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“Get dressed bitch.” Clothes were thrown on the bed, female clothes. John cowered on the floor in the corner while the four women he had been pimping stood over him. Sheila held his gun loosely in her hand.

“We said, ‘Get dressed bitch.’” Carla and Ginette repeated in unison.

Sheila waved the gun at him and then toward the bed and the clothes on it. Reluctantly, John inched upright, fear in his eyes as they remained glued to the gun.

“Those are women’s clothes,” he said looking down at the items on the bed.

“You’re a woman now, bitch. Get dressed.”

John stared at the others for a moment, then looked down at the breasts on his chest. He looked like he was in shock. Suddenly, he collapsed onto the bed, crying.

OCTOBER 9, 4:55 P.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

The five of them sat at the kitchen table. Sheila still held the gun loosely pointed at John.

“John needs a new name. How about we call her Joan, or better yet, Joanie?”
Joanie was silent, but the others agreed enthusiastically.

“I also guess she needs to get her white ass out on the street and get to working. It’s our turn to relax and count the money as it rolls in. Whaddya say, girls? Does Joanie need to turn a few tricks or should she be a nice little housewife and keep this place up for us?” Sheila asked with a smirk.

Carla laughed. “Now that she’s a mujer, she needs to be one of the girls. Let’s take her out with us.”

Joanie put her head down on the table and cried again.

OCTOBER 9, 10:45 P.M., CHINATOWN, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

Dressed in a light green tank top, a matching green micro mini skirt with a floral design, taupe pantyhose and knee high, green vinyl high heel boots topped by a too small, thin, green windbreaker that the others would only allow her to zip to an inch or so above her belly button, Joanie stood in the street dejectedly. With the shoulder lengthy curly, blond wig to cover his shorter black hair, bright red inch-long glue on nails, and some not very judiciously applied makeup, there was no question what she was supposed to be doing and it took less than five minutes for a customer to stop.

The late model red sports car had its top up against the evening chill, but the two men in the front bucket seats were clearly looking for something hot. The one on the passenger rolled down his window.

“Watcha doin’, babe?”

Joanie just kept looking at the ground dejectedly.

“She’s lookin’ for some fun,” Sheila answered for her. “How about you guys? Wanna party?” Sheila grabbed Joanie by the hand and stepped up to the car, dragging her reluctant companion along.

“Sure babe. We’d love to party. Whatdaya got in mind? A quickie would be nice. You know anyone interested?”

Sheila again answered for Joanie, who was shivering now, possibly from the cool weather. “Sure. Fifty bucks apiece, one at a time, or a hundred for the two of you together. Whichever comes first and it’s over. She’ll tongue you or she’ll fuck you or she’ll take it in the ass. It makes no difference to her; just no rough stuff and you use a rubber. More if you want more.”

The two men conferred briefly. “Seventy five for everything.”

“Deal! Get in the car, Joanie. Have fun, bitch.”

OCTOBER 12, 1997, 3:30 P.M., 22 GORNA STREET, APARTMENT 3B, UPPER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“Hijas, hijas, aquá­! Ve aquá­!” Carla ran out of John’s–now Joanie’s–room. “Girls, look here. Look what I found.”

She ran back into the bedroom with the others close behind. Apparently, Carla had been snooping since Joanie was less likely to beat her for it than John had been.

“It’s Joanie’s stash! She’s got coke, pills, an address book, a calendar, and money–lots and lots of money.”

Carla held up several sheaves of bills and began dancing around the room dribbling greenbacks on each of the others.

Sheila picked up the address book and started leafing though it. “Hey!” she shouted excitedly. “Little Joanie knows more people than we thought. There’s a bunch of real ‘rich and famous’ stiffs here. I’ve read about them in those newspapers I get from the supermarket, you know the ones you all laugh at me about.”

“You mean the ones about aliens and Elvis?” Ginette interjected.

Yeah. Them papers. I wonder how many of these stiffs we’ve had as Johns?” Tossing the address book on the bed, she started leafing through the appointment book.

“Why Joanie, why didn’t you tell us there’s a party tonight? And at that new club, Chic. Boy what a dumb name, but I hear it’s really hot.”

Joanie just sat on the edge of the bed dejectedly staring at the floor.

“Let’s go to the party and then take a vacation. We haven’t had a vacation in a long while,” Ginette chimed in with a huge smile on her face. “We got enough money here to have a real blast. What say, girls?”

“Good! But so does the party, too.” Debbie never had been very bright and, ever since John had accidentally shot her up twice and double-dosed her with heroin last month, she had a lot of trouble making decisions.

“So let’s do both,” Sheila squealed happily. “We’ll hit the party and then take a vacation. Where should we go?”

“Puerto Rico is lovely this time of year,” Ginette offered.

“I fucking grew up there, bitch! Took me my whole life to get out,” Carla laughed as she spoke.

“Well, like that old commercial, there’s always ‘Disney World,’” laughed Ginette.

“Nah. I want something adult, some place where we could maybe get real jobs and give up all this.” Sheila became pensive. “How about Las Vegas?”

“Oooh, madre dios. I always wanted to see Wayne Newton.”

“Ya know Carla, Sheila’s got a good idea there. With all those casinos, we’ve got to be able to find jobs we like. I heard they even have schools there that teach you how to play cards for a living.”

“I think we have a winner,” Ginette smiled, noting that Carla, who loved playing cards, was wavering. “How about you, Joanie?”

“Of course Joanie’s coming with us. I can’t wait to see her in a waitress uniform,” Sheila laughed and was quickly joined by the others; all but Joanie, who shuddered and continued to stare silently at the floor.

“So what are we wearing to the party?”

OCTOBER 12, 9:45 P.M., CLUB CHáC, MIDTOWN MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“Hey, Ginette. Some of these guys are real hunks. Sheila was almost drooling. “I got my eye on that tall guy over there with the Armani suit. How ‘bout you?”

Ginette smiled. “Oh, Carla and I have been flirting with the twin muscle guys at that table between the bar and the band.”

“What do we do with our little puta, Joanie?” Carla chimed in.

“No problem. See the guy with the guards by him?” Sheila pointed. “He’s a U.S. Congressman and Joanie’s little black book lists him as being really into dominating others. Joanie is so passive now, he’ll have a ‘hard on’ for her within one minute of meeting her.”

“That takes care of tonight’s fun,” Ginette noted licking her lips in anticipation. “What about tomorrow? Will Joanie come with us to Vegas?”

“Well, it would serve her right if we left without her. We have all the money. We have the only keys to the apartment. We even have the airline tickets, so she can’t turn them in for cash. Like we told her in the cab, she’s back at the apartment by 3:30 P.M. tomorrow or she’s on her own. And remember, she knows that she can’t even dress herself.” Sheila gave Joanie a hard glare as she finished speaking, “You doesn’t have a lot of choices, do you, Joanie?”

Joanie looked up panic stricken. “Was I really that bad that you would do this to me? I fed you. I gave you a place to rack out. I even got you one of them quacks at the clinic when you needed it. I bailed you out when you screwed up and got caught. I kept the trash on the street from bothering you. So why you doing this to me?” Tears began so dribble out of her eyes. She blinked hard to make them go away and, when that didn’t work, she dabbed gently at her eyes just as she had been taught.

“You also took every cent we made,” Sheila answered, shaking an angry fist.

“ ¡Sá­ puta! You made us beg for anything we wanted or needed.”

“And it was even odds whether you would beat us or give us the money. Or just beat us even if we didn’t ask.” Ginette too was glaring at Joanie, teeth barred in anger.

“Now that you’re a woman too, how do you like being passed around like some goddam joint? You just gave us to people–for free sometimes. And when did you ever even think about our feelings?” Sheila’s voice began to rise as she was getting a good head of steam going, “Never. That’s when.”

“Shhh! People are staring. You’ll get us kicked out.” Ginette interrupted with a stage whisper.

Sheila glanced away from Joanie, clearly still angry. People were beginning to stare at them. She took a couple of deep breaths, tossed Ginette a brief smile and a nod of thanks. Then, in a lower voice, she continued.

“Right. Now you’re going to find out what it’s really like to be a whore! Come with me, little bitch!” She seized Joanie by the arm and dragged her over to the man about whom she had just been talking. She introduced them both and flirted a bit with the guards while Joanie stood mutely staring at the ground. Five minutes later the Congressman was dancing with an unwilling but totally compliant Joanie and Sheila had moved on to greener pastures.

OCTOBER 12, 10:45 P.M., 1422 KENSINGTON AVENUE, BAYONNE, NEW JERSEY

“Damn it, Marge! Leave me alone. I feel like shit.”

George Scorelli curled up in a ball in his bed and tried to ignore his wife while she continued to fuss over him.

“What did you eat today George? I know it wasn’t the lasagna we had for dinner or I’d be sick too.”

“Marge! Please just go away, willya? Let a man suffer in peace.”

“You were out with that low life Marty all night last night, weren’t you? What were you up to? Maybe you did something that’s made you sick, hmm? What did you two do? Is that why you’re sick?” Marge scolded as she stuck a thermometer in his mouth.

“Muurfdp. Weeve moo Awoome.”

Marge kissed him on the forehead and left the room. Clearly, she loved her husband deeply, but she wasn’t under any illusions about what he did late at night and felt it only fair that he finally suffer from his escapades as much as she did waiting up all night for him to drag himself home.

“I’ll be right back with some soup. Maybe that will help.”

George pulled the thermometer from his mouth and threw it after her. “I said, ‘leave me the hell alone.’ I don’t feel good.” Privately, he wondered fearfully if this was maybe some super fast-acting strain of AIDS from that the whore he’d been with.

OCTOBER 13, 1:15 A.M., 11 HEATHER LANE, QUEENS, NEW YORK

Congressman Goldman, who had been most eager to encourage Joanie to call him “Frank,” dismissed the guards as soon as they all got back to his penthouse apartment. As soon as they were gone, he led Joanie to a darkened room, gesturing for her to go in first. A moment later, he followed behind her, closing the door and engulfing them in total darkness.

Fearfully, Joanie listened as Frank worked his way along the wall, making odd-sounding jinglings and rustlings as his hand slipped along the wall in the darkness. Finally, he found the light switch, and there was a flash of blinding light. Joanie blinked in pain; her head hadn’t quit aching since she’d become a woman, it seemed. Finally, when her eyes adjusted enough to permit her to see again, Joanie gasped and started shivering.

The room had no windows and even though this was the top floor of a high-rise building, the walls, ceiling and floor looked like solid stone. There were chains hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room. Leather straps of various kinds hung from the walls and there were more flung loosely on a badly scarred and worn, but seemingly sturdy old wooden table. Also on the table were several wooden paddles, a couple of knives several daggers and the largest collection of dildoes Joanie had ever seen. This was going to be a very long night, possibly the longest Joanie–or John–had ever experienced or imagined.

She froze in fear. If she had turned around, she would have been even more afraid when she saw the look of pure lust on Frank’s face.

OCTOBER 13, 1:15 P.M., CLUB CHáC, MIDTOWN MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

Sheila waved to Carla and Ginette as they headed out with the two muscle boys. Then she put her arm back on Armani guy’s shoulder and smiled. It was going to be a very good night.

 

OCTOBER 17, 8:35 A.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Nice dress, Eunice. It compliments your eyes.” Eunice L. was wearing a fetching lime-green off the shoulder sweater-dress and matching shoes low heeled shoes.

“Thank you, Paula. Lyle bought it. Do you really like it?” Eunice L. turned and posed to model the dress more effectively.

“Oh, yes. Don’t you think so too, Yu?”

Yu Kim Lee nodded absently and turned back to the project he was working on.

“It must be nice to be able to wear real clothes again instead of those paper suits,” Paula continued.

“Oh, yes. But I must admit it was easier getting dressed when it was always the same. It gave me more time to concentrate on my hair.”

“Yea, I sort of figured that was why you were changing your hair style every day. Have you settled on any specific style? The curly upswept look was interesting.”

“No, not really. For now, I think I’ll leave it like this. It’s easier to take care of it.” Eunice smiled as she twisted a strand of her short, straight hair idly between her long-nailed fingers. Her polish today was lime green, Paula noted. The ex-man seemed to be experimenting a lot with her looks. Which was understandable enough, she supposed.

“Well, it looks lovely that way, dear; quite fetching in fact. If you didn’t have Lyle, you’d have to beat the guys off with a stick.”

Uh…uh, thanks, I think. We, uh, better get back to work. I really want to finish this last experiment. If the virus will accept DNA from non living matter I could get back my original body.” Eunice L. turned back to the electron microscope she was using, grateful that the conversation had ended before growing too awkward.

OCTOBER 17, 2:40 P.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Okay, gentlemen. As you know, Private Brown is unable to be with us today.” Captain Shultz scanned the room briefly stopping at each man’s face to see if there were any worried expressions, unsurprisingly there were none.

“Let’s get this damned meeting over with so we can get back to work,” the Captain waited impatiently as everyone quickly sat.

“Gentleman, I want to know the real reason why Dr. Sternlicht has purchased an aerosol vaccinator unit.” Captain Schultz was pacing about the small room he used for conferences while the rest of the officers in his security unit sat silently.

“Dr. Isaacs. Do you have ANY ideas?”

“No Captain,” Dr. Isaacs sat pensively for several seconds. “Well, maybe a few speculations. It is a more efficient method of viral injection. If we ever plan on using this for widespread military applications this would be the first step, to transform the virus into one that can be transmitted via airborne vectors. This is what Dr. Sternlicht and his team have been trying to do all along, unsuccessfully I might add. I really don’t think there is anything to it at this time.”

“Anyone. Different opinions?”

Silence.

“Fine,” Schultz said, but his scowl belied his words. “Then let’s look at this a bit differently. Consistent with standard procedure, assume the usual, that someone will attempt to subvert this operation. Can this be used against us somehow?”

“I suppose it could be used to inject staff at this facility,” Isaacs answered. “If Dr. Sternlicht were ever able to isolate BC-1109 again, he could use it to transform the staff. There are hundreds of agents, many already present at the lab, that could kill everyone at there, or at least make them sick so that an aggressor could break in. However, I believe we already have rules, such as all security personnel will never be together, that should make that extremely difficult, if not impossible.”

Captain Schultz nodded his affirmation.

“Then the most that could happen is a few people could be attacked. The injector does not work as a long range weapon or as a mass attack weapon.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Challer?”

“It might be possible to overcome small groups during a quiet time. At night, for example.”

“I don’t think so,” Dr. Isaacs responded. “Despite what they show on television, it would take several minutes to several hours before the victim even felt the impact of most commonly available injectable substances. Certainly that should be enough time for an alarm and for help to arrive.”

“Any other comments, gentlemen?” The Captain looked around the room questioningly. “No? Fine, then we will continue as we are doing. Dr. Isaacs? Are there any new research developments to report?”

“Well, it appears that the option of a preventive vaccine is back to square one. The idea of combining one’s own DNA with the viral medium and then injecting one’s self has failed, at least partially. It would protect one against someone who has previously been injected. Thus, we had considered using this to protect on-site staff–those who do not leave the complex–from infection from Abbot or Branca. The problem is that we would then have additional infected personnel to worry about and even the infected staff would still require contamination gear when dealing with the subjects they are newly infecting. No clear gain was apparent, so we have not implemented such a strategy.”

“Dr. Isaacs?”

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“Do we know why a newer batch overcomes an older batch?”

“Well,” again Dr. Isaacs paused pensively, “First off, it is not truly accurate to say that a newer batch overcomes an older batch. After about two months, if experiments on those lab rats that were our first subjects are any indicators, it seems that the virus goes dormant. It could remain dormant for years, possibly for the entire life of the subject, although it is clearly too early to confirm that. While dormant, it will protect the subject from other dormant variants of the virus. That means everyone doesn’t keep reinfecting everyone else and changing bodies every several days. It just doesn’t protect against any newer, or to be more accurate, active, non-dormant strains. Thus, a new form would overwhelm the old body. As a result, we decided that it really did not provide a significant protection.”

“This seems like new information Doctor.” Captain Schultz was pacing again. “Why am I just hearing it now and will a dormant virus infect someone who is virus free?”

“Uh, it’s new information, sir. I just received it this morning.” The researcher was at least honest enough to blush. “I’ll try to make certain you are not surprised again, sir.

“As to your other question, unfortunately, yes. It seems the virus becomes active again once in has a virus-free host to invade.”

“How long would that take?” Yu Kim Lee, who had served as watch guard to Abbot and Branca while they were allowed to consolidate the initial research at NYU rarely said much at these meetings, so the others were a bit surprised.

“I mean, I’ve been around them most of their waking hours for the last month. This seems to change things a bit and I’d like to know what my risks are.”

“A fair question. Doctor?” Captain Schultz chimed in.

“Well, to answer your question as best I can, there doesn’t seem to be any significant change in risk factors. At this time, the virus still requires bodily fluid transfer. Unless you have ingested,” Dr. Isaacs coughed and cleared his throat before continuing, “or otherwise, internally accepted bodily fluids from Abbot or Branca, there is no additional risk.”

Dr. Isaacs again cleared his throat. He seemed more nervous than one would expect of someone used to speaking in public, especially when speaking about his area of expertise. “The dormant virus becomes active within moments of finding itself in a new, uninfected host.” Dr. Isaacs coughed again, then sniffled. “Sorry I seem to be getting a cold. Anyway, the risk does not seem to change dramatically there.

“Also, to conclude my update, we may have found a mononucleoid that will surround the virus in a manner similar to what happens when it goes dormant. So far, the shell only covers the virus for about twenty four hours before the virus consumes it and converts it, so this aspect of our research is not at a useful stage yet.”

“Okay. Once again. Anything new anyone wants to add? “No?” The Captain looked around the room one last time. For the first time, he seemed very weary. “Then thank you all and dismissed.”

OCTOBER 17, 8:50 P.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

Dr. Harriman was again at his computer in the common area of the suite he shared with Lyle E. and Eunice L. The two were cuddled on the couch in that same common area. He had his arm over her shoulder while she had her hand on his lap. Both were gently rubbing each other affectionately. They were comfortably snuggling together with her head resting on his shoulder. The television was on, but the show, “My Three Sons,” was being ignored as they whispered conspiratorially back and forth.

“Paula complimented me on your taste in dresses today,” Eunice L. confided with a giggle.

“I like that dress too, although it clearly looks better on you than it would on me now.” He smiled briefly and his hand reached up to stroke her hair for a moment.

“Have either of you seen Jackson Brown lately?” Dr. Harriman looked up from his computer to interrupt them.

“No, Daddy.” Lyle E. answered.

“No, sir. Why do you ask?” Eunice L. responded without even lifting her head from Lyle E.’s shoulder.

“I don’t know if there is anything to it, but I haven’t seen him in three days and I was wondering if something had happened.”

“Have you asked Dr. Sternlicht, Daddy?”

“No dear. Aside from the fact that I have little interest in doing anything that might assist him, I have...shall we say, religious differences with him.”

“Excuse me?” Eunice L. lifted her head off Lyle E.’s shoulder to look quizzically at Dr. Harriman.

Dr. Harriman just chortled so Eunice L. looked to Lyle E. for an answer. “It’s a colloquialism as Daddy likes to call it. He means Dr. Sternlicht thinks he’s god and Daddy disagrees. It seems that a lot of people in academic circles have extremely big egos.”

Eunice L. rolled her eyes and put her head back on Lyle E.’s head.

OCTOBER 17, 11:05 P.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

The survey monitor showed Dr. Sternlicht still working in his lab. The guard shook his head, bored with watching Dr. Sternlicht doing something he had no knowledge of nor interest in and turned back to the movie on the little portable television he kept for such exigencies. The movie Tootsie was just ending and Claude liked Dustin Hoffman, certainly more that the boring view on the security screen. Besides, nothing else was stirring. Even the young man and woman who lived in the complex for some reason weren’t going at it like they had been for the last several nights.

OCTOBER 18, 12:10 A.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

The guard jerked and grabbed for his little television set to hide it when he heard the sound of the elevator door opening, but then he saw who stepped out.
“Oh, hello Dr. Sternlicht,” he said sheepishly setting the set back on the counter. “Long night, huh?”

“Yes; and how are you doing Claude?” Sternlicht smiled and offered a friendly wave. He had been training Claude to trust him for weeks now.

“Fine.” His voice quavered just a bit. “Thank you for asking, sir. How about you?”

“I am quite well, thank you Claude, although as you noted, it has been a long night. What are you watching? Anything good?”

The guard glanced guiltily down at the portable television set.

“Worry not Claude, you know I have no interest in making your life uncomfortable. I will not say anything. I was just curious.”

“Thank you sir,” he responded with relief and turned the set back on. “It’s Willard. You know–the movie with Michael Jackson. It just started a few minutes ago.”

“Ah, yes. I vaguely remember it. Does he not befriend a rodent or something?”

“Yes, that’s it, sir,” Claude beamed and almost relaxed enough to rock back on his chair before catching himself and returning to a stiff upright position.

“How appropriate. An excellent movie choice. Definitely an excellent choice.” Dr. Sternlicht chuckled while the guard looked at him in confusion.

“That is quite all right, Claude,” Dr. Sternlicht explained as he placed his briefcase on the counter for inspection. “I just have a somewhat peculiar sense of humor. Never mind.

“As you noted, Claude, it is late. Would you please check me out? I must be back here early tomorrow morning and I would appreciate a few hours sleep before then.”

“No problem Dr. Sternlicht. I don’t need to check your briefcase. You’re the boss. If you’re stealing anything we’re all in big trouble.”

“Not alone Claude,” he replied with an aloof smile. “But I do like to think that I have some small impact on what we do here.

“Well, good night Claude. I hope you enjoy the movie.” Dr. Sternlicht pulled his still closed briefcase off the counter and departed.

OCTOBER 18, 2:20 A.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

Lyle E. shifted in his sleep and snorted quietly. Eunice L. felt him move. Also asleep, she too rolled over, swinging her arm possessively over his chest. Though she never really woke up, her fingers began to move, drawing little circles in Lyle E.’s short, but rapidly-growing, chest hair. Lyle E.’s free hand moved to caress the hand on his chest. Both smiled innocently in their sleep. The air conditioner, purifying the air in the specially designed biohazard rooms that comprised their “apartment,” continued to hum almost inaudibly.

OCTOBER 18, 8:15 A.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Dr. Sternlicht just called to say that he has overslept and will be in late today.” Sergeant Challer stood at attention while reporting to Captain Schultz.

“That man is so rigid and controlling he would never allow himself to do something as mundane as oversleep. Get a security detail out there as soon as possible. I want to know what’s really happening.”

“Yes, sir.” Sergeant Challer saluted, turned and headed out of the small office.

OCTOBER 18, 8:17 A.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Children, wake up! There seems to be a problem.” Dr. Harriman stood in the doorway to the bedroom where Lyle E. and Eunice L. were sleeping. His bathrobe was only partially closed, his hair was disheveled and his glasses hung precariously from the tip of his nose. There was a worried look on his face. Behind him, red lights were flashing and, in the background, a buzzer was sounding over and over and over.

“What’s the matter Daddy? It’s early yet, isn’t it?” Lyle E. looked bewilderedly about. His hand protectively moved around Eunice L.’s shoulders to hold her closer to him. Eunice L. awoke with a start.

“Oh my god! The alarm!” Eunice L. looked at Lyle E. with panic in her eyes. “It’s the alarm!”

OCTOBER 18, 8:16 A.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

RRRRRINGGGG. RRRRRINGGGG. RRRRRINGGGG. RRRRRINGGGG.

“Security alert! Seal all exits and biohazard doors! Begin decontamination procedures! MOVE IT!” Schultz shouted as he ran down the hall and rounded the security desk to check out a monitor and find out what was happening.

He made it through the office door less than a second behind Sergeant Challer, legs pumping as quickly as he could make them move. He cursed under his breath with each footfall, “Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!”

OCTOBER 13, 7:25 A.M., MONTIFIORE HOSPITAL, 1190 RIVERVIEW DRIVE, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

The car slewed into the entrance to the Emergency Room of Queens General Hospital. Even before it squealed to a stop, a special agent was out and running towards the entrance.

“Get a wheelchair out here now! The Congressman needs help.”

As hospital staff came running, the other agent ran to the passenger side door, yanked it open and, by himself, lifted a quivering, whimpering body out of the back seat. Carrying the body to the wheelchair being brought to meet them, he gently seated his charge before grabbing the chair away from the orderly and quickly pushing it inside. Before they made it inside the thing in the wheelchair had already expelled multicolored vomited onto the sidewalk.

The other agent ran ahead and had the elevator ready when the wheelchair arrived. Without stopping, the first agent wheeled the Congressman in and turned around to face the closing doors. Standing in a relaxed posture, legs slightly apart, hands clasped behind their backs, the agents listened to the Muzak.

Back at the car, a hospital aid out for a smoke break watched a sloppily clad female form slowly exit the car. The woman walked a bit unsteadily off toward the subway entrance.

OCTOBER 13, 7:35 A.M., APT. 112, 1196 JEROME AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

“George! George, you’re burning up. I’m calling Dr. Weems.” Marge made one last pass across her husband’s head with the damp washcloth in her hand and started to reach over him for the telephone.

George grabbed at her hand but missed. His limbs no longer seemed to move right. Clumsily he tried a second time, this time catching her wrist. With his waning strength, he pulled the hand to his chest.

“No, Marge,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “No doctor. I’ll be alright.”

“Oh, George! You’re such a scaredy-cat. I don’t know why it is that you hate doctors so.” She bent over and kissed him gently on his profusely sweating forehead. Standing up again, Marge bit her lip worriedly and said, “I’ll wait a couple of hours but if you still don’t feel better, I’m calling Dr. Weems no matter what you say.”

OCTOBER 13, 7:40 A.M., INTERSECTION OF 56TH STREET AND PARK AVENUE

The city was slowing waking. Bums were just crawling out from the cardboard boxes they called home. Garbage trucks were rumbling down the road to the nearest coffee shops so the drivers could stoke up for work. The night shift cops, finished with another night’s “cooping” were kicking the straggling bums to get them moving as they sauntered slowly back to their precincts, coffee cups in hand. To the catcalls of both cops and bums, Joanie trudged on.

Finally reaching her destination, she grabbed the stair rail leading down to the subway station with all her might as she awkwardly staggered down the stairs in her high heels. About halfway down, her left foot slipped on some urine soaked newspaper, but she managed to use her strong grip on the rail to keep her upright.

Making it down to the first level, she looked for a manned token booth and saw none. Next, she scanned the train platform for a cop and again saw none.

Frustrated, she took the time to examine the turnstiles. For years now, the MTA had been gradually exchanging the old turnstiles with three separate rotating bars and clear space above with door sized metal monsters with interwoven bars. Apparently, the MTA had still not gotten around making the changeover at this station as there were several old-style turnstiles. With this little bit of good luck to buoy her hopes, she quickly crawled over the turnstile and moved away from the entrance to wait for the next train.

OCTOBER 13, 7:45 A.M. 56TH STREET IRT STATION, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

Still uncomfortable with her new body shape, Joanie fearfully examined her surroundings. The station platform seemed empty, and she couldn’t see anyone on the other platform across the dual set of tracks. Relaxing a bit, she stood leaning tiredly against a tiled pillar.

There was the smell of Sterno ® and the stench of old wine and puke just a second before she was grabbed from behind. Dirty gray mittens surrounded by raggedy clothing grabbed her and spin her around. Before she could react, a face with a scratchy beard was kissing her on the lips hard enough to draw blood. Another hand reached out for her breast and squeezed painfully.

“How ‘bout a little fun, lady?”

Joanie took screamed as loudly as she could while kicking the man in the crotch.

I find it hard to imaging inhaling deeply as I kick. I don’t think the physiology is right.

Spinning away as the man sagged in pain, she ran for the other end of the platform praying that he wouldn’t follow. A rumbling sound began to grow in the distance. A train! Maybe she would be alright after all.

She turned around to check on her assailant. The bum was getting up! He was still doubled over in pain, but there was a malignant gleam in his cloudy eye and even as Joanie’s mouth dropped open in fear, he began to stagger towards her, mumbling filthy, vindictive curses.

The rumbling was growing louder. That meant a train should be coming into the station any second. She could just see some flickering lights through the steel and concrete support beams as it rounded a corner in the distance. Would it be soon enough?

The bum heard it too. The sound seemed much louder than normal.

Now he was fully upright again and moving much faster, hands outstretched like claws to tear her to shreds. If he caught her now, it would be worse, much worse. Joanie’s mouth closed and she silently cursed herself for having fought back. God, but she missed her muscles!

Moving to the edge of the platform, Joanie looked wildly about for a weapon. Unsurprisingly, there was little on the platform but some heavy stone benches and some garbage cans with refuse overflow onto the floor.

The train came into the station. Oh, no! It was going the wrong way, south instead of north, and it was stopping at the other platform. Now she was in real trouble; the bum was less than thirty feet away and closing.

Over the rumble he smiled in anticipation, “You’re mine, you filthy bitch. I’m going to make you very sorry for what you just did.”

Suddenly, he stopped and his expression changed from anger to frustration.

A train flashed past her on this platform. It was slowing to a stop and there were a couple of early commuters in several of the cars. The bum took a few more steps towards her, but then apparently thought better of it and turned away rather than be seen attacking her by the commuters.

Grateful and shaking in fear, Joanie slid quickly through the sliding door before it was even fully open. Dropping into the first seat, she warily craned her neck back to watch the bum through the subway car’s window until the doors closed and the train slowly began to move out of the station. Grimly clenching the chrome bar by her hand, she sat shivering in fear, tears dribbling down her cheeks, as she waited for her stop.

OCTOBER 13, 8:40 A.M., MONTIFIORE HOSPITAL, 1190 RIVERVIEW DRIVE, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“I haven’t the foggiest idea of what we’re dealing with here. It’s probably viral, but I’ve never heard of anything so pervasive. It’s spreading to every section of his body at an incredible speed. Quite bluntly, I’m out of my league here and would welcome any help I can get.” The green garbed intern looked at the twelve other people sitting around the hospital’s conference table.

Dr. William Zigno, Chief of Medicine, sat at the head of the table, one hand on his ever-expanding paunch as if to rub away the heartburn while the other tapped nervously on the tabletop.

He stopped tapping just long enough to rub his hand over his balding head, smoothing the few strands left at the sides, as he looked to each of the others surrounding him for suggestions.

“So...to summarize, we have a virulent, fast-acting virus of unknown source and unknown nature. We do have the Congressman in strict isolation, right?” he stopped to glare at the intern as if the virus were his fault.

“Yes, sir.” Beads of sweat were beginning to form on his forehead even though the room was comfortably air-conditioned.

“Have his relatives been notified?”

“Yes, sir. They’ll be here within the hour.” The beads grew larger and began to slowly course down his face. He wiped his face on his sleeve.

“Did pathology have anything to offer?”

“No sir,” the intern responded. His voice sounded loud, too loud, in the quiet room. “They suggested contacting CDC.”

“Great.” Dr. Zigno again circled the table with his eyes. When no one else chimed in, he continued with a huge sigh. “Do it! And then notify Public Relations. This is going to be a nightmare.”

OCTOBER 13, 10:05 A.M., APT. 112, 1196 JEROME AVENUE, BROOKLYN, NEW YORK

“Damn it, George! Shove over and share the covers. Now I’m sick too!” Marge slid under the covers. George’s body jerked as her cold feet touched his feverish thigh, but he didn’t awaken or answer. Five minutes later Marge was softly snoring along with him.

OCTOBER 13, 11:10 A.M., 12ST STREET AND WEST STREET, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

Joanie trudged down the block towards the apartment where she used to keep her whores. Her eveningwear made her look out of place amongst the late morning shopping crowd. Her feelings of frustration and futility were echoed in every step she took. Her life had gone from heaven to hell in less than one week. Going back to the apartment would just subject her to more torture from the women she had pimped out in the past, but she had no money, no clothes and no friends that would recognize her. Even if he had gone to one of his fellow pimps, they would never recognize him. They would just laugh and add her to their own stables. Going back was her only choice, a shitty choice, but the only one she seemed to have.

She’d just have to go back and stay cool for now, eating his whore’s shit whenever they got it into their cunty little minds to feed him another bite. Joanie clenched her fists in rage; the phony nails digging deep into her palms. Boy! Wouldn’t she like to beat the fuckin’ hell out of his whores! But her hands were small and weak and pathetic now. She was just another bitch, and that was that. What a fucked up world this was, where this could happen to a big, important man like John had been!

She turned and headed up the steps to the apartment building without even noticing the wolf whistles and jeers from the three scarf-clad teens sitting on the car by the curb across from the entrance.

OCTOBER 13, 5:40 P.M. LAGUARDIA AIRPORT, QUEENS, NEW YORK

“The flight was great,” Captain Schultz spoke into his cell phone. Update me on Sternlicht. Then connect me with Isaacs. Let’s see what he can offer.”

“Dr. Sternlicht has been working quite late each night. His current project is still a method for multi person infection with an expected completion date of two weeks from now. We have two groups of two maintaining twenty-four hour surveillance on him. The only change in his routine so far has been an increased tendency to eat out at a different restaurant each night, possibly tied to his late hours. Dr. Isaacs reports that he is convinced that Dr. Sternlicht is doing something else. He can talk for himself, but his reports to date have indicated that he has no clue as to what Dr. Sternlicht might be doing.”

“Fine. Get him for me, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Sergeant Challer saluted and left.

OCTOBER 13, 6:00 P.M. LAGUARDIA AIRPORT, QUEENS, NEW YORK

“Flight twenty-two thirty-one, non-stop to Las Vegas, is now boarding. Those with first class tickets may commence boarding now.”

“Ooh, that’s us! Come on girls,” Sheila bubbled with excitement as she encouraged the others onward. The others bounced up and down with equal enthusiasm, except for Joanie. She remained slouched down in her plastic chair, head bowed forward dejectedly.

“Joanie! Get up, mujer! It’s time to go. And don’t forget the bags.” Carla called back as she headed towards the gate entrance.

Joanie picked up the two small bags being brought on board. One was make-up for all four women; the other contained all John’s money.

“Shit! This nightmare ain’t never going to end,” she mumbled almost inaudibly to herself as she picked up the bags and plodded along behind the others. She didn’t even notice the headline on the newspaper Ginette had tossed on the seat as she prepared to board.

“Congressman Goldman Gravely Ill: CDC Called in Due to Unknown Virus.”

OCTOBER 13, 7:00 P.M. FOURTH AVENUE AND 147TH STREET, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

The bum puked again and then continued staggering towards the steps of the mission, less than a block away.

The vomit made a sick splattering sort of sound as the bum leaned up against the lamppost and emptied his tortured stomach. It steamed in the cold air as he stood upright, the world seeming very distant and unreal. He had a fever as well. It caused a cold, oily sweat to form on his forehead. His balls still ached as well, ached terribly from where that bitch had nailed him this morning. The rescue mission was only a block away, but the tattered man was, for the first time, not at all sure that he was going to make it. He wiped his mouth with what once had been a blue-checked sleeve. For many years now, nothing had been very important to him except his next bottle of wine. Now, however, he suddenly found himself very frightened indeed.

The gang of black kids lounging by the entrance began teasing him and two of them started pushing him back and forth between them until one of the security staff from the mission intervened and chased the gang away. The security guy wasn’t trying real hard and it was likely they would be back within the hour unless they found something better to prey on.

“So, Jock. Back for another couple of ‘hots and a cot’?” Jock, who used to have another name, a real life name that he could no longer remember, just nodded. He felt like shit and wanted desperately to lie down.

“Remember to hit the chapel first. ‘No bow no chow. No kneel no meal’,” the security guard laughed. “Oh, and be careful. It’s a rough crowd tonight and you know we can’t be everywhere.

Jock nodded again and pushed past the still chuckling guard. Resigned to at least a half hour of pretending to pray before bed, he headed toward the chapel.

OCTOBER 13, 8:05 P.M., UNITED FLIGHT 1117 IN ROUTE FROM NYC TO LAS VEGAS

After getting settled in on the airplane, the others had left Joanie alone. They considered her whining and grumbling a downer. One of the stewardesses for First Class got her a pillow and a blanket, hoping she’d go to sleep before her complaints started grating on the other passengers. After that, even they had left her alone. Everyone was relieved when she had actually gone to sleep.

She woke with a start. Whatever shit Sheila had given him had him flying high. Joanie’s first thought was that she had been having an especially vivid nightmare about somehow becoming a woman. She sighed in relief that it was over and stretched, keeping her body covered by the warm comfortable blanket.

Looking around she realized she was on a plane. That was where her dream had left off. And her clothes, they didn’t seem right. They were tighter than usual around her chest, she seemed to be wearing elastic pants (she hated elastic waist pants) and they had ridden up higher than usual on her waist, and her socks seemed to extend up to her thighs...no they felt smooth like stockings (kinky...what the hell was I doing last night, and with whom).

She grudgingly moved her hand out from under the warm comfortable blanket to rub her eyes and poked herself on the bridge of her nose. “Ouch. I need to trim my nails.”

Bringing it out from under the covers, she rested her hand on top of the blanket in her lap and stared at it in bewilderment. It had red nail polish on it. A truly horrible thought occurred to her. “Maybe it wasn’t a dream?”

Quickly one hand reached for her chest while the other moved to her crotch and she sat up in shock.

Breasts.

No cajones.

She really was a woman.

It started as a low moan and grew quickly to an ear-piercing screech of panic. The first stewardess was there before Ginette could turn and ask Joanie what was wrong. The second one was beside the screaming woman moments later.

“Ma’am? What’s wrong? Ma’am? MA’AM!”

The scream continued, now a wavering siren traveling erratically between alto and soprano as Joanie grabbed the arms of her chair, muscles rigid, as she held on to some one piece of the reality that was rapidly dropping away from her.

“Can I be of any help?” a tall, middle-aged woman with short black hair and a beak-like nose sitting two seats back asked. “I’m a doctor.”

The first stewardess looked away from Joanie long enough to accept the offer. The screaming woman was completely out of control. During the brief distraction, Ginette leaned over and hissed into Joanie’s ear, “You stop that right now if you ever wanna be John again. You hear me bitch?”

Joanie just kept screaming.

The doctor quickly stood and grabbed her medical bag from the overhead compartment. As she turned back toward the others, Joanie stopped screaming. Instead, she lunged at Ginette yelling, “YOU! YOU DID THIS TO ME!”

Joanie’s hands made it to Ginette’s neck, but before she could choke the life out of her, strong hands yanked her hands away and held them crossed in her lap.

Ginette moaned and rubbed her sore neck as she tried to move as far from the madwoman beside her as she could. Sheila reached over the back of her seat to try to comfort the panic-stricken girl while Carla cursed in Spanish. The doctor rummaged in her bag and came out with a needle and a vial. Quickly filling the needle, she jammed it into Joanie’s arm and injected her with something. Turning to the others, she explained. “I just gave her a cocktail of ten milligrams of Ativan and five milligrams of Haldol. She should be sleeping in about five minutes.

Bug-eyed, Joanie sucked in air to start screaming again, but Carla reached over the seat and shoved a healthy portion of her pillow into Joanie’s mouth. She held it there so Joanie couldn’t spit it out. Her struggles eased as the drugs took hold.

“It seems like your friend is suffering from a major psychotic break,” the doctor commented. “She should be admitted for hospitalization as soon as the plane lands.”

“Show’s over folks,” the stewardess called out to the rest of the passengers.

“We apologize for this situation and hope you will have a quiet flight from now on.”

Joanie couldn’t fight the drugs. She fainted. As a result, she did not hear, Sheila explaining her behavior away as night terrors so the doctor backed off on her insistence that she be admitted to the nearest psychiatric center.

OCTOBER 13, 11:20 P.M. APT. 937, 1256 PARK AVENUE, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

Words came from a bundle of blankets. “It’s your turn, Hans.”

“I don’t want to get up, Jules,” was the croaked response from the other pile of blankets. “I’m sick.”

A head slid out from the first pile. Hans’s eyes were dull, and his voice was thick and muffled. “So am I. It’s your turn and I want...I want...I...”
Hans was snoring again, but Jules didn’t hear as he was too busy vomiting into the wastebasket on his side of the silk covered, king size bed they shared.

“No more cheap wine for us,” he thought. “The Pink Chablis those bimbos wanted must have been tainted. I only hope they’re as sick as we are.” Flopping weakly back onto the bed, he was asleep within seconds.

 

OCTOBER 22, 1:50 P.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“I can’t stand this waiting. What are we waiting for anyway?”

Lyle E. paced back and forth in the common area of their prison suite while Eunice L. sat on the couch, feet tucked under her watching. Dr. Harriman, as always, was at the computer in the corner. “And what the hell are you doing, tapping away at that computer all the time?” Lyle E. railed.

“Endeavoring to help us escape, my dear,” Dr. Harriman responded with that calm, soothing voice usually reserved for disturbed patients and angry colleagues.

“How? By preparing our eulogies?” Lyle E. snarled and then turned away in disgust. “I’m gonna try to make it out of the complex.”

“Lyle E.! You stop right there!” Eunice L. jumped up and grabbed him by the arm, holding him tight, as if to physically prevent him from going. “There is no way that I am going to permit the person I am in love with to go off and kill himself. Those ‘things’ are still out there.”

As they stood with Eunice L.’s hands locked onto Lyle E.’s arm and her head against his chest, there was a loud scratching sound. They all stood immobile, listening intently for several seconds. Eunice L. burst into tears and Lyle E. gently disengaged his arm from her death grip so that he could hug her to him.

Presently, Dr. Harriman returned to his computer, typing with even greater fervor.

OCTOBER 22, 2:15 P.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

The scratching was louder.

“You understand that they can probably smell us and that they are almost certainly starving,” Dr. Harriman turned away from his computer terminal to speak.

“Great! So now we’re rat chow.” Lyle E. was still fuming, but Eunice L. had at least been able to get him to sit next to her on the couch.

“Dear, I’m telling you for the very last time. Your anger is totally misdirected. Now please be quiet and listen.” There was a hint of anger in Dr. Harriman’s voice. Lyle E. could not remember exactly when he had last heard his beloved Daddy use that tone of voice, but it had involved the expulsion of half the football team.

“Yes, Daddy,” he replied meekly and sat primly on the couch, waiting for the end of the world, or another such disaster, to be announced.

“Thank you. Now to continue.” Dr. Harriman cleared his throat and began speaking in that careful, friendly tone he used to keep his students attentive. “My time on the computer has been well spent. I have finally managed to break the override on the complex’s security system. As a result I also now know what happened, how it happened, who it happened to and, I might add, how to get out of here at long, long last.” He cleared his throat again.

“As we feared, those creatures that have been scratching at our door used to be human beings. Three guards, all male and two technicians, one male and one female, were changed due to contagion by a modified version of the original viral medium.”

Eunice L. raised her hand as if in class, then realized what she had done. Blushing, she dropped her hand back onto her lap where Lyle E. took it and gently. Glancing over for support, she saw Lyle E. nod and offer a tentative smile before she asked, “But what are they?”

“They are what a human becomes when they are given the DNA of a lab rat,” Dr. Harriman sighed sadly. Before Lyle E. slammed the door in one’s face, we saw the white fur just starting to grow. Then there was the nose, already elongated and the pointed ears. From the way they are trying to walk about on all fours and eschewing the use of the simplest of devices, I’d say their brains are already more rat than human. Those nails they’ve been scratching on the door with are part way there, but eventually they will grow and harden into claws. By the way, that’s the only reason why the poor benighted things haven’t been able to break in yet, human teeth and nails, even partially modified ones, are not very good for digging and borrowing.

“Anyway, the skeletal frame is, of course, still human which explains why they walk so peculiarly. They think they should be walking as quadrupeds but there bodies are built for bipedal ambulation. Remember that their brains, like those of all members of genus rodentus, are smaller compared to total body size and have less convolutions. This means they probably no longer demonstrate abstract cognition. Most of their actions are probably instinctual. With that in mind, we can probably devise an effective plan of escape.”

Eunice L. listened raptly, but impatient as usual.

Lyle E. interrupted. “Great, but enough talk already. Can we hear the escape plan please, Daddy?”

“Certainly. I’ve disabled all the security. Now, we are going to walk through that door and out of the complex,” Dr. Harriman explained.

“That’s it? That’s the plan?” Lyle E. was thunderstruck. “You’re joking, right Daddy? You have something up your sleeve that you haven’t told us yet, right?”

“No, dear. That really is the plan.”

“But there is something your not telling us, isn’t there Dr. Harrison?” Eunice L. had a gleam in her eye, as if she were groping for a thought but was unable to grasp it completely. “There’s something about rodent behavior that makes this more than the harebrained scheme it seems to be, but I can’t quite place what it is that’s niggling at my memory.”

“You are, of course, correct, my dear,” he smiled proudly and encouraged her to continue. “Rodent behavior is the key. Can you remember what that key is?” Dr. Harriman’s demeanor became even more professorial.

“No. No. I...Of course. They’re not really carnivores, and...” More ideas came almost like a torrent. “They have very poor vision in daylight, they prefer flight to fight and they forage independently rather than in groups.”

“Excellent, my dear. Excellent. You have it all.”

“You mean we’ve been afraid of nothing?” Furious, Lyle interrupted. “We could have left at any time?”

“No dear. I only just managed to deactivate the security. Without that we couldn’t have left this room.”

“But we can leave now. Right?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Wait a minute,” Eunice L. interrupted. “This virus was supposed to be transmittable only via bodily fluids. How were these people infected and how do we know it is safe for us now?”

“Dr. Sternlicht was using a standard mononucleoid sheathing to protect the virus and prepare it for airborne transmission. The particular mononucleoid he was working with is commonly used for bio-warfare projects because in only has a 24 hour life span. Thus, the air was free of the virus about two days ago.”

“That assumes the air is not being continuously contaminated by new dispersions,” Eunice L. observed thoughtfully.

“Very true, but I doubt that for two reasons.” Dr. Harriman was once again the teacher. “First, as far as the official records show, Dr. Sternlicht was at least a week or two from production, so anything he did had to be hurried and surreptitious. Thus, it would be unlikely for there to be sufficient quantity for a prolonged attack. Second, it seems that no one is trying to get down here to help us, so our choice is to risk it or die here.”

“Great.” Lyle E. once again interrupted. “So the bottom line is we go or we die. Easy choice. Let’s get back to the issue at hand. We can just walk right by these rat-men?”

“Yes dear, but we must be careful not to corner one. If that happened it might attack in fear.”

“May I suggest we each take something we can use as a weapon?” Eunice L. interjected. “If a fight is necessary I prefer to have every human advantage on our side.”

OCTOBER 22, 2:30 P.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

They stood by the door, each wearing the most durable clothing they could find. Dr. Harriman, carrying a wooden table leg from the kitchen set, looked ludicrous in a long leather coat and furred leather winter hat with earflaps. Lyle E. wore a pale blue ski outfit with pads and a helmet. He also carried a hockey stick. Finally, Eunice L. was dressed in a biker outfit with a leather vest, leather miniskirt and knee-high leather boots with a three-inch heel.

Dr. Harriman clucked at Eunice L.’s attire before turning to Lyle E. “Did you really wear things like that dear?”

“Yes, Daddy. Didn’t you notice?” he giggled. Then his face turned a bright red as he remembered that he was a guy now and not supposed to giggle. “Can we get on with this?”

Lyle E. nodded to the others. “On my count of three.

“Ready?

“One.

“Two.

“Uh, sir?” Eunice L. interrupted. “Before we go, may I ask a question? It’s been gnawing at me since you described the rat-people.”

Lyle E. rolled his eyes. “Don’t you think there might be a better time for questions?”

“That’s all right, dear,” Dr. Harriman smiled. “There’s always time for a question before we make like the Light Brigade and charge off to our deaths.”

“Gee, great allusion there,” Lyle E. snorted, but let Eunice L. continue.

“Well, when you mentioned the rat-people you noted that their brains were changing too.”

“That’s correct, Eunice.”

“Does that mean our brains changed too?”

“Why yes, of course,” Dr. Harriman answered. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I just wondered,” Eunice L. bit her lip while deciding how to continue. Lyle E. smiled, thinking how fetching she looked and placed a protective arm around her waist. “Does that mean I’m going to start thinking like a female?”

“In what context do you mean that, Eunice?” You could see Dr. Harriman relax and smile. He was about to be a professor, something he did better than anything lese in the world.

“Uh…I don’t know. I guess with respect to things like intelligence, sexual orientation, memories, whatever.” Lyle E. was still holding her, but Eunice L. kept shifting from one foot to the other nervously.

“Oh,” was the professor’s only response.

“Oh? What does ‘oh’ mean?”

Unperturbed, Dr. Harriman answered, “It means ‘oh’ I understand and ‘oh’ I’m considering your question. You wouldn’t want me to rush and give you erroneous information would you?”

“Uh, guys?” Lyle E. asked. “Is this really the time for this?”

“Actually, it probably is a good time for this,” Dr. Harriman gently corrected his ex-daughter. “We’ve hedged our bets as best we could, but there’s still a risk that one or more of us won’t make it out of here intact. Eunice L. asks an important question and it deserves an answer, if for no other reason than to insure that whoever does escape can transmit that information to others. On the other hand, considering our situation, I will try to be brief.”

Turning back to Eunice L., he smiled encouragingly. “I think I understand your concern, but the answer is not an easy one, mostly because at the moment, much of it is speculative.

“Given that every other part of your anatomy is changing, it is reasonable to assume that your brain is changing too. That is the short answer. However, I think you’ve already come to that conclusion, so I suspect that your real concern is what that means to you as a person, entity, soul, etc.”

He stopped for a moment to confirm his assumptions and Eunice L. hesitantly nodded his agreement. Lyle E. turned away, feigning disinterest, but the way his eyes intently followed his father’s every word made it clear he really was interested.

“No one’s been able to isolate a specific part of the anatomy that contains a soul, if there is such a location. There is no scientific basis to assume that it changed. Ipso facto, if there is a soul, it’s still yours.

“Still more important to each of you, I suspect, is what this means to your intellect, to your emotions and to your ability to function as a member of the opposite sex.”

“Eunice L. nodded and mumbled, afraid to speak for fear Dr. Harriman would stop, yet just as afraid not to speak for fear she would not like what he told her.

“I haven’t seen your IQ scores Eunice, but if you were successfully enrolled in a doctoral program and Maximilian permitted you to be his research assistant, it is safe to assume that you were, as Lyle, quite smart.

“One forty-three IQ.”

“Impressive,” Dr. Harriman responded. “Genius level. I can see why you’re worried. But not to fear, my little Eunice came from some pretty good genes too. I believe she tested out at one forty-four, didn’t you my dear?”

Lyle E. nodded, but scowled the suggestion that she might be stupid. Eunice blushed in embarrassment, but looked relieved.

“There may be a few differences. Remember, there are differences in how the sexes process information. I’m sure you know what I mean. Men tend to be better, on average, in math and in spatial relations while women are better with communication and with multi-tasking. But I expect those differences to be relatively insignificant, especially for the two of you.

“As to emotions, that too can be attributed to genes. Eunice was always very open about her feelings; maybe too open at times.” Glancing at Lyle E. he added, “Sorry my dear, but it’s true.”

“You, on the other hand,” Dr. Harriman’s attention returned to Eunice L. “You were always a bit of a nebbish, too afraid to feel the warmth and the pain that always results from interaction with other. Weren’t you Lyle?”

Eunice L. nodded, her eyes lowered to the floor in shame.

“Now, now. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, my dear,” Dr. Harriman gently took her chin and pulled her face up so that she was looking at him again. “If anything, that might be good. Eunice’s genes in your body might help you to open up and show your feelings a bit more and, your genes–I mean your old Lyle genes–might help Eunice learn to temper hers just a bit; a potential win-win situation.”

“Can we go now?” Eunice L. asked. We still have to get away from the giant rats that are trying to eat us and make it past all the security this place has.”

“Almost my, dear. There’s just one more part of Eunice’s question to be answered.”

“Er, ah, Daddy?” Lyle E interrupted yet again. “Do we really need to discuss that? I think it should be obvious we’ve adjusted there.”

“Well, I’m not so sure about that, my dear,” Dr. Harriman responded, surprising his ex-daughter. He bushed off the rejoinder he knew was coming and continued. “Yes, yes, I know the two of you have been intimate, but sex is more than just, er, that. Besides, I suspect that was a genuine response resulting from two people in love with the bodies irrelevant to the equation. Beside, the actual question was could you function as members of the opposite…”

“DADDY!”

“Yes, my dear?” He saw the glare in his ex-daughter’s eyes. She had had enough. To continue now would be to proceed at risk of also having to deal with her temper.

“Three.”

“Huh?”

“Three,” Dr. Harriman explained. “Three. As in one, two…”

“But what about the last answer?” Eunice L. asked in confusion.

“You heard him. Three.” Lyle E. yanked the door open and stepped out into the hallway with the others on his heels. Immediately to their right and less than ten feet away was a rat man chewing on the wall. It had shredded its clothes so that it was mostly naked. Its limbs and torso where still that of a human, but it was covered with matted clumps of fur. There was a short little stub of a tail, but the bones and cartilage had yet to grow sufficiently to extend it more than a couple of inches. But the face–the nose was stretched and pointed, as were the ears. The teeth were still human, as were the eyes–sad eyes, pleading eyes, eyes that showed the last of a fast fading spark of humanity.

It jerked and faced in their direction, nose twitching wildly.

“Boo!” Lyle E. yelled and the thing scuttled away looking something like a naked man trying to walk on four legs until it turned its elongated face back towards the group as it departed.

“That was easy,” Lyle E. said gleefully as he grabbed Eunice L., picking her up and dancing around.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” interjected a more somber Dr. Harriman.
Lyle E. and Eunice L. stopped dancing. “Which way?” Lyle E. asked with a sigh.
Dr. Harriman pointed and they moved off in the same direction as the rat man.

OCTOBER 22, 2:45 P.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“We’re almost out. At the end of this hallway is the last security checkpoint. Then it’s just an elevator to the surface.” Dr. Harriman pointed the way.

“Great. Let’s go.” Lyle E. started marching down the hallway only to stop after about five steps. He was not being followed.

“What? Let’s get out of here.”

“I feel impelled to make two observations.” Dr. Harriman was again sounding professorial. “First, we are being followed and, while genus rodentus is primarily herbivorous as Eunice L. noted earlier, given the choice of starvation or animal flesh, survival instinct will take precedence. That means we could be in trouble.”

“Great,” Lyle E. scowled. “I hate to ask, but what is your next point?”

“My second and final observation is that we have not determined what course of action might be advisable should we, in fact, affect an escape.

Lyle E.’s scowl deepened, much to Eunice’s surprise. She had not thought it possible.

“Sir, while our lack of a plan beyond escape is a noteworthy failing on our part, I think I should note that our soon to be completely furry friends are approaching rapidly and this may not be the best time for prolonged discussion. In other words, run for it!”

Lyle E. tugged on both his companion’s arms to get them moving. The rat men, and one rat woman, were twenty feet away and closing. Lyle E. pushed harder, forcing them toward the elevator. Bringing up the rear, he was just entering the foyer where the elevators were located when Eunice L. began cursing like a sailor.

“The elevator’s not here. We have to wait for it to get down to us.”

“I guess this is it, folks. Those rats are starving. They’re closing fast and this was our only way out.” Lyle E. sounded almost resigned. ”I suggest you get your weapons ready.” Gripping his hockey stick tightly, he turned to face the oncoming creatures.

Eunice L. turned to Dr. Harriman. “Isn’t there something, anything, else we can do?” she asked worriedly.

“I’m afraid not, my dear. I didn’t have time to undo the security on the stairs. This really is it.”

“Well, could we get to the cafeteria and use the stuff there to feed the rats?”

“I’m sorry, my dear. I know you don’t want to be responsible for the deaths of these people and neither do I. Unfortunately, the rats are between us and the cafeteria.” Putting actions to his words, Dr. Harriman took a position slightly behind and to the left of Lyle E., gently tapping his table leg against his left hand.

“Come on. Get here. Come on. Come on,” Eunice L. chanted as she kept staring at the elevator floor indicator muttering encouragements as it counted down to their level with excruciating slowness.

As the rat men came within a few paces, they slowed to a stop. The lead rat sniffed the air and squinted at the humans.

“Why did they stop?” Lyle E. wondered aloud as he continued to wave his hockey stick in a threatening manner.

“Instinct is warring with survival,” Dr. Harriman explained. “Their instinct is to run, but hunger is making them stay. If nothing happens, we may yet survive ourselves.”

“Eunice, how close?” Lyle E. glanced back.

“It’s hard to tell, maybe fifteen levels or 40 seconds to go.”

“Lyle, watch out!” Dr. Harriman yelled. The lead rat man attacked while Lyle E.’s head was still turned. The ex-female swung his club as hard as he could, but his lack of skill made itself known as he missed by a mile. The wooden stave hissed harmlessly through the air, even as Eunice L’s far weaker, but better-aimed jab struck home on the rat man’s ribs. Surprised, the creature squealed and fell back, but was immediately replaced by another. This one snarled and swung a roundhouse, open-clawed paw at Lyle E., who successfully, if artlessly, blocked with his hockey stick and then poked it, hard, in the solar plexus. It doubled over and fell back.

Swinging her eyes towards the stubborn indicator, Eunice L. called out, “Two more levels! Any second now!”

“Move back! Closer to the elevator,” Lyle E. shouted. “As soon as it’s here we need to be in and overriding the door mechanism so the door closes as quickly as possible.”

The rat men closed for one last charge as the humans retreated, moving to within a couple of feet of the elevator door.

“It’s here! It’s here! Everyone get in,” Eunice L. screamed as she ran into the elevator. Dr. Harriman back-peddled into the elevator.

Lyle E. remained standing, braced to repel the onslaught of the rat men. Dr. Harriman reached out of elevator to grab the younger man’s collar and pulled Lyle E. backward into the elevator as the door began to close. As he fell backwards, a clawed hand flew by, just inches from Lyle E’s face. The female rat person had snuck around beside Lyle E. to attack.

The door closed and Eunice L. stopped frantically pushing buttons.

Eunice L. began a brief victory dance while the other two just sighed with relief and slumped against the nearest convenient wall as the elevator started its upward journey to the muted sounds of music.

The trio rode silently, each lost in his or her own thoughts. Finally, they were at the top. The door opened to the sound of multiple clicks. A squad of men in DeCon suits threw the bolts of their rifles and pointed them at the opening elevator door.

 

SENIOR AUTHOR’S NOTE: In order to present selected sequences of events more clearly, chronologies in this chapter overlap with those in the preceding chapter. The serious historian may wish to review this material in true chronological order.

OCTOBER 13, 10:45 A.M., MONTIFIORE HOSPITAL, 1190 RIVERVIEW DRIVE, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“You’re telling me that my son has a viral infection of unknown type, that he has a body temperature of a hundred and six degrees, that his body weight is dropping a pound an hour, and that his penis and testicles are retracting AND that you haven’t the foggiest idea why it’s happening or what to do about it?” Jack Goldman, multimillionaire, industrialist and father of Congressman Frank Goldman was ready to “chew the ignorant young pup of an intern in front of him another asshole,” as he was fond of saying.

“Our family physician will be here within the next half hour. My son is to be released into his care and we will provide for transportation to Cresthaven Hospital where he will receive proper care and treatment.” Jack Goldman, having stated reality as it was to be, prepared to leave.

“Sir,” The intern’s voice quavered. “I’m afraid that’s not possible sir.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” Mr. Goldman turned back, his expression ominous.

“I’m very sorry, but your son is under infectious disease control precautions in a sealed environment with a specialized positive air-flow and waste air scrubbing unit. A representative of the Center for Disease Control will be here shortly to arrange for transfer to an even more secure environment at Walter Reed Hospital outside of Washington, D.C. And sir, before you decide to pursue this any farther, please realize that the reason he is being transferred to Walter Reed is that they have the equipment and expertise to do what I’ve already admitted we can’t do–that no one can do except at Walter Reed. When he gets here, your own physician will admit he can’t do either. I mean treat your son’s illness.”

It was a nice speech. The intern had practiced it has he ran from his latest emergency meeting to deal with the old fool. Yet he still worriedly watched the older man’s face as it screwed up in to an expression of total rage, while his color changed from its original ruddy color into deep red and then beyond, to purple. Just as he looked about collapse from an aneurysm, the older Goldman gulped, took a deep breath and physically deflated.

“Fine, as long as my son gets everything–and I mean everything–he needs.” He walked over to a nearby chair and slumped down into it looking very old and weak.

OCTOBER 13, 12:20 P.M., MONTIFIORE HOSPITAL, 1190 RIVERVIEW DRIVE, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

They were all back in the hospital conference room when the Army MedEvac helicopter interrupted the conversation as it left, carrying the Congressman, his father, and their family physician.

The intern smiled as he imagined the elder Goldman demanding that the pilot “get this contraption to D.C. now!” Not that he blamed the old codger, really. Whatever bug it was that had bitten his son, it was a nasty one. Suddenly the intern’s smile faded as he recalled the sight of the Congressman’s testicles sinking into the skin of his scrotal area. My God, he thought to himself with a shudder, I certainly hope that the isolation regimen was adequate.

“Uh-Humm. People,” the CDC representative, a tall but skeletally thin, middle-aged woman with the unlikely name of Jane Doe, slapped her hand on the table several times seeking attention, “I’d like to get back to business please.” The various side conversations and mumblings gradually died down as the helicopter’s whirr faded into the distance.

“Thank you,” she continued with a smile on her face, but sad, tired eyes–much like those of everyone else around the table. “Now that the Congressman is off to Walter Reed, I’m sure you’ll see that his room is thoroughly disinfected.” She glanced at the Chief of Medicine.

“We’ve reviewed the disease manifestations and it is unlike anything CDC has seen to date. There are at least six other known cases. We are working as fast as we can to identify and trace back any possible disease vectors. It is our hope to have all current potential vectors under quarantine within the next twenty four hours.

“Again, thank you for permitting this hospital to be used as a base of operations and collection point for disease carriers. If my information is correct, the first two patients will be arriving within the hour.”

The Chief of Medicine nodded, but several others looked worried and a low murmur began again. Annoyed by the less than positive response she spoke over the murmurings.

“And yes, we will be moving them to an alternative quarantine site as soon as they’ve completed their initial intake and diagnosis here. Transportation is being arranged as we speak.

“To continue, although we are not entirely confident regarding the disease’s mode of transmission yet, we have begun making hypotheses,” the CDC representative spoke louder to be clearly heard. “First, it seems to be transferred via bodily fluids. At least, at this time there is no evidence of airborne transmittal, however, just to be certain, we’re asking you to instruct your staff to continue to take all infection control precautions, not just those for blood borne pathogens.”

The Chief of Medicine nodded again, this time in agreement.

“Are there any questions?

“No?

“Good.” She began packing her briefcase. “Oh, and remember, all media contacts will be through a CDC representative and only a CDC representative.”

OCTOBER 14, 7:55 P.M., MONTIFIORE HOSPITAL, 1190 RIVERVIEW DRIVE, MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

The hospital conference room was again in use. This time it was filled with several very tired CDC infection control specialists. A blackboard had been wheeled in and bits of information were scribbled all over it.

“Okay everyone. Let’s go over what we have. As usual, we need to answer several questions. What is the source of the infection? What is the method of transmission? How do we treat it and contain it?”

Jane sat back and considered her colleagues; three of the five she new well. Dr. Roger LeSault, Epidemiologist, was tall, at least six foot three and thin like her, probably less than a hundred and fifty pounds, with crew-cut fiery red hair and the proverbial horn-rim glasses. It was amazing how he never seemed to get a headache like Jane had after so long without sleep. His repetitive tapping at the side of his glasses while he concentrated was not helping her head. She debated asking him to stop yet again, but knew it was useless. The habit was so ingrained he never realized he was doing it.

Dr. Elva Johnson, an Internist and specialist in Infectious Diseases, was about as opposite as one could be from Jane, being black (actually a rather entrancing light chocolate), short at only four foot eleven and a bit on the plump side at about a hundred and thirty pounds. She had straightened black hair pulled back into a tight, unflattering bun, but it actually served to accentuate her best feature. Elva had remarkably smooth and blemish free skin. She was here because her diagnostic skills were outstanding, probably the best in the agency.

Paul Perkins, CSW, was average–medium height, medium weight, medium brown hair and brown eyes–but he was a trained social worker with an uncanny ability to draw people out and get information from them they did not know they had. He was at the blackboard, scratching way with a short stub of chalk as he filled in information new information he had obtained from his last set of interviews. Each piece added a bit more background to what had happened to each of the people they were currently treating for whatever this disease was.

The intern–Dr. Doe thought his name was Jack Rodale–reminded her of a surfer. He had long, flowing dirty blonde hair and tanned skin. He also had shown remarkable skill identifying and treating the early groups of quarantined patients. Finally, as primary physician for all but one of the victims of the disease, he was knowledgeable regarding their treatment histories.

The last one, a Captain Schultz, made her uncomfortable. He appeared to be a narrow-minded martinet; more interested in minutiae then mysteries like this contagion. At least twice, he had chimed in with irrelevancies that interrupted the group’s chain of thought. She wasn’t quite sure why the CDC had saddled her with an intra-agency observer, but she was very certain indeed that she didn’t like the intrusion into her work. She hoped he would remain quiet and unobtrusive in the future, although she was not optimistic.

“Let’s start with the source,” Dr. Doe said tiredly. “Can anyone see anything that looks like a pattern? We need to find the source–and fast.” The CDC representative held her face in her hands, elbows on the table to keep her exhausted head facing the blackboard. No one responded.

“Okay,” Jane sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Paul, would you please summarize what we know about where our patients have been and what they have done for the last week. Maybe it will jog someone’s memory.”

“Sure.” Paul pointed at the first name on the blackboard. “I’ll start from the top and work down. First, we have Marge Scarlucci, a housewife from Brooklyn. In the last week, she’s been at home except for two outings. One was for a grocery shopping trip on Wednesday the eleventh to the K-mart ®, three blocks from her house in Paramus. She walked there. She bought assorted groceries and meats, but before getting sick she only used some hot sausage and canned tomato sauce. Neither of these are connectors, as we’ve confirmed that at least ten other people bought the same things and have had no symptoms.

“Her other trip was to her mother’s house in Tenafly. She drove. No stops, nothing unusual eaten and her mother’s fine.

“We can assume she caught this from her husband. Her symptoms seemed to appear several hours behind those of her husband.” Dr. LeSault poked his finger at the next name on the blackboard.

“Yes. That’s the husband, George Scarlucci, construction worker, currently unemployed. He insists that his friend and he were at the union hall all day each day from Monday until Friday when he first showed symptoms. His friend, who has no symptoms, confirms his story, but I have a feeling they’re hiding something. The rest of the time, he was at home and his wife confirms that. As for meals, all three agree that he ate lunches packed at home by Marge.”

“Yeah, apparently his friend–what’s his name?” Captain Schultz interrupted.
“Anyway, his friend remembers that he was angry at George because George didn’t even want to stop for some fast food on, what day was that? Tuesday I think.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Dr. Doe sighed in frustration, but smiled politely as she redirected the conversation back to something useful. “Paul? Anything more on George?”

“Well, the union hall is located in midtown New York.”

“Yes, it was Tuesday. Oh, and his friend’s name was Rick. Rick Garlucci.”

“Thank you again, Captain.” It was getting hard to ignore his inane interruptions. “May we continue? Paul?”

“That’s pretty much it for George. We do have two couples with some congruencies to their week. Phil Greeleaf is an office worker at Jacklee Inc., located on the fourteenth floor of the Chrysler Building. No one else at his workplace has gotten sick. He lives in the Pelham area of the Bronx. He ate out for every meal that week, each time at a different restaurant. None of our other patients has been to any of these restaurants and again no one else we can identify who has been at or works at one of these restaurants with similar symptoms.”

“So where’s the congruency?” Dr. Johnson wondered, tired and impatient.

“He, and our next patient, Phil Chen both picked up a hooker not far from Chinatown.”

“What did the hooker look like?”

“Well, Captain, neither gives a very good description, beyond curly blonde hair and a nice body.”

“Yes, then again the more appropriate question is, ‘Where is the congruence?’” Dr. Johnson had started to ask, but Dr. LaSault interrupted.

“While they don’t remember the hooker very well, they do remember that she was very quiet and that there was another hooker with her who seemed to be making the deal for her and making her work.”

“You think it’s the same person?” Dr. Doe asked, looking up, tired but hopeful.

“Same person? Same day?” Captain Schultz suddenly seemed interested also.
“There’s not enough corroboration to say it’s the same person,” Paul noted cautiously as he stared at the notes on the blackboard as if he could will the information on it into a clear pattern, “but I suspect so, it was the same location, Houston and Canal, on the same day.”

“Anything we can follow up on?” Dr. Doe asked hopefully.

“Not that I can tell, Dr. Doe. Neither man could give more than a partial description, though both think she was wearing green. One guy remembers a green halter top and the other remembers green vinyl boots.”

“We’ll ask the police to do sweeps and pick up any prostitutes in the area. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Jane wiped a loose strand of hair out of her face and continued rapidly when she saw Captain Schultz about to speak. “What about our other congruency?

“We have two roommates; Jules VanWoulk and Hans Voorhes. Unlike the others, these two are apparently bisexual. They both work for the South African consulate and, from their address off Central Park, it’s safe to say they get paid very well for whatever it is they do there. They don’t seem to have anything in common with the others except that they went to a party and picked up two women who they apparently slept with.”

“Captain Schultz, please allow us to do our job,” Jane blurted our before he could interrupt yet again, not that it phased him in the least.

“Are they the same two women?” Schultz asked.

“Insufficient information again,” Paul responded. “These guys are so narcissistic they didn’t care about anything beyond the trappings of beauty. The women looked good on their arms. They also did whatever the guys told them. Thus, they were desirable, but details like names, addresses or appearances were irrelevant to VanWoulk or Voorhes. Hell, they picked up the girls as a contest to see who could do it quickest. And if that’s not clear enough, to give an even better idea what’s important to them, they’re still arguing over who won–that is when they aren’t demanding a mirror so they can see if the changes are up to their high standards of personal appearance. They don’t even care about the sex change.”

“Great.” Jane sighed deeply, frustration clear on his face. “Let’s call it a night. Shall we meet back here eight A.M. tomorrow?”

Seeing Elva’s pained look she quickly recalculated. “Oh, yeah. Tomorrow is Sunday. How about ten-thirty A.M.?” Everyone nodded and started wearily packing up. Even if they didn’t get much sleep, at least Elvira would be able to get to church.

OCTOBER 14, 10:20 P.M., A TELEPHONE BOOTH SOMEWHERE IN NYC, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

A dark shape was speaking quietly into a pay telephone. “Yes Sergeant. We have six plus the Congressman and his father, who should be arriving shortly, assuming Lieutenant Roegler has no problems with the folks at Walter Reed. Arrange papers for these new folks for transfer to Walter Reed, but reroute them to the complex, just like for the Congressman and his father. I’ll be back late on the evening of Monday the sixteenth, after the ‘cargo’ has left here.”

“What about the Congressman, Sir?”

“Have Dr. Isaacs deal with the Congressman’s physician. He’ll know what to do. Also tell Lieutenant Roegler to follow up on the ‘two prostitutes’ angle. Have him use a picture of Eunice for the wanted poster.”

 

OCTOBER 14, 1:30 P.M., CASA DE ORO MOTEL AND CASINO, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“What’s with Joanie?”

“Huh?”

Carla looked up from her cereal as Ginette walked into the suite’s kitchenette area.

“About ten minutes ago she was in the shower shaving her legs. Now she’s sitting by the mirror in our bedroom doing her hair and makeup, and believe it or not, I think she’s whistling.”

Carla started preparing a bowl of cereal for herself. “Is this the last of the milk?”

“Sá­.” Carla nodded and took another spoonful. “Don’t worry. Joanie and Sheila have already eaten.”

Ginette finished off the carton and sat next to Carla. “So what do you think?”

“About Joanie? I don’t know. Maybe she’s adjusting?”

“That’s a hell of an adjustment.”

“Hi, girls.” They both stopped talking as a smiling Joanie walked in and flounced into a nearby armchair, smoothing her white miniskirt, crossing her legs, flicking the hair of her long blonde wig back over her shoulder, and adjusting the collar of her white silk blouse. The other two froze, mouths gaping open while a perfectly made up Joanie smiled back at them.

“Joanie?” Carla swallowed and grabbed a paper napkin to clean up the milk that had dribbled from her open mouth.

“Is that really you? You look beautiful!” Ginette exclaimed as she self consciously patted at her own hair.

“Sure. Who else would I be?” Joanie looked quizzically at the others. Then, with a shrug, her smile seemed to get brighter, if that was possible.

“This is the same Joanie who got on the plane with us, right?”

Joanie nodded.

“The same Joanie who was turning tricks with us just yesterday?”

“Of course, silly. Who else would I be?” Joanie nodded again, but her smile began to fade a bit.

“The same Joanie who was John, our pimp, just a week ago?”

“Oh, stop teasing, girls. You know I’ve always been a girl.” She jumped up, still bubbling, and promenaded over to a nearby mirror to preen while the other two stared at each other in confusion.

Sheila came out of the bedroom she was sharing with Carla wrapping a towel around her head. “Are you ready girls? I want to get to the...” Her voice trailed off as she looked from Joanie to the others and back. “What’s going on?”

“Joanie doesn’t seem to remember John,” Carla explained.

“Of course I remember John.” Joanie spun back towards Carla putting her hands on her hips and pouting prettily. “He was our pimp, but he’s gone and we have his money, and we’re here to have some fun.” Joanie turned to Sheila. “Right, Sheila?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Right.”

Sheila tossed the other two a confused look. When Joanie was looking away, Carla made a gentle spinning motion with her hand held beside her ear. Then she shrugged. “Joanie’s right. Let’s go have some fun!”

OCTOBER 15, 1:10 A.M., CASA DE ORO MOTEL AND CASINO, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“I think I’m jealous.” Sheila, Carla and Ginette were in a coffee shop off the entrance to the Casa de Oro’s casino sipping coffee with six or seven sugars each.

“Sá­. I know what you mean.”

Ginette just nodded agreement.

“Not only does she look better than us, she’s more feminine.”

They all morosely agreed.

“And what’s worse, is she’s probably up in that guy’s room getting laid and we’re sitting down here in this coffee shop alone.”

“Sá­,” Carla groused. “Let’s loose some money.”

“No,” Ginette chimed in. “I want to see the show.”

“I’m up for a show too,” Sheila added, “but I want to start shopping around for a supplier first. After all, our stuff is only going to last so long.” Sheila finished her coffee and turned to Carla. “Is a show okay with you sweetie?”

"Oh, all right.”

They finished their coffee and headed off into the casino. It was going to be a good night, even if it wouldn’t be as good as Joanie’s.

OCTOBER 15, 1:40 P.M., CASA DE ORO MOTEL AND CASINO, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

Joanie lay on the room’s bed, wearing a low cut, lacy red camisole and matching panties. One knee was slightly raised, her arms propped her up from behind and her breasts stood tall and proud with the nipples hard and pointed. Thus positioned, she patiently waited for the man that she had chosen to emerge from the bathroom. A condom had been strategically placed by the corner of the nearby nightstand while she waited. Her face took on an almost predatory look as the bathroom door opened, then she quickly rearranged her features to be smiling innocently as a naked giant of a man stopped to soak in her beauty. Her smile grew larger and one hand moved to allow her to suck daintily at the tip of her finger. She pushed her chest out a bit further and watched his little soldier grow to stand straight and proud.

Four quick steps and he was on the bed kissing and touching her. Joanie just lay back and thoroughly enjoyed herself. The only problem was a nagging thought that this didn’t feel as familiar as it should.

OCTOBER 16, 2:05 A.M., PRECINCT TWO, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“Name?” the blue clad officer asked as he sat in front of a typewriter trying to get name of the lady–he used that word reservedly–wringing her hands and shifting nervously about on the hard wooden seat. “I said, ‘Name?’” he looked up annoyed.

“Sheila Lakewood, but you don’t understand. We were just trying …”

“Date of Birth?”

Sheila looked over at Carla and Ginette who rolled her eyes before giving her own date of birth.

OCTOBER 16, 9:50 A.M., CITY COURTHOUSE, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“Yes, officer. I’d like to make bail for all three. Here’s the fifteen hundred dollars.” A tired but sated Joanie handed over a stack of bills to the clerk of the court.

OCTOBER 16, 10:25 A.M., CITY COURTHOUSE, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“How could you girls be so stupid?” Joanie snarled back over her shoulder as she led the way down the courthouse steps. “If you wanted some coke why didn’t you ask John?” She refused to say another word until they were back at their motel suite.

OCTOBER 16, 11:30 A.M., CASA DE ORO MOTEL AND CASINO, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

Joanie held the door until the last of the girls had entered and then slammed it shut hard enough to rattle the windows. Stalking over to the couch, she dropped onto it, crossed her arms and legs and glared angrily at the others.

“How could you bitches be so stupid?” she swore. “I mean, trying to score coke? What the hell do you three know about besides hooking? Why the hell didn’t you ask John if you needed coke so bad?”

“Joanie, how can we ask John? You’re John.” Sheila spoke her confusion shared by the others.

“I’m getting awfully tired of this joke. You know I’m not John. John’s a guy.” Joanie stood and posed briefly, the effect marred only by the look of anger on her face. “And if you can’t tell the difference I don’t know how you girls made it on the streets.”

“You really don’t remember? Getting sick? Your body changing? None of it?”

“I refuse to continue this discussion. This is not funny and you’re being mean.” Joanie stalked of towards her bedroom. “I’m beat. Don’t wake me.”

The others just stared after her. After the door closed, Carla turned to the others. “What the hell is going on with her? She can’t really. Not know. Can she?”

“Damned if I know. She’s acting crazy, that’s for sure.”

“Sá­. One loco mujer.”

“Ya know. It’s almost like she was a different person,” Ginette observed. “I remember one of those talk shows were they had these people with another person in them. I think...I think...I think it was ‘Oprah.’”

“No one cares what the show was, what about the multiple people?” Sheila interrupted only to be interrupted herself by noises coming from the bedroom Joanie had entered. Suddenly the door opened and Joanie swaggered out wearing black polyester pants and a Cape Cod tee shirt. Her face was washed free of all makeup.

“How are you bitches doing today?” She sat straddling the coffee table so she could see them all. After briefly picking at her nose, she continued.

“Joanie tells me you bitches just got arrested for trying to score some coke. I’m hurt. When has good old Johnny not provided?” The others had that amazed look on their faces yet again.

“Close your mouths and get some sleep. You’ll need your rest so you can work tonight. You’re gonna owe me big for this crap you just pulled. I’ll be back about six P.M., coke in hand.”

OCTOBER 16, 5:00 P.M., CASA DE ORO MOTEL AND CASINO, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

Sheila groggily reached over to shut off the alarm. She smacked her lips to get some of the taste out of her mouth. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she rubbed her stomach briefly then pulled her hair back off her face. Slapping Carla on her butt on the way to the bathroom she called out, “Up and at um, sleepy head.”

“Five more minutes, Mommy.” The pillow covering Carla’s head muffled the words.

The bathroom door closed and Carla slowly, grudgingly slid out of her bed. Not having the bathroom available, she put on a robe and headed out into the common area, calling in to Sheila as she left the bedroom, “I’ll start some coffee and wake Ginette.”

“What about Joanie?” Sheila called from the bathroom.

“Only if she's Joanie. I don’t want to wake her if she’s John again.”

After putting on a pot of coffee, Carla rubbed her eyes and shuffled over to the other bedroom. Without even turning the lights on, she shook Ginette to wake her and then headed off into that bedroom’s bathroom. Ginette shifted position and went back to sleep.

Leaving the bathroom a bit more refreshed, having washed her face, Carla again shook Ginette, this time keeping at it until she was awake and moving. “Shhh. Don’t wake Joanie.”

Ginette nodded and quietly move off to the bathroom while Carla headed back to her room.

This time Carla turned on the lights in the common room. About half way through she stopped, focused on the kitchenette table and gasped. On the table was about three ounces of what looked like pure white cocaine.

OCTOBER 16, 5:55 P.M., CASA DE ORO MOTEL AND CASINO, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“So do we wake her up?” Carla asked as they were sitting around the kitchenette table finishing their coffee. The cocaine had been hidden behind the refrigerator as usual.

“I don’t know. I sure don’t want John back.” The others vigorously agreed.

“So what do we do?”

“What do you do about what?” Joanie stood by the bedroom door rubbing her eyes. “Boy, am I tired, what time is it?”

“About six o’clock.” Ginette responded hesitantly, glancing nervously over at the others.

“How are you?” Sheila tentatively asked.

“Tired. Real tired, like I hardly slept at all. Sure doesn’t seem like almost seven hours of sleep.” Joanie half-heartedly brushed as a loose hair as she came over to the kitchen table and demurely sat next to the others.

“Joanie? Is that you?”

“Of course, silly. Who else would I be?” Joanie tittered.

OCTOBER 17, 8:30 A.M., CASA DE ORO MOTEL AND CASINO, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Ginette grumbled, half asleep as she grabbed the front door knob hoping to stop the persistent knocking. She opened the door to see two Las Vegas police officers, one male and one female.

“May we come in please?” The man stepped in before she could answer and the woman followed.

“Are you Ginette Henson?” He asked looking back and forth at her and a clipboard in his hand. Ginette nodded mutely.

“Are Sheila Lakewood and Carla Morales here also?” When Ginette did not answer, the female officer went to each bedroom waking the others and bringing them into the common room.

The male officer spoke again once they were all lined up in front of him. “Ginette Henson, Carla Morales, and Sheila Lakewood, I have a warrant for your arrest.” He handed the nearest woman a piece of paper. While Ginette looked at it, he continued.

“I am about to read you your rights.” He pulled a card from his pocket. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you do not have an attorney, one will be provided for you by the court. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?”

They nodded. “What are the charges?”

“They will be explained at the station. Please get dressed. You will be allowed into your bedrooms one at a time to get dressed. Patrolwoman Smith will be with you while you dress.

Miss, you go first.” He pointed to Ginette who handed the warrant to the others and went to get dressed.

OCTOBER 17, 11:00 A.M., PRECINCT TWO, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“Thank you, officer. As you’ve confirmed that my papers are in order, I’ll take my three prisoners now.” Lieutenant Roegler smiled.

OCTOBER 17, 3:00 A.M., LOWER MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

The cavernous room–it used to be the central work area of an armory–was filled with creaking beds. Every now and then a shape, covered in the thin, worn material the shelter used for blankets would move. Usually, with each move there was a brief interruption in the melody of snores. In the more brightly lit bathroom area, several men were whispering. “Jock has been here three days and they’ve been keeping him away from the others because he’s supposed to be sick.”

“But I saw him up and eating like a pig. They gave him thirds. He didn’t even have to wait in line or sit through those damned services like the rest of us.”

“Yeah, and to be here three days he’s got to have some valuables on him. They expect us to pay if we stay more than one day. He wouldn’t stash them somewhere else where he couldn’t check on them.”

“Then we’re agreed, first a bit of fun, then we grab his goods, and then we do him.” No one disagreed. They took position in the bathroom and waited. He’d be there shortly. He always was around this time.

Suddenly hands grabbed Jock’s arms and feet. Duct tape was roughly forced over his mouth before he could even think about screaming. His clothes were ripped open.

“Hey, guess what? Old Jock here is a girl.” Everyone paused to look.

“Yeah, and she ain’t that old looking neither.”

“I’m first.” Money or other valuables forgotten, the largest man said as he unzipped his pants. Even in the dim light, you could see a vicious smile on his face as he started to rape the helpless human being before him.

The horror continued and continued; abated only for brief moments as one rapist left and another replaced him.

OCTOBER 17, 6:00 P.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Report!” Captain Schultz was on the speakerphone with Lieutenant Roegler.

“Three prostitutes have been taken into custody. I expect Corporal Lee to arrive at the complex with them around noon tomorrow. Unfortunately, it appears that there might have been a fourth based upon the number of unmade beds.”

“You don’t sound very positive.”

“No sir. The ‘ladies’ are not talking but there were four beds slept in, and someone, apparently a woman, bailed them out on the sixteenth.”

“Good work Lieutenant. Assume a fourth and alert the locals of the symptoms to watch for in case they’ve infected anyone else. You can use the same cover story we used in New York City. Dismissed!”

After hanging up the telephone, the Captain rubbed his eyes for a moment and then reached for the intercom. “Sergeant, come in here please. I’d like an update on our items from New York City.”

“Yes sir.” A moment later Sergeant Challer entered, closed the door, and saluted.

Captain Schultz looked up. “Report.”

“Yes sir. The six ‘items’ from Queens will be transferred to us from Walter Reed Hospital tomorrow. That CDC lady has been less than cooperative. We should have had them here yesterday at the latest.”

“And the Congressman?”

“That’s been really difficult, sir. As you know, he was transferred to Walter Reed before we could intervene. Dr. Isaacs has had real problems there. Congressman Goldman’s father is there constantly and, short of instructions from the Pentagon, his physicians are not going to permit his, or by now I guess I should say her, movement. The only good news here is we’ve been able to invoke national security so they have not shared what’s happening to the Congressman with anyone else.”

“What’s being done to keep Goldman’s father quiet?”

“Not a lot, sir. He’s a very powerful man. We’ve got people there to arrest him if he leaves or tries to talk to someone outside the hospital, but he will be difficult.”

OCTOBER 17, 6:40 P.M. WABC TV EYEWITNESS NEWS, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

“Today an unknown woman’s body was found stabbed several times at the St. Joseph’s Shelter on Houston Street. Police report she had been robbed and raped, possibly repeatedly. The Mayor has expressed his concern and while noting that this was not a city run shelter has announced new security measures for those shelters the city does run. He also...”

OCTOBER 18, 10:00 A.M., DR. STERNLICHT’S APARTMENT, ENGLEWOOD, NEW JERSEY

Two men got out of the nondescript black car. Each wore a loose fitting black suit with a couple of unusual bulges. They also each appeared to have a rather large hearing aid with a wire running down into their suits. They were not smiling.

One man approached the front door to Dr. Sternlicht’s house and the other trotted towards the back. After waiting a minute for the second man to position himself, the first man rang the doorbell. When there was no answer, he rang again and then knocked on the front door. After another minute, he knocked louder. Still no answer.

“No answer Mr. Brown. I am entering the house.” He spoke into a pin stuck in his lapel.

“Yes, sir. On three?”

“Right. One. Two. Three.” Two doors were smashed in. The men quickly searched through the house without finding Dr. Sternlicht. They did find that the refrigerator and freezer had been emptied out into the garbage can beside the street and the answering machine had been turned off. In the bathroom, some of the toiletries were missing. Still there was aftershave, some dandruff shampoo, a mustache trimmer and some hair pomade.

“Call it in.”

“Right. You can bet the Captain is NOT going to like this.”

OCTOBER 18, 11:20 A.M., BERGEN MALL, PARAMUS, NEW JERSEY

“Is that all, sir?” the sales woman asked the impeccably dressed man with the shiny black hair.

“Yes, quite certain that will be all,” was the haughty response.

“Okay, sir; just let me ring you up.

“One white turtleneck, sleeveless sweater top, medium, twelve dollars and ninety nine cents.

“One black silk pantsuit, medium, one hundred and twenty nine dollars and ninety nine cents.

“One pair black patent leather flats, size ten, seventy nine dollars and ninety five cents.

“One full-length flannel nightgown, medium, nineteen dollars and ninety five cents.

“One package of three panties, medium, four dollars and ninety five cents.

“One black patent leather purse, forty five dollars even.

“One white sports bra, medium, fourteen dollars and ninety nine cents.

“Two packages of sheer black knee-highs, three dollars and ninety five cents each.

“One red travel umbrella, fourteen dollars and ninety nine cents.

“One floral traveler’s makeup case, twenty nine dollars and ninety five cents.

“One extra fluffy pink flannel bathrobe, thirty nine dollars and ninety nine cents.

“One floral suitcase, forty nine dollars even.

“One thin line black briefcase, seventy nine dollars and ninety nine cents.

“One black strap lady’s watch, one hundred twenty four dollars and ninety five cents.

“One eighteen inch, white gold, fine link necklace with matching bracelet, two hundred forty nine dollars and ninety five cents.

“And one shoulder length blond wig, ninety nine dollars and ninety five cents.

“That comes to one thousand and four dollars and fifty four cents plus eighty dollars and thirty six cents for the tax man,” she smiled briefly, but the smile faltered under his icy stare. “That’s one thousand and eighty four dollars and ninety cents total sir. Will that be cash or charge?”

“Cash.” Without changing expression, he pulled out eleven one hundred dollar bills.

OCTOBER 18, 4:50 P.M., ST. IVES HOTEL, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

The taxicab pulled up to the main entrance. The doorman opened the rear passenger door and an impeccably dressed man with shiny black hair exited. The taxi driver popped the trunk without even getting out and the doorman signaled for a bellboy who trotted up pushing a luggage cart. He pulled two large black suitcases out of the trunk while the shiny black haired man watched. The doorman held the door into the hotel lobby for the man and the bellboy who followed.

“Reservation for Mr. Hoyden Tiresias.”

“Yes, sir. May I have your credit card please?”

“No. I’ll pay cash.”

“Er. Yes, sir. Then may I have a driver’s license? I need to have a positive identification and home address.”

“No, you need to have a deposit. In this envelope is forty-five thousand dollars which will cover all expenses for the suite and meals for the next week plus a more than sufficient additional amount to cover any likely damage.”

The desk clerk looked positively distressed. “Excuse me sir. I’ll need to check with the manger.” He bolted for the office door before the shiny haired man could even offer his consent. About five minutes later he returned, and with almost perfect aplomb continued. “Those arrangements will be totally satisfactory sir. If I may have the envelope, I’ll count it in front of you and then place it in our safe.”

“Fine.” Once the desk clerk completed the task, the shiny haired man continued. “For the next three days I will be in my room. I do not wish any maid service or other interruptions. I will call for meals from room service, but the meals are to be left outside the door. At any time of the day or night, a woman may be entering and leaving the room. She is my publishing agent and I intend to give her my second key. You are to treat her as if she were me. If these instructions are followed, you may add a 25% tip to the total cost of my two-week stay. If they are not followed, there will be no tip. Are these instructions clear?”

“Yes, sir.” The clerk gulped and nodded.

“Then I’d like to be shown to my suite please.”

SENIOR AUTHOR’S NOTE: The following information is unsubstantiated, derived solely from the self report of the interviewee. As it is consistent with later events, it is included here.

OCTOBER 18, 7:30 P.M., BURGER BOY’S RESTAURANT, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

There I was, alone, broke, only the clothes on my body, probably being sought by the police, and I was a man in a beautiful woman’s body. I sat there trying to figure out what to do before whatever the hell that other personality was that seemed to be lurking in the background. Yea, I knew it was there. It was weird, like I’d go on vacation and she’d take over. I’d know what was happening, and sometimes I could even influence her a little bit, but most of the time I was just along for the ride.

Anyway, there I was sitting at a table in a coffee shop and thinking how hopeless it was. Oh yeah, I knew about the others being arrested because I saw the cop cars as I was coming back to the motel with some donuts and coffee. I saw the cops take them away.

I knew it couldn’t be the solicitation charges and they hadn’t had enough awake time since then to get into anymore trouble so it seemed like a really good guess that it was because of whatever had changed me and the others. I figured they must be afraid we were still catching.

The answer was obvious. Tonight I would go away and let her be in control. Tomorrow I would be looking for a very hungry physician to see if I could make us both rich enough to do whatever we wanted.

OCTOBER 18, 8:30 P.M., UNDERGROUND RESEARCH FACILITY, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Sir, Lieutenant Roegler forwarded this. He thought you should see it.” Sergeant Challer handed Captain Schultz a document and stood waiting at parade rest.

“It’s that good that you’re waiting for my response?”

“The Lieutenant requested it, sir.”

“Very well.” He began to read.

“A Coroner’s Preliminary Report and a Birth Certificate?” Sergeant Challer remained noncommittal and the Captain looked back down at the papers in from of him. “Death Certificate. Name: Jackie “Jock” Murtaugh. Sex: Female. Estimated Age: twenty-two. Date and Time of Death: seven-twenty-one A.M., February 2. Cause of Death: Multiple Stab Wounds.

“Okay and now the Birth Certificate. Name: Jack “Jock” Murtaugh. Sex: Male. Date of Birth: February 2–the old coot was sixty eight years old.” He stopped and thought for a second.

“I gather he thinks that this is the same person and that the sex change is not the result of our less than efficient bureaucracy in the form of the proverbial clerical error.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And from the fact that you are still waiting patiently I gather there is more.”

“Yes, sir. The body was also raped. Multiple times.”

Captain Schultz sighed deeply. “So, in other words, we probably have an unknown number of people, people who are living on the underbelly of society and are almost impossible to track, that may be infected. Additionally, the number of these people who are contaminated and running around doing who knows what is greater than one but probably smaller than the number of people on a football team.”

“Yes sir.”

“Sergeant I think you should check out retirement benefits for everyone on the team.”

“Yes sir.”

“But first tell Lieutenant Roegler to find those people and fast.”

Happy Mother's Day. This chapter is a day early in honor of mothers, and those who wish to be mothers, everywhere.

OCTOBER 19, 8:30 A.M., WALTER REED HOSPITAL

“Sir, your son’s fever has broken. He has lost considerable weight, about sixty-five pounds, and he’s quite weak. We’d like to do run some more tests before releasing him. It should be a couple more days.”

“I’d like to see my son now, Doctor–what’s your name– Isaacs?”

“Mr. Goldman, we still don’t know what he caught or whether he’s still contagious. We need more time before releasing him from quarantine.”

“Sonny–er, Doctor Isaacs–I didn’t ask if my son Frank was contagious, I said I wanted to see him.”

“Mr. Goldman, your son is in a specially designed isolation unit. No one will be permitted to see him until he is moved to a different unit, and that won’t happen until...”

“Sonny, I have not been able to see my son for more than three days. I don’t care how you do it, move him, let me in, or set up a video camera, but I expect to see him, and very soon.”

OCTOBER 19, 11:13 A.M., NEW YORK CITY SUBWAY TUNNEL NEAR THE 67TH STREET STATION

Ralph Cranson and Norton Miller were “walking the tracks” of the New York City subway system as they checked for power drains. From past experience, they walked carefully, not just to avoid the puddles that might be electrified with more than 400 amps of alternating current, but also to avoid tripping on the beer cans, wine bottles, old clothes, furniture pieces, fecal matter and other wildlife debris, human and other.

“I still don’t believe all the junk we find down here.” Ralph grumbled as he stepped around the remains of a padded chair with bright orange flowers on a background of green and yellow checks.

“But Ralphie boy, dis is da remains of a once great civilization. Archaeologists are gonna puzzle for years over da significance of dat rubba boot, doze used condoms, da color choices involved in da making o’ dat chair.” Norton dropped it gently by the sidewall where it would be out of the way until a garbage crew could come through and remove it. After all, the next train was due in less than seven and a half minutes. “Think of da wonder, da learned discourse. Was da background on dis chair a political statement or merely bad taste? Why I’ll bet...”

“Norton, will you please shut up.”

“But Ralph, think ‘bout it. Those condoms’ll last forever. In some century ta come a scientist could be diggin’ through this rubble for da remains of doze condoms so dat he can extract the DNA of us ancients in order ta save a future mankind from some bizarre plague from Mars or even Alpha Ceti.”

“Norton, shut up.”

“Ralphie, use your imagination. Why...”

“Norton, I said SHUT UP.” Ralph yelled raising his fist. “I think I heard something.”

“Sure, Ralph. Sure. Why didn’t ya just say so?” Norton’s voice slid off into hurt silence.

“Listen. Do you hear it?”

“Da drippin’ water?”

“No. The moaning.” Ralph held his hand to his ear straining.

“There. It’s coming from there.” He pointed to a branch tunnel especially filled with garbage and steam pipes.

“Ah, Ralph, I don’ think we should go in dere?”

“I know Norton, but it sounds like people.”

“All da more reason, Ralphie boy. Let it go. We got a job ta do.” Norton tugged gently at Ralph’s shirtsleeve.

“I know. But they sound like they’re hurting. Listen.”

“I does sound like de’re in pain.” Norton hesitantly begrudged him that much.
“But dat’s all da more reason ta leave it be Ralphie. It’s probably a bunch of bums shootin’ up or somtin’. Come on, we got a job ta do.”

“Sorry Norton. I can’t.” Suddenly he held up his hand to silence Norton again. “Listen. Did you hear that? I think it was a call for help.”

“You’re not gonna let dis slide are ya?” Norton’s sigh was long and heartfelt. “Awright, let’s go.” He followed Ralph down the tunnel, pushing aside more rubbish to get by.

After the first turn, there was only the light of their flashlights. Ralph stopped so suddenly Norton bumped into him. “Wazza matta, Ralph?” Norton looked scared.

“It’s coming from down there.” Ralph pointed to a stairway in the gloom off to the left.

“Yeah. Now let’s get outta here.” Norton turned to go.

“Come on Norton.”

“Ralph we’re gonna get lost. There’s tunnels here dat ain’t been explored in decades, and they sure as hell ain’t been mapped.”

“No we’re not. I’m marking the way with chalk.” He started down the stairs. Norton stared after him and then sighed deeply before following.

From a large low-ceilinged room to the right, a light sputtered and flickered. The noises were coming from the room. They were clearer now and sounded very much like moans, groans and gasps.

“Ralph it’s a damn orgy in there. Enough already. Let’s get outta here.”
Before Ralph could respond, an emaciated shape staggered out of the room and fell to the sewage covered floor in front of time. It was covered in ragged clothes and the whole body, including the clothes, was covered in some putrid smelling slime that they later were told was a combination of sweat, vomit, urine and feces. The shape groaned. Fever-filled eyes locked onto them and the shape reached out a trembling hand to the shocked transit workers and whispered, “Help. Please help us.”

Ralph and Norton backed away and to the side, still staring at the wretched shape. Behind the first shape, four more came into view before also collapsing. Ralph stepped into the entranceway to the room and saw several more shapes, in worse condition than the ones who had made it out.

“Geez,” Norton hissed as he peeked over his friend’s shoulder. “What’d we stumble onto here, Dante’s Inferno?”

“Shut up Norton. I’m calling this in.”

OCTOBER 19, 2:10 P.M., WALTER REED HOSPITAL

“Doctor, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. Judge Henry Rotkowski meet Dr. Paul Isaacs,” the elder Goldman said with a venomous smile. “Judge Rotkowski, please explain to the good doctor why he needs to immediately allow me access to my son.”

OCTOBER 19, 4:15 P.M., WALTER REED HOSPITAL

“Mr. Goldman, I’d like to give you one last chance to reconsider.” The Judge had left after making it clear that he would be back with a court order in hand and U.S. Marshals at his side to insure Mr. Goldman had immediate access to his son, but Dr. Isaacs was still trying to get the irate father to reconsider.

“No.”

“Sir, please let me finish.”

“Will it get me in there to see my son any sooner?”

“Sir, you won’t get in to see your son, legal threats or not, if I don’t finish saying this.”

“Then get on with it,” Jack Goldman growled and slumped back into the hard plastic seat to impatiently wait the physician out.

“Thank you. Mr. Goldman, you are asking to enter a secure biohazard area. Even our nursing and medical staff use robotic extensions rather than enter that area. While we do not think your son’s life is at risk, there is a very real chance that you will extend his time in isolation if you are infected as neither of you will not be released until it is absolutely clear that both you and your son are completely free of contagion. You should also be aware that at this time we do not know how long that could be. Finally, before being permitted to enter the isolation unit it will be necessary to sign these releases.”

“Where?”

“Excuse me?”

“Where do I sign?”

“Please sir, I am required to insure that you understand what you are signing.”

“Then get on with it.”

“There are four documents here. The first says that you understand all the risks inherent in entering the isolation unit. The second absolves this hospital, the armed forces and the government of the United States of any culpability for harm to you as a result of your entry into the isolation unit. The third assigns me as your physician for the duration of your stay in that biohazard unit.”

“Harumph,” Jack Goldman interrupted with a snort of disgust.

“Whether you like it or not, there is no physician with more experience with this particular disease than I am, Mr. Goldman. You don’t have to like me. You just have to believe that I will do what’s best medically and that I know more about what to do than anyone you know or can find.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get on with it. I already said I would sign.”

Very well, the fourth is a living will. It gives me limited power of attorney to make medical decisions on your behalf should you become incapacitated while in the isolation unit. Finally, the fifth authorizes this facility to bill you for all meals, treatments and services provided while in the isolation unit. Do you understand what you are being asked to sign?”

“Your pen or mine?”

OCTOBER 19, 4:27 P.M., WALTER REED HOSPITAL

“Who the hell is this woman and where is my son?”

OCTOBER 19, 6:20 P.M., AN ISOLATED FARM, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Gentlemen, we have successfully relocated. Where are we with respect to our various loose ends?” Captain Schultz was again pacing, but this time in the dining room of the farmhouse and backup headquarters of his clandestine unit.

“Captain,” Lieutenant Jackson was responsible for site security, “We have two security guards with the five rat people caged in one corner of the barn. Two additional men are guarding Dr. Harriman, Ms. Branca and Mr. Abbot in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Another two men are guarding our three items from Las Vegas. Four more men, with dogs, are patrolling the area around the barn and the farmhouse and there is a squad of ten additional men, also with dogs, at the farm’s perimeter. All incoming and outgoing messages are through one last man set up in a corner of the kitchen.

“Captain,” Sergeant Challer was next, “Lieutenant Roegler reports both good news and bad news. It looks like all of the items from New York City have been collected and will be here this evening. This clears up all but the last two outstanding items, Dr. Sternlicht and the possible fourth item in the Las Vegas area.”

“What about the Congressman–er, I guess I should now say Congresswoman–and her father?”

“Dr. Isaacs reports that he has been forced to quarantine the father along with the son. The Congresswoman is being kept sedated and has not regained consciousness and while the father knows, he is not being given access to communicate what he has discovered.”

“Have the final bedroom set up as an interrogation room and we’ll see what other loose ends we might have.”

OCTOBER 21, 4:03 P.M., AN ISOLATED FARM, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Shit! Lt. Roegler’s hypothesis regarding a fourth item in the Las Vegas area is confirmed. I repeat, ‘is confirmed.’ Advise him. Then bring in Dr. Harriman.” Sergeant Challer left the temporary interrogation room at a fast walk.

OCTOBER 21, 4:15 P.M., AN ISOLATED FARM, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Captain, the guard is unnecessary. You know we have been cooperative.” Dr. Harriman pointed to the guard standing at attention behind Captain Schultz. When the Captain hesitated he chuckled, “Surely you are not afraid of me. I’m not even contagious.”

The Captain waved the guard away and silently examined the man sitting across the table from him. The guard walked around the corner and no further.

“You seem reticent to begin Captain. Will it help if I start?”

“Sure.”

“Very well. I will offer some hypotheses and then you can decide how you wish to proceed.” Dr. Harriman leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat, comfortable once again in the role of teacher.

“We have the rodent people and our sudden departure from our previous site as a starting point. The rodent people could not have been a simple accident, too many safety precautions would have needed to have been overcome in order to permit that type of event to occur.” Dr. Harriman gently rubbed his chin as he continued.

“You have additional guards on one of the other bedroom doors suggesting other prisoners. My guess is that you have additional changelings under your care and, as they were not evident when we were at our other site, I hypothesis that the virus has made it beyond my daughter and her–er his–friend.” Captain Schultz’s demeanor remained unchanged, but Dr. Harriman was willing to bet he had scored with that last salvo and gleefully continued.

“When we arrived here, only this building and the barn were evident, no hi-tech lab or security equipment appeared to exist. Additionally, nothing I have seen since our arrival suggests otherwise. My surmise is that what we see is all there is as you would want us in a more secure setting if you could arrange it.” With the Captain’s silence the only response Dr. Harriman continued, feeling even more certain of his hypotheses.

“There are too few vehicles or people walking around between the barn and the farm house and none of them are wearing lab coats. This tells me that you are having some difficulty determining who to trust regarding continued research. My guess would be that you and Dr. Sternlicht have had a parting of the ways.” Dr. Harriman paused for effect and then continued.

“May I assume Dr. Sternlicht is missing?”

Captain Schultz’s reserve seemed to be slipping as a small tick developed by his right eye but he remained silent.

“Come now, Captain. You’re obviously in trouble or we would be in a much more elaborate setting. You cannot have many options left. It would seem to me that you need me and mine. I suggest we discuss this openly.” There was the beginning of annoyance in Dr. Harriman’s voice. He crossed his hands over his chest and waited.

“That’s an interesting set of assumptions professor.” The Captain was postponing an answer while he rapidly considered his next move. “I was unaware you had such interest in the deductive sciences.”

“You’re stalling Captain.”

“Why would you assume that the research is not continuing apace at the old site?”

“Because you are not there, Captain. As far as Eunice, Lyle or I can tell, you left the old research site only for brief periods. I’ll bet you even had a cot somewhere near your office and that you used it regularly. Surely we, the three of us, are not more important than a research site.”

“How do you know I’m not just here briefly to assure that you’ll all be appropriately cared for?”

“I don’t. However, if that is your intent here, please feel free to leave. Our comfort needs are being adequately met except for bathroom access and a change of clothes.” Dr. Harriman again waited while Captain Schultz considered.

“If what you’ve suggested is true, how would you suggest I proceed?”
“Nice try Captain. I believe we need to come to a mutual understanding before we proceed.” Dr. Harriman’s belly laugh was irritating the Captain, especially given the uncanny accuracy of his assumptions.

“What do you want?”

“First I want to know that I can trust you more than I was able to trust Maximilian.”

“You have my word as an officer and a gentleman.”

“Glibly offered,” Dr. Harriman responded sarcastically, “but I’ll accept it. After all,” he smiled, “it's the best offer I’ve had all day.” When the Captain smiled too, he continued.

“Assuming everything I’ve elucidated above to be correct,” Dr. Harriman looked at Captain Schultz who nodded, “then we have much we can and should do together. I would note that Eunice, Lyle and I are most familiar with the direction and progress of Dr. Sternlicht’s recent research. More than anyone else you have available, we can probably determine what he was doing and with luck duplicate his work.” Captain Schultz again nodded.

“If Dr. Sternlicht has absconded; you can probably assume that he will not be found by any of the usual investigative techniques. He is probably not even the same person.”

“Then what do you propose?” Captain Schultz couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward to devote his full attention to Dr. Harriman’s words.

“With new finger prints, a new face, and, I am quite sure, a new identity, you’ll need two things. A graphic representation of the likely changes in his appearance and people intimately familiar with his quirks.”

“Please continue.”

“While I have known the good doctor as a colleague for more than twenty years, Eunice L. and Lyle E. both worked for him. I don’t believe he has any living relatives, so you have no one more knowledgeable about him that you can trust than us. They are the idea field agents to track him down.”

“But why should I trust them? And why shouldn’t I send you instead?”

“Because I will be here, as a hostage if you wish to think of it that way. Because I’m the one with the doctorate in biomedical research and thirty years of experience. Because I am an old man, too old to be running around and hunting runaway researchers.”

“I assume I can couple them with experienced agents?”

“You’ll need to work that out with them, but I’m sure they’ll be reasonable if you make it worth their while.”

“Then we have a deal.” Captain Schultz offered his hand.

“No discussion with your superiors?” But Dr. Harriman knew better. Without hesitation, he took the proffered hand and shook it heartily.

Still, Schultz answered his question. “No. As you’ve correctly assumed, this is a ‘black op.’ My supervisors do not wish to know anything unless I can report complete success.”

OCTOBER 21, 5:54 P.M., AN ISOLATED FARM, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Good news children,” Dr. Harriman smiled broadly as he entered the bedroom where Eunice and Lyle were being held captive. Behind him, also smiling, was Captain Schultz.

OCTOBER 21, 5:55 P.M., AN ISOLATED FARM, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“They’re finally going to let us leave?” Eunice L. asked as she and Lyle E. cuddled on the padded bay window.

“Not quite, my dear.” Dr. Harriman pointed back to Captain Schultz standing behind him. “The Captain and I have come to an agreement.”

“But he’s our jailer. How the hell can we trust him?” Lyle E. was standing now, fists balled in anger. Eunice L. still sat but her hands were clenched tightly around Lyle E.’s arm, as if to restrain him.

“Children, children. I think you’ll find this acceptable. Why don’t we sit down and I’ll explain?”

“With him here? I don’t think so,” Lyle E. growled.

“Lyle, please. Sit down and listen.” Dr. Harriman turned to Captain Schultz.

“Maybe you should step outside for a few moments, Captain.”

“Yes. That seems like a good idea.” He turned and left the room.

“Now Lyle, please sit down and listen.” Dr. Harriman sat on the chair by the desk. Lyle E. glared at him and the door the Captain had just exited through. No one spoke. Finally, Eunice L. gave a gentle tug and guided him back down beside her.

“Thank you Lyle. Now if I may begin.

OCTOBER 21, 7:05 P.M., AN ISOLATED FARM, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

The dining room table was once again in use. Captain Schultz was seated at one end with Sergeant Challer standing behind him. Lyle E., Eunice L. and Dr. Harriman sat opposite him. Lyle E. was clearly still untrusting of Captain Schultz’s word, but was now at least willing to listen.

“Captain, I think Lyle and Eunice need to hear from you what is happening and what agreements we’d like to reach.”

“Is that true Mr. Abbot, Ms. Branca?” Captain Schultz calmly waited for a response. It took a while. Lyle E. and Eunice L. looked questioningly at each other. Finally, Eunice L. grudgingly nodded.

“Well,” Lyle E. spoke for them, “We don’t know if we can trust you, but whether we like it or not, you’re the only game in town.”

“Yeah. So let’s make a deal, Kay?”

Captain Schultz stared hard at them for a moment and then glanced over to Dr. Harriman, who smiled. “The floor is all yours Captain.”

“Very well. Let me start with a bit of history. I run what is euphemistically called a ‘black op.’ That’s a project that no one will admit exists.” He stopped to watch for a reaction. Lyle E. frowned while Eunice L. looked bored.

“The military significance of the virus you and Dr. Sternlicht were developing was unbelievable.

“So much for the U.S. government’s ban on bio warfare,” Lyle E. snorted disgustedly. Eunice L. crossed her arms over her chest and looked even more bored.

“No. You misunderstand. The goal was not to infect large groups of people regardless of Dr. Sternlicht’s apparent plans to the contrary. Please let me finish.” He held up a hand to prevent Lyle E. from saying anything.

“The purpose of this program was to prevent distribution of this virus until it could be done safely. Improperly used we could have an imposter running the country. Properly used, as your grant proposal clearly elaborated, it could save thousands of lives. The ancillary benefits are beyond imagination: body molding, cures to just about every imaginable genetic problem...this thing could probably even re-grow missing limbs. Given the way this thing attacks any other DNA that enters the body; it might even be the cure for innumerable viral infections, maybe even the common cold. It could even result in functional immortality.”

“We knew all that. What we don’t know is what you want and whether we can trust you. Kay?”

“Yeah. You don’t exactly have a great track record. Kidnap, illegal surveillance, should I go on?”

“No. I understand your concern.”

“Concern?” Lyle E. stood up fists balled, glaring. “Concern? You understand our concern? Why you...” Lyle E. gasped and swallowed several times at a complete loss for words. Dr. Harriman quickly interrupted before his daughter could get his second wind.

“That’s enough Lyle. Listen to the man.” Dr. Harriman was using his no-more-nonsense voice. Lyle E. blanched and sat down. She stopping sputtering, but continued to glare at the soldier.

“Thank you, Dr. Harriman.” Captain Schultz glanced briefly at each of the young adults, calculating his odds of success before continuing. “You’re right. Maybe I don’t really understand. What I do understand is that we have a situation where a scientific discovery which could have been used for the benefit of mankind has been used to change five human beings into some sort of human rat hybrid. There are an unknown but hopefully small number of infected people spreading this virus in at least two widely separated areas of the country and we still don’t have a cure, a stabilizing agent or even an assurance that the virus will eventually die off in a fully transformed host body. We also have a lead researcher who has disappeared under suspicious circumstances, possibly–no, probably–with a sample of the virus. Would you care to guess how many foreign governments I suspect are going to be bidding for that virus within the next few weeks? I think I can safely say that the problems here are currently much greater than the petty issue of whether we can trust each other. There is a real risk to national, and possibly global, security.” He stopped and waited.

“He’s right, children. We need to cooperate or live with the knowledge that we might have permitted a major biological disaster to ravage our planet.”

“We know all that,” Lyle E. grudgingly admitted. “What we don’t know is why don’t you just call in the CDC, the army, or whatever other governmental agencies are needed to fix the problem? In other words, what do you need us for?”

“Yeah, answer that. Kay?” Eunice L. chimed in patting Lyle E.’s hand proudly.

“Certainly. As I said, Dr. Sternlicht has disappeared under suspicious circumstances. More specifically, he seems to have absconded with a possibly considerable supply of the virus. While there are no indications yet that his absence is the result of outside influences, it’s really hard to imagine that he is not responsible for the sabotage that transformed those poor people in the barn.” Captain Schultz glanced at Dr. Harriman who motioned for him to continue. Eunice L. and Lyle E. were silent, apparently astonished from the looks on their faces.

“Additionally, since he seems to be the agent responsible for the creation of the rat people, he has probably developed a method of mass dissemination of the virus.”

“Probably airborne.” Dr. Harriman chimed in.

“Finally, we believe that he has developed a method of rendering the virus non contagious.”

Silence.

Eunice L. was the first to speak. “I understand that you are concerned about national security. I understand that you think Dr. Sternlicht is responsible for doing some really horrible things. He’s not our favorite person in the world either.” Lyle E. nodded in agreement as she considered. “What we don’t understand is why you suddenly want our help.”

“My apologies. I’ve been awake the last 40 hours and I’m very tired. I neglected to mention that we have reason to believe Dr. Sternlicht has changed his body form, probably to a female form. Standard investigative techniques are not going to work. We will need people like you who are familiar with his characteristic behaviors,” Captain Schultz stopped to rub his red rimmed eyes, “mannerisms if you will. You two are more knowledgeable regarding Dr. Sternlicht’s quirks and preferences than anyone else. Man or women, old or young, he could be anyone. Only someone who knows his most intimate peculiarities and preferences has a chance of finding him. No one I can enlist has that knowledge. We need you two to help us find him.”

Again silence, continuing silence while Lyle E. and Eunice L. glared at the Captain. Eunice L.’s hand blindly groped for Lyle E.’s and squeezed it to show her support for his answer, what ever it might be.

“Children?” Dr. Harriman interceded on behalf of the Captain yet again. “We’ve discussed this. Your choices are relatively clear. Do nothing and remain prisoners, provide limited support such as development of the ‘fixative’ the Captain has mentioned and live with the possibility that you might have allowed a major evil to be unleashed on the world, or provide full support and help make sure the virus has at least some chance of being used for the benefit of others.”

“Why don’t you go through that list of questions we came up with Lyle E.?” He continued when there was still no answer.

“Oh, alright, Daddy. I’ll start.” Lyle E.’s smile faded as he redirected his attention back to Captain Schultz. “If we’re still contagious, why would you let us out?”

“Because I don’t have much choice and because you know that you are only contagious if there is a transfer of bodily fluids. Are you planning on kissing, having intercourse or otherwise trading bodily fluids with anyone?” They glanced guiltily at each and Captain Schultz smiled knowingly. “Exactly. Perhaps I should reword that to say ‘...with anyone not already contagious.’ Next question?”

“What kind of ‘fixer’ are we talking about and how close is it to being available?”

“That’s not my area of expertise. Perhaps Dr. Harriman could better answer that question?”

“Certainly. While Dr. Sternlicht was quite careful to redirect the technicians away from an effective antiviral agent specific to this virus, examination of the options he apparently avoided in conjunction with my own experimentation suggests that H. Pilori could serve the purpose and destroy the virus within a week with little more than some minor stomach problems and heartburn before treatment to eliminate the H. Pilori.”

“Wait a minute. How does a bacteria that causes symptoms of stomach ulcer kill a virus?” Eunice L. interjected with disbelief.

“Normally it would not. In this case, however, it can be modified so that one of its side effects is acidosis, a slight increase in the acidity of blood. The result is that the virus is destroyed without further harm to the body over a several day period.”

“Couldn’t I obtain the same result with an ulcer or with a really good hangover?”

“Yes, my dear. It seems that someone with an ulcer might not be able to be effected by the virus in the first place, but you’d need to maintain a three day drunk, not impossible but certainly quite difficult.” Eunice L. nodded in understanding and then her face lit up.

“That means there is a vaccine, of sorts, H. Pilori.”

“Well...” Dr. Harriman considered, “It could be, but its utility is a bit limited. The continuous heartburn, stomach pain and flatulence would be a problem that would make it difficult to argue for its use as a long-term preventative agent. Even if used, it remains with the host body only as long as they avoid taking a simple course of antibiotics, one of the most commonly prescribed medications. This significantly limits its reliability as a vaccine. At best, followed by a ten day course of an antibiotic, it would eliminate the continuing contagion aspect of the virus.”

Lyle E. has been silent and admittedly somewhat bored by the technical nature of the conversation. As it seemed to be finally winding down a bit, he interjected. “To get back to basics, does that mean we can stop worrying about being contagious?”

“Yes, my dear. I think so, just as soon as I can test my hypothesis.”

“Fine. How long will that be?”

“Probably less than a month, but to be absolutely sure, I would want multiple trials and longitudinal testing...say three months.”

“And you, Captain,” Lyle E. turned to him. “You would let us out of here without being certain that we are no longer infectious?”

“As I stated before, you understand the risks of further public infection. You are our best hope for finding Dr. Sternlicht and I don’t know how you could do that from here. Yes, you would be permitted to leave here.”

“No limitations?”

“I don’t know if you would call it a limitation, but neither of you are trained investigators and, while we will provide some crash training, I would prefer to team you up with partners that can handle that aspect of the search.”

“So they’ll be our watchdogs?”

“No, but I can’t think of any way to convince you.” Another glance at Eunice L., who waved a hand encouraging him to move on.

“What about Dr. Harriman?” Eunice L. asked. “He knows Dr. Sternlicht better than either of us.”

Captain Schultz deferred to Dr. Harriman. “Yes children, but I’ve been asked to supervise the research here and I’m getting a bit old to go traipsing about searching out spies and evildoers. You really are the best people to find Maximilian.”

“Okay. The final questions; actually its just one really big question. What happens to all of us, Daddy, Eunice, me, and Dr. Sternlicht once this is all over?”

“You’re right, “Captain Schultz laughed, “That’s a whopper of a question all right, but let me try to respond. First, Dr. Sternlicht has signed a national security agreement. If he has violated it, he can and will be held accountable; although it is highly unlikely that this would be done in a public manner. The rest of you will be free to do what you wish, except that as a prerequisite you will be required to sign a similar security agreement. Once signed, you will not be permitted to discuss this with anyone who does not have a similar level of security. If you are referring to a return to your original body forms, Dr. Harriman would be more knowledgeable than me, but I think it would be possible, if you so desired.” He stopped and absently scratched his ear. “Oh, and although you didn’t ask, we will also do our best to turn Dr. Sternlicht’s victims in the barn back into functional members of society.” He paused briefly to assess his audience’s response. It was still iffy.

“If I’ve answered all of your questions, the ball is back in your court. I don’t have a lot of time to wait for an answer. Will you help?”

 

OCTOBER 21, 10:05 P.M., AN ISOLATED FARM, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“I just told Captain Schultz and now its your turn to hear the good news, children.” Eunice L. and Lyle E. were sitting at the farmhouse’s kitchen table studying green covered booklets.

“Excuse me sir?” Eunice L. looked up.

“I have good news. The H. Pilori research has been completely successful. I just confirmed it from a review of Maximilian’s real notes, the ones he hid in the air vent of the lab. Captain Schultz says you’re welcome to choose for yourselves whether to start immediately with your own course of treatment using the H. Pilori or wait until your special assignment is done.”

“Can we change back to our old forms then?”

“Yes my dear. Once the virus has been eliminated from your systems we can take virus free DNA and combine it with a fresh version of the virus to reinfect you with the forms of your old bodies.”

“Eunice,” Lyle E. interrupted irritably, “we need to finish our studying. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“I know, I was just wondering. Thank you for updating us Dr. Harriman.”
Slowly, almost wistfully, she turned back to her reading material. Lyle E., seeing the pained expression on Eunice L.’s face put down his book. Standing he stretched and then walked behind her. Once there, he began rubbing her neck and shoulders. Her book forgotten, Eunice L. leaned her head back into his stomach and purred contentedly. Her hand reached back and gently caressed the hand massaging her neck as an expression of total bliss appeared on her face.

Seeing the interplay, Dr. Harriman began to back out of the room. “Tomorrow will be soon enough to tell you the rest of my news. You children should consider heading up to bed.”

“No wait, sir.” Eunice L.’s free hand reached out as if to hold him so he could not leave. “Please finish.”

Lyle E. stopped rubbing but did not remove his hands from their position gently resting on her neck. Eunice L.’s hand continued to stroke his arm. Seeing Dr. Harriman’s uncertainty he nodded and gestured for him to continue before resuming his neck rub.

“It wasn’t that important. I just thought you’d want to know that we’ve just reinfected the rat people. Since your DNA is the only supply already infected, soon you’ll have several brothers and sisters, albeit, without memories, I’ll bet.”

“You still don’t think there’s a chance of memory retention? After all, as rats the memory would still be there, just useless, wouldn’t it?”

“No my dear. Remember that soft tissue was transformed. Their brains are rat brains, just larger. But even larger, rat brains don’t have all the convolutions and complexity of a human brain. They don’t have the space to store all the information of a human memory.”

“I don’t understand Daddy,” Lyle E. said. “The brain is just as big in a rat person as a regular person isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry Lyle,” Dr. Harriman sighed. “I wish I could tell you different, but I can’t. The weight might be the same, but the more convolutions the more surface area and the more surface area the more cognitive ability. A rat brain just isn’t likely to be able to retain all the memories of a human being.”

“We need to continue our preparations, Lyle.” Eunice gently patted his arm once more and then leaned forward to pick up her book.

“That’s right. Did you hear, Daddy? Tomorrow we meet our new partners and head out to seek the elusive Dr. Sternlicht.”

OCTOBER 21, 1:55 A.M., QUEEN’S PALACE HOTEL AND CASINO

The last show was about to end as Joanie sat waiting on a bar stool overlooking the casino. He should start passing through the casino proper any minute. Joanie smiled to herself as she thought about how, in the best hotels here in Vegas, it was effectively impossible to get from one point to an other without passing through a casino. It was time for Joanie to talk to the shift manager about a waitressing job. In the last three days she’d eaten with, drunk with, been given monetary rewards by and leaned sexily against a variety of very generous men in different casinos as they gambled, but had not been able to pick up a single John. For some reason, security always stopped her and gently escorted her out of the casino before she could give away anything more than a kiss. “Must be something that bitch Joanie is doing wrong.” John thought giving a snort. He wasn’t even going to try here. Security had stopped her at the front lobby and told her not to even try or she’d be banned from this casino also. They must share information.

“Eh. Did you say something?” A very large man in a suit with a gold lapel pin wheezed, “Hi…I’m Frank Scolari...Shift Manager” as he looked down at her.

John gave his best smile. “I’m sorry, my name is Joanie and I was hoping to talk to you about a temporary job as a waitress.”

“Nope. Don’t need…any waitresses.”

“How about a cleaner. You’ve got to need some cleaners. Please, I really need a job.” John almost, but not quite, managed to get the tears he was trying for. Regardless, the manager apparently thought she looked remarkably pathetic.

Frank looked intently at her for several seconds before answering. “Yeah. Cleaners we need. Show me…a social security card…and you got a deal.”

“The number is 110 33 9674.” John smiled.

“No. I said…show me…the card. We got…inspectors everywhere. I’m not…gonna risk…the casino’s license…by hiring… illegals.”

“I’m not illegal. Do I look Mexican?”

“No. But I…need a card. Sorry.” He walked away as John looked after him in shock and anger. Then John went away and let Joanie out. Joanie began to quietly sob.

2:05 A.M., OCTOBER 21, QUEEN’S PALACE HOTEL AND CASINO

“We all cain’t have a pertty li’l lady like you cryin’ like that. What all’s the problem li’l missy?” From her vantage point looking down between the fingers holding her face as she cried, Joanie saw elaborately ornamented, pointed boots. She looked up, and up, and kept looking up until she eventually found a real ten-gallon hat. Under the hat was what looked like the classic cowboy businessman.

“Ah said, what all’s the problem ma’am?” He engulfed the stool next to her.
Joanie sniffed and took a deep breath before speaking. “I was looking for a job, but I didn’t have a social security card and so they wouldn’t hire me.”

“A pertty li’l thang like you an’ you’all cain’t get a job? What all cain you do?”

Joanie smiled and began to gently play with her necklace preparing to let her hand gradually move lower when John took over again. “Well sir, I have a lot of experience as a managerial assistant, dealing with people, scheduling, bookkeeping, etcetera. I’d do almost anything to have a job, but what I’m really interested in is making people’s wishes come true.”

“That all’s a tall order li’l missy,” he laughed jovially. “How you’all gonna do that?” He asked indulgently.

“I can’t tell you,” John answered choosing his words with great care. “You’ll think I’m insane.” Before the cowboy could speak she raised a hand and rushed to continue. “Please. I’ll explain, but without proof you’ll have no choice but to think that. It’s just too insane a story and I don’t know enough of it to make it less so.” John waited to see if he’d take the bait.

“You’all have mah full attention, li’l missy,” he said dragging her over to a corner booth were he could get more comfortable and they would be less likely to be overheard. “Ah cain’t wait ta hear your story.”

“For some reason I can make men into women.” She sighed. “Okay, now you’ve heard. You can leave and laugh at the crazy lady.”

“Well.” He readjusted the brim of his hat and spoke more respectfully. “Ah didn’t know you’all were a physician. So how did you’all lose your social security card?”

“I’m not. I do it without surgery, falsies or anything else. I make complete women, not fakes.”

“Ma’am, ah didn’t know you’all were a Texan. That there’s one heck of a good tall tale.”

“I know. I know. So go a way and let me be, or take a risk and let me prove what I say.”

“Well. Ah do like to make a buck. If you’all are crazy I’ll be doin’ people a favor by gettin’ you’all off the streets and if you’all are a con artist, you’all are a damn pertty one. Excuse the language ma’am. What’all is it gonna cost me to have you’all lay down your cards?”

“A volunteer and three days to prove I’m telling the truth. Also a meal, a place to stay and a hot bath, for me while I prove myself.”

He peered intently at her for several long seconds before answering. “Well, you’all are a pertty li’l thang. Perty enough that Ah’d spring for the meal and you’all cain convince me of the rest.”

OCTOBER 21, ST. IVES HOTEL, ROOM 1728, 4:00 P.M., FROM THE RESEARCH LOGS OF DR. MAXIMILIAN STERNLICHT

The pain has not been as bad as I expected, so I have not used any of the painkillers I brought. That is probably for the best as I am unsure of what, if any, their impact on the transformation process might be.

Most of the time I do little but sleep, eat, and eliminate. My physique seems to be changing as I expected, only soft tissue is being transformed, none of that rippling, changing flesh they talk about in fantasy stories, but clear change nonetheless. Without even the most rudimentary of equipment I am limited to observation of only external manifestations of change. So far, it seems there are several stages.

The first stage seems to be a burn-off of almost all fatty tissue. During this stage I seem to have lost a significant amount of weight. An interesting side effect of this seems to be a sloughing off of at least one layer of epidermal skin resulting in softer, smoother, younger looking skin.

The second stage seems to be modification of cell nuclei to change the actual function of various groups of cells. Assuredly much more is happening that I cannot assess with my primitive resources, but the most obvious occurrence during this stage seems to be creation of fatty tissue cells in proportions consistent with the new body form being developed. I suspect any remaining fatty tissue and a significant portion of muscle tissue is being cannibalized to produce new cell growth. During this period I seem to have lost my penis and testicles. Each time I awoke it was possible to see how they had grown smaller and smaller with just the naked eye.

Third, and thankfully finally, there is a rapid transfer of nutrients which are immediately stored in the newly relocated tissue. During this period especially, my food intake has been significantly greater. I suspect room service is convinced that there are at least two of me and possibly more. Also, with this third stage, the fever seems to be dropping. I will need to sleep again before performing any task more functional than this log. Another nap, another meal; then it will be time to proceed as planned.

 

OCTOBER 22, 8:00 A.M., ST. IVES HOTEL, ROOM 1728, FROM THE RESEARCH LOGS OF DR. MAXIMILIAN STERNLICHT

At the risk of shocking the more puritanical, I offer my feelings and observations unabridged. – M. Sternlicht

Responding to the wake up call from the front desk, I got out of bed and quietly padded over to the bathroom. I barely glanced into the mirror above the vanity as I headed directly for the shower. The need to clean off the residue of the last three-and-a-half days of illness was my first and overriding concern. About half way through the shower, my desire for cleanliness was finally assuaged sufficiently to permit bodily examination.

I was clearly female and, while not an exceptional judge of female anatomy, at first glance it appeared that my calculations had been correct. A significant portion of body hair washed off as I showered, I was thinner, having lost an estimated forty seven pounds. There was clearly more body fat distributed over my body. My memories seemed clearly my own, there were no unusual perceptual or sensory differences, although it was nice not to require spectacles, and I was able to note with some relief that cognition was unimpaired.

I palpated the breasts, solely in order to assure myself that they were tumor free. It seemed somehow risqué to perform this rather mundane procedure on myself and it was noteworthy that the aureoles became quite unyielding. Further manipulation confirmed that they were surprisingly sensitive and capable of inducing highly pleasurable and salacious thoughts. I noticed that the interior walls of my new uterus seemed warmer and as it was my intent to explore and clean that portion of my anatomy also I reached down to gently brush...

Editor’s Note: This page is missing from Dr. Sternlicht’s research log. The reader is welcome to speculate as to the missing events.

...the mirror clear of steam so I could further examine this engaging new body. It felt unusual but not uncomfortable to feel my unfettered breasts bobbing about as I cleared the steam away.

Finally having an unimpaired view, I completed my visual examination, which confirmed another expectation resulting from my research. To my untutored eye, I appeared to be between twenty and twenty-five years of age rather than my chronological age of fifty nine, presumably due to the absence of wrinkles, striations or sagging. I wondered what the impact of this trans-formation would be on my life expectancy.

As I brushed my teeth and applied deodorant, I was able to confirm that my senses were relatively unchanged. There might have been a slight increase in sensitivity but I could not confirm it from those mundane events.

Getting the tape measure I had brought from home, I returned to the bathroom to measure the changes in my anatomy. As the table below confirms variation was minimal.

In the bedroom, I called room service for an omelet; blueberry blintzes, coffee and orange juice and began dressing. The nylon undergarments felt smoother than the cotton I had been using until now, although the feeling of constriction from the sports bra felt a bit unusual, especially without a similar feeling around the rest of my chest and waist. The socks were socks and the turtleneck sweater top was no surprise. The pants were cut differently then I was used to with a higher waist and the shoes pinched at the toes but were bearable.

I added the daintier woman’s watch and bracelet and walked to the full-length mirror on the closet door to examine myself. I was quite satisfied with the transformation. It would have been difficult–no, impossible–for my own mother, were she still alive, to have recognized me. The height was unchanged and there were some vague similarities in the bone structure of the face, but that was it.
My introspection was interrupted by a knock at the front door to the suite. I cleared my voice and called out, “Leave it just outside the door like you were told.” My voice sounded higher, a bit more shrill than I liked. Despite my best efforts, it lacked the authority of my old voice.

“Yes, ma’am.”

From the Queen Anne dresser I freed the ash blonde wig from its head form and carefully slid it over my own head, taking time to tuck my black hairs under and out of view.

I planned on just a quick check to insure I had not missed any errant strands but the reflection in the mirror stopped me. That hair, that wavy ash blonde hair flowing down to just below my shoulders and framing my face; it was amazing. The transformation was complete. I had said it before, but now it was driven home in the most personal manner. Now I could truly say that even my mother could not recognize me. I was safe from Captain Schultz and his do gooders. I wondered if makeup or training in more graceful mannerisms would even be necessary. With a final cursory review in the mirror, I went to the door to get breakfast.

OCTOBER 22, 9:10 A.M., AN ISOLATED FARM, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Stand with your feet about a foot apart, knees slightly bent and hold it with both hands. Keep your arms straight and gently squeeze the trigger.”

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

“Not bad for a first try, four out of eight on the target and one inside the rings. Your turn, Lyle.” Sergeant Challer carefully took the gun from Eunice’s hands and reloaded before handing him the gun.

OCTOBER 22, 9:20 A.M., R. J. MACY DEPARTMENT STORE, HERALD SQUARE, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK, FROM THE RESEARCH LOGS OF DR. MAXIMILIAN STERNLICHT

The pantsuit draped itself in a novel manner over my body fitting tighter than the suits to which I was accustomed and the longer hair tickled annoyingly as I approached the makeup counter and took a seat.

“Good morning. I’m Taffy. May I help you?”

She appeared younger than many of my students; with a light green off the shoulder top made of some shiny material and a darker green skirt that was so short it would have been more decorous as shorts. I think I scowled as I examined the bright streaks of color covering her face, especially near the eyes. I know I almost walked away at that point.

“I’d like a makeover; something conservative and tasteful that I can apply easily and use during the day.”

“Certainly, Ma’am. Let’s see, with your hair color and skin tone light, warm colors would really highlight your face. How about peach or coral?” Taffy smiled brightly.

“Fine. Whatever. Just show me exactly how you apply each item.”

The cosmetician, nonplussed, turned away for a moment. “Er...a, yes ma’am.”

OCTOBER 22, 2:30 P.M., ST. IVES HOTEL, ROOM 1728, FROM THE RESEARCH LOGS OF DR. MAXIMILIAN STERNLICHT

Two hours of practice and I am now reasonably proficient in the application of makeup. I’ve scheduled my appointment with the drug company for a week from today. That will permit time to better acclimate to this body. I cannot wait to consummate the compact so that I may select a more suitable form. This one is much younger, but if it were not for the need to remain unhindered by Schultz and his group, I would not have chosen a form so different from that with which I am familiar, especially not a female form.

OCTOBER 22, 3:40 P.M., SUITE 1443, QUEEN’S CASINO AND HOTEL, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“Li’l Missy, Ah’d like you all to meet Rita. She is what they call a transsexual, but he’d really like to be transgendered. Wouldn’t you’all?” Rita nodded. She was wearing a knee length white and blue dress with the fabric bunched over her breasts. Her black hair was short, but becoming in a flip. She stood somehow looking both proud and embarrassed at the same time.

“Why don’t you call me Joanie,” John suggested to her new partner. “‘Li’l Missy’ could really begin to piss me off after a short time.” She turned to Rita.

“So, you’re a man and you want to be a woman,” she asked, critically assessing the woman. “Prove it.”

“Huh?” Now Rita was truly embarrassed.

“You heard me. Prove to me that you are a man.” When Rita didn’t respond, she continued. “Come on, strip. Let me see a cock.”

Embarrassment was immediately replaced by anger as Rita placed her hands on her hips. “What the hell are you two, some kind of perverts? Where’s my coat? I’m leaving.”

“Li’l...Ah mean Joanie, what in tarnation are you’all doin’?”

“You!” she snarled at Rita. “Don’t move.” Turning her back on Rita, Joanie continued. “You want me to show you that I can transform a man into a woman, a REAL woman. That means you need to know that this ‘person’ standing in front of us is a man.”

“But Ah brought him heah. Ah know what he is and Ah have no interest a’tall in seein’ anotha man’s privates.”

“Stay and look. Otherwise, regardless of what you think you know you’re not going to believe.” Turning back to Rita, who had started to pick up her purse to leave but was now listening intently, Joanie continued.

“You! Rita! This is no trick. Ask yourself how much you want to be a woman. Ask yourself if it’s worth about an hour of treatment and three days of feeling miserable to be a woman. Ask yourself whether you’re going to be able to live with yourself if you don’t find out.” Joanie stood impatiently waiting while Rita’s face went blank and she stared off into space while she considered.
After almost a minute Rita came back and gave first the Texan and then Joanie an intense look. The Texan was clearly uncomfortable while Joanie was clearly impatient.

“What does it involve?” she asked. Her voice was timid, almost wistful.

“Not much. You are going to prove you are now a man to, and apparently beyond, my ‘partner’s’ ability to doubt. Then, you and I are going to go into the bedroom where I will give you your last fuck as a man. You will drink a really terrible tasting drink. I will take care of you while you get very sick as your body changes and three days later you are going to show this gentleman that you are really a woman.”

Turning to the Texan, she continued. “I assume she can stay here while she changes and I also assume you’re going to want someone standing guard besides me to prove this is not a con.”

He nodded.

“Then if everyone is done talking, let’s get this over with.”

Rita slowly reached for the zipper at the back of her dress.

OCTOBER 23, 8:00 P.M., WALTER REED HOSPITAL, BETHESDA, MARYLAND

“What the hell is going on here? What’s happened to me? Who the hell is that ‘person’ in the other bed?” Congressman Frank Goldman pounded angrily on the small view window set into the door to his combination bedroom and biohazard chamber while a nurse came running.

“Congressman, please calm down and return to bed.”

“Calm down my ass. I want some answers and I want them now.” His voice was only slightly lower than a scream with a hint of panic in it. He continued banging on the window.

“Congressman, the window is made of plastic three inches thick. You’re not going to break it, just hurt yourself. Now please calm down so I can leave to get your doctor.”

“I am as calm as I’m going to be,” was his response, but he did stop his pounding. “Now get me that doctor. I can’t wait to hear what he has to say for himself.” Face still red from anger, the Congressman moved his hands to his sides and slowly backed two steps away from the window.

“Thank you Congressman. It will take Dr. Isaacs at least fifteen minutes to get here. Why don’t you clean up and I’ll get you something more appropriate than those men’s pajamas? Wouldn’t that make us feel a bit better?”

“Make it a half an hour. I need a shower.” He turned and strode purposefully into the bathroom to discover a bit more about whatever had happened to him.
“Oh, and get whoever the hell that is in the other bed out of here. I expect a private room.”

 

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23, 8:45 A.M., AN ISOLATED FARM, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

There were six people at the farmhouse’s dining room table, a thin man with a crew cut wearing a black suit, an exceptionally beautiful woman with short brunette hair similarly attired in a black skirt suit, and Captain Schultz were on one side while Eunice L., Lyle E., and Dr. Harriman were on the other side.

“Thank you all for coming,” Captain Schultz said, opening the discussion. “Eunice. Lyle. At this time, I’d like to introduce you to your partners until this situation is resolved. Kevin McCord is a graduate of John Jay College with a B.S. in Criminal Science and a Masters in Forensic Psychology. He’s been an agent with the F.B.I. for the last three years. He’ll be teamed with you Ms. Branca.” Kevin’s head tipped towards Eunice L.

“Deborah Caughlin also has a B.S. from John Jay College in Criminal Science along with a Ph.D. in Sociology from UCLA. She’s been with the C.I.A. for two years.” Deborah regarded Lyle E. briefly before returning her attention to Captain Schultz.

“Why are we partnering boy girl?” Eunice L. asked as she ran her hand through her hair and shook her head to move it off her face.

“We felt that mixed couples would be more able to blend in without being noticed. Why do you ask Ms. Branca?”

“Well, I just think it would be more appropriate to team me with Ms. Caughlin and Lyle E. with Mr. McCord.”

“Would you explain your reasoning?” Captain Schultz seemed really interested in understanding why.

“Well, it’s kind of personal,” Eunice L. blushed.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Captain?” Dr. Harriman cleared his throat.

“Yes Doctor?”

“Please remember that the current apparent gender alignments are actually fallacious. I too suggest realignment consistent with Eunice L.’s recommendation, if for no other reason than it may assist them to feel more comfortable with each other.”

“Dr. Harriman, I’m not completely sure what you just said, but I believe the gist of it was that you concur with Ms. Branca’s suggestion regarding partners.” He looked to the others present for their assent. While no one outright agreed, there were no negations so he continued. “Fair enough we’ll swap the partners. Then to continue, Mr. McCord, would you please summarize our findings to date?”

“Yes, sir.” He put his briefcase on the table and pulled out a folder.

“Ms. Caughlin and I examined the lab and Dr. Sternlicht’s house with a full forensic team. From the lab, it appears that our subject has taken samples of at least ten different people’s DNA. His samples are evenly split between the sexes. He only chose to obtain samples from young healthy individuals with clean medical histories and above average intelligence. I have photographs and comprehensive biographies here on each individual whose sample is missing.” He stopped to pull out a series of folders and spread them out. Each had a series of labeled plastic packets with photo-graphs and attached papers.

Lyle E. was examining the photos and stopped at two very familiar ones. “He has our DNA too?”

“Affirmative.”

“We believe he has used at least one of these samples to change his appearance.”

“Which one?” Eunice L. was smiling endearingly but she must have been having problems with her hair as she seemed to keep brushing it out of her face. The funny thing was there did not seem to be a single hair out of place to brush back.

“That, Ms. Branca, is the question of the day,” Mr. McCord glumly responded, “or at least one of them.”

“Call me Eunice.” She smiled and brushed at some hair yet again.

“Yes ma’am.” Mr. McCord seemed a bit unsure of how to proceed. “Ah...”

“At Dr. Sternlicht’s home,” Ms. Caughlin cut in and continued for him, “we found that the refrigerator had been cleaned out and selected toiletries were missing. Most specifically, things like toothbrushes, toothpaste, dental floss, talcum powder and mouthwash were taken while an electric razor, aftershave, shampoo and deodorant were left behind. While it is possible that someone kidnapped Dr. Sternlicht despite the absence of any indications of a struggle or even a hasty departure, it is highly unlikely that kidnappers would make such selective and unusual choices of toiletries to bring with them even if they were planning to make it look like he had fled on his own. Plus, at this time we have no suspects who would want to kidnap him.”

“You’re thinking he changed himself in to a woman, aren’t you?” It was a statement more than a question from Dr. Harriman.

“Yes sir, we do.” Mr. McCord was talking again.

“Then let’s set aside the five men for now,” Captain Schultz suggested, “although I’d like you to memorize the identifying information for each of them in case our assumptions are incorrect.” Captain Schultz glanced about him for consensus and then nodded. Mr. McCord gathered the packets for the men and returned them to his briefcase before continuing.

“By checking the records of the local taxicab companies we were able to determine that a man matching Dr. Sternlicht’s description was taken from a convenience store several blocks from his house to his bank and then to the Paramus Park Mall. From there it appears he went to the New Jersey rail station. At that point, we lost his trail, but we suspect he went south to Hoboken and then took the PATH train under the Hudson to Manhattan. We have teams checking the various hotels and motels as we speak and, of course, the rail, plane, car rental and bus terminals are under observation.” He stopped and Ms. Caughlin proceeded to report.

“Credit card records were not informative, however, after discussions with several sales clerks it appears that our subject paid cash for some basic female toiletries, magazines and clothes.” She referred to her notes for a moment. “A black pantsuit, black patent leather purse and flats, a flex-band watch, a chain link bracelet, and a blonde wig, among other things. We obtained pictures of each item and CIA Special Projects, with advice from Dr. Harriman, have produced renderings of what we think Dr. Sternlicht would look like wearing these clothes in each possible body, allowing for difference between his bone structure and those of the sampled.” Mr. McCord was again laying out pictures on the table. The clothes did not appear to fit well in two of the renderings.

“I think we can rule out these two right off the bat.” Lyle E. pointed at an overweight man and a slightly pudgy woman. “Dr. Sternlicht was fastidiously neat. He would never allow himself to appear in public looking less than perfect.”

“That’s true.” Eunice L. chimed in. “He would yell at me for being a slob if I spilled something on my lab coat and he always complained if I wore jeans instead of slacks.” Ms. Caughlin smiled and Eunice paused for a moment, apparently flustered. “I mean it was a lab not an office, or a party, or somewhere it would make a difference.” She looked to Lyle E. for support.

“That’s true,” Lyle E. chimed in and Eunice L. seemed relieved. “If I wore anything but the most conservative clothes he would snarl about me presenting the ‘wrong image’ for a secretary.”

Mr. McCord was again digging in his briefcase and then began to lecture. “That’s consistent with this profile you helped us create. It describes Dr. Sternlicht as being an extremely intelligent and widely read but arrogant man, someone who has little patience for the faults of others and who enjoys showing others he is better than them. He seems to enjoy showing his erudition, preferring multisyllabic words wherever possible. While we are certain he understands the risk of taunting and toying with his pursuers it is highly unlikely that he could resist. Whatever he does will not be blatant. We are not expecting any messages or riddles, but there should be subtle cues.

“The clothing choices are an example, conservative and stylish. Consistent with your earlier comments,” Ms. Caughlin nodded an acknowledgement to Lyle first and than Eunice, “it seems likely that he would not dress down despite perceiving it as a slight additional risk to him. We don’t think he’s left the area–besides, if he has our chances of finding him quickly approach zero–and, fastidious as he is, we expect he will be at one of the city’s better hotels or motels. Two teams are working on that as we speak but we’d like you two out there with us. With your personal knowledge of Dr. Sternlicht, you might notice something we might miss.”

“Then let’s go,” Lyle E. and Eunice L. spoke in unison, but Eunice L. added a “Kay?” and then started giggling, with Lyle E. joining her seconds later. The others looked from one to the other with puzzled expressions.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23, 10:40 A.M., SUITE 1443, QUEEN’S CASINO AND HOTEL, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

Joanie was bored. Rita was huddled in bed shivering from her fever and John wouldn’t come out, even to talk. The Texan– apparently his name was John too, John Smith if you could believe that–was out at some business meeting and wouldn’t be back for hours. And the guard was too professional to do anything but guard. He wouldn’t let her out. He wouldn’t let anyone else. And he wouldn’t even talk to her. Every time she tried, he would just push her back inside and close the suite’s entrance door. If he wasn’t so huge, Joanie John might have considered having John try to take him out, but he was at least six and a half feet tall with biceps as thick as tree trunks. Frustrated, she plopped down on the couch pouting and grabbed the television controller. Maybe the all pornography channel would give her some ideas. As she watched, she kept thinking about those biceps.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23, 12:00 NOON, LE BRASSERIE RESTAURANT, 76TH STREET AND 7TH AVENUE

“I’d like a table.”

“Certainly. Is Madam expecting company?”

“No.”

“Very well. Please wait here and I’ll have a table prepared.”

“No. I’ll wait at the bar.”

“Madam would probably be more comfortable waiting here. It will only be a few moments.” The maitre d’ stood between Dr. Sternlicht and the lounge waiting for her to sit.

“In case you had failed to notice, it is difficult to prepare a table when one is immobile.”

“Yes Madam. If Madam will please be seated here in the waiting area I will be happy to have a table prepared.”

“Then move so I can sit in the lounge.”

“Madam, we prefer to have our customers wait in the waiting area, which explains the apropos name we use to describe it.” He remained immobile. “If Madam wishes, there is an excellent little bistro three blocks away without a waiting area.”

“You mean the Parisian? That is a tourist trap, nothing more.”

“If that is Madam’s opinion.” He still did not move. Dr. Sternlicht glared but bit back another retort and turned to storm over to the waiting area.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1:30 P.M., LE BRASSERIE RESTAURANT, 76TH STREET AND 7TH AVENUE

“Was the meal satisfactory Madam?”

“Yes. Now where is your pay telephone?”

“Next to the rest rooms, Madam.”

“Thank you. Now I can call my attorney and have him file charges against you and this establishment for harassment.”

“If Madam wishes, but it should be noted that there are no laws against rudeness madam or Le Brasserie might file counter charges.” He sniffed haughtily and walked away.

Dr. Sternlicht went to the pay telephone. She was almost surprised to see that it worked. Dialing a number, she waited and then left a message on the answering machine, not expecting a human to answer. “Send your representative to meet Dr. Sternlicht at the Old Home Restaurant at 7:00 P.M. sharp on Wednesday, October 25. Bring $50,000 in small bills, hundreds or less, and the codes for an account in the Cayman Islands for the remainder. Your representative must be the same person Dr. Sternlicht originally met at the Old Home Restaurant on October 4th to discuss this.”

Leaving the restaurant, he hailed a cab. “Forty second and Seventh Avenue.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1:30 P.M., CRAZY JACK’S ELECTRONICS AND NOVELTIES STORE, 238 42ND STREET, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

“If you’re done evaluating the merchandise, that’ll be one thousand dollars.”

“You are certain these documents are legitimate?”

“Of course they’re not legitimate, but they’ll work. The driver’s license matches information currently on the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles database. The state of Rhode Island computerized all their birth and death information a couple of years ago and the birth certificate is a copy of a legitimate certificate from their files. The death record for this person seems to have accidentally gone to data heaven. As for the various college degrees, they’re still yours. To make them completely legal, you’ll have to contact each of them with name and sex change information. I’ve just sped up the process by putting a new name of these diplomas. So, how about some money now?”

“Certainly.” Several large bills changed hands; the documents were replaced in the manila folder they came from and Dr. Sternlicht, now Dr. Maxine Stern, turned to leave.

“Have a good day, and congratulations. It’s a great job.”

“Excuse me?” Dr. Stein asked in confusion.

“The sex change. It’s a great job. I never would have guessed.”

Maxine sneered, “Yes. It is, isn’t it?" Turning, she added an extra bit of wiggle in her walk as she left.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23, 2:40 P.M., COUNTY GENERAL HOSPITAL, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“Yes, Lieutenant. We have her here on our Psychiatric Unit. She claims to be a man, a salesman named William Barrett from Grand Forks who sells...what was it...oh yeah, tractor parts. The delusions include a wife and two kids. They’re remarkably elaborate. The people she claims for her family even exist.”

“I assume you’ve ruled out the obvious like gender reassignment?”

“Certainly, this woman is biologically intact. She could give birth which is why we have her on Nordette …”

The Lieutenant looked confused.

“… birth control pills along with Haldol, an antipsychotic medication and Ativan, an antianxiety medication...to slow her down and keep her from hurting herself.”

“That sounds like her. May I speak to her please?”

“You can try, but she hasn’t been saying much to anyone since she started on her medications. Follow me.”

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23, 4:20 P.M., COUNTY GENERAL HOSPITAL, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“Yes, sir. We have what I believe is the last missing item. I will personally return with it on the next available flight.” Lieutenant Roegler hung up the pay telephone and returned to the psychiatric ward’s nursing station to insure that the release forms were signed.

 

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23, 4:40 P.M., SUITE 1443, QUEEN’S CASINO AND HOTEL, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

“Well Joanie, ah’ll grant you’all somethin’s happenin’. That there is one sick li’l puppy. But ah still don’t have that there proof you’all were promisin’ me.”

“John, I promised you results in three days. This is just the first day. If nothing else, look at the weight loss. He’s lost easily twenty pounds in just one day. How many people do you think would be willing to feel bad for a day or so to loose that much weight?”

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23, 6:50 P.M., ROOM 417, DRAKE HOTEL, 423 WEST 55TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

“Five teams have already been out visiting every hotel and motel in the New York City metropolitan area and we get to duplicate what they’ve already done,” Eunice grumbled. “How can you wear those heels all day? My feet are killing me.” She groaned as she sat on her bed rubbing her stocking clad feet.

“Actually, my feet hurt too, but I’ve learned a few tricks to make it a little bit more bearable. I wear the lowest heels I can. These are only one and a half inches. I also get them one width larger than I should and I have two pairs of cushion inserts in each shoe. It helps.” She sat down and rubbed her feet too. “So how do you like the role of investigator?”

“Actually, I had expected something a bit more interesting, certainly more exciting, than this. How many hotels and motels did we check out today?” Eunice L. asked as she slumped back onto the bed and put her feet up.

“I believe it was twenty-nine, and I would guess that Lyle E. and Kevin covered a similar number. The bad news is that there are over four hundred motels in the New York City metropolitan area. At a worse case we could be doing this for another week.” Deborah flopped back onto the bed also. Eunice noticed the slit of her dress slide open to reveal most of her leg.

“May I ask you a personal question?” Deborah asked as she rolled over onto her side the better to see Eunice L. She tucked her legs up to keep them from hanging uncomfortably over the bed and the slit fell open more revealing her lacy black panties.

“I don’t know,” Eunice said, staring at the frothy black underwear. “I guess it depends on the question.”

“Well, I read the file on you. After all, I wanted to know as much as possible about the person with whom I was about to be partnered.”

Eunice L. rolled over and propped her head up with her elbow. She tore her eyes away from Deborah’s panties and silently looked her in the eye. She looked very good.

“In about fifteen minutes we'll need to get dressed for dinner with Kevin and Lyle. Lyle is kind of nice isn’t he?”

“Yes. We’ve been through a lot together.”

“Is it my imagination or are you interested in him?”

“Huh?” Eunice L. looked totally baffled.

“You know working towards being a couple? Dating?”

“Oh.” Eunice took a long, deep breath and let it out in a whistling sigh. “I don’t know.”

“Talk to me girl. Is there something wrong with him?”

“No.” Eunice L. sighed again. “No. There’s nothing wrong with him. He seems to be adjusting to life quite well.”

“But...”

“No but. I’m just not sure what to do about my own life.”

“Oh.” There was silence for almost a minute. “Is it true that you used to be male?”

Eunice L. glanced back down at Deborah’s panties before answering. “Yes.”

“What made you decide to have gender reassignment surgery?” She rushed on before Eunice L. could ask. “Please. I know this is a very personal question, but I really need to know. My younger brother is considering the surgery and I just don’t understand.” She stopped breathless and flushed with embarrassment. She couldn’t make eye contact.

Eunice let the silence drag finally answering when Deborah again looked at her, tears in her eyes. “Your file wasn’t complete. My sex change was unwanted, unintentional, accidental and definitely not related to surgery.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, hell. Cover yourself and I’ll explain. This is going to take a while.”

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23, 7:35 P.M., ROOM 417, DRAKE HOTEL, 423 WEST 55TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

“Before we leave, let me do your hair in a slightly fancier style.” Deborah offered. Taking the brush from Eunice L.’s hand, she began brushing with one hand and applying light mists of hair spray with the other. “By the way, I should warn you that Kevin is probably going to hit on you.” She said while working. “He thinks he’s a real lady’s man.”

“Thinks?”

“Yeah,” Deborah explained, “well, you know. He always uses the same line, ‘Would you like to dance?’ and then steps on your foot which gives him the chance to apologize, buy you a glass of wine, talk for a while, etc., etc.”
“Does that stuff really work? It never did for me.”

“No, but I haven’t been able to convince him of that.”

“Is that his only line?” Eunice sounded skeptical.

“I don’t know. We’ve only been together for the past week and a half, but he’s tried it three separate times so far.”

“Is he really that much of a shmuck?”

“No. Actually, he’s witty, intelligent and knowledgeable when we discuss work. He just has no dating skills.”

“Great. Maybe Lyle will take pity and tell him we’re a couple.” Eunice noticed Deborah sadly shaking her head no.

“Oh yeah. If he was going to be doing that he and I would be sharing a room, wouldn’t we?” Deborah expression was unchanged as she nodded her head up and down.

“So, I’m about to live through the date from hell?” Deborah smiled and nodded her head again. She put a comforting hand around Eunice’s shoulder.

“Let me offer some helpful advice.” Her smile got even larger.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 23, 10:55 P.M., ROOM 417, DRAKE HOTEL, 423 WEST 55TH STREET, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

“My God, you weren’t kidding.” They stumbled into the motel room, supporting each other and holding their sides to prevent themselves from falling to the floor from the intensity of their giggling.

“How many times did he try to step on your foot?” They barely made it to one of the room’s beds before collapsing as they continued to laugh convulsively and hug each other.

Eunice L. took several deep breathes in an attempt to regain some self control. “At least four times.”

“All in that one dance?”

“Oh yes, and when he wasn’t trying to stomp on my foot he had his hands roaming all over my ass.” Eunice broke down and started giggling again.

“I still think the best part was when you grabbed his tie during the dance and pulled his head down to your height.”

“Yeah, I’d always thought that was sexy when a girl did that. Of course, I didn’t expect him to end up almost burying his head in my boobs.” Eunice L. had managed a seated position. She looked down and cupped her breasts through her light cotton print dress.

“Amazing how they fascinate guys, isn’t it?” Deborah noted as she too struggled into a sitting position. She turned away from Eunice L. and yawned.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately and I think I have a relatively unique perspective.” Eunice started undoing the buttons of her dress.

“So what is it already?” Deborah dropped back down onto the bed and then rolled over on her stomach, propping her head up with her arms.

“Well, I think Freud had it backwards. It’s not penis envy; it’s breast envy.” Eunice L. finished working on her buttons and slid the dress off her shoulders while Deborah waited.

“Okay, breast envy,” Deborah prompted. “How do you come to that conclusion?” The dress slid to the floor and Eunice L. picked it up and hung it up before answering.

“Well, think about it. Do you really want a penis? It’s small, it’s wrinkled and it’s attached to these two hairy little sacks that can cause excruciating pain if you’re not careful and let them get bumped. And remember, I speak from personal experience here.”

“Okay, then what do women envy and how does a man envying a breast make him do all the weird things they do?”

“I’ll answer that when I get back. Just give me a minute.” Eunice L. entered the bathroom and closed the door. Deborah watched her go. After several seconds she groaned and began undressing also. She was in her nightgown and had just laid a second nightgown on the other bed for Eunice when the bathroom door opened.

“I got out a nightgown for you,” Deborah noted as she passed her on the way to the bathroom. Let me clean up a bit and then I want to hear your explanation.”
Eunice was in bed when she returned to the bedroom. Deborah got into her bed and turned to Eunice. “I set the alarm clock for 7:00 A.M.,” she noted. “Do you want the lights on?”

“No thank you.” Deborah turned the lights off.

“Now, will you please explain?”

“Sure. It’s really very easy. Like I said before, a penis is not exactly pretty. What we women desire is what men desire, some control over our lives. It’s not the penis we envy it’s the power and control over a stronger body; it’s the ability to impact on those around us that women envy. Much as Freud theorizes happens with penis envy, women know that they are smaller and weaker so we find ways to control by manipulating others into doing what we wish, and to put it bluntly our breasts are major weapons for controlling men. Men just about worship them. They’ll do almost anything to touch one, lick, one, see one. They worship them and they worship us because we have them.” Eunice took a deep breath before continuing. “Like I said, Freud was wrong, if anything, he should have been talking about breast envy, not penis envy.”

“You’re serious aren’t you?” asked a bemused Deborah. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

“No, but it sounds good, doesn’t it?” Eunice smiled hesitantly. After several seconds, Deborah began laughing and Eunice joined her. Suddenly Eunice became serious.

“Deborah, I really like you and think you’re a great person. I’d like you to be my friend...”

“Sure, I’d like that and I already think of you as a good friend.” Deborah smiled.

“No. Please. I need to finish.” Deborah stopped smiling. She rolled so she could see the dim outline of Eunice, now sitting upright in the other bed.

“When we first met I didn’t like you. You were so sure of yourself, so in control of your life. I was jealous. I was afraid you’d come between Lyle and me.” Eunice swallowed hard. “I was afraid he’d like you better than me.” Tears were seeping out of the corners of Eunice’s eyes.

“Oh Eunice, please don’t cry. I understand how you must have felt.” She slipped from her bed, slid onto the covers of Eunice’s bed and hugged her tightly. “It’s okay, dear. It’s okay,” she crooned as she gently wiped the tears from Eunice’s eyes.

Reaching out, Deborah gave Eunice a tremendous hug. “We are friends, best friends, now and forever.” Deborah’s bed was unused the rest of the night.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 24, 9:00 A.M., AN ISOLATED FARM, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“It is no longer speculation. We have succeeded in developing a ‘fixative,’ an agent to nullify the virus so it is no longer contagious.” Dr. Harriman was beaming as he sat at the dining room table discussing his progress with Captain Schultz. “All the animal trials have been one hundred percent successful.”

“So are you ready for the first human trials?”

“Well, I understand your urgency, but, I would note that despite my optimism, it would be best to assure the results with some longitudinal studies.”

“You mean make sure the virus does not come back over time?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

“Dr. Harriman, please remember we have five human beings locked in that barn. They are no longer covered with fur and trying to be very large rats, but they are little better than infants. We owe them their humanity, but they won’t really develop into functional human beings if they can’t interact with other human beings, human beings that are not wearing biohazard suits.”

 

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 9:10 P.M., SUITE 1443, QUEEN’S CASINO AND HOTEL, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

Rita was ecstatic. She had just cleaned herself up and dressed herself. John Smith had just ordered some champagne for a celebration while John was in charge of Joanie and his body.

“Li’l Missy ah must congratulate you’all. You’all delivered everythin’ exactly as promised. I think it’s time to finalize ouah negotiations.”

“I’ll drink to that,” John smiled.

“Well Joanie deah, ah don’ know if you’all wanna to do that.”

“Huh. Why not.”

“Well. Ah told you ah ran a drug company and ah do. What ah didn’t tell you’all is that ah happen to have a bunch of friends in South America who ah in charge of production.”

“So?”

“They strongly believe in exclusivity.”

“Again, so what? We’ve already discussed that.” John wasn’t sure where this was going but she was getting a bit worried.

“Ah video taped the entire process so ah know that you are personally required for this to work. You’all were sellin’ yourself and my partners would be very angry if ah did not collect.”

John started edging toward the door to the suite. “What do you mean collect?”

“George,” the Texan bellowed, “Whah don’t you’all come in here.” The door opened and the guard came in, standing stoically just inside the entry. He seemed even larger standing there with his arms crossed and looking mean.

Now John was really worried. “Why are you doing this? We had a deal and I just delivered. Now back off or I’ll never tell you how to do it.” Slowly, she began to slip toward the bedroom door.

“Rita?”

“Yes, Mr. Smith.” She came bouncing out of the bedroom looking fetching in a pink halter-top and short shorts. She brought a gun out from behind her back and pointed it loosely in Joanie’s general direction.

“Well Li’l Missy, ah think you all are about to take a trip.”

Rita brought her other hand out from behind her back. It held a syringe.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 11:00 A.M., ST. IVES HOTEL, ROOM 1728, FROM THE RESEARCH LOGS OF DR. MAXIMILIAN STERNLICHT

Dr. Sternlicht completed packing and called for a bellboy. At the front lobby, the same clerk was on duty as when he had checked in as Mr. Hoyden Tiresias.

“Hello, my name is Maxine Stern. I’ll be checking out for Mr. Tiresias. I’d like these valises shipped to Newark Airport and I’d like the remainder of the funds he situated in your depository minus the agreed upon 25% gratuity.”

“Certainly, Madam. I’ll just need Mr. Tiresias’ signature on a release for the funds he placed in the safe.”

The woman smiled and confidently handed him a signed “power of attorney.” At the confused look on the clerk’s face, she smiled even more and said, “I know, you’ll have to authenticate that with your supervisor. Go. Go. Go.” She shooed him off and went to sit patiently in one of the plush padded chairs.

Eventually the clerk returned. “The power of attorney will be acceptable Ms. Stern. Please sign this release and we’ll settle the account.”

“Fine, and when you’ve concluded your enumerations you may hail a taxicab.”

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 4:00 P.M., ST. IVES HOTEL LOBBY

They walked up to the front desk and flashed their badges. Before speaking a word, the clerk immediately escorted them to the door by the manager’s office. The clerk said, “One moment please.” and then disappeared behind the door.

“Please come in.” The clerk was back a moment later, obsequiously holding the door to the manager’s office for them. The room was quite plain compared to the ornate decoration of the lobby. It had an unadorned wooden desk of light oak, a matching meeting table with six chairs, and two padded chairs that looked like they could have come from the lobby. A short, portly, balding man in his forties with an obsequious smile greeted them from behind the desk.

“Welcome to the St. Ives. My name is Brian Miller and I’m the day manger. How can we help you?”

The badges were shown again and the man’s smile became just a bit more forced. He gestured for them to sit and they did. Eunice noted his surreptitious glance at her legs and, with a bright friendly smile; she first adjusted the short skirt of her suit and then began playing with the pendant resting between her breasts. The man quickly sat down and Eunice thought she saw several small beads of moisture forming on his brow.

Deborah cleared her throat and, after a surreptitious frown in Eunice’s direction so that her partner would stop teasing the man, spoke. “We’re looking for someone.” She placed a wanted poster on his desk. “This man is wanted for theft and possession of stolen property. He has an accomplice. She may look like this.” Another wanted poster was placed next to the first.

“Surely you don’t think someone like that would come into our hotel?”

“It is possible. We would like these posters to be distributed and we’d like your permission to speak to your staff.”

“Certainly, but please do it here in my office. I have no interest in upsetting our clientele. I’ll start by bringing in the front desk staff.” He gestured to the table. “You can set up over there.”

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 4:40 P.M., ST. IVES HOTEL MANAGER’S OFFICE

“That’s just about everyone here now. The last of the desk clerks will be back from his break in a minute or so and I’ll have him come in.” There was a knock on the door.

“Ah, excellent. James, please come here. I’d like you to meet Ms. Caughlin and Ms. Branca. They’re from the FBI. They’d like to speak to you for a few moments.”

“Thank you for your time,” Deborah extended her hand. He seemed a bit flustered and she quickly glanced back to see if Eunice was being a tease again, then, after confirming she was not, grabbed his half extended hand and shook it firmly.

“Please sit down. We’d like you to look at these pictures.” Once he was seated, she continued. “The man is wanted for theft and possession of stolen property.” She gestured to one poster. “He has an accomplice. She may look like this.”

She watched as the man glanced at the manager standing behind the women before beginning to answer and interrupted. Without turning away from the desk clerk, she spoke to the manager. “Please tell this man to be cooperative.”

“Certainly. Certainly,” the manager blushed and nodded to the desk clerk.
“James, please answer these people’s questions with complete candor.” James saw the manager scowling but took him at his word and carefully examined each photograph.

“I’m not sure.”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?”

“Well, there was this really snotty guy that checked in about a week or so ago. I only saw him once, but this guy could be him.”

“Why is it that you remember him if you only saw him once?”

“As I said, he was rather snotty and he wouldn’t provide a credit card.” James pointed to the manager. “I had to get approval to accept cash from Mr. Miller. He then placed a large sum of money in our safe.

“Is he still here?”

“Uh, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean, ‘You don’t think so?’ Is his room still booked?”

“No. Some lady came by earlier today and checked him out.”

“Did the woman look anything like the woman in this wanted poster?”

He examined the second poster carefully and then shook his head. “No. I’m sorry but I can’t tell.”

“Then can you describe her?”

“Sure. She was pretty, you know, a really nice body but dressed very conservatively, and maybe 30. She acted older, but she looked younger. She had wavy platinum blonde hair about half way down her shoulder blades. She talked funny, I don’t know, kind of stilted I guess you’d call it.” He looked up from the poster. “Actually, except for the hair she kind of looked like your partner there.” He pointed at Eunice.

“You said she was here earlier today. When?”

“Not long before lunch. I went to lunch about eleven-thirty so it must have been about eleven.”

“What was she wearing?”

“Well, I remember it was very conservative, oh I said that before didn’t I?” His eyes unfocused as he thought. “It was a...a blue pinstripe suit with a calf length skirt.”

“When she left where did she go?”

“I don’t know. She had me call her a cab. Maybe William at the front door knows.”

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 5:25 P.M., ST. IVES HOTEL MANAGER’S OFFICE, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

“She’s using a Eunice but with long ash blonde hair, last seen in a blue pinstripe suit. She just checked out of the St. Ives using the name Maxine Stern, which means she’s probably making her move.” Deborah listened intently to the telephone.

“If all the mass transportation options are covered, Eunice and I will head towards the theater district.” She listened again.

“That’s right; she seems to be heading for a Broadway show.” Another brief silence.

“Good. Have Kevin and Lyle meet us there.” She hung up and turned to the others. “Thank you for your assistance Mr. Miller. Let’s go, Eunice. We’ll meet the others at Eighth Avenue and Forty-Fifth Street and then fan out.”

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 5:35 P.M., STREETS OF MANHATTAN, NEW YORK

“What the hell were you doing back there?”

“Huh?” Eunice L. asked innocently.

“Great dialogue. You know what I mean. Back at the hotel. What were you doing taunting that man?” Deborah briefly glared over at Eunice while she drove.

“You mean the skirt and the pendant?”

“Yes I mean the skirt and the pendant.”

“Oh. Well, I saw him gawking at my legs and he.... Watch that truck!” Deborah swerved.

“You were saying?”

“He was staring at me and so I thought I’d give him a reason to stare. How was I to know it would affect him so much?”

“Because you’re a woman. Because you used to be a man. How many answers do you want?”

“You’re right,” Eunice L. answered, chastised. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. It’s just the first time anyone’s really looked at me like that and...and I just couldn’t resist.”

“Well okay, but please don’t do that while we’re working. It’s hard enough to be taken seriously as a woman in law enforcement and that kind of crap just makes it worse.”

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 5:55 P.M., CORNER OF 48TH STREET AND 8TH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

“Almost all of the matinees will be out by now so we’re not likely to find Maxine Stern in the area, but we might find a ticket collector or an usher who recognizes her picture. Did you get the retouched photo we requested?”

“Yes. Here.” Kevin distributed copies to each of the other three. “Let’s start here, move down to Sixth Avenue and then back up Forty-Seventh Street. You take one side of the street and we’ll take the other. We probably don’t have a lot of time and this is a long shot anyway, so let’s do this quickly.”

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 25, 6:25 P.M., 46TH STREET BETWEEN SIXTH AND SEVENTH AVENUES, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

“Deborah,” Eunice L. called to her partner excitedly. “I think we’ve hit pay dirt. I’ve got an usher here who remembers someone who looks like Maxine Stern. She apparently demanded he get her a taxicab after the show.”

“That sure sounds like our man, I mean woman. When was this?”

“Actually, not too long ago. The show ended at five forty-five and it was at least fifteen minutes later before she stopped him for the cab.”

Does he remember anything more?”

“Well, he’s not sure, but he thinks it was a medallion cab, not one of those gypsies.”

“No number, no cabby description?”

“No such luck. I’ve already got our liaison in the New York City Police Department checking it out. Let’s meet at the Papa Pete’s Pizza at Forty-Fourth Street and Seventh Avenue in five minutes.”

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 25, 6:35 P.M., PAPA PETE’S PIZZA, 44TH STREET AND SEVENTH AVENUE

Kevin twirled his chair and sat straddling it with his elbows propped up against the back. After a moment’s hesitation, Lyle E. copied him.

“Okay folks,” Kevin said, “it’s time to come up with a miracle. The odds of getting a match on a cabby in the next few minutes is pretty close to nil. He’s not acting like he’s being followed so he, I mean she, will probably complete whatever schedule she is following. We need ideas regarding what she might be doing next.” Kevin looked to the others sitting around him.

“Well, I hate to admit it,” Eunice L. said after waiting to see that no one else was going to speak, “but the only idea I’ve got is that I’m hungry and the smell of this food is definitely not helping.”

 

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 25, 6:35 P.M., PAPA PETE’S PIZZA, 44TH STREET AND SEVENTH AVENUE

“If he’s smart he’s going some place public to make whatever exchange he’s got planned.”

“What about the old standbys?”

“What do you mean Lyle?”

“Oh, you know. In the movies, it’s always some tourist attraction, like the Empire State Building, the World Trade Center, the Staten Island Ferry, the Bronx Zoo or Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. Some place like that maybe?"

“I don’t think so.” Eunice chimed in. “Dr. Sternlicht would never stand around and wait for someone. He’d make them come to him.”

“Yeah. Good point. Maybe a museum or an art gallery?” Lyle asked between bites of pizza.

“Possible, I wonder how many are open at this time of the evening on a Wednesday?” Kevin began searching through his briefcase and pulled out a thick guide to New York City. While the others ate, he skimmed through the guide.

“Amazing, more than sixty museums in the New York City metropolitan area and none of them are open after 6 on a Wednesday.” Kevin interrupted.

“None? And I thought New York was the City that never slept,” Lyle E. quipped.

“Actually, I think that’s Las Vegas.” Deborah interjected. “Any more ideas, folks? Don’t be shy.”

Eunice L. swallowed some of her cola and placed it back on the table. “Maybe he went to eat? After all, that’s what we’re doing.”

“Also a good possibility, but much more difficult to address. There must be thousands of restaurants in the metropolitan area.”

“True, but Dr. Sternlicht is an epicure. He would only eat at one of the best restaurants around.”

“Would he actually want to eat during what might be a potentially dangerous exchange?”

“That one’s an easy one to answer.” Lyle smiled. “Yes. There is no way that consideration for others would interfere with Dr. Sternlicht’s personal plans.”

“Fine.” Kevin sighed. “Let’s see what we can find in the way of gourmet restaurants in the area.” Once again, he began browsing through his briefcase and pulled out a copy of a restaurant guide.

“What else do you have in that thing?” Lyle was curious. “It reminds me of all the jokes about women’s purses being black holes from which you can pull out just about anything.”

“Airline, train, and bus schedules; a cellular telephone, a copy of Sternlicht’s appointment book, spare ammunition, two sets of handcuffs, some pens, and two pads of paper.”

“Do you two know if Sternlicht had any favorite types of restaurants?”

“He liked French style cooking and...what’s it called?” Eunice turned to Lyle. “The really fancy stuff?”

“Haute cuisine?”

“Yea that’s it. Does that help any?”

“Maybe,” Kevin sighed.

“While you’re going through the restaurant guide why don’t you let me look through the appointment book?” Lyle E. offered. “I used to be his secretary. Maybe I’ll see something that doesn’t feel right.”

“Sure. Here.” The appointment book was handed over.

“While you two are reading, I’m going to the bathroom. Eunice would you like to join me?”

“Ah…sure.”

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 25, 6:55 P.M., PAPA PETE’S PIZZA, 44TH STREET AND SEVENTH AVENUE

“What’s the ‘Old Home’?”

“Excuse me?”

“The ‘Old Home.’ It’s in Sternlicht’s appointment book. Wednesday, October fourth, at seven thirty P.M. I don’t recognize it.”

“I don’t know.” Kevin turned to Deborah and Eunice, just returning from the bathroom and called out to them. “Deborah, see if you can get a telephone book.” He then turned his attention back to the restaurant guide.

“Here’s the phone book. What do you want it for?”

“Lyle found an entry in Sternlicht’s appointment book for someplace called the “Old Home.” It’s not one of his regular places and unless it’s a code of some sort, it might be listed there.”

“I’ll check.” Eunice took the phone book.

“We’ve got three ‘Old Homes’ in the book.” Eunice reported. “Old Home Hardware in the Prospect Park area of Brooklyn, Old Home Industries located about thirty blocks from here. It seems they manufacture and sell fabrics according to their advertisement and finally an Old Home Restaurant on Fifty-Sixth Street and Ninth Avenue.”

“I’ll have our NYPD contact check out the two homes. I think we can rule out a hardware store or a fabric company. That leaves the restaurant. Is it in the gourmet restaurant guide?”

Kevin rapidly turned some pages. “No. Shall we give it a try anyway?”

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 7:00 P.M., THE OLD HOME RESTAURANT, 56TH STREET AND 9TH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

Dr. Sternlicht had just completed as much as she could of an excellent prime rib dinner, less than half of the huge serving, and wondered idly why the place was not rated higher than it was on the various restaurant guides. Admittedly, such simple fare was not her normal preference, but it was still quite good, and the portions were magnificent. Even her “Kid’s Cut” was too large for her to finish.

Glancing at her watch she wondered if her contact would be on time, then she noticed the matre’d ushering a strikingly familiar looking woman in an off the rack black pantsuit and carrying a briefcase, toward her table. He escorted her to Dr. Sternlicht’s table and after a nod from Dr. Sternlicht, he seated her.

“Ms. Maldonado I presume. That pageboy cut looks quite fetching.”

“Thank you,” she growled. “Can we get on with this?”

“My, my, aren’t we the cantankerous one. This wouldn’t be our time of the month perchance?”

“Very funny, you son of a bitch. You are the reason I look this way. You changed me into...this.” She gestured to herself. “Why? Why did you do this to me?” She was near tears in her rage.

“Why? Because I could. You importuned me for proof and I bestowed it in a guise that would be convincing beyond challenge for you and your superiors.” Dr. Sternlicht sipped her wine. “Would you like some? It’s a bit rude, but has a pleasant, if plebeian, bouquet.”

“You do understand that you’ve ruined my life, don’t you? My employer will never trust me again, not as a female. My wife has left me and taken our children. My church has ex-communicated me. My friends have shunned me as some kind of freak.” She paused for a breath.

“Not a freak, Ms. Maldonado, merely the first. You are the first of a new generation who will have their bodies sculpted to meet their concepts of perfection. If anything, you should thank me for providing you this opportunity, especially at such a bargain basement price. What was it a cup of coffee? After all, how old were you? Forty five? Fifty? No matter. As you sit there before me, you are a beautiful woman whose age would appear to be between twenty and thirty summers. Several men at surrounding tables are surreptitiously glancing your way with lustful countenances. Your wife and family are irrelevant. You are a new person with a new life ahead of you.”

“But I never asked for a new life, certainly not as a female. I don’t want it and you had no right to do this to me.”

“Enough. Such debate is fruitless. You were to bring fifty thousand dollars in small bills, hundreds or less, and the codes for an account in the Cayman Islands. I presume those items are in there.” Dr. Sternlicht gestured to the briefcase her tablemate was holding.

“Yes. You are to provide me with a similar briefcase with 100 cc of the virus and all the research notes regarding its creation, growth, administration and limits.”

“Here.” Dr. Sternlicht brought out a similar briefcase from under her seat.
“Shall we exchange?” Ms. Maldonado nodded. Each opened the briefcase they had just received and examined the contents.

“It would seem that our business is concluded.” Dr. Sternlicht took a fifty-dollar bill from her purse and dropped it on the table before standing to leave.

“Hold on. I’ll walk out with you.”

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 25, 7:15 P.M., 56TH STREET AND 9TH AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK

The two women stood in front of the restaurant.

“Wait, Doctor. Before you leave I have a personal gift for you.”

“That’s not necessary, Ms. Maldonado.”

“But I insist.” She reached into her purse for something.

The conversation was interrupted as a dark colored car pulled up in front of the restaurant entrance and several people piled out. Suddenly there were guns in the hands of two of the people. “Dr. Sternlicht! You’re under arrest. Put down the briefcase and raise your hands,” Kevin’s voice called out from his position by the driver’s side front door.

“You too, Miss,” Deborah called from the front passenger side of the car.
There was a shot and Eunice L. and Lyle E. flinched. Kevin yelled, “Put down that gun and step to the wall now! Do it!”

The woman with the short black hair dropped her purse and briefcase stepped back against the wall. Eunice and Lyle looked frantically about for a source for the gunshot. Then, as if in slow motion, the blonde woman began to crumple to the ground as a bright red stain formed on her chest. Kevin moved to the standing woman and gruffly turned her about and shoved her firmly into the wall. He began reading her rights to her while the others clustered about the fallen woman. Deborah tried to administer first aid.

“Call nine-one-one.” Lyle E. ran for the cellular phone in Kevin’s briefcase.

“Eunice. See what you can do for her.” Deborah stood up, picked up the briefcases and placed them in the trunk of the car while Kevin finished reading and placed handcuffs on the woman’s back. Walking to the purse the dark haired woman had dropped; she opened it and peered inside. Taking a pen from her pocket, she fished around in the purse and pulled out a small caliber revolver by its finger guard. Holding it to her nose, she sniffed freshly burned powder. Bringing it to the still open car trunk, she carefully placed it in a plastic bag, labeled the bag and placed it in a suitcase in the trunk. Kevin moved the other woman to the back of the car and, with his hand on her head, pushed her into the car.

Lyle E. had since returned to Dr. Sternlicht’s side and, with Eunice L., was trying unsuccessfully to stem the flow of blood. As they stood there, the bleeding woman moaned and shivered. Her eyes seemed to glaze over. With one final convulsion and a long sigh, her eyes closed.

There were sirens in the distance which rapidly moved closer. Kevin stood by the car and waved the police car over as a second siren began to approach. The second siren turned out to be an emergency vehicle whose paramedics ran to Dr. Sternlicht’s side as Eunice and Lyle backed away.

“Hey. You two. Don’t leave.” One of the cops stopped their discussion with Kevin to call out.

“It’s okay. They’re with us.” Lyle and Eunice walked over to Kevin, Deborah and the two officers.

Deborah saw them coming and intercepted them. “They’re arguing jurisdiction, let’s not confuse the issue. Is she dead?”

“The paramedics just started. With luck they might save her, but I think she’s gone.” Lyle spoke somberly while Eunice cried.

“Was that really Dr. Sternlicht?” Eunice asked blowing her nose.

“The identification was for a Maxine Stern, the same name used to sign out of the hotel. Her briefcase had nothing but money and a bank account. The other briefcase, however, had ten vials of a clear liquid and copies of what look like Sternlicht’s research notes, so yes, I think it’s safe to say that was Dr. Sternlicht.”

“What a way to go.” Lyle shook his head and turned away so the others would not see the moisture filling his eyes.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 1, 11:45 A.M., AN ISOLATED FARM, LOCATION DELETED CONSISTENT WITH PROVISIONS OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY ACT

“Thank you for making Dr. Sternlicht a nice funeral. He was a bastard, but even he didn’t deserve to die so horribly.”

Captain Schultz accepted the gratitude as he gestured for Lyle and Eunice to sit down at the farmhouse’s dining room table. “Not the way I would have preferred it but that does pretty much wrap things up. Dr. Sternlicht was not successful in giving away the virus. His murderer is in jail awaiting trial. We’ve successfully transformed the rat people back to humans using DNA from the two of you and so you’ve both got several new brothers and sisters now. Dr. Harriman has decided to continue work on the virus and will be moving back to New York University. As you know from Dr. Harriman, he has already developed a cure using H. Pylori and all the other victims of the virus have been cured. About all that’s left is to finish with you two.

“What do you mean?” Lyle asked worriedly as Eunice’s hand stealthily moved to hold his.

“Oh, please,” Captain Schultz laughed. “I’m not going to kill you or imprison you. I’m not the ogre you apparently think me to be. I just meant you two need to decide if you want to get your old bodies back and then take the cure.”

 

It has been ten years since the events chronicled herein and it seems a fitting conclusion to report the impact of this discovery on the people involved and on the world in general since then.

Dr. Harriman, as has already been reported, developed an agent for eliminating the virus in its victims so that they could live normal lives without fear of transforming anyone who shared bodily fluids with them. He also succeeded in modifying the original virus so it could not survive more than five days outside of a specially enriched medium. This turns out to be just long enough to permit transformation without the long-term risk of further infection. This modification met with the approval of Captain Schultz and his still unknown superiors.

Unsurprisingly, the Nobel Prize for Physiology and Medicine was one of the many honors granted him. Dr. Harriman insisted it be shared. He couldn’t get the Committee to honor Dr. Sternlicht posthumously, but did get them to include him as a significant researcher in the statement they released. The honor was shared with Dr. Lyle Abbot, who’s doctoral degree had been conferred just days prior to the awards ceremony. He had used the development of the safe form of the virus as his dissertation.

Dr. Abbot and Dr. Harriman went on to create a new company called the Quintessence Corporation to produce the safe form of the virus. Captain Schultz actually assisted with a significant portion of the initial funding. He says he has retired from his military duties and he now serves as Chairman of the Board for the corporation while Sergeant Challer, also retired from the military, is now the corporation’s President. They’re both sharp businessmen and last year Quintessence Corporation joined the ranks of the top fifty companies in the Fortune one hundred.

Sadly, Dr. Harriman passed on about three years ago. He never swerved from his trust and faith in humanity, nor did the tremendous wealth resulting from his many discoveries change his lifestyle. He was in his car driving himself to work at New York University when a bomb destroyed it and him. No one has ever been arrested for his murder and I doubt anyone ever will, but speculation is that it was the Columbian drug cartel with the religious right as a close second. For the cartel it would have been just business, they objected to the competition. For the religious right his death was a sign from God and has spurred them to even greater protests against the blasphemy of “body-morphing.” Only “right to life” protests seem to produce more fervor.

The death threats, which we had all ignored until then, continue to this day and shortly after Dr. Harriman’s death, Lyle–who had initially changed back to male–went back to being Eunice L. again. This was partially as a way of confusing any would-be assassins, since there were so many of us, and partially because he felt happier that way. The lab work showing he had prostate cancer was also a factor.

Speaking of changes, Giuseppe “Gina” Maldonado was the name of Dr. Sternlicht’s alleged murderer. She has consistently claimed to be the agent of a French drug company which has, of course, disavowed any knowledge of Ms. Maldonado’s actions. As the company has vigorously pursued slander and libel charges in both the French and international courts against anyone who has linked their name and Ms. Maldonado’s and has consistently managed to win very large settlements based upon damage to the company’s earning power, my publisher has requested I not name them in this manuscript. Instead, I refer the interested reader to almost any of the several recently sued tabloids. The articles are there next to the alien babies and the Elvis sightings. For the record, it seems to be much easier to sue for slander or libel and win in other countries than it is in the United States of America. My publisher has told me that I could name the company if I only publish in the U.S., but insists that there is a tremendous worldwide audience for this story. I guess money really does talk.

Regardless, Ms. Maldonado, who does not confirm the name of the drug company involved, only that one was involved, has received significant funds for legal services from some unnamed source. The State of New York attempted to prosecute her for the murder of Dr. Sternlicht but those funds have been sufficient to retain some of the best legal minds in this country. Ms. Maldonado’s attorneys have argued that she could not be a murderer as no one was murdered. Despite the corpse found at the restaurant and testimony from Kevin, Deborah, Lyle and I, the jury found there was no proof of murder as there was no proof that the corpse was ever a living person human being. After all, DNA evidence showed a perfect match with Eunice Branca Harriman, who was clearly still alive, and the remains were not even the correct sex to be that of Dr. Sternlicht. Unable to prove that the life of Dr. Maximilian Sternlicht had been terminated, the State was prepared to settle for manslaughter in the first degree instead of murder, but Ms. Maldonado would not settle and in the end, after the second most intensely reported trial in history, she was acquitted. The highly touted federal Rico Act charges for racketeering have never materialized and will probably never come to trial.

Since the trial, Ms. Maldonado has been a regular on the talk show circuit and has ghost written a book entitled, The Other Side of the Fence. She has recently replaced the lady who turns the letters on that game show. You know the one, although its name currently escapes me as does the name of the lady she replaced.

Congressman Goldman and his father were released after they took Dr. Harriman’s antidote and were confirmed to be free of the virus. They toyed with the idea of a lawsuit, but that languished and the statute of limitations has since expired. Surprisingly, both have elected to remain female, although in the Congressman’s case, probably because it actually increased his election margins. Polls suggested that men thought of him as a hero while women were convinced they now had someone who could understand the female perspective. The Congressman’s father was another of the early investors in Quintessence Corporation and has since quadrupled his family’s fortune. We still remain in contact, albeit sporadically, and her last letter arrived about four months ago. She was in Cannes, in the south of France, for the annual film festival and appeared about to net her third husband. I think she really likes being a fabulously wealthy thirty-year old female.

The Congresswoman just won her second term as a United States Senator. This last campaign wasn’t as vicious as the first although the religious right did heavily fund her opponent. Still, she won with a sizable margin, mostly thanks to the women’s vote, and, if you believe the rumors, there is talk of a run for the Presidency. People say she’s got a good chance of winning. I guess I’ll never understand politics.

Anticipating the market, Quintessence’s first step was to buy DNA from as many people as they could, especially from people in the entertainment field. All of the victims of the original virus were given their choice of DNA for body morphs from the newly created library. All but four have retained their initial morph shapes of Eunice. I think they like the notoriety, especially since Quintessence refuses to release either of those two DNA samples for further morphing. Maybe that’s because most of them work for Quintessence in one capacity or another, but I also know that there were at least four major stockholders who actively campaigned to prevent further releases of that DNA set.

The rat people have been a special problem. Dr. Sternlicht’s research notes confirmed that he was responsible for their transformations as part of an attempt to demonstrate that the virus could be an airborne vector also. The notes don’t say so, but Lyle and I still think he was also trying to get rid of us too. Dr. Harriman’s speculation that their human memory would be adversely impacted by the change from human to rat was all too accurate. Upon return to human form, they had none of their human memories. Effectively they were very large infants. The good news is that they have excellent intellectual capacity, the result of their new human DNA I’m proud to say, having been one of the donors. They are learning rapidly, but in the meantime Quintessence has made special arrangements to provide full care for them and promises jobs as soon as they are capable. The first started work in the mail room just two years after being returned to a fully human form and the last was back to work four years later. They still have some surprising blanks in their knowledge but seem to be getting better every day.

Repeated government attempts to smash the drug cartel have failed ignominiously, especially last year’s massive joint U.S. Colombian effort. Its failure, and the censure attempt by the United Nations that followed, are probably a major factor in why Senator Goldman’s chances for a successful run for the Presidency are so good. John/Joanie has never been found and the only reason for anyone knowing of the existence of John Smith is the casino video cameras. Joanie, assuming she is still alive, is presumed to be being held somewhere in Colombia.

The good news is that cocaine production is down a bit, but that’s only because “Q”–the name is meant to be an embarrassment for Quintessence Corporation–is so much cheaper to produce and distribute. We could undercut the drug lords and remove “Q” as a problem to society but so far my appeals to Captain Schultz to make access to the safe virus produced by Quintessence more inexpensive and commonly accessible have fallen on deaf ears. Instead, we’ve added another sexually transmitted disease for the public to worry about. His concern, of course, is that it won’t take much longer for another country or drug company to replicate Dr. Harriman’s research and undercut the company, which is why the Quintessence is rapidly diversifying into fields such as securities, insurance, medical technology, research into DNA code analysis, and memory analysis. For example, we recently announced the development of a prototype of a mini microchip powered by the heat of the body that could be used to identify a person regardless of their body form. With Captain Schultz’s government connections, I expect it to be the standard in personal identification in a short while. Most of the various government agencies involved with security, personal identification or fiduciary matters are already lobbying for the Food and Drug Administration to place its review on a fast track.

Kevin is still with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He’s had several promotions since then as has Deborah, who switched to the F.B.I. shortly after the conclusion of the trial of Ms. Maldonado for the murder of Dr. Sternlicht. In fact, Deborah is now Kevin’s boss, which has not stopped him from trying to get her to sleep with him. For the record, and because the tabloids have made so many spurious allegations, they both state that they have not have sex with each other.

In summary, I think that Charles Dickens said it best with his opening to A Tale of Two Cities, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Despite all that’s happened life goes on. Wars keep cropping up in various places and people keep dying and being born. Regardless of all the hype and hoopla resulting from this discovery, I wonder if any of us will be more than a footnote in history books in another millennium, and despite the stated intent of some people, I have no interest in living long enough to find out.

Much of the material in this popularized narrative was culled from my doctoral dissertation. Eunice L. and I have been living together ever since the accident. The tabloids have been constantly trying to find out more about our private lives, probably even more so since we have worked so hard to preserve our privacy. They call us a paradox and, with their usual banal attempts to play on words, will probably now call us a pair a docs. I guess that since I chose to return to my old body they can’t understand how two famous people of the same sex can live happily together. As far as they are concerned, that’s the real paradox. They still haven’t realized–despite this brave new world–that it’s what people say and do that counts; not the shells we wear. Besides, now we can share each other’s clothes. Lately Eunice L. is talking about having a child and I’m tempted to join her.

Eunice Branca Harriman, Ph.D.
Chapel Hill, North Carolina